Dotty
There was a kid at our school who used to chuck a proper mental whenever anything was put on his plate that constituted, according to the singular functioning of his wonky little brainbox, 'dots'. And we're talking 'dots' of literally any size - thus his hatred was extended not only to peas, rice, raisins and the like, but he was also defiantly opposed to grapes, maltesers, salt, and pretty much any vaguely circular foodstuffs you care to dream up in between. Furthermore, if any other items on his plate happened to be touching the 'dots', they would automatically be blacklisted too - we lost count of the number of fish fingers and slices of luncheon meat that were catapulted untouched into the gargantuan scraping troughs because they'd had the rank temerity to share a border with a ladleful of baked beans. His anguished, implausibly hilarious howls of "argh...dots! DOTS!" echo through the corridors of my mind to this day. I think they later found out he had Aspergers. But not beefburgers, obviously. Dots, innit.
( grey kid is breakdancing to save a community centre, Tue 6 Mar 2007, 11:37, Reply)