Saturday, December 30, 2006

Executions And Expletives

It’s done then.
Saddam is dead and I have to admit to having a bad feeling about this.

Don’t get me wrong, the man was an absolute horror of a human being. He deserved to be tried for crimes against humanity and to be tried under Iraqi law.
Brutal laws that he played a part in formulating. Laws, that Amnesty and other humanitarian groups having been telling us for years, aren’t even on nodding terms with fairness and justice.
So fucking what?
Tell that to the thousands that he had executed. The 148 men and boys executed for no reason in Dujail. The 100 000 Kurds gassed to death. The unidentifiable remains of 400 000 people, found to date, in over 200 mass graves. 2 million since he came to power.
His trial was a 100 times fairer than theirs.
Those laws were perfectly fine when he was in power, why not now?
It has been argued that he should have been made to live and suffer. How do you do that? Prisoners have rights, lots and lots of rights. He wouldn’t have shut up and his supporters would have had a focus.
Schnee tells me that he said he ‘hated being incarcerated’. Maybe that was reverse psychology! Trying to save his worthless neck. He also wanted to be shot and not hanged like a criminal.

I admit I spent my long, sleepless night watching CNN waiting for footage of his execution.
I’m only human!
When I did see it I was surprised at the calm way he appeared to accept his fate. I know he has managed to convince himself that he is dying as a martyr and that in Islam martyrs go straight to paradise. Still, I have a bad feeling.

Now for a rant.
I hurt my back yesterday. Really bad. I have a dodgy back and I can usually self medicate back to health. Not this time, I have gone into a wicked spasm. Not the pleasant kind.
It got so bad today the emergency doctor was called. It took her 4 and a half hours to call back. Which irked me a bit and did nothing for my already foul mood. She asked all the wanky questions that doctors ask, “Does it hurt?”, “How did you do it?”, “What kind of pain is it?”
Well, the hurting sort of pain!
Not being into BDSM seriously limits my pain adjectives you fucking moron.
Then she asked if I could make it to the Drayton Surgery to which I answered,
“Lady, I can’t make it to the fucking toilet! I can‘t walk.”
“Ok, Ok”, she ponderously replied.
“How about St Mary’s walk in centre?”
I lost it a this point and screamed down the phone,
“Are you taking the fucking piss? A fucking WALK IN centre?”
She saw the error of her ways and agreed to fax my ‘script to the Pharmacy. A Housemate has been dispatched for the lovely Diazepam.
To top off a shitty day, my beloved Spurs lost.

Friday, December 29, 2006


Another era has come to an end. Housemate Mikey left yesterday for his new life in Leeds. He is at the University to do his Msc in Geology with a view to doing his PhD.
Good luck, you have worked hard for this. Now, get out there and make us all proud!

Today Britain pays back the last instalment of the loan taken out during the War. £43 million to the Septics and £12 million to the Canadians.
At last!
Now perhaps the Yanks will stop going on about how they ‘helped us out’ and basically won the War.
Maybe we can start saying ‘No’ to them. Pull our troops out of ‘their’ war and sit back and watch The Fall Of The American Empire.
That will give me great pleasure.
As I have said before, most of them have absolutely no idea of how much they are hated throughout Europe as well as the Arab world.
A nation that managed to elect the village idiot to the Presidency and still expects to be taken seriously.
They worry about Iran having nuclear weapons, I worry about them having ANY kind of weapon with that prick in charge.

The ‘No Shit?’ award goes to Mr Brian Witcombe a consultant radiologist at The Gloucestershire Royal Hospital.
According to him, sword swallowers are prone to sore throats.
You think?!
I wonder how long it took for him to come up with that.
This was actually published in a medical journal. No doubt he got some sort of funding for that fucking gem.
The NHS is haemorrhaging cash left, right and centre and this genius spends time coming up with that.

Apparently, Saddam is going to be executed tomorrow while other Muslims take part in the Hajj. I’m going to be keeping my fingers crossed, hoping that it all doesn’t kick off because if it does, we’re fucked my friends.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Hanging Out....

