I don't mind the commercial breaks on TV. They are an opportunity to slip away to make a coffee or have a peepee.
Even so, it's impossible to avoid them completely, and I don't mind catching the arse-end of some of them, the ones that are witty or inventive or involve busty ladies on tractors.
But I DO object to those that talk to me at the top of their decibels, like those old Barnum and Bailey pitchers who are selling you the MOST AMAZING UNBELIEVABLE THING YOU WILL EVER SEE TWENTY FOUR EXCLAMATION MARKS.
Well, yes. A two-headed iguana or a bearded lady I can accept.
But a frigging LEATHER SOFA, 20% OFF, HURRY WHILE STOCKS LAST screamed out by banshees?
Another UNDERARM DEODORANT, SHE WILL SHAG THE ARSE OFF YOU WHEN SHE GETS A WHIFF OF THIS ONE, ranted by a raving lunatic who isn't getting any?
CRUNCHED NUTS, the breakfast cereal that will turn you into another Mel Gibson complete with tight buttocks or your money back if it sags?
Guys, just tone it down, ok? Sell it to me, but not down my throat, ok?
As to those animated telephones selling car insurance, I would even prefer to be propositioned by Alan Bleeding Titchmarsh, heaven forbid.