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I'm in a strop!


KingTutsWWH

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Do you ever get in a strop or behave like a toddler having a tantrum in public?

Examples please.

I found myself having a strop recently when the supermarket had run out of the duck pancake kit that I really wanted. My bottom lip was all poking out and everything.

'To disagree with three-fourths of the British public is one of the first requisites of sanity'.

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Um..the closest I've got to that was when one my mates picked my pocket, nikced my chewing gums, and ate about 4, the greedy sod. When I realized what he'd done, I elbowed him and called a tw*t :hahaha: That's about it, really.

The most heroic act is the one that no-one knows about.

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My girlfriend is a drama student so strops are her forte she can make a drama out of a crisis. I generally only get into strops if liverpool are playing badly(strop central recently) or if I keep getting killed/not be able to do specific parts in computer games. As I now have a ps3 with wireless pads this is a wee bit more hazardous than before.

Although long bank queues and supermarkets in general get my gander up.

Download the Adam and Joe & Jon Richardson podcasts now!

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My friend at work is a drama student and she doesn't stop moaning when she's in a bad mood and exaggerates it. It suddenly makes me feel cheerful in comparison.

I get annoyed when I spend ages doing some work for others and they don't like it, don't use it or mess it about. The editor of the newspaper can be like that. He'll cut it down purely so they can stick an extra letter or advert in and never bother telling you.

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I'm not really one to strop publicly. I'm usually quite calm. Computers that persistently crash at the same point frustrate me and I can get quite stressed at them. There's some software we have to use which is extremely temperamental and will spend half an hour doing something and if you touch it at all, it crashes and you lose all your work. After a day working with it, one of my friends and I were scrapping like little kids, because he decided it would be funny to put a pin through my water bottle so it leaked everywhere and then wouldn't buy me a new one.

I whined enough that he did eventually buy me a new water bottle.

'Forget happiness I'm fine, I'll forget everything in time'

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  • 3 weeks later...

Even at the ripe old age of ... (look at my profile), I don't technically qualify as a 'Grumpy old woman' quite yet, but I still get pretty disgruntled on a daily basis...

The following article (Charlie Brooker, The Guardian today) made me nod my head and smile in agreement. Do we need a 'Punchbag Hotline'?:

'Shortly before writing this sentence, I literally punched myself in the head, because I'm unbelievably angry for no good reason. OK, for one good reason - I'm 24 hours into what must be my 20th attempt at quitting cigarettes for good (that "smoking permit" horror story was the final straw - I'd rather quit now, on my own terms, thank you, not six months down the line when I've got to apply for a licence to keep on puffing, courtesy of some titwit advisory board).

I was what you might call a "furious smoker" in that the very act of smoking annoyed me, and I tended to smoke when annoyed. Now that I've (hopefully) stubbed out my last one, the nicotine's been temporarily replaced by a steady, swelling rage, which I can feel surging just behind my eyes even as I type, as though I'm preparing to transform into the Hulk at the slightest provocation. This is not a healthy state to be in. It's a shame I'm currently single, because I'd like nothing better than a massive, pointless argument right now - the sort that suddenly and unexpectedly blows up over something trivial, such as "Where did you put the towels?", before rapidly degenerating into a self-righteous festival of bellowing that only comes to an end when one or both of you breaks down in tears out of sheer confusion, and winds up crawling around on the kitchen floor like a dog, wailing and howling, with a glassy pendulum of snot swinging off the end of your nose. I get misty-eyed just thinking about it.

Some people feel this angry all the time. I encountered more than my fair share of them back when I was a shop assistant - an alarming number of our fellow citizens who apparently walk around simply aching for a fight.

Once a man strolled in, pointed to something behind the counter, and gruffly asked if he could have it for five pounds off. He was wearing tracksuit bottoms, and had one hand absent-mindedly stuffed down the front, playing with his balls, as he studied my face for a response. I politely explained that the price was the price, haggling wasn't an option, and so on. He asked if I wanted to step outside. When I said I didn't, he swore at me, kicked the counter, and stormed out. The entire exchange lasted less than 30 seconds.

A man that angry probably picks a fight with himself in the mirror each morning. God knows how he gets through life. He was about 27, with no visible scars. Miracle. By now he must be dead or in jail. Or possibly both: in a jail for dead people. Rotting in his cell. Turning to Porridge.

There ought to be a telephone service for people perpetually as furious as him - or temporarily as angry as me; a cathartic, anger-management equivalent of the Samaritans, which you can call 24/7 to vent your frustrations at a live human punchbag. The average conversation would start like this:

THEM: Hello, Punchbag Hotline.

YOU: What sort of way to answer the phone is that?

THEM: Sorry?

YOU: (sarcastic lisping voice) "Hello, Punchbag Hotline." Prick.

THEM: There's no need to . . .

YOU: SHUT YOUR HOLE!

It would continue in much the same vein until you'd shouted your way back to normality. Sounds pointless, but I guarantee it would save lives.'

PS. Have you given up smoking yet Mike? ;)

'To disagree with three-fourths of the British public is one of the first requisites of sanity'.

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I had a kind of private strop yesterday when I realised that my stuff was going missing. Private in the sense that nobody else was in the house at the time, haha. Really hope I find out who the culprit is..........

I don't usually throw strops in public unless something really isn't going the way I want it to, I can get a bit moany if I suddenly get given loads of work to do over the weekend though.

So save the last dance

For me my love 'cause I

I see you as an angel freshly fallen from the sky...

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There ought to be a telephone service for people perpetually as furious as him - or temporarily as angry as me; a cathartic, anger-management equivalent of the Samaritans, which you can call 24/7 to vent your frustrations at a live human punchbag. The average conversation would start like this:

THEM: Hello, Punchbag Hotline.

YOU: What sort of way to answer the phone is that?

THEM: Sorry?

YOU: (sarcastic lisping voice) "Hello, Punchbag Hotline." Prick.

THEM: There's no need to . . .

YOU: SHUT YOUR HOLE!

That would be heaven for me, it really would. I love Charlie Brooker so much, he's the first thing I YouTube when I'm feeling grumpy.

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I yelled at my housemate to "F*** off" the other day because he had a problem with the location of my cactus in the kitchen. He keeps moaning about totally trivial things and is also useless at removing any of his things from communal areas, his clothes and books are draped all over the place. Everyone else looked a bit shocked when I said that to him because I'm not normally an angry person.

'Forget happiness I'm fine, I'll forget everything in time'

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