There was the fuckwit who, safely inside his car, held up his hand to ward me off as he made a right turn in front of me, forcing me to slam on my brakes. I had right of way.

The was the bus driver who wanted to pass me and pull into the bus stop right in front of me (on the clearway). It wasn't until he nearly clipped my handlebar he realised he couldn't pass me and stop without wedging me between the gutter and his bus.

Another fuckwit who thought parking on the clearway must be okay as it was nice and clear. This one wasn't as bad as the one with ute and trailer who stopped last week to buy his lunch and couldn't even get back into his car, so disrupted was the traffic trying to fit three car widths in an area suitable for only two. An anorexic couldn't have fitted between the slowly moving traffic.

I was walking along Khyber Pass Road toward Symonds St just after 4pm. A car wanted to turn off the road and needed to cross over the footpath in front of me. I'm on crutches at the moment and this driver was nice; he waited patiently for me to get past. The driver behind him was tooting his horn at the one waiting for me. The inconsiderate bastard was not only tooting impatiently for the three-five seconds he was waiting, he was also busy texting someone. Calm down mate, you'll kill yourself with that level of impatience.

Kiwifruit reports on Dickhead of the Day

Suddenly a souped-up silver Subaru flicks in right behind me, driven by a back-the-front baseball cap-wearing kid in jet black wraparound sunnies. He's doing the old neck jerkin' thing to the music and I suddenly realise that not only can I hear the boom-boom-boom of his car-stereo, I can physically feel it vibrating my car, even at 100 kph.

He proceeds to sit within inches of my tail for the next two minutes, then switches into the next lane, tail-gates another car for a split second, then changes back again before accelerating off, leaving spiralling clouds of blue exhaust fumes in his wake.

Then I notice his number plate; H R D O U T. Ah-huh. Right...

The woman travelling with her daughter and grandchild on Qantas QF26 Los Angeles to Auckland Friday 12 March in seat 63H. The baby was in a seat like a baby's car-seat. It prevented the man in front from reclining his seat at all. The woman and her daughter were very happy to recline their seats as often as possible and as far as possible. They had to be asked to raise them for the meals. They had to be asked to raise them and wait for the meal service to be over before reclining again.

I'd be a bit more tolerant of these Inconsiderate Bastards if they weren't blocking the seat in front. I don't understand why they didn't have centre bulkhead seats, where there weren't seats to be blocked by the baby's seat.

I wish I had a Knee Defender. There is a good description of its use on Ticked, a site dedicated to helping leisure and business travelers prevent bad trips.

We've created this site so that we can highlight those Inconsiderate Bastards who do things without caring about other people.

Credit to Mark G for coming up with the name. He wanted mention on the site but then realised he may not want to featured.