1. Robin Williams - It took me five weeks and four nights queuing to see "Mrs Doubtfire", Robin. And you know what? It was utter bilge. About as funny as dribbling snot at a formal occasion. Next time you have a marriage crisis, either see a divorce lawyer or take a leaf out of OJ's book but don't foist this kind of celluloid bowel disorder on paying punters, you festering dweeb. For your next "amusing" latex face, I hope they forget the air holes.

2. Chaka Demus & Pliers - May they both be savagely murdered in their sleep by the ghost of Marley, or failing that a gang of Jamaican hitmen. About as tuneful as a rattling toolbox and considerably less interesting to watch.

3. Ad-men - Thanks for reducing several thousand years of human evolution to a dilemma over toilet paper and margarine. There is a place in hell set aside for you all, and it's next door to Chaka Demus & Pliers.

4. Sinead O'Conner - Let's play the Kurt Cobain "look at me, I'm so fucked up" media celeb game. At least he shut up eventually.

5. The organisers of Woodstock '94 - Now sponsored by MCA and Pepsi! Pity you didn't all overdose in that muddy field twenty five years ago, instead of growing suits and acquiring the tastes of your elders. Hendrix died for your sins and, boy, was he lucky.

6. My own cynicism - Because I want all the above to be in good company.