Upated: 98 Expressions That Irritate The Hell Out Of Me

IN many cases I can’t explain why, but for some reason each of the following expressions has the same effect on me as nails down a blackboard. Further contributions gratefully received:

1. #fail
2. 24/7
3. Proactive
4. What are you like?
5. At this moment in time
6. To die for
7. It’s not rocket science
8. Weather conditions
9. Your personal belongings
10. Your call is important to us
11. Health & Safety
12. You smashed it
13. Trending
14. Gr8
15. Yummy mummy
16. In any way, shape or form
17. At the end of the day
18. D’you know what I mean?
19. I speak my mind
20. It is what it is
21. Haitch
22. A hundred and ten percent
23. Early doors
24. To the wire
25. For me
26. Instore
27. The public
28. Good to go
29. Legend
30. Team GB
31. Should of
32. Take to the stage
33. Can I get…?
34. I’m loving it
35. Oriented
36. Your Manchester Uniteds, your Chelseas, your Arsenals…
37. Company policy
38. Not at the races
39. Alternate (for alternative)
40. Latest squeeze
41. Change your life forever
42. We came out second half and played football
43. Parking enforcement officer
44. End of
45. Banter
46. I’m not trying to sell you anything…
47. Zeitgeist
48. I’m not being funny but…
49. Must-see TV…
50. Appointment-to-view
51. Water-cooler moment…
52. Give it up for…
53. There’s no such word as “can’t”
54. There’s no “I” in team
55. Life coach
56. What can I do you for?
57. Journey
58. You nailed it
59. People person
60. Human Resources
61. Please don’t hesitate to ask
62. Sashaying
63. For sure
64. Respect
65. My bad
66. Wicked
67. Sick
68. Ongoing
69. Upcoming
70. It’s not personal, it’s just business
71. LOL
72. Thank you for not smoking
73. Sorry I’m not in service
74. Toilet tissue
75. Baby on board
76. Takeout
77. Your vote won’t count but you may still be charged
78. Boho
79. ‘Me’ time
80. FYI
81. OMG
82. Go, girlfriend
83. The Co-Operative: Good. With food.
84. Would you mind if I put you on hold..?
85. Meet with
86. Whatever
87. Pre-order
88. Lifestyle
89. Focus group
90. Demographic
91. Product (when meaning hair gunk)
92. We regret we are unable to accept liability for any loss
93. Epic
94. Fit for purpose
95. Back in the day
96. Shuuut uuuup!
97. Visit us in branch
98. Same old same old

. . . to be continued . . .

Why Cowell has missed the point with his space mission promise

SKIMMING through the latest interviews with Simon Cowell – the ones for which he took time out of his gruelling schedule to kindly remind us that the new series of Britain’s Got Talent is only months away, just in case we were stupidly planning to go on holiday, or something – you could be forgiven for thinking at first that he’d learnt a few things.

He talks in comparatively humble terms (by Cowell standards, I mean – don’t let’s get carried away). He suggests he’d become too cocky, recognises that his shows need a boot up the backside etc. All in all, I’m reasonably impressed.

And then he goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like “space mission”.

Yep, a trip on board Richard Branson’s inaugural Virgin Galactic flight (Branson’s lot are sponsoring this latest Britain’s Got Talent series) is something Simon says he hopes to offer the next winner – or possibly the one after that, it’s still kind of vague – as an added reward, on top of the increased prize money and the traditional embarrassing spot at the Royal Variety do.

“I’m being serious,” he assured reporters at the launch. “You could be the first singer, or dog act, whatever, performing in space.”

As it happens, you actually couldn’t. A full 40 years ago, a couple of long forgotten Apollo astronauts broke into an impromptu duet (“I was strolling on the moon one day / in the merry, merry month of May…”) while bouncing across the lunar surface, while the Russians blasted a canine cosmonaut called Laika into space as long ago as 1957, although admittedly she didn’t dance around a broom to Lady Gaga. Or survive, for that matter.

But that’s not my point. My point is, even if Simon can genuinely deliver on this promise of his (and a cynic might suggest it’s more a case of getting the show’s sponsors some nice publicity, and to hell with the actual viability), he’s totally misjudged how it could benefit the programme itself.

He’s selling it as an exciting bonus for the next BGT champion, should they happen to want it. “It can’t be compulsory,” he adds. Whereas what he should be doing is recognising it for what it would actually amount to – a wretched, miserable, gut-churningly uncomfortable, zero-gravity experience, likely to leave you feeling violently ill – and then insisting that it will be compulsory.

Because otherwise this programme is all too easy, isn’t it? You show up at an audition, sing or dance sufficiently impressively to get through the live shows and, hey presto, before you know it you’re several hundred grand the richer and doing a three-minute turn for Princess Anne, or whichever poor royal happens to have drawn that year’s short straw.

