Design Your Own Hell!

[dolorous_ett]

Here's a delightful thing I found at amelia_eve's journal.

Normally I could cram it with hate-figures without pausing to draw breath, but as I'm feeling relatively at peace with the world, I feel it could be improved on. I'll probably make a new version when something's actually annoying me.

Still, there are always a few hate-figures that I can trot out when called for.

So here it is - my own personal hell!

Proponents of the Moon Hoax
Circle I Limbo

Whoever axed "Star Trek: Enterprise"
Circle II Whirling in a Dark & Stormy Wind

"My Heart Will Go On" and its fans
Circle III Mud, Rain, Cold, Hail & Snow

Hugh Grant and all England-for-Export films
Circle IV Rolling Weights

Trinny and Susannah, property porn TV programmes
Circle V Stuck in Mud, Mangled

River Styx

Michael Howard
Circle VI Buried for Eternity

River Phlegyas

Those who plot against their colleagues for fun
Circle VII Burning Sands

Richard Clayderman
Circle IIX Immersed in Excrement

Robert Kilroy-Silk and all his works
Circle IX Frozen in Ice

Design your own hell

Comments

[hannahmarder.livejournal.com]

That's brilliant, I've got to try it some time. I definitely agree with Kilroy-Silk and Michael Howard, and those who plot against their colleagues. And Hugh Grant. And 'My Heart Will Go On.' I do quite like Trinny and Susannah, however, from an entertainment point of view.

[dolorous-ett.livejournal.com]

I do quite like Trinny and Susannah, however, from an entertainment point of view.

As is your privilege. But personally, I think the suffering and humiliation they inflict definitely qualify them for a stretch in a hell of some sort. And I dread to think what sort of field day they'd have if they ever came within hectoring distance of me.

I'm also very uneasy about the way that they are getting to look more and more similar. I'm convinced it's a conspiracy of some sort.

explosion of honest rage

[dolorous-ett.livejournal.com]

When I reallocate my circles of hell, I shall reserve a special place for that vile book Shanghai Baby by Wei Hui. This is the third time this year that - thanks to my otherwise generally nice job - I've had to think hard about this materialistic, shallow, self-obsessed, narcissitic, self-consciously and artificialy cool, tedious pile of CRAP. I can only pray it's the last.

I'm now so het up about it that I'm seriously considering writing a full sporkage of this rebarbative work in a separate entry. But that would involve sitting down and thinking about it again - and I'm honestly not sure my nerves would stand it.