Ah, Room 101, that place of horror created by George Orwell in 1984 containingÂ a victim’s greatest phobiaÂ or fear, now developed into programmeÂ for BBC 1 into which celebritiesÂ condemn their worst pet hates for eternity.
1. The first one is a no-brainer.Â PeppaÂ Pig.Â Obviously.Â Precocious little brat.Â I have several issues with Peppa Pig, more than enough to fill a few counselling sessions so I’ll have to limit myself to just a few of her worse misdemeanours.
I struggle to find the moral messages in Peppa Pig (I realise I may be reading into this a tad too deeply).Â Miss Rabbit is employed in every post from fire fighter, to museum curator to bus driver.Â She must be working for less than minimum wage to have to take so many jobs, it’s a logistical impossibility and I can’t help wondering what the hell would happen to the economy if Miss Rabbit had a day off sick.
The only conclusion I can come to is thatÂ Â taxes are so highÂ due toÂ PeppaÂ Pig’s outrageous demands that Miss Rabbit is working for cash in hand.Â How many hours a week does that bloody rabbit do?Â She must be knackered.Â No wonder she’s so obnoxious to everybody.
Then there’s the obsession with falling over when they laugh.Â NOTHING, I repeat, NOTHINGÂ they say is funny enough to warrant even a snort or a dozyÂ dribble, so full-on leg paralysisÂ isÂ too much.Â D’yaÂ hear me, Peppa?Â TOO.Â MUCH.Â My kids love jumping in muddy puddles as much as the next child but they don’t lose control of their legs with hilarity and if they did, I’d be having a word.
2. The second thing I would put in Room 101 is ‘re-sealable’ packets.Â Why the inverted commas?Â Because it’s a load of shit, that’s why.Â Like pasta packets that instruct you to lift the flap to open and sealÂ the packetÂ again with the special tab.Â Anyone ever managed that successfully?Â No, me neither.Â In realityÂ it only works when the pack is nearly emptyÂ because the adhesive isn’t strong enough to stick to a nearly fullÂ packet.Â It’s therefore a moot point because when the pack’s nearly empty you can just fold the open end under, anyway.
‘Perforated’ flaps on packets of ham andÂ other foodstuffs?Â A load of shit.Â You struggle for ten minute to lift the flap, start to tear carefully and then the bastard rips, spilling the contents everywhere.
Those packets where you cut the strip off the top, like on cheese or dog biscuits?Â A LOAD OF SHIT.Â How many times have you accidentally cut too much and cut through the re-sealable strip or don’t cut enough and it won’t open?Â You just know you’re going to struggle for twenty minutes and then end up wrapping that bad boy in foil or cling film anyway.
3. My third item to put in my Room 101 is speaking parts in adverts for non-actors.Â Yes, Jenson Button, I’m talking to you.Â That Head and Shoulders advert.Â Four words:Â What. Were. You. Thinking?
I don’t mind a cheeky little smirk here and there and a bit of walking aboutÂ a laÂ Beckham in the Sky Sports advert but speaking parts are just wrong.Â Santander.Â Wrong.Â Jessica Ennis just about gets away with it but Jenson?Â Stick to racing cars.Â And Rory McIlroy?Â Please don’t lose the respect you’ve built up through golfing byÂ agreeing toÂ a speaking part in an advert EVER AGAIN.
I also wonder that if the one that makes it to telly isÂ the best cut, how many times have they had to do it and wow, the others must have been bad.Â There’s no need, I tell you, no need.
What three things would you put in your Room 101?