#0038. WHITE PEOPLES' UNQUESTIONING ACCEPTANCE OF THE PERCEIVED 'COOLNESS' OF SAMUEL L. JACKSON.

I mean, does anyone even bother to look at what he's actually wearing any more? On Jonathan Ross on Friday night he wore a velour bomber jacket, milk bottle specs and a pair of shiny black patent leather Adidas tap shoes. He looked, in short, like a dick.

If a white man dressed that badly, the fashion police wouldn't be just calling him in for questioning, they'd be gunning him down in cold blood faster than you could say "John Charles de Menezes in a pair of ill-fitting velvet golf trousers."

So don't be afraid. As far as I can make out, it's not racist to stand up and say: I'm a white man and I think Samuel L. Jackson dresses like a dick.

#0037. THE SPONTANEOUS AIR BONER.

There's nothing more terrifying than an erection on an airplane.

You're all cooped up in your tiny little seat, and, suddenly, there it is, slowly inflating right at you like a faulty airbag. You're at 30,000 feet and you're completely trapped with it -- you can't walk it off, and the toilets are too small to even contemplate for self-congratulatory purposes. Nope, there aren't any instructions on the safety card for this one.

In fairness to the airlines, they do everything they can to try to prevent you from getting the Spontaneous Air Boner in the first place. That's why they dress the stewardesses up in those frumpy, shapeless outfits.

But they also realise that sometimes the boner will not be denied, and that you might need to, you know, take matters into your own hands. Hence those free blankets they're always handing out. Just remember to return your tray to the upright position first.

#0036. THE 'HEY EVERYONE, I GOT THAT INTELLECTUAL JOKE' LAUGH.

You're in the cinema. An in-joke is made -- possible a wry reference to the original Dickensian text on which the film is based -- and the bald man who came to the film on his own forces out a loud, unconvincing laugh.

Not because it was actually funny, you understand. But because he wants you and everyone else in the cinema to know that he -- hairless sophisticate that he is -- got the joke.

As far as I'm concerned, in terms of breaches of cinema etiquette it's right up there with, 'talking on mobile phone,' and 'penis secreted inside bottomless tub of popcorn.'

#0035. RUPERT THE BEAR.

I hate Rupert the Bear. I reckon he'd be a real racist.

And not just any normal racist either. He's probably one of those really brainy racists, who write and publish their own pamphlets on Holocaust denial.

Thing is -- and how he gets away with it is -- the real Rupert only comes out when he's had a bit to drink. It's when he's hit the brandy that he starts getting all, "Well, they've never actually proved the existence of gas chambers at Sobibór." Then Bill Badger comes in at eight in the morning and finds Rupert slumped over his computer, empty bottle in hand, having spent yet another night drunkely bidding for Waffen SS uniforms on eBay.

Of course, I could be wrong.

#0034. MEN WHO RIDE LADIES BIKES (BUT DON'T HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOUR ABOUT IT)

See, I wouldn't have said anything if I'd have known he was going to get funny about it.

We'd pulled up at the traffic lights when a cyclist stopped next to us. Clearly, he was riding a ladies bike. I casually pointed this out to my girlfriend. Apparently he heard me.

"What did you say?" said the cyclist. I instinctively looked over. He was really quite close. It was a bit awkward. "Are you talking about my bike?" Staring straight ahead now. "Come on then. Say it again. Poof…"

Thankfully, the lights changed before he had the chance to drag me from my car and 'Rodney King' me with his bicycle pump. But the fact remains: if you're an adult male and you're going to ride a ladies bike, either deal with your issues or stay off the roads.

#0033. HALF-ARSED MASCOTS.

The point is, if you're going to dress up as Winnie the Pooh, you've got to put your heart and soul into it, really channel the spirit of the cheery little fellow.

Unlike, say, this man. Not only is his general demeanour more 'depressive middle-aged estate agent' than 'rambunctious honey-loving bear', he couldn't even be bothered to tuck his mullet in. And look at that filth on the bear suit. Frankly, it's an affront to the memory of A.A. Milne. So if you're reading this fucko: either respect the bear or go and work in an office.

#0032. CHARITY SHOP TILL ROLLS.

You've never seen blind fear until you've seen a 75-year-old female charity shop worker when the till roll runs out in her cash register.

It's as though the world is coming to an end, and if she can't find a way to feed that fiddly white roll into the big confusing machine, the universe will shudder to a halt, planets will implode, little children will die, and it'll all be her fault.

The worst part is, she insists that you don't move until she's been able to print you out a receipt. You know, just in case you get your 35p Telly Savalas LP home and suddenly decide that, actually, you'd like to exercise your statutory rights and demand a full refund.