Last week, I was chastised for sweating too much of the small stuff and not caring enough about the big issues such as climate change or racism because I didn't like people rummaging through my recycling bin at three in the morning. So. Sue. Me.

Untold numbers of people are tackling the big stuff.

It's the little things that get under your skin and need to be called out.

I make zero apologies for that. And I'm not alone.

Millions of viewers tuned into Grumpy Old Women - and Grumpy Old Men - in the UK and they were also popular shows in the day in Australia on the ABC. Middle-aged men and women grumbling about modern life. God, it was cathartic. But those shows are long gone.

So, on behalf of all you grumpy old men and women out there, I'll try to fill the breach with just a few of my least favourite things.

COMPANIES AND PRODUCTS THAT TELL US TO "BE KIND"

Spare me. I've banned you all. Not buying it.

I don't care if you're an insurance company or snack food manufacturer, please don't tell me to be kind. It's kind of passive aggressive. Like, "if you don't succumb to this marketing you are unkind". Thanks.

You do realise they've locked onto this kindness thing only to shift product? The latest one is Helga's bread with its "kindness is good for us" campaign. If you need a loaf of bread to tell you to be kind, there's something wrong.

I think I can manage to be a kind person most days without buying something to prove it. So, in the immortal words of Maureen Elkner, "Rak off, Normie".

PEOPLE WHO GHOST YOU ON FACEBOOK MARKETPLACE

Ping goes the phone.

"Is this still available?"

"Yes, it's still available."

And so begins the excruciating dance of trying to sell something on Facebook Marketplace.

The requests asking if your item is still available often come late at night. Don't worry, I understand, I scroll into the wee hours as well.

"Great! I'll come tomorrow to pick it up," is often the promise.

Then it's like by morning serious buyer's regret has kicked in and YOU NEVER HEAR FROM THEM AGAIN.

They have slipped off the surface of the planet. Or at least blocked you.

MANAGERS FOR KIDS SPORTS TEAMS

When I was playing netball in the 1980s in a small country town, I would ride my bike to the courts, play the game and ride back home.

My parents never came to a game. I think mum barely registered my absence as she stayed at home cooking the dinner, trying not to get cigarette ash into the apricot chicken. Did I care? Not a jot. Nobody's parents came. It was the 1980s, as Bandit might say.

We had a coach, sure. But a manager? No, there were no Sven-Goran Eriksson-types stalking the sidelines of our netball courts.

But now every team has to have a coach and a manager. What do the managers do? I'm still not sure. And I've been a manager for two of my son's teams.

Generally, they repeat information that everyone's already got. It seems such a Canberra thing to have this superfluous layer of bureaucracy, even in under-10s footy.

My advice is take turns bringing the oranges and just play the game and go home. Simples.

PAPER STRAWS

Useless.

There, I feel much better.