I was a boy, aged eight, when I first discovered that hallowed thing called Branston Pickle. I fell in love with it immediately and soon it became something I could not and would never live without. Once I’d got over the fact that it was poo brown and smelt funny like how I wasn’t used to, I mean.

It was a fantastic era, that honeymoon Branston Pickle period. Days, long, beautiful, glorious days, were spent marveling at the way you could pile loads of it up on a cracker and how much you could shove in your mouth all at once, or even sometimes integrating them into chicken recipes and the like. Then, one day, as I knew it would happen because people just can’t leave a bloody good thing alone, it happened. It had to, didn’t it? Some moron thought I know, why don’t we make it with smaller chunks? That’s a really smart idea. Oh, how I cried myself to sleep. This was more than a tragedy. This was an insult to millions like me! But what could I do? On my own I was useless. One man against a mammoth corporation, merely a fly in the ointment of Branston’s massive pickle-making machine. And this was only three weeks ago as well, so I had a lot of other things to do which unfortunately had to take priority over forming an army of people who detested the new small chunk Branston Pickle. Which is not the way it ought to be, of course. It should be the opposite!

It’s terrifying to think that people exist who have never tasted the original pickle and who will no doubt think that this ’progression'is somehow good. It’s terrible! To think of them all tucking in to their cheese and crackers and believing that this awful second-rate replacement is actually worth eating!

I know that a while ago, bankers were the media’s favourite target of hate and of course, they became the public’s favourite target too, but with good reason. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t had some kind of run-in with their bank at some point, yet strangely we’re more likely to get divorced that to move our accounts to another bank.

This morning I received my credit card statement which has a fairly minimal balance on it. I was a day late with my payment this month, and lo and behold, I get slapped with bank charges. You can see why the public were quick to join the media with the hate-campaign can’t you really? All of this at a time of worldwide deep recession, while the general public, the ones who work hard and put money into the government funds so that we can all benefit, we’re the ones who end up paying, paying and paying again.

Luckily I’m not the type to take this sort of thing without a bit of a protest, so I rang my bank and politely asked them to refund the charges, admitting that yes, it was my fault, but that it was for such a short period of time and I had paid off more than the minimum payment, all with a distinct tone of grovelling (which was all about as much fun as leg vein treatment). Hey, I can play the game.

The woman I spoke to was nice enough and did indeed refund my charge. (Yes!) However, it came wrapped in a patronising sandwich of, “Well, because you haven’t claimed charges back before…we’ll refund it this once.”Oh so there’s a limit on how many unfair charges you can claim back then is there? I felt like a naughty school child caught out by the headmistress. But at least I got my money back, so it was a small price to pay. Mind you, I probably paid the equivalent of the charges in the price of the 0870 phonecall.

Let me tell you a little about these super interesting books without letting you go through the grief of reading these books. The books talk about a supernatural love story between a hungry vampire and a stupid girl. Edward Cullen is a handsome vampire who falls in love with a girl. The girl is a total “duh”, and Cullen nurses all her antics with utmost care and devotion. The first three sets of twilight books are filled with the duh girl hurting herself and the handsome vampire saving her from all her worries. If this wasn’t enough she turns into a vampire in the last part and saves the entire vampire family. Talk about women empowerment!

So, while the duh girl loves the handsome vampire she also loves her best friend who co- incidentally is a werewolf. (And according to Stephanie Meyer’s not so cool history werewolves and vampires are the greatest of enemies.) I totally sympathize with the duh girl who has to decide between two handsome creatures – the vampire who has the ability to keep her cold or the werewolf who has the ability to keep her hot. So, while she is trying to decide between the two creatures she becomes pregnant and gives birth to a creature who is a half human and a half vampire. The half vampire and half human being then becomes the cynosure of all vampire eyes. The werewolf best friend then turns his attention towards the baby instead of the mother and they all live happily ever after.

Reality shows started off as a unique and entertaining concept but dragged onto the height and depth of boredom. The shows have reached their saturation point and finally the audience refuses to take anymore nonsense. It is fine to give away a few million bucks to someone for answering questions and then even make a movie based on the same concept and sweep away accolades and awards from the highest authority, but not fine to make someone consume raw ostrich eggs (Where are the PETA guys?).

