That woman at the head of the supermarket queue who waits until all her groceries have been packed before handing over her credit card. It must eat up, oooo ... 30 seconds of my day. I tremble with furious anger.
People who crowd around the train door trying to get on as you're trying to get off. Elbows and fists do the job, but a sharp umbrella rules.
Taking a swig from someone else's beer can and feeling a bit sick as a cigarette butt and something soft and ... squishy gets wedged between your gums. Nice.
Buying a novel on the strength of a good review, and realising after ten pages that it's a piece of crap - again - and that you'd forgotten that reviews are just advertising aimed at people who think they're smart. Irritating and humiliating.
When people take your quiet online humour seriously because you don't use a forest of exclamation marks or winky-wanky smilies. Motherfickers, all of them.
These things **** me off.
