I am the man who leaves out that vital screw in your IKEA flatpack.
I am the ubiquity of scarves.
I am the woman who first called second-hand, vintage.
I am the man who moved the green man from the opposite side of the road at eye level to your side of the road at hip level.
I are teenage spelling and grammar on Facebook walls.
I am lol, rofl, rolfcopter, k, totes, and meme.
I am the Führer of the grammar Nazis.
I am the misappropriation of job titles to make your position seem grander than it is.
I am the Waterstone’s apostrophe, forever lost to the whimsy of a brand architect.
I am the twitchy fickleness of the stock market that brings Robert Peston scuttling to our TV screens.
I am the former rock star, turned celebrity cheese maker.
I am the infinite complexity of a consumer society that demands choice above everything.
I am the 12 brands of stock cube, 31 types of cooking oil, and 23 makes of cat food on your supermarket’s shelves.
I am the brightest of minds who is still baffled about the cheapest way to buy electricity.
I am the man who invented the phrase ‘negative growth’.
I am the tram driver who pulls away as your ticket is being printed.
I am the man who made rail fares so expensive that it is cheaper to drive long distances.
I am the man who writes those ever so helpful information signs on motorways like ‘FOG’ or ‘Congestion: Slow’.
I am the foot deep pothole in every road.
I am the stagnant water in the foot deep pothole in every road.
I am the man who keys cars.
I am the kid who plays his music through his phone speaker on the bus.
I am the umbrella maker who uses substandard steel in his designs so they fold outwards at the first gust of wind.
I am the middle man who sells cheap umbrellas to Primark.
I am the refuse collector who leaves your bin three hundred metres from your house.
I am the Catholic church’s stance on contraception.
And I am the sock forever lost to the washing machine monster.