Last year I wrote about ten things that get under my skin in our supposedly advanced modern world. The response was surprising - turns out I'm not alone in my exasperation. So here we are again, because the world hasn't stopped providing material, and I've still got things to get off my chest.
Smash Burgers and the Americanisation of Everything
Let's start with smash burgers, shall we? For those blessedly unaware, a smash burger is what happens when someone can't be bothered to properly mould a burger patty. Instead, they slap a ball of mince onto a grill and flatten it with whatever comes to hand. Bits fall off, you lose weight (from the burger, not yourself), and what should be a quarter-pounder ends up considerably lighter. But it's sold to us as "artisanal" and "trendy" when the real reason is simple economics - shaving seconds off prep time to maximise profit.
I grew up in South London and remember the pre-fast-food era, so I've witnessed this invasion from the start. McDonald's and KFC at least offered value initially. Then came the late-80s wave where "Americana" became part of the experience. I recall visiting Sticky Fingers in Kensington - owned by one of the Rolling Stones, if memory serves - and thinking it was vulgar, overpriced circus masquerading as cuisine.
Fast forward to today, and these establishments are proliferating across Spain, a country with its own magnificent culinary heritage. Every time I see one, I wince. For God's sake, exploit your own cultural tradition instead of importing smoke and mirrors from America. I left a comment on a Malaga restaurant's advert about their smash burgers expressing this sentiment. They blocked me. Quelle surprise.
Pot Noodle: An Abomination in Plastic
There should be a law against pot noodles. Without their packet of E-numbers, noodles are utterly flavourless. They have the texture of ear cartilage and possess a perverse ability to resist being eaten - too slippery to wind around a fork or cup in a spoon. Who invents food that actively fights consumption?
And the container! A plastic pot is entirely the wrong vessel for something already difficult to serve. Of course it's plastic - the fossil fuel industry's darling - wrapped in a cardboard sleeve because plastic won't take decent printing. Want 43% of your daily salt intake in one sitting? Pot noodle's got you covered. That's the nearest thing to praise I can muster.
The Right-Wing Press and the Death of Decency
I've been hate-reading the Mail Online for years, mainly to understand what the establishment opposition is saying and to do battle with the hard-of-thinking in the comments section. I've always despised its undercurrent of racism and blind monarchism - a set of values I've termed C.R.A.P. (Colonialist, Royalist, Authoritarian Patriarchy).
Increasingly though, I can't stomach the C.R.A.P. for even brief visits. The Overton window isn't pushing the envelope - as Pratchett might say, it's burst a hole in the wall of the post office. All pretense of the common decency that characterised one-nation Conservatism has evaporated. The Mail, Express, and Telegraph have embraced post-truth Trumpism with gusto, firing story after story at the public not for news value but for their ability to shock and enrage.
AI Slop and the Death of Truth
Shortly after the widely publicised boxing match between Jake Paul and Mike Tyson, a story appeared claiming Anthony Joshua had nearly died in a car accident in Africa. It had red flags - the timing, the location - that made me suspect AI-generated clickbait. Except it wasn't fake. It was true.
That's precisely what infuriates me about AI. The days when a critical mind with decent technical understanding could separate truth from fiction without third-party confirmation are gone. We've entered an era where real news looks fake and fake news looks real, and none of us can trust our instincts anymore.
Phones as Phones (Or Rather, Not)
Remember when phones were for calling people? Now they're messaging devices, cameras, and tiny computers that occasionally ring. The problem is threefold: spam calls have made us afraid to answer, you can never extract the bloody thing from your pocket before three rings, and your actual friends have migrated entirely to messaging apps. The voice call is becoming an anachronism, which seems perverse for a device literally called a phone.
Passkeys: Security Theatre Gone Mad
Many of you probably don't know what passkeys are, and explaining them without diving into cryptography is tricky. Essentially, an app verifies your identity through information it can authenticate. Google and Microsoft are hastening the death of traditional passwords, which I think is a mistake. Passwords aren't inherently less secure than passkeys - they're just easier for users to mess up by choosing "password123" or writing them on Post-it notes.
The problem with passkeys is they're often device-dependent. Recently, I tried accessing a shopping site while away from home. The app recognised I'd previously logged in with a fingerprint, but I was on a different computer. Cue the authentication paper-chain: "We've sent a message to device X." Device X was at home. "Try an alternative method." The email went to one of fifty addresses I keep on my desktop but hadn't bothered transferring to my laptop.
I have password managers on all seven of my devices. I'd entered my correct username and password. Yet it took fifteen minutes and several emails to access a site where I was trying to give them money. Is this really sensible business practice?
Academia's Emperor's New Clothes
Remember that Good Will Hunting scene about dropping a hundred grand on an education you could get for a dollar fifty in late charges at the public library? I just watched a video listing ten degree-level courses available free online. No networking opportunities or certificates, but all the materials are there.
Here's the question: is it easier to ask questions in a crowded lecture hall or have an AI language model as your one-to-one education partner? The traditional university model is looking increasingly like an expensive way to make friends and get a piece of paper.
I encountered a YouTube account recently - a woman talking to camera. Something felt off, so I investigated. Full social media presence: Instagram, TikTok, the works. Videos of places she'd "visited," but even when she appeared in thumbnails, the actual footage showed her from behind, going up stairs, always in situations making it hard to confirm she was real.
After fifteen minutes of detective work, I concluded she was fake - an exceptionally well-constructed fake, but fake nonetheless. It gave me insight into the extraordinary lengths people go to for content and clicks these days. We're living in an age where you need to be a forensic investigator just to determine if the person you're watching exists.
Enshittification: Everything Gets Worse
Cory Doctorow coined this term for how platforms decay: first they're good to users, then they abuse users to benefit business customers, finally they abuse everyone to benefit only themselves. It's the perfect word for our times. Every service you rely on is on this trajectory. Your streaming platform has ads now. Your search engine is mostly sponsored links. Your social media is algorithmic rage-bait. Everything that was once good becomes progressively worse, and we're powerless to stop it because there's nowhere else to go.
Spanish Winters: The Influencer's Reckoning
I'm quite cold writing this in Olvera on 24th January 2026. Despite an hour with the gas fire on, it's too expensive to adequately heat a draughty Spanish house built for sunshine. Years ago, when money came more easily that it does now, I heated the place to 23 degrees for a quarter and spent the best part of five hundred euros. That's why Spaniards wear coats indoors.
I've lived here since 2003, so cold winters aren't new - I had -9C and burst pipes in Murcia years back. But we've been spoilt lately with five years of mild winters and uninterrupted sunshine. This cold snap has been particularly amusing because of TikTok influencers posting "WTF" videos, moaning about ice and snow they didn't have on their Mediterranean bingo cards.
Caveat emptor, as they say. Beware what you wish for - you just might get it.
And with that warming thought, I'll leave you to your own irritations. No doubt you've got a list brewing too.