The last two days I have been catching up on my film watching.
I’ve watched The X-Men, The Da Vinci Code and Pierrepoint.
I was under whelmed by The X Men and mildly entertained by The Da Vinci Code.

The last was an absolute blinder and ironically appropriate with the situation with Saddam Hussain.
What a Gentleman and a gentle man Albert Pierrepoint seemed to be.
He approached his job with such humanity it choked me up at points to watch it.
When he was hanging the Nazi War criminals I wanted them to be begging for their lives, snotting and crying.
I suppose that was the ‘revenge’ element coming out in me.
But as he said, “They’ve paid their debt. Now they are innocent”.
When he had to hang his friend, I think it was one of the most touching scenes I have ever watched.

I’m sure they will have people queuing up to do Saddam. I just hope, for all our souls, they have someone like Albert Pierrepoint.
Someone who will approach it with dignity and see another human being stood before him, no matter how distasteful his crimes. Then afterwards, respectfully, deal with the body of a man who has paid his debt. Someone strong enough to carry the burden of what that job does to a spirit, on behalf of us all.

In 1974 he said,
“I have come to the conclusion that executions solve nothing, and are only an antiquated relic of a primitive desire for revenge; which takes the easy way and hands over the responsibility for revenge to other people…. The trouble with the death penalty has always been that nobody wanted it for everybody, but everybody differed about who should get off…”

This man executed over 600 people in his time. He should know. Wouldn’t hurt to listen.
I will be adding Albert Pierrepoint to my list of heroes and praying that his soul rests in peace.

As many of you are aware, it doesn’t take an awful lot to piss me right off.
Today, it is the calendar.
At the beginning of the year I sit down with the calendar and transfer all the important information from the old one. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays etc. I cross the days off as we work our way through the year.
Now, one of the Housemates has decided that they are going to do it. This means I don’t get a chance to look at it and miss birthdays.
More to the point, it’s my fucking calendar! Get your own! Tosser.

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Christmas Carnage

In the words of Ferdinand the Duck from ‘Babe’,

“Christmas? Christmas means dinner, dinner means death! Death means carnage; Christmas means carnage!”

I got six hours of sleep Christmas Eve, that’s almost a coma for me!
My Christmas day started with a cup of tea and the news that two entirely different legends have died.
Charlie ‘ello my darlin’s’ Drake and James Brown.
If you follow my Nan’s thinking, there will be another one. According to her, deaths always come in 3’s.
The first film of the day was The Chronicles of Narnia which has the absolutely cracking line,
‘We are not heroes. We’re from Finchley’!

I peeled sprouts, boring but very necessary. It is a law that sprouts are consumed on Christmas Day. I peeled potatoes and cooked the starter. Scallops with tangerines and it went down a treat! Which was handy, seeing I made it up as I went along. Main meal was stuffed leg of lamb.
Half way through the meal I started thinking about clothes.
What is the point of putting on your best clothes just to eat like a pig and get pissed?.
Surely, you want baggy comfy clothes for such an endeavour.
I drank Macon Village, Puilley Fuisse, Sancerre, Port and Brandy. Ate cheese with blue bits in it. Laughed to the point of tears, got choked up, Had weird and wonderful conversations, sang The Wild Rover at the top of my lungs and danced! Oh Yes! There was dancing.
Later on, there was vomiting. Not mine, thankfully!

So, to end with another ‘Babe’ quote,

“That’ll do pig, that’ll do.”

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Christmas Eve

The usual Christmas bollocks is on the TV. Although , I have to admit to enjoying ’Turner and Hooch’ this afternoon. 100 Greatest Inspirational Movies is the one I’m screaming at as I write this.
Forrest Gump, The Wizard of Fucking Oz! The Sound of Music, inspirational? Fucks sake.
I Am agreeing with some though.

Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner.
Field Of Dreams
Shawshank Redemption
One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.

