Pressing all the buttons in lifts. Especially if there’s a small child who wants to do it first. Also pretending to press the open door button and looking regretful as it closes on someone. (Ok, I haven’t done this, but I really, really want to).
The album, ‘Crossroads’. A snapshot: ‘I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride’. Jon Bon Jovi, you beautiful, beautiful man.
Picking scabs. Peeling off sunburn.
Dirty Dancing. ‘Nobody puts Baby in the corner’. ‘Nuff said.
Pickled onion Monster Munch (the taste explosion that keeps on giving. Pardon me.) Also, Findus Crispy Pancakes and chocolate pyramids (or did I dream them?)
Detective dramas. Nothing like a good murder. Or twelve.
Successfully smuggling vegetables into Glen’s dinner. (‘I know it looks green, but I give you my word it’s chicken’..)
Reading trashy magazines whilst in the queue and then putting them back.
Old man’s pubs. Sawdust on the floors, pork scratchings, faint smell of wee.
Celebrities falling over.
Picking the ‘right’ queue.
Shane Warne. I know, I know. Been through it a million times. And yet…
Passing off takeaways as my own work. (‘Three hours my friends, just to blend the spices’)
Tapping the remote control on my forehead.
Watching couples argue in public (especially when they start hissing).
Getting my hair cut because I can’t face washing it myself.
MC Hammer. Can’t touch him.
What have I missed?