(*Image sourced from and credited to someecards.com*)
That person you've always wanted to punch in the face. I'm not doubting that you're a lovely person (of course you're a lovely person, you lovely person, you), but even if you are the loveliest human being who has ever walked the earth, you are not immune to the idiosyncratic curses of social existence. There is somebody in this world for whom you have a perpetual desire to punch in the face. Who is it? Is it your weird, pops-to-the-shops-at-5am-to-buy-onions neighbour? Is it that friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend who you met briefly for 5 seconds before deciding you'd rather sit on a cactus than ever converse with them again? Whoever it may be, there's every chance you've befriended them on Facebook to satisfy your unwarranted curiosity. You'd never actually punch them in the face, but you do think about it, a lot, and you sometimes slam cutlery on the table and huff about 'HOW ANNOYING' that person is, especially when their latest 'literally, they are doing my head in' selfie pops up your newsfeed. Delete them; I dare you.
The oversharer. Social media culture may well have influenced our attitudes toward discretion, however we do still have the opportunity to govern just how much we put out there. We don't have to shamelessly declare to the virtual world that we 'just had the most painful bikini wax eva, I'll be red raw for days! LOL!' or that we're, 'literally, sooooo angry rite now!!!!!!!!!! Tom just said someone else's name while we were having sex, literally WTF!!! Why are men so shit? So gutted right now ;(', or that we're 'just popping to the shops lol', 'just putting a load of washing in, same old lol', or 'just eating a ham sandwich lol.' 'Just deleting you because your unsolicited, boring updates are making me want to kill myself, lol.'
The guy who just commented on a Facebook photo you were tagged in in 2007. He may have made the transition from half witty message tennis on an online dating site to let's-get-each-other-on-Facebook-so-we-can-stalk-the-shit-out-of-each-other, or he may have added you on the basis of your mutual friends. Either way, he's just liked a pouty, freshly-turned-18 'LUV MA GALZ, GETTIN' ON IT, haven't yet learnt how not to dress like a massive slut' photographic cataclysm that you were tagged in 7 years ago. Oh hello, excessive mammary spillage and cheap, why-is-it-blue?! alcohol consumption; good day to you. As if his rifling through 1500 photos to find that one wasn't bad enough, he's commented saying 'propa gorgie hun, i would ;) xxx.' Get your trainers out; it's time to run for the virtual hills.
The serial complainer. One short scroll through your newsfeed is all you need to do to know that this cantankerous soul is having the WORST WEEK of their lives EVER. (Every week.) Their oven broke, they couldn't get a seat on the bus, their dog chewed their favourite pair of undies, 'the traffic is soooooo bad', Tesco ran out of cream crackers, they're disappointed with the English weather, they're too fat to get into that dress, too tired to deal with life today, and far too pissed off with Margaret from the post office. Their life is one giant 'FML'; the sharing of their daily gripes a window into their absolutely, positively horrendous misfortune. Can we ban these people from the Internet? Please?
That girl/guy who loves her/his 'PERFECT boyfriend/girlfriend sooooooo much foreva and eva!! Can't wait for the rest of our lives baby, mwah xxxxxxxx.' There's no quicker way to cheapen one of the most extraordinary components of the human experience than to urgently bare the grammatically incorrect desires of your bursting heart to a completely unmoved audience. Love is beautiful, I get that, but in its most raw, remarkable state, that beauty is bred from the frantic whispers between the sheets; the inclusivity, the sharing of laughter and toast and genitals, the spontaneous, creative declarations of affection between THE TWO OF YOU that don't require the approval of Brenda from Harlow, who you think you might have worked with 4 years ago at Pizza Express. You're going to drag 400 of us into this shit because you can't find a more creative way to express your feelings? Really?!
The chronic inviter. Come and milk some cows on my non-existent farm. Click here if you want to read 25 facts about me! Come and play candy crush. Sign my petition that is absolutely going to change the world. Like this cause. Come to my awesome party. I'm Jesse McCartney, which 'I-can't-actually-sing-but-a-bunch-of-14-year-olds-fancied-me-10-years-ago' star are you? Which American president would you be best suited to for a coffee date? Which hors d'oeuvre are you? I'm an onion ring, HAHA. Come and like my page. It will change your life. Goodbye.
That girl you met drunk in the bar toilets in 2009. In the pre-Internet days, you would have lost contact with this girl almost instantaneously, but of course, Facebook allowed you to cement the gin-fuelled discovery of your unrivalled best friendship. You shared life stories that night, swapped vagina-related witticisms, and told each other that 'your ass looks AH-MAZING in that dress! Seriously! And those booooooobs, I would kill for boobs like that!' You lent her a hairbrush. She lent you some bronzer. You passed some toilet paper to her under the cubicle divider. You loved each other within 5 minutes. Guess what? You haven't spoken to each other since. It's time to accept that it's over.
Your one night stand from 2 years ago. You well and truly carpe'd that diem, and though you didn't initially regret the 5 minutes of mediocre intercourse that you shared with this handsome stranger, it's now become apparent that your fantasy idea of him was much better than, erm, the actual him. Unfortunately, Mr 'there-was-just-something-about-him,-I've-got-to-add-him-on-Facebook!' keeps posting vile Grandma jokes and photos of his cat in the tumble dryer. His virtual presence has initiated your shame and is doing little to appease it. Without Facebook, you'd never have known that this handsome stranger was in fact the creepiest person you've ever met. Congratulations. Remove him from your friends list; your dignity will thank you.
Jack Matthews. Who the devil is Jack Matthews?! Seriously though, do you even know who that guy is?