Just like the TV programme, the guests get to pick three things they want to dump in 101, never to be seen again. Props can accompany the suggestions and then everyone votes on whether or not the 'irritation' can be done away with. The winner is the person who gets the most abolished.
Trouble is, three is never enough for anyone - we all have so many bug bears. So today, I shall list my major 101's. It would be great to hear some of yours or if you agree with any of mine.
I'll start the ball rolling with:
Black socks - a dryer full of them fills me with dread. They never match up and there's always the odd one that lays there defiantly announcing its independence -"Look at me, I don't need anyone, I can fly solo!" Well no you can't actually as there are no one legged people living in this house. Thankfully, teenage son has now taken to wearing the most jazzy and individual socks on the market so my trauma has been halved.
Eggs - yes, I know I've blogged about them before but I feel very strongly. Boiled eggs that don't peel, egg shell in the mouth. There, I've said it and I'll leave it at that.
Clingfilm/gladwrap/cellophane - whatever you want to call it. I call it *%$*"! It hates me and I hate it. It smirks in the cupboard and comes out perfectly well behaved and charmingly flirty for my husband but when I attempt to use it, it turns into a snarling, sticky ball of useless *%$*! It then tells tales on me when my husband next goes to use it because he always says, "You've been arguing with the clingfilm again, haven't you?" Tin foil. Now that's the thing for me - you know where you are with it and it never plays up.
Screeching girls - what is it with young girls nowadays? They see one another every day at school and yet they have to throw themselves at one another and squawk at a ridiculous volume. I swear it's in another language as well because I'm totally unable to decipher a word of it. We didn't do it in my day ... ooh, I sound old!
Mums - and I don't mean all mums or mine, I mean the ones who feel everybody wants to know about the bowel habits of little Tarquin or the genius of precocious Fanny. Cafes, shops, parks are filled with them - this strange breed who dump buggies in exactly the right place for you to trip over them and then speak at the same volume as the screeching girls above. The majority of them are 'yummy mummies' (another term I hate, which is why I came up with the 'Meemies' tag to reflect their 'Me, Me, Me' attitude) who sport their offspring in much the same way as their designer handbags. Most of the babies came through the sun roof (caesarean) as it's much more convenient to pick a date around social engagements & skiing and going the natural route involves too much sweating and grunting which plays havoc with the make up (glowingly bare, of course) And they all leave their cosy private hospitals with new bundle of joy whilst sporting their size zero jeans.
Cyclists - the bane of my life as a London driver. They run lights, cycle side by side chatting and take ridiculous chances - rarely even glancing backwards to see if you've spotted them, so confident are they of their road superiority. I'm a very vigilant driver and am always on the look out for them but some mornings there are just too many to keep track of. I've been surrounded by them at traffic lights and I need to know what each and every one of them is likely to do next. And now, you have the sneaky ones with cameras on their helmets so that they've got all the lovely evidence they need to prove it was the dreaded driver's fault. I don't want to start my mornings having sweaty, lycra clad buttocks shoved in my face. I'm told there are websites for that sort of thing.
And I'll just leave you with one more,
Celebrity authors - yes, I'm bitter but I feel I have a right to be. If you're a celeb, you only need to write a shopping list to get published. Unknowns have to fight tooth and nail to get anywhere near an agent let alone a publisher ... but a celeb who's lost weight? Write a book. Celeb who's lost a baby? Put pen to paper. Celeb who's lost their marbles? Three book deal - one about how you lost them, one about how you found them and one telling the story of their travels.
Rrrgghhh! All finished, feel much better now.
Diary of a Mummy Misfit is available on Amazon for Kindle or PC.
Now also in paperback at Lulu.