The people responsible for conceptualizing such shows seem to have gone on a permanent vacation and the trashy ideas coming out of their messy brains seem to be never ending. The only thing good about such shows is that anybody can be a reality star. What one needs to do is just gain entry into one of these shows and perform some acts that are deemed unacceptable by society or in some cases narrate you sad family story to the audience and gain the nation’s support. Voila, you are already a star! In this world of reality shows, even your pet lizard can be the next reality star. Nevertheless, we still continue to watch these stinking reality shows with much admiration.

If there is one thing that really annoys me it’s being in the parking lot with a lot of SUV’s (this happens a lot at self storage facilities). It will never fail that at least one person who is driving one is not only in the vehicle alone but they also cannot park it. I have literally sat behind an SUV for ten minutes just waiting for them to maneuver it into or out of a parking space. I understand people who need them for the size of their families. I just cannot understand why you would purchase one if you could not drive it.

Have you ever been driving down an aisle and see a parking spot only to find out you cannot fit your car into it? This is another issue with SUV’s they either do not fit into the parking spaces or they cannot seem to park straight enough to fit in them. This leaves multiple parking spaces that not even a compact car can fit into comfortably. You may be able to squeeze into it but chances are once you get there you will not be able to open your doors.

There are many things that add to the general dislike of SUV’s but drivers can help to lessen it. Maybe it would help if all dealerships that sell SUV’s would have a mandatory driving and maneuvering class before purchasing. It would most certainly help if the parking spaces were widened in parking lots. Please if you do not have to have a mammoth sized vehicle do not purchase one. If you have to have it please learn how to drive it. Not only will you be happier because your driving experience will be better, but drivers everywhere will be happier because you are not hindering them. This will put a smile on everyone’s face.

1) as soon as it is remotely warm, everyone starts wearing flip-flops and break out the blue beach bag, as if we’re in the south of France or something. It doesn’t matter if it feels like it’s definitely going to rain later or if snow is predicted, this is what we do, we just can’t help ourselves.

2) men who have the slightest bit of muscle – or are deluded and think they have some forming – rip their tops off and walk about with worrying assurance. (Females tend to just show a hell of a lot of leg; in some place there seems to be a worrying unwritten rule in place: the older the female, the more leg to be shown.)

3) the sunglasses come out–infiltrating every corner. Even dark corners. Even the darkest corners of the train.

But really, this is bound to happen. When you only get about two months out of every year where it’s exceptionally good to be outside, you can’t blame the people for going a bit over-board.

The other thing that English people do, of course – and I include myself in this of course – is complain that it’s too hot. This usually happens just days after the heat arrives, at around the same time that those who come from other countries, and are presently visiting England, start to rejoice at the final arrival of what they like to call ’good weather’.

Having been involved in kids sunday league football now for over 15 years I am constantly surprised by the Parents /supporters behaviour and attitudes when it comes to their little darlings.

Many a cold and windy sunday morning I have stood on a wet, muddy pitch struggling to put up goal nets and corner flags, tie shoe laces pump up balls and even on a few occasions wipe runny noses. Then about 2 mins before the whistle blows out of the warm, cozy clubhouse come the parents. Wrapped up in their fleece lined quilted coats, hats, gloves and scarves they congregate on the side line and complain about everything for the next 60 mins.

’My boy doesn’t play left back, my boy isn’t a striker, my boy isn’t getting the ball, why isn’t my boy in the starting line-up. Referee- come on what was that!!’

If the team are losing the voices become stronger and more forceful and then it’s always the Managers fault. If the team are winning though it’s always their boys contribution that’s the major factor. half time and the majority of them skip back to the clubhouse for a warm drink and a burger. Leaving me and the Manager to open 15 drink bottles, pass out paper towels and snacks, tie up the shoe-laces, wipe the noses and in some cases take them to the toilet.

The second half is much as the first, lots of shouting and bickering. The final whistle blows and the parents are off, running away from the pitch as fast as they can. Leaving me to take down the nets, pick up the balls, gather up the muddy wet kit and pick up any coats left behind. Come Monday morning when the parents are at work you can bet your life they’re telling the tales of how they’re always there for Juniors football and how parents should get involved with their children’s activities. Well there’s involved and there’s involved- I know what I think!!

I am so tired of religious people trying to force their religion down your throats. My spiritual beliefs are my business. Those that want to spread their message have yet to stop to think if anyone wants to hear what they have to say. This goes for any religion. I hate to burst everyone’s bubble but exactly why do you think that your religion is the only right one and why do I have to think this way?

