Psychiatrists

Want to know my favourite headline from the recent Olympic coverage?

“Jeremy Hunt hits woman with his bell end.”

Genius.

I’m not going to write more about the games (though WELL DONE the rowing women), or the opening ceremony (stage school robs a bank and the entire BBC costume department) because it seems to annoy some people.

So instead, I thought I’d list some things that people do that annoy me:

·         Read my phone number, which starts 07710, back to me, by saying “Oh seven seven one zero”. Why the inconsistency? The extra syllable? Deeply baffling and irritating.

·         Talk you through a recipe, that you didn’t ask for, and precede and follow it with the words “It’s just SO easy!”. You’re not going to remember it, in fact you deliberately tune out while they’re speaking. Tell it to someone who can’t cook.

·         Crimes against myself. What is the answer to the following question – “Who wants to go to the swings?” What is the missing word – “Will you marry ...?” Me should never be replaced by myself. It is strangely objectivising and painfully ignorant. Apprentice hopefuls, take note.

·         Say “I’ll be honest with you”. No don’t. That’s why I asked you a question – I was hoping for a lie.

·         Use the expression “And I’ll tell you for why”. Especially when followed by “Right now”. Right now? What an honour. I usually expect a written answer by post when I go up to a shop assistant for advice.

·         Be all dark ages about e-mail addresses. I’m afraid this normally applies to my father’s ilk. When e-mail first started, I was working at The Economist. My address was lucytallon@economist.com. I used to have to bite my tongue several times a day on the phone, as it was virtually impossible just to say it, or even spell it, without someone asking “No dot?”. NO! If there was a dot, I would’ve SAID ‘dot’. But I kind of wished there was a dot, despite the extra syllable and the spoiling of simplicity, to stop people like you asking that question. And don’t get me started on “All one word?”. Or even “All lower case?”.

Oh dear, I still can’t get the opening ceremony out of my head. I liked the queen and Mr Bean. But many of the references were lost on me, eg all that Slumdog texting jazzhanding. It didn’t help that I was asleep quite a lot. But was there a hidden meaning behind the whole thing?

I thought about another possible coded meaning on Monday, after a routine appointment at the shrink. This time it was a woman – I seem to have seen a different one almost every time since moving onto the NHS – and I was reminded of the really bizarre female psychiatrist I used to see a couple of years ago.

She wasn’t one of those ordinary shrinks you can quite imagine having a family, knocking back a glass of wine as soon as they get home and complaining cheerfully about their day. The type whose friends say “I still can’t actually believe he’s a psychiatrist” and carefully position next to their most annoying other friends at dinner parties, in the hope they’ll secretly pass on a diagnosis the next day.

She spoke very quietly, didn’t laugh at any of my jokes, spent far too long writing things down (and spelling them wrong, I might add) and had a slight, fixed smile, as if she thought I might lamp her at any moment.

Jon came to one session with me, and could barely wait til we we’d left the building afterwards before exclaiming, disbelievingly “Did you see her jumper?!” Apparently it had a picture of a cock on it.

Now I admit that this seems quite unlikely, and I didn’t notice it – I just thought it was ugly and homemade. But Jon was adamant it had a phallic image stitched into it. Which probably says more about him. But ever since, we have wondered whether it was a sort of test.

Maybe someone ought to send one to Jeremy Hunt.