I lost interest very quickly. I’m sure there were many much better than that, but I could cope with it no longer.
It did make me think though, I’ve never been able to re-watch Schindler’s List. It’s one of the very few films that I have seen at the cinema.
I never go. I can’t sit still long enough or stop myself from shouting out.

Who has had the Christmas card with the ’Seasonal Newsletter’ in it? Fuck off… I couldn’t give a shit. Their lives always sounds so much more interesting than mine.
’We spent our holiday in Bali’, ‘Tarquin is going to Cambridge’, and ’We bought a castle’.
If they just mentioned ONE nice thing they had done for someone else, I’d read it.
That never happens.
It’s all about ‘Conspicuous Consumption’ and Wealth.
What really burns is that I’m related to or know people who think that’s important.
Even worse, they imagine that it’s important to me.

Just a question…. Who told you there was no Santa?

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Looking Back

Things I have done, noticed, discovered, re-discovered or learned about myself during 2006.
This may look like a 'cop out' post but it took a lot of thinking about.

There is no easy way to carry a mattress.
My cats will puke anywhere.
Some of our neighbours are scummy.
Vancouver is 8 hours behind us.
Tomato plants are fucked by ‘blackspot‘. (Don’t compost them either)
One of the Housemates cooks a really shit Roast Dinner.
I don’t need dope everyday. I want it, but don’t need it!
Boston Legal is fucking genius.
Just because I keep my word, it doesn’t mean others do.
My hair really does need cutting every 5 weeks.
People don’t feel your hate. So why bother.
Wine makes me fat.
I need new socks.
I can draw quite well.
My house ‘phone rings a lot, 1 in 10 leave a message.
I started a blog.
I haven’t read enough this year.
I can’t cope with people with Alzheimer’s Disease.
Yale locks don’t last forever.
I quite like growing herbs in the garden. (Real herbs!)
£199 is apparently cheap for a sewing machine. (Mmmmm)
A Moscow Mule is Vodka and Ginger Beer.
I’m just shy of 4000 songs on my ipod.
I remember more French than I thought I did. (A worry!)
Not everyone can make a good cup of tea.
I learned the names of different kinds of Muslim veil.
People don’t expect soldiers to die during a war.
Most people are as fucked up as you first suspected.
I really dislike Jose Mourinho.
I’ve had my slippers 10 years.
I got a new bike.
I lost my glasses and need to replace them. (See Below)
Must remember not to smoke a joint before I go to the Optician.
Energy efficient light bulbs are expensive and take ages to get bright.
Nag Champa is still the best incense.
The Composter is working a treat.
I put some of my photos on flickr.
I should eat seafood more often.
Got hooked on ‘Lost’.
Learned how to use the Nespresso machine.
Picking up dog shit still makes me gag.
I don’t like chicken on the bone, it’s too labour intensive.
I love the programme, Jam and Jerusalem.
You can never have too many food storage containers.
I don’t like my mobile phone.
There is something very sexy about black stockings. *Blush*
I did the grocery shopping online.
I held a baby. (Jessica Shillingford)
I wouldn’t mind if someone punched Bruce Forsyth.
‘Chasing Cars’ by Snow Patrol is a brilliant song.
Aira Force is a fucking long walk for very little.
I ate Venison.
Shoes last me a long time.

I'm sure there is much that I have forgotten, but as we know, that is the nature of my existence.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Moving And Shaking (with anger)

Yesterday I helped Crisp-e and ‘Chelle move in to their new home. It took me 2 hours in front of a blazing fire to get warm again. It was as cold as the hair on a Polar Bear’s arse out there and really foggy too. The kind of fog that when you breathe out the vapour just hangs around your head.
Misty the Magical feline didn’t take to well to the move and spent the day under the kitchen cabinets.
I met ‘Chelle’s mum and got to spend the day trying not to swear!
I only slipped a few times and that was as I was taking chunks of flesh out of my knuckles, so I think those ‘Fucks!’ don‘t really count.
As moves go, it was a sweet as a nut. I got a gorgeous bottle of Chablis for my humping efforts, which went down a treat.

