My Word? Not MY Word, my word.

Hands up all those who get frustrated by Microsoft's word processing program, Word.

I think it is dangerous to HATE inanimate objects, and I don't know Bill Gates well enough to hate him personally. But.....
Word gets my goat
Word gets my dander up
Word, if it knew how to, would probably get up my dander.
Word gets up my nose, under my skin and on my wick
Word gasts my flabber.
Word induces involuntary acts of micturition (Forgive the bowdlerisation)
Word is driving me to the bottle: it is foisting my gumple.

When I find that you can't import an Excel file into a Word file, the boggle really enters my mind.
Generally, good people, it does no good at all to me or to my Blood Pressure, the krakatoa of these parts.

Word tries to do my thinking for me.
Word pops in headings.
Word pops in corrections.
Word changes font and point size without warning.
Word emboldens and underlines and italicizes without my permission.
Word is like fascism without the nice uniforms.
Word makes squiggly underscores, just because it doesn't know what an oriole is.
Word has less knowledge of syntax than a woodlouse (Don't ask me how I know that)
Word cannot spell for toffee. In fact, it probably can't spell "toffee".

And now: THE LAST STRAW:

I find today, that when I try to create a single document from all the chapters of the book that currently sit isolated, each in its own folder, there is a limit to the size of document that Word will allow.
I have 15 chapters, but it sighs at the tenth and then deletes the whole document, as if to say: "We may be big, but we don't do big."

Sod it, I'm off to the chandler's to get a supply of wax and to the haberdasher's for some pins, and then, just you watch out, William Bloody Gates, just you watch out.

This is WAR, and I just declared it.