I must admit; I'm an intolerant sort of bloke.
If I hear someone saying Scone (skowne
), instead of Scone (skon
), my insides start to tie into knots, and my temperature rises.
If I see someone holding their knife like a pencil, or eating with their mouth open, I go into spasms of despair.
If I'm behind women (and their hyperactive brats) in the checkout queue, who buy nothing but ready-made, multi-coloured, packeted instant meals, and sweets, I want to give them a good slapping.
If I hear people being derogative about high standards, and promoting the cause of 'dumbing down', I fear for the future of mankind.
If I'm overtaken at 100 kph by some idiot in a 70 kph zone, I reach for my non-existent machine gun.
If I encounter those 'chip on shoulder', 'politics of envy', 'why's ee got more than wot I got' people, I want to run screaming.
If I hold the door open for a lady, and she doesn't just say a simple 'thank you' or 'ta ducks' (not that I do it to be thanked), I feel desperately saddened on her behalf.
In fact, if I encounter any deliberate lowering of natural good standards, manners, or basic etiquette, I tend to become agitated. I suppose it's all a matter of how one was raised.
Did I mention hoity-toity parvenus? I really am an intolerant bugger, aren't I.