Exam rage: What is it? You can't talk right now. You urgently need to write answers on unexposed bits of your body for emergency perusal in the toilets. It's the written French paper this morning and you can't for the life of you remember which verbs agree with which subjects - and anyway you hate France: nasty, garlicky place.
You scoffed four pain au chocolat for your petit déjeuner, thinking the culinary treat might inspire. Unfortunately, you sat on one in the car by accident and got a nasty stain on your school uniform, which you just know is going to be misinterpreted by everyone when you walk in to the exam hall. Merde.
The symptoms? A week in to the exams you are experiencing an extreme case of repetitive-strain injury, which will not be helped by history this afternoon. You have already written enough for a short novel, including, in the English paper, a letter to Cameron Diaz, complimenting her on bagging Justin Timberlake. You are sure that in the real world your efforts would have scooped various prestigious short-story prizes. Now it's languishing in some examiner's office. It's sooo unfair. Other symptoms include scowling scarily at people frolicking bare-legged in the sun, without a care in the world, while praying that your tights are opaque enough to hide the historical dates scrawled across your thighs. You wish you had done the Leaving Certificate Applied. They have their hair-and-beauty exam today. You, meanwhile, are having a very bad hair day. And, mon Dieu, those nails!
The cure? Relax by watching that brilliant movie How To Cheat In The Leaving Certificate and try to remember, Scarlett O'Hara-style, that tomorrow really is another day. A day, admittedly, when you will be tested on two of your weakest subjects, business and "don't know much" biology. What a wonderful world, indeed.
What annoys you most? Share it with us by e-mailing rage@irish-times.ie
What makes you mad
I am incensed every time I pass a city-centre Garda station. Invariably, the spaces reserved for official Garda vehicles are full of gardaí's personal cars and the official Garda vehicles are double parked, parked on double yellow lines or parked in designated parking spaces (which they do not pay for). Free parking does not necessarily come with the job - but who polices the police on this issue? They obviously regard free parking as a perk. If you challenge the Garda on this you will find that, conveniently, no one is available to deal with your inquiry. ... Louise O'Reilly, Crumlin
Those bloody helicopters roaring around at night. I live in central Dublin, and there seems to be a constant roar of helicopters hovering over my apartment block. They stop you sleeping and, if you do manage to drop off, they wake you up. An entire section of the workforce must be sleep deprived. God knows the harm it is doing to our health and good humour. I wish this rant made me feel better, but it doesn't: I'm too tired! ... Rosemary Murphy, Dublin
My pet rage is having to grin and shake hands with total strangers. This ghastly ritual was introduced some years ago during Church ceremonies. There comes a point towards the end of Mass when one is asked by the priest to "give the sign of peace", and I am forced to turn to the unknown beside and around me, shake hands and look sincere. Ugh. ... Keith Nolan, Carrick-on-Shannon
I am a dog lover. I walk my mutt for at least an hour a day. We also play chase, throw balls and so on. But what about the status-symbol dog? I can hear one right now. Lovely family, money not scarce, four children, beautiful house and, of course, a large, shining dog that blends with its surroundings. So what is the problem? Parents are at work, children are at school - and what happens? The dog barks every 10 minutes. We, the neighbours, suffer. Doggie doesn't bark when the family is at home. Then there is the career woman who gets two dogs, to keep each other company. Indeed, they do. And they bark, howl and bark again. But they are such good watchdogs! ... A reader from Blackrock, Cork