Whereas if Simon were to warn, from day one, that the eventual winner will have to suffer the misery of a compulsory space flight, this would immediately sort a lot of the wheat from the chaff, act-wise, would it not? It would be the perfect way to discourage the time-wasters, attention-seekers and blatant fruitcakes. It would be the modern-day equivalent of that famous old line from Fame: “You want fame? Well, fame costs. And right here is where you start paying – in sweat!”

Here it would effectively be: “You want fame? Well, fine, have it. Plus some money and the ropey royal gig. But be warned, we’re also going to catapult you to the outer reaches of the solar system, where there’s every chance you’ll be captured by hostile creatures made of jelly and twigs and subjected to gruesome medical experimentation.

All that, plus Richard Branson and Simon Cowell will  be on board with you. So think on…”

Still, as I say, I suspect the whole thing may be rather less viable than Simon is suggesting, particularly if the contest ends up being won by another of those shockingly overstaffed dance troupes.

Simon has actually hinted, mind you, that this is unlikely to be the case. Admitting that he’ll have to consider the practical details of the winning act performing in space, he quipped: “If you’re a juggler, then we’ll need to make heavier balls.”

So there, in a single semi-throwaway sentence, we have the chilling remark that puts this whole thing into context. Amid all the talk of space travel, bigger-than-ever prize money and an exciting new-look panel – to which Simon returns, alongside Amanda Holden, David Walliams and Alesha Dixon (lured away from Strictly, remember, at vast expense), we’re actually talking about the show being won by . . . a juggler.

Great. And after that? Probably some bloke who makes balloon dachshunds.

I bet the BBC are quaking in their boots.

* Read Mike every day in the Daily Star and every weekend in the Daily Express Saturday magazine.

Will Dancing On Ice please stop Twittering on?

LISTEN, I get it, OK? I get the fact that millions of us are watching TV and tweeting at the same time these days, generously sharing our pithy observations, witticisms, knee-jerk reactions and spite. I do it myself sometimes, although usually I can’t be bothered, given that it’s fundamentally pointless and, freak that I am, I’d rather talk to my family, sitting in the same room. What I’m saying is I don’t have a problem with those who do. Honestly, I don’t.

What I do have a problem with is TV shows that have leapt on the Twitter bandwagon in a manner that reeks of desperation.

Take, for example, ITV1’s Dancing On Ice, which has been going to enormous lengths, since this latest series got underway, to draw our attention to its tweet-ability.

At one point the other night, new co-host Christine Bleakley excitedly informed the soon-to-be-eliminated Laila Morse, best known (in fact, only known) as Big Mo from EastEnders, that at that very moment she was “globally trending” (essentially meaning that a lot of people were remarking upon how rubbish Laila was at skating). This revelation clearly wasn’t for the benefit of Laila herself, who looked as if she didn’t have a clue what Christine was banging on about, nor care that much, but for the benefit of us lot at home.

“Hey, look, everybody!” was essentially the message Christine wanted to send us. “We’re the show everyone’s talking about. How cutting-edge are we, eh?”

Well, yes, I’m sure you are, chaps. Jolly well done, you. But seriously, give it a rest, will you? Stop trying so hard. Stop ramming the Twitter thing down our throats. And if you must read out tweets live on air, please at least exercise some kind of quality control. Don’t just read them out for the sake of it, just because people happen to have tweeted a few random remarks about your programme, however banal (let’s be honest, the really caustic, witty ones won’t get a look-in). It just comes across as a bit desperate, as if you’re frantically trying to convince us, or possibly yourselves, that you matter, that you’re relevant, that you’re “of the moment”. Just get on with the show (God knows, it drags on for long enough already) and leave the Twitter community to do its own thing.

Finally, bear in mind that the vast majority of your 7.7 million viewers aren’t even on Twitter. Many will have no desire to be. Some won’t even have a clue what it is. And that, don’t forget, is fine as well. So the more you go on about it, the more you alienate these people, still the bulk of your core audience. You’re effectively making them feel as if they’re not fully engaged, that they’re excluded and out of touch, that there’s a party going on elsewhere, metaphorically speaking, to which they’ve not been invited, where the smart, witty people are having all the fun.

For a major show on a populist TV channel, that’s unforgivable.

So please, just stop it, all right? Make a show that respects and engages every viewer equally, rather than one that looks as if it’s desperate to be friends with the cool crowd.

Right now, you’re just making yourself look needy. And that’s about as uncool as it gets.

* Read Mike every day in the Daily Star and every weekend in the Daily Express Saturday magazine.