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Petty Things That Get On Your Nerves...


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Tomato sauce squeezy bottles that need significant squeezing such that it's impossible to get that last wee bit of sauce you want towards the end of the meal, and instead end up smothering your food.

Week ruined :angry:

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10 mins on the phone to Bank of Scotland to find out the reason your online transfer won't go through is because you're using that really obscure internet browser known as Google Chrome.

Eta: and the selection boxes don't work in Firefox that the wifey suggested.  Jesus wept.

Edited by Hedgecutter
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When an article in a paper says '... as described below' but the point that it's referring to is found within an adjacent column. Same applies when it's on a completely different page, but often technically correct if you're reading the pdf form. Still, grrrr.

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Bus tracker said there were 8 minutes until my bus. I live 4 minutes away from the stop, so I waited 3 minutes (to give myself 4 minutes of walking with a 1 minute buffer), left the house, checked the tracker and the bus was 2 minutes away. Had to run to just catch the bus.

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What's the law on running red lights? I was nearly flattened when crossing at a green man when some p***k nearly took my toes off. He was a ned though so I assume cyclists need to obey traffic lights the same as motorists, except maybe a second or so leeway for a push start.

 The punishment is also applicable to cyclists who, if caught, can be issued a Fixed Penalty Notice of £30.
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I've been ill recently and lost a bit of weight. That's not entirely a bad thing but it was a bit faster than I would've liked and most of my clothes now look like I nicked them off Worzel Gummidge. Shandon Par, I'm not...I hate clothes shopping with a passion but nevertheless, I decided it would be a good idea to at least invest in a new pair of jeans.

The ones I was wearing looked quite good when they fit me so I thought I was just get the same thing in a smaller size. If only it were that easy. The first pair I tried were supposedly an inch smaller round the waist. I couldn't come close to getting them fastened. The next pair were the exact same size but were like clown pants on me. Then the third, which were allegedly an inch bigger than the too big ones I wore going in, fit just fine. I felt like Goldilocks if she were off her tits on acid. As a result, I spent at least 12 minutes longer in the shop than I wanted to.

Do these child-labourers in Bangladesh just slap on size labels at random? 

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