I found myself hating the Kindle Mayday button advert the other day. You know, the one where the guy who looks like someone who would clumsily chat you up at a wedding gets online advice from the Irish girl who looks like that new receptionist at work who doesn’t fancy you? I quickly realised it was a ridiculous thing to hate. It’s a terrible ad, but it’s an ad for quite a useful service, made by an ad agency that probably had to jump through all sorts of hoops and make compromises they weren’t comfortable making, and starring two actors who I imagine are quite good fun in real life. Even at weddings.
But it did make me think about what an extraordinary waste of time hating inconsequential things is. It just sucks the joy from life. The opposite of hate is not love; the opposite of hate is happiness. With that in mind, I’ve taken a few of the things and people we hate the most, and tried my best to explain why we shouldn’t hate them. I will be honest with you, some were easier than others.
Jeremy Clarkson, Jeremy Kyle and Jeremy Hunt
Now here are three men you spend way too much of your life hating. But come on, they’re all called Jeremy! How would you like it? They were born as Jeremy, they went to school as Jeremy, they’ve had to tell any woman they’ve ever chatted up that they’re called Jeremy. (The same applies to Piers of course). Surely you would have to vent your frustrations somehow? In the case of Clarkson, Kyle and Hunt, they have simply decided to vent their frustrations by, respectively, catapulting caravans into volcanoes; administering DNA tests to determine whether someone’s brother is actually their mum; and systematically dismantling the NHS.
But we shouldn’t hate them for these things. Remember, the opposite of hate is happiness – our happiness. So let’s understand their plight instead, let’s empathise, and let the hate fly away. And, on a more practical note, let’s also endeavour to think more carefully when naming our own children. My two are called Barbarella and Greyskull, which should keep them out of trouble.
Self-service tills
Certain phrases strike cold terror into our hearts: “I think we need to have a talk”; “Great First Western would like to apologise to passengers on Platform 3”; “There now follows a party political broadcast on behalf of the Liberal Democrats.” Now there’s a new contender for the crown of Phrase We’d Least Like to Hear: “Unexpected item in bagging area.”
But I think we’re behind the times here. Self-service tills now actually work rather well. They used to be like Meerkats – the tiniest thing would spook them; a crumpled bar code, a loose grape, a gust of air. They are now a pretty solid, speedy way to buy your groceries in peace, without having to lie to the person on the checkout that you’re “having friends round” when they see that your basket contains only booze and chocolate.
So I think this hatred is outdated. Except for at WH Smith of course, where they still have the Meerkat tills, and never, ever, have carrier bags. I’ll tell you what, WH Smith, why don’t I just carry this newspaper, bottle of water and packet of Wotsits home in my teeth? And charge you 2p while I’m at it? Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, how to stop hating inconsequential things.
Mrs Brown’s Boys
Now, I would argue that you don’t really hate Mrs Brown’s Boys. You merely don’t like it. It’s not for you. It is neither your type of humour, nor your cup of tea. What has actually led you to hate it is that it is wildly, unimaginably successful. And where that success is concerned, you have to confront an uncomfortable truth. Mrs Brown’s Boys has been such a runaway hit simply because, of all the comedies that are “not really your sort of thing”, it is very much the best. It’s terrifically written, performed by a cast clearly enjoying themselves, in roles they’ve honed to a razor’s edge in front of live audiences up and down the country. It’s good. I know you don’t want to hear that, but it is, and that means you have to hear an awful lot about it. So you now have to define yourself by your opposition to it, and your initial mild dislike is amplified many, many times over until it becomes full-blown hatred. You don’t hate Ben Elton’s sitcom The Wright Way, and that’s because it’s not as good as Mrs Brown’s Boys, so no one else really liked it either, and therefore no one is going to force you to watch it at Christmas. So just let the hate go, and replace it with the sweet nectar of bored indifference. How does that feel?
Ryanair
Perceived very much as the scruffy minicab of airlines. But look at it this way. If you want to fly to somewhere quite near Gdansk, and you don’t need the toilet, food, or emergency oxygen, then it is very cheap. And, while we’re on the subject, those free peanuts you get on British Airways aren’t actually free. They were included in the £695 you paid to fly to Prague during the school holidays. On a legal note, you don’t actually have to pay for the emergency oxygen on Ryanair – that was a joke. Unless I’ve just given Michael O’Leary an idea.
Justin Bieber
Let’s move on to pop’s very own drag-racing, man-doll antichrist. OK, so you hate his music. But it’s made for children, not for us. We’re supposed to like Elbow and the xx, and to have an obscure 60s reggae compilation we put on when we’re trying to impress someone. Justin Bieber’s music sounds, to our ears, pretty much exactly as PJ Harvey’s music sounds to a 12 year-old Canadian girl. What about the fact that he’s a “dreadful hypocrite” who has a clean-cut image but behaves like a spoilt troublemaker? Well, that’s true, but think of the upside of his self-destructive behaviour – we’re probably only five years away from seeing him on Celebrity Big Brother with Keith Harris and Orville. It’s also worth remembering that his fans are awesome, and they go crazy on Twitter if you say anything uncomplimentary about him in the comments section. Have fun!
The Guardian and the Daily Mail
Everyone hates one or the other, and for the same reason. We think they’re stuffed full of blatant propaganda, gullibly swallowed by sheep-like readers. But we don’t need to hate them at all. No one is influenced by newspapers any more. Newspaper readers are all pretty old, and no one can ever change our minds about anything. When was the last time you fundamentally changed your view about absolutely anything at all? I’m guessing somewhere around 1994. People who do change their minds a lot – the young, let’s call them – are not reading anything of any consequence in either of these papers. If any teenager is reading this it will be because, for a number of reasons, they had to Google “Justin Bieber + DNA test” and this was the first thing that came up.
My mum, who is genuinely unlikely to vote for Ukip any time soon, buys the Daily Mail every day, because she likes the Code Word puzzles. She remains resolutely unchanged by the experience. Although, now I think about it, she has just hung a “Romanians Out!” banner from her upstairs window.
John Terry
How can you hate John Terry? He’s so … I mean, he’s really … he’s always done a lot of work for … no, sorry, even I can’t do this one.
I hope this hate-purge has helped in some way. If you feel you could help us stop hating anything else – say, Nick Clegg or the films of Vince Vaughn – please leave comments below. And next time you see that Kindle advert, don’t just immediately switch over. Let it live, let it breathe, let it be. Let the hate go. Unless it’s on during an episode of Splash!, in which case, feel free to fire a gun at the screen.