The shitty world has touched my mellow Wiltshire hideaway. Yesterday a woman was found stabbed to death in her home. From the sparse online news reports it appears that her husband did it. She leaves 3 primary school aged kids behind.
The ‘festive season’ seems to be when most of the domestic violence and murders happen.
My Dad beat ATM. She says he only did it once and she left him immediately. He broke her jaw, blackened both her eyes and ripped handfuls of her hair out. I don’t often have good things to say about ATM but I really admire her for leaving him. She was 18 and had two children under the age of three and in the early 70’s you were supposed to just get on with it. Luckily, her parents were prepared to have us all live with them.
My Dad’s Dad was a beater too. He abused my Gran for 50 years and even beat her as she lay dying in the hospice.
It took my Dad years to admit to me that he had done it but when he did, all he could go on about was how my Pampam turned up and battered him. Like he was the wronged party.

Again, it has gone dry. Not a bit of greenery to be had anywhere.
Most annoyingly, people whom I have gone out of my way to help in the past, are suddenly not answering texts or reply that they have only enough for themselves.
Well, fuck every single one of you. You will not even get the time of day from me now. If I can cut my family dead I’ll have no problem with any of you.
Except Looby, you are a goddess!

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Revenge Is Sweet

Today I have been trying to list my top 5 Revenge films. Not as easy as I first thought.
The hideous hangover I had all day didn’t help the thinking process.
Pounding, pounding, pounding…. I wasn’t sick and I am so thankful for that small mercy.
Anyway, this is what I came up with and in no particular order:

The Count of Monte Cristo
Kill Bill (counting both films as a ‘whole’)
Leon (absolutely brilliant film)

That, my friends, was a monumental effort and I’m sure that there are loads I’ve overlooked. So have a go, see what you can come up with.

Right, now for a bit of a rant.
If you can’t pronounce ‘specifically’ or ‘statistically’, Then I suggest not fucking using them; and for fuck’s sake don’t use them when you are interviewed on TV. It makes you look like a complete prick in front of thousands of people.
More importantly, it annoys the arse off me.

Panto. I fucking HATE pantomimes. Even as a kid I hated them and would feign illness to get out of going. It just seemed so fake to me, even then.
Fat, ugly men dressed as ugly women. Shit jokes. Jokes so unbelievably terrible they make me want to punch people. The appalling celebrity Z listers, thigh slapping and ‘it’s behind you’. Grrrrr.
I’m getting wound up just thinking about it.
I felt much the same when I was forced to go and see The Pirates Of Penzance. Panto by another name and as equally mind numbingly boring.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

An Absence

I don’t know whether it’s the time of year or what, but I think I am missing my sister.

We haven’t spoken for three years. She and her boyfriend stole £5000 from me. I paid him ‘up front’ to do some building work and he never completed it. Barely got started in fact. I stopped speaking to ATM at the same time because she seemed to have absolutely no problem with what they had done to me. Even though ATM’s own brother, who completed the work, told her I’d been ripped off.
My sister is 13 months younger than me and for a long time people mistook us for twins. In a way we were. We were so close.
We had the shared experience of a Step Father who abused us and a Mother who insisted she didn’t know. I took beatings for her, one that involved fractured ribs and a broken nose. I used to listen out for my Step Father going in to her room at night and stand at my door staring at him. That way he would leave her alone BUT would come in to me instead.
I did used to laugh with her though. Really, really laugh. We could crack each other up with a look, knowing that the other one would know exactly what was funny without a word being said.

But, I have been told, our relationship was odd.
ATM set up a kind of rivalry between us, whereby we would grass each other up and drop each other in the shit just to curry favour with her. Somehow trying to make her love or prefer you over the other one. I seemed to grow out of this but my sister never did.