One example is Jehovah’s Witness, I can appreciate that their religion tells them to go out and spread the word. It does not tell them to come knock on my door at 7AM on a Saturday morning. Really? You want my grace and full attention but you want to drag me out of bed on the one day I can sleep late in the morning. I am not very receptive under those conditions.

Another example is at PUBLIC schools. If you live in a predominantly Christian area that is out of the immediate influence of metro areas then apparently it is okay to teach only about Christian holidays and to give out those little New Testament Bibles to students. What? Since when is that acceptable? It’s not. If you are going to teach about Christmas or Easter or anything in between then make sure you include Hanukkah and Kwanzaa. If you are going to make Bibles available to children then include the major religious readings of the other main world religions. Let them know about Buddhism, Hinduism and the Jewish faith.

Am I anti-Christian? Absolutely not. I simply believe that whatever your beliefs are they are yours alone, you don’t need to be waving your pvc banners over my house, my childrens school, my saturday morning… If someone asks you about your faith then feel free to share. If they don’t then don’t go knocking on their door or showing only one version of how faith can be.

You may be aware of Unilever, you may not. More and more do we see their products pop up in adverts with their “U”logo appearing in the corner of the screen. Shame then, that they test their products on animals.

As you roll on your Dove deodorant of a morning, or rub vaseline into your skin, as you spread your toast with marmite, or eat Carte D’or ice cream (preferably not following your toast/marmite brekkie) the hypocrisy of their mission statement which states that they conduct their business with integrity. Try telling that to the countless animals who suffer each year all because, we, the consumer and therefore the perpetrator, want to look good.

What I don’t understand is that human skin and animal skin are clearly not the same, so why would a moisturiser react the same way when applied to both? If a cosmetic doesn’t irritate a shaved rabbits bear skin does that mean that it’s safe to assume that our skins won’t react either?

Unilever are a multi-million pound, global company, surely then they can find a way to make sure their products are safe without resorting to the cruelty of testing their products on animals? But this will only change if people stop buying their products.

It’s fairly easy to avoid cosmetics that are tested in this torturous way, but what you may not be aware of are all of the other items that Unilever are responsible for producing. (Yes, it matters, any money they make will invariably fund further unnecessary experiments) so, Comfort, Surf, Ponds, Vaseline, Knorr, Flora, Helmann’s, Slim Fast et al should all be avoided too until Unilever understand that we do not want animals do suffer so that the fat cats of their company can line their pockets. Actually, talking of fat cats, if Unilever do have to test their products on animals, why not start there?

After you reach a certain age, I fail to understand what the big deal with birthdays is! No offence to those who decorate cakes and light it up with a gazillion candles and the next year again its gazillion plus one candles but the spirit of celebration just remains the same. I, for one, cannot stand the idea of holding parties and giving grand treats to everyone just because I turn another year older. This means that I spend money, time and energy on letting the world know how close I am to being called ‘middle aged’ or old’. When the world will get to know, it will, I certainly don’t want to help advertise the fact!

I mean seriously, we don’t get younger with each passing birthday! Some people either forget or overlook this ‘little’ fact but I can’t help feeling sorry for such people. It’s not as if grey hair and wrinkles aren’t enough, why should one bear the agony of having to confront age full in the face by receiving cards with girls on the front who clearly have had breast implants? (Because lets be honets, no one really looks like that) It freaks me out when I see people getting sloppy messages written on cakes for birthday ‘boys’ and ‘girls’ who are long past boyhood and girlhood respectively.

Birthdays are just regular days in my opinion and as my dear friend put it,”There isn’t a purple moon for you just because it is your birthday!” Hard hitting and cynical as it may sound, birthdays are nothing special if you are no longer a kid. Once you hit a certain age, you suddenly realize that you actually dread your birthday. In fact those you don’t understand this fact should give it a thought. You don’t want all that hassles and troubles that come naturally as you age. Each birthday is a reminder of the painful truth that you are inching closer to doom and making a celebration of it seems like you’re actually welcoming doom! This is the reason why I just can’t stop but get irked at people who never cease to making birthdays into such an ‘event’. In my opinion a birthday should just be ignored if you want to maintain your sanity. Stay away from gloom and spare yourself the torture of a birthday celebration.