Ian Bell and Jack Shepherd

Just to warn anyone reading, this is a sort of philosophical post of discovery...

Ian Bell and Jack Shepherd, one is unfortunately real, the other is a fictional twat in a fictional universe, they both share one common factor though, they irritate me.
After explaining to my Mother why Ian Bell is no where near as good as Owais Shah, (at this point I'd like to add that my conversation about cricket with my mother wasn't great, it took her long enough to figure out I wasn't referring to the insect, but the sport,) she asked what I would actually do if I met Ian Bell. I didn't know.

Naturally, this set me off on a train of thought. I don't think I'd punch him, that just isn't necessary, I don't think I'd complain about his life to him or try and teach him how to play the cover drive successfully, no...I'd probably just ask him for his autograph. It was at this point of realisation I found the core of the problem, the first time I saw Ian Bell play was against Bangladesh in 2005, he scored 150 something, it was a fantastic performance and everyone hailed him as the new Messiah with less divine spirit and more freckles. From this moment on, he sort of went a bit downhill, maybe drunk on joy, maybe he just couldn't cope with the pressure of it all, I can imagine a bunch of cricket geeks yelling averages at him would be a touch intimidating.
Therefore, I think the reason I dislike the man so much is just down to frustration, he is very talented and it's a shame that he's turned out to be another one hit wonder, another bloody Ramprakash, Hick or Gough (though two of those names did end up winning a high profile dancing competition, good luck at that Bell...You are about 3 feet tall after all).

Jack Shepherd, this isn't a case of frustration, I hate him just because he's an arrogant spinal surgeon who tried to kill a poor misguided bald guy. I condemn that sort of attitude towards bald people.

Tom,