Next question?

They're rubbish. The sugar remains undissolved in a mound at the bottom of the cup. There was a perfectly good and effective implement called a teaspoon which sufficed for centuries, but try finding one nowadays. They're becoming a rarity...

Food for ants, spiders and ground beetles.
See, there's always an upside... If you like ants (not much), spiders (yes) or ground beetles (wonderful creatures).

Fleas are parasites, and help to spread diseases, sure. But they never built weapons or pushed another species to extinction. When the human race is done and dusted, I bet the fleas will be still be here, doing their slightly creepy thing. OK, they can't paint, act, build cathedrals or invent things, but, y'know, they're quite impressive, in a weird way.

I don't see the point of Dick and Dom. (To name but two humans.)

Bastards

your question is at fault and is way too deterministic. The "purpose" of the flea is to be flea that it has no value to us has no bearing on whether it exists. In fact not being useful can be boon think of the much put upon chicken, fleas might not be liked but they're not exploited like your average chuck. In fact if you were a cat flea you would probably think there wasn't much use for us humans other than tangentially to keep cats alive!

(gets coat, pushes up sleeves)

No really, what is the point?

I am not one of life's worriers. I have never once been in a fight as an adult. Am I missing out?

Oh, and dogs. Fuck it, cats too. Balls to 'em.

Great fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite 'em, And little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum. And the great fleas themselves, in turn, have greater fleas to go on; While these again have greater still, and greater still, and so on.
[1872 A. De morgan Budget of Paradoxes 377]

I can't see the point of pointillism

another example of a talentless product of the 1980s.

weather forecasts on UK television.

Now, if you're in a country where natural disasters and extreme weather are common, it's important to know of impending trouble.

In this country, however, it's either drizzly or it's not. I'm sure I read once that the weather report is correct roughly half the time, but three days out of four, the weather tomorrow will be what it was today. Ergo, looking out the window is a more accurate way of forecasting the weather.

I've no idea how much it costs to do all the meteorology jiggery pokery but, sorry, nope, don't get it.

...there i've said it... (gets metaphorical coat before CofE cake or death fatwah is issued)

It's not as though they're going to get a job afterwards. What's the point?

Doherty.

i mean, honestly, whats the point?

clearly have no purpose in this world. Though I will concede that things that don't exist yet may find themselves useful in the future.

Evil fuckers.

ITV1, 2, 3 and 4.

(Except ITV4 for an hour when the Ashes highlights were on)

Now back to work.

Oh, another one.

Work.

What the hell's the point of those?

There we go. I see no point in football. To be honest, I see no point in most sport. It's just about the most boring thing I can imagine.

I realise I'm in a vanishingly small minority here, especially amongst blokes. I also realise that some people think of non-sports-fans with a mixture, in varying ratios, of despair to pity to contempt. Some might go so far as to say that a life without football is no life at all.

All I'll say is that I've tried, and shortly thereafter I've snoozed. And when I see how het up it makes people, I can't help but feel a tiny bit glad that I don't care, since it seems like a large proportion of the emotional outpouring involved in football is anger, bordering on actual fury. Bouncing between despair, rage and joy sounds like a bloody stressful way to spend your leisure time to me.

Oh, and I won't even get into the conversational blind alleys that occur sometimes when I meet a certain type of bloke (always a bloke) for the first time, and he says "Who'd you follow, then?" Obviously this doesn't happen with all blokes, but a non-negligible number do seem to have no way of recovering from the shock of being told that I don't like football. I'm nice about it, I don't say "FUCK OFF! YOU CAN STICK YOUR FUCKING FOOTBALL UP YOUR ARSE!" or anything. I usually smile a little apologetically and say, "Erm, no-one, actually - I don't follow football."

Cue tumbleweed, church bell tolling ominously in the distance, dogs barking, a light mist descending, candles guttering to smoke, a ghostly chill creeping into the hearts of all present, conversation dead in the water, bloke looks a little panicked at the idea that his GLW/mates don't seem to be around to rescue him from the LEPROUS FOOTBALL DISLIKER.

Gets a bit wearing, that. The next time it happens, I might just bite the bloke on the face for something to do.

is the fact that you're the lucky one, Bob. For most of us the predominant feelings football imbues are not anger or fury but disappointment, frustration and self-loathing. It's like having a Predator boot stamping on your face again and again forever

.

- Life's too short.

Egg-holders in fridge doors - no-one uses them and they gather dirt.

Belly Buttons

Why not? Why not?! Does there have to be a reason for everything? Why don’t you just let us go on a mad impulse? Go on, live a little, surprise yourself.

The phrase "Can I ask you a question?" when uttered by people you pass in shopping malls (One day I'll have the confidence to reply "You just have..."), seeing as you asked...

Numbers 1 to infinity. Minus numbers same rule applies.

Add, subtract, multiply, divide.

Equations, Calculus, Logarithms.

Knock yourselves out, kids. Spend the last 35 minutes you learn nothing new looking out the window.

It used to be be just Paris: not any more.

God, I loathe the French. Les Twats.

He used to be the compere at the Navigation Road Railwayman's club. He wasn't very funny.

Guns. Specifically automatic ones, no use for hunters at all.

The NME

seen any point at all in the interminable business reports on TV and radio. I've never owned stocks and shares and don't care a fig about the price of gold/silver/copper/oil/gas. Nor do I know anyone else who gives a monkey's toss.

They might as well be delivered in a different language for all the sense they make to me and I simply zone out when they come on the radio (which seems to be around three times an hour).

I mean, what's the point? Oh shit...!

I know it's lovely to listen to it on a dark, stormy night when you're tucked up in a nice, warm, stable bed but any vessel that would be out in such weather now has navigation and climate systems considerably more accurate than a long wave radio.

When not showing Football.

a player of David Beckham's talent and status playing for a joke team like LA Galaxy.

What's that? Lots of money, you say?

Jedward, sticky idiots on my telly.

Can I treat this car like a massive skateboard? Can I play hide and seek round Detroit in it? Is it simply brilliant at avoiding projectile paint? Is it the ball in a giant pinball-disco? Is it coveted by a group of weird stuffed and embroidered creature things? Will it morph into a fucking ice-skating robot?

No.

But look, we've recreated a scene from a well-known film around it! Isn't that great? Yeah - referencing!

Next year our slogan is going to be:
"Vauxhall wishes to associate itself with Popular Culture."

seems to have no existence beyond those magazine covers on which she is to be seen perpetually in the process of getting her life back on track/falling apart/in meltdown and so on. Though she does now also have some kind of programme on some channel or other. She ploughs a furrow into which a number of other pointless 'slebs' could also be dumped. But why would anyone give a toss?

With apologies to football-cannot-see-the-pointers above.

Have you noticed when radio football commentators say "such and such a team is playing from right to left". No? Well they do. Listen more carefully next time, if you want to hear something pointless. Even more pointless than football commentary on the radio, that is.

It's the radio, Mr Commentator, you're killing us. Now we need to know where you are sitting in order to work out what your left and right are, and even then only if we know the orientation of the particular stadium you are in. Presumably you do not sit at the end of the stadium, or they would just be constantly hitting crosses into and out of the box?