People often ask me how I manage to write a newspaper column every single week.
The answer is surprisingly simple: I refuse to leave my computer until I’ve written one. That’s it. No inspirational walks. No deep meditation. No artistic soul-searching. I simply sit there staring at the screen until my brain gives up and produces something vaguely entertaining.
It probably helps that I see the world from a slightly skewed angle.
While normal people walk through life peacefully, I spend most of my time becoming irrationally irritated by phrases, signs and everyday nonsense.
Take the expression “going forward.”
What was wrong with saying “in the future”?
Why does everyone now sound like they’re chairing a business seminar in a motorway hotel?
Then there’s the phrase “my bad.” I absolutely cannot stand it.
“My bad” what exactly? Your grammar? Your decision-making? Your complete betrayal of the English language?
The first celebrity I remember saying it regularly was Jonathan Ross, who always seemed eager to adopt Americanisms. Mind you, his infamous phone call with Russell Brand mostly involved words your grandmother wouldn’t allow at the dinner table.
I briefly considered learning a proper trade once. An electrician perhaps. Then I realised there’s probably a reason society prefers qualified people handling live wiring. Although, for fifty quid cash, I’d still be willing to give your house a go.
Admittedly, there’s a fair chance the toaster would activate every time someone flushed the toilet.
My latest annoyance came during a trip to the bank. Above the counter was a sign reading: “Assisted Counter Service.”
Assisted? Isn’t helping customers literally the point of counter staff? Then every customer was asked, “Have you tried online banking?”
One elderly gentleman replied, “No! Because if we all banked online, this place would shut and you’d all lose your jobs!”
I laughed so much I nearly dropped my shopping bag and frightened the cashier.