Our friends’ bad boyfriends
Tell yourself you’re just being a good friend every time you don’t hide your disdain by referring to your friend’s partner as ‘thingy’ or ‘whatshisface’. Package it as concern that your friend should be going out with someone as perfect as them, like Barack Obama or Bradley Cooper, particularly when he’s speaking French. Give yourself permission to criticise the cretinous boyfriend’s pretentious interest in Iranian architecture or inflated abilities on the tennis court. Just because your friend says she’s really into him and has never been happier. What does she know anyway?
People walking slowly
It’s one thing to walk slowly. It’s another thing to walk slowly in a group, like you’re forming a head-in-the-clouds human shield against the rest of the world who are trying to get on with their bloody day. Stop ambling, stop talking, stop taking in your surroundings and get the f*cking f*ck out of the f*cking way.
Endless post delivered to your neighbour
Look, you can’t help being out. And you’re not a mind reader. How are you supposed to know when the postman will decide to grace you with his presence? Or the DHL guy. Or the ones who deliver from Net-a-Porter. Or the Ocado man. Apart from the whole ‘this is your time-slot’ thing. We’re all leading busy lives. And now at least you’ve met your neighbour. Four times this week alone.
Leaving your shopping at the check-out to go and get milk
“I won’t be a minute,” you say anxiously to no one in particular as you leave your half-scanned food shop to sprint back to the milk section, as the entire supermarket mentally strangles you. Until you come back and realise you also forgot the butter beans and have to dash off again, by which time, the queue is longer than the Great Wall of China and you are being audibly cursed.
Borrowing someone else’s builder
“I don’t suppose you’ve got two seconds to look at my blocked sink?” You say to the friendly builder working on the flat below yours. Cut to two hours later, water all over the floor, dismantled parts in a confused mess, you apologising, him completely drenched.
Driving right up behind someone
It’s not MY fault you don’t know where you’re going, you bastard, so let’s see how you like it when I drive RIGHT up your arse, shaking my head in a patronising fashion so you can see in your mirror and oh, you’re turning into the hospital car park.
Re-gifting presents you hate
Why are you giving someone you love something you hate? Why did you even keep it? Please raise this with your therapist.
Passive aggression towards tourists on an escalator
Sigh loudly before, “EXCUSE ME,” to the bewildered group of Spanish students as you emanate furious Londoner vibes in their direction for not knowing this ‘not completely obvious unless you live here’ rule.