Bonfire of the Banalities

It seems to have become tradition in the blogging world, around this time of year, to suggest who you would like to replace Guy Fawkes on the bonfire come 5^th November.  I’ve decided to join in with the imaginary bonfire this year, mainly because I couldn’t think of anything else to write about.  It is also partly because, since some strong suggestions from the Mrs, the neighbours and the remaining rabbit Spencer (RIP Mark), I’m not allowed to light real ones in the garden anymore.

I started to write a list of people that I would like to be rid of, all with justifiable (if not homicidal) reasons, but as I started the list when the Mrs was watching Strictly Crap Dancing and then X Fucktor, it started to get out of control.  I was never going to be able to limit my choice to one person anyway, so I’ve decided to have a host of categories and pick one for each.

To get the fire started I would obviously use copies of the Daily Mail, can you really think of any other use for it, with auto-biographies written by anyone under fifty also thrown on for good measure.

Politics – Lembit Opik nearly run away with this one but I guess he no longer fits in this category as he’s now an unemployed bum.  Dianne Abbot would be another but I get the feeling that’s she one of those ‘all publicity is good publicity’ types, so I won’t feed that particular bonfire of the vanities.  So it will have to be the back-stabbing Cain of politics – Ed Milliband.  Not only has he got nothing of any interest to say, he insists on saying it with that annoying nasal twang.

Sports – The rat faced twonk that is Ashley Cole nearly got thrown on, but I was worried I might catch something by even touching him in my imagination.  The winner by a country mile though, is the cud-chewing, bulbous nosed, Beckham bullying Scot – Alex Ferguson.  He also comes with the added bonus of being so full of expensive red wine, he’s bound to give off a lovely looking flame.

Music – It has to be Jedward doesn’t it, two people whose only discernable talent is the ability to jump out of time with each other.  Unfortunately the Health and Safety Executive have refused to let me add them due to the flammable nature of their hair and suits.  So in that case it has to be the band with as much talent, personality and taste as a can of Lynx – One Direction.  Every time the lead singer, with his hair do made from the collected cuttings of the Chelsea team’s manscaping, opens his mouth, I want to put pencils in my ears and press firmly. 

Z Listers – This is a tough one because firstly there are so many of them and secondly, they are so insignificantly famous, I don’t know their names.  Anyone who’s ever been on Big Brother would be an obvious choice, as would anyone that’s slept with Big Bouncer (Jordan).  But my final choice has to be that bloke from whatchyamacallit, you know the one, the one with the face like a slapped arse, goes out with that orange girl. Yep, him, that’s the one.

Real life – I wanted to throw on everyone that says to me “I don’t do twitter, who wants to know what everyone’s had for breakfast.”  A cliché so old, even moaning about it has become a cliché.  Instead I shall choose the mean spirited Restaurateur that has padlocked his car park to stop everyone parking their cars for 10 minutes when doing the school drop off.  We weren’t hurting anyone, you’re not even open at 8.30am so what’s the problem?  Now all you’ve done is pissed off a load of parents who were, or could have been, good customers.  Now we’re parking and eating elsewhere and you’re trying to flog discounted food - great decision mate.

Stranger - The bloke who picks someone up in my road every day and never says thank you whenever I pull into a gap to let him pass.  Never, not even once, not even a nod or a smile.  I am half thinking of buying some old clunker and running him off the road with it, but failing that I may just block him in the cul-de-sac next time I’m not in a rush.

Actor – Meryl Streep, one film, two words, Mama Mia.  Enough said.

Figure from history – Guy Fawkes, not for attempting to blow up the Houses of Parliament – but for failing.

Inanimate object – Michael McIntyre’s hair – every time I see it my blood pressure rises.  I’m sure he’s a funny guy, but whenever I see him on TV I have to change channels.  So until he gets his own radio show, his comic stylings are going to pass me by.

So there it is, these are the people that are going to sit atop of my bonfire, punished for the sins of making my blood boil or my stomach churn.  Hopefully I’ve now got the grumpy old man out of my system, but I somehow doubt it.