Comment's home of rants; weird, wonderful, weekly.

Meg Holtom
28th November 2016
Comment's home of rants: weird, wonderful, weekly.

by Tommy Harees

I am sick to fucking death of being nice to people. Particularly at Christmas. Did I mention I work in retail?

I am so done with misogynistic old men expecting to talk to me like I owe them something - I am literally paid to be nice. Please, tell me more about your personal life. Yes, please do tell me about how shocking these prices are (which, by the way, I am earning less than one tenth of per hour).

I’m sick of people treating me and my colleagues like literal shit on their shoes. Talk to sales assistants, bar staff, ticket collectors, anyone doing their job like they are (spoilers) human beings. It takes more effort to be a cunt than to be nice. I know this to be true. This is why I’m so tired all the time.

by Laura Bolden

It’s almost the best time of the year, and to mark the occasion big brands across the UK have spent millions on their new Christmas advertisements, including of course John Lewis.

The new advert, featuring Buster the Boxer, has brought out The Grinch in the nation and provided the masses with yet another topic to whine about. Claims that the advert tells young children Santa isn’t real and that it plays on a real issue of fox attacks in homes have been rife across social media, but the most ridiculous of them all? That the advert promotes Bovine Tuberculosis – a disease spread by badgers.

The campaign aimed for ‘laughter not tears’, so why have so many of us chosen to focus upon every negative possible instead of revelling in the excitement of the build up to Christmas? I’m aware we all love a moan, but I believe its time we wrapped ourselves in a warm blanket, cup of hot chocolate in hand and enjoy the advert for what it is, a symbol that everyone can have fun this Christmas.

by Meg Holtom

It’s house viewing season and I feel like every time my phone goes off it’s another email from Gary telling me there’s a viewing for the next day.

Let me set the scene. It’s 3pm on a Wednesday and I’ve had a very hard hour in Uni. I’m sat in my room minding my own business and in walk a group of freshers and the Pat lady. They proceed to walk around my room, commenting on how nice it is (as if they’d come in and say ‘ew this place is gross’).

Their eyes then rest on me, wrapped in a duvet/dressing gown combo with a tub of Tesco everyday value ice cream (fuck paying for Ben and Jerry’s), crying and watching Sex and the City for the fourth time since starting the term. Fuck off with your judgy glares this is what students do isn’t it?! I even got asked one time how energy efficient the house is. I replied: ‘Get the fuck out of my room’.

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