Dad's sitting behind me doing three of his favorite things at once: scratching himself, making cigarettes and watching sport. Of course I find all three of these irritating in some way. The scratching himself I don't mind so much. He's got an itch, he has to scratch it. I really wish he wouldn't do it while he's standing in front of me in his underwear while he's talking to me. When he's packing the tobacco into the cigarettes he has to get the last lot down by hitting the base against something for some reason. It just happens that he has to hit it against a china plate. Three strikes in a series until he's happy with it. And sport's boring in Australia. Goes way too long. Takes from one day to five days to play it. I tried to get interested once. Failed.