And the magic word is . . . D'oh!
Published 29/11/2012 | 06:00
We shouldn't get into a strop about the IMF, the EU and Angela Merkel. They are effectively the Gods of Olympus and we are merely the goat herders in the valleys below, hoping they don't throw too many thunder bolts at us.
In truth, it's the little things in life that are more likely to send us into a shouty, incandescent rage. or, in my case, a moody sulk that can last for days.
You know what I mean, people who have no concept of those around them; people who think 'etiquette' is the name of a Chinese martial art.
I stopped in the shops coming home from work the other night and some eejit at the top of the queue tried to pay using his Laser card.
And then remembered that he'd forgotten something, so the whole transaction had to be cancelled and started again.
It was an infuriating waste of people's time and the people in the queue were beginning to get, shall we say, a little testy.
And yup, you guessed it – that eejit was me.
So I'm going to become much more tolerant of others from now on.
Actually, that might be going too far. I'll try to be tolerant of others from now on.
But it'll be tough.
Chants would be a fine thing
I recently touched on the latest controversy in English football accusing Spurs fans of being racist – against themselves.
This is because they call themselves, as they always have, the 'Yid Army'.
It's a statement that they are proud of their Jewish heritage and to try to prohibit them from doing so is simply absurd.
The topic has gone viral this week because of the totally over-the-top chants from West Ham fans at White Hart Lane on Sunday – despite pleas from their manager and Jewish chairman to keep things cool.
But let's not go too far ourselves, either, or the average football ground will be about as raucous and noisy as a library.
They haven't gone away, you know
In the wake of Alan Ryan's murder, his gang has become fractured and is now being run by some lads from the North.
Meanwhile, the mobsters who were feuding with him seem determined to strike while the iron is hot, so to speak, and are taking out the remaining Ryan acolytes.
This has been described as 'extremely worrying' by Gardaí, and that's fair enough.
But I know for a fact that the vast majority of people in Ballyfermot and Darndale, two of the hot spots in the feud, won't be shedding too many tears if both sides just end up taking each other out.
In fact, I would go so far as to say that many a glass would be raised in celebration if that were to ever happen.
Ah, the voice of delusion . . .
We all like to big ourselves up – if only in our own head.
We all know that these little white lies to ourself aren't true, but they help us sleep at night.
And if delusion helps you sleep, then I'm surprised that I'm A Celebrity evictee Nadine Dorries isn't in a coma by now.
The Tory MP has said that since her appearance, she has become the "best known MP in Britain."
She also says that Tory party grandees who are annoyed at her for buggering off to Oz for a month are simply "jealous" of her success and fame.
Again, there is only one response . . . really?
Although I doubt any Irish person would complain if the entire Dáil upped sticks and fecked off to Australia for a month. Or two.
And so it begins
I recently told you about the horrifying sight of a group of young girls sitting in my local and playing Rihanna songs loudly – very bloody loudly – on their mobile phone.
But it looks like the hallowed sanctity of the boozer is now under serious threat – from the Christmas drinker.
I witnessed the first Christmas drinkers in a pub yesterday, laughing in that loud, forced manner of people who don't get out that often and jumping the queue at the bar.
Great, just bloody great.
Gangs of amateurs, wearing stupid jumpers. Gaggles of girls getting blasted on spritzers and bursting into tears.
Derek from accounts who thinks he's a comedian and all the other attendant horrors of trying to have a pint at this time of the year.
Honestly, it's enough to drive you to drink.
If you could just find a quiet pub, that is.