When she was pregnant with her third child she became seriously ill with Crohns disease, which went undiagnosed for 2 years.
I used to go to her house everyday and look after her and the 2 kids. ATM would turn up and tell her to pull herself together, that she had two other children to look after and that her house was a shithole.
I cooked for her, cleaned for her, bought her shopping (my money), paid her mortgage (my money) and intimidated her doctor until she had the correct diagnosis.
She underwent three lots of surgery and at 24 was given a permanent colostomy.
That changed her. She became very bitter and angry. Her personality changed, she became selfish and aggressive.
To tell the truth, I didn’t like who she had become very much.

I’m still not sure if I miss her, but I feel the absence of her.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Cruel And Unusual

Today I have managed to wind myself up over something I don't really agree with. The death penalty.
The Independent newspaper reported the story of a convicted killer put to death earlier this week. Apparently the lethal injection missed his vein and it took 34 minutes for him to die.
So what?
A judge called off the execution of a rapist and murderer because of concerns that "the condemned inmate might suffer an excruciating death".
Again, so what?
Why should they have 'easy' deaths? Did the individuals these people raped and murdered drift off into an easy unconsciousness before dying?
I think not.

On a lighter note, I would like to revisit the issue of the Bishop of Southwick.
I am sure every single one of us has come up with an excuse for our hangover, Bad pint, dirty pipes, food poisoning etc.
Well, get this, the Bishop's spokespeople have come up with one for the reason he was pissed in the first place...
He had a mini stroke! Yeah, Right!
From now on I will not be announcing, "I'm going out on the piss". I will be saying, "Right, I'm off out for a mild brain accident, anyone coming?".

This cracked me up.
A woman called Louise Clark suffered a brain disorder that made her think she was French.
Worse than that, Parisian!
Now, this has got to be one of the quotes of the year.

"It might sound funny to others, but suddenly thinking you are French is terrifying."

Terrifying? Too right Louise, too right!

Friday, December 15, 2006

Holiday Optimism

Sundown today is the first day of Hannukah (Festival of Lights) which celebrates two events. The rededication of the Temple in Jerusalem and The Miracle of the Oil.
A small Jewish army beat the Greek Syrians who had banned Judaism and desecrated the Temple.
There was only enough oil to keep the eternal flame going for one day but it burned for eight. Long enough for more oil to be prepared. So there are eight days to the holiday.
This is when the Menorah is used. (The big candlestick.) A candle is lit each night. The right side is lit on the first night, the left on the second and so on.
Food at this time involves a lot of olive oil, stuff that is deep fried and all sorts of doughnuts!
Hannukah Gelt (money) was given out to kids but nowadays that has changed in to chocolate money and presents so that kids have a kind of ‘Christmas’ gift.
It’s a cool holiday!

While on the subject of cool.
Dr Katherine Zappone and Dr Ann Louise Gilligan were told by the Irish High Court that their marriage would not be recognised in Ireland. They married in Vancouver in 2003 and wanted it recognised for tax purposes and the like.
At the end of the case Dr Zappone thanked the judge and said,

“Ann Louise and I love each other. We have requested that the human right to marry is extended to us. We are the only kind of human beings in Ireland whose right to marry the person they choose to love is not acknowledged, not protected and not respected.
We believe that Ireland will be a land of justice and equality for all human beings… We believe that the Irish Constitution does protect and promote our rights - as it does all others.”

She didn’t freak out and start shouting and bawling. She just stated the facts of the case.
They are discriminated against.
What makes her cool, in my eyes, is her optimism that things WILL change. I pray for that kind of optimism.
Absolutely spot on. Good luck ladies.

Yesterday Crisp-e got stopped by one of the new Community Police Officers for, get this, speeding on his push bike!
He was on a main road and was screamed at to stop. He was then informed there is a law about riding dangerously in a built up area.
Fuck off!
They want to have a look at the bitter and twisted people in the Mong-Mobiles, who drive along the pavement forcing pedestrians into the road just because they have working legs or aren’t too fat to walk.
The ones who have fucking number plates on the back should have their disability benefit to stopped until they get a life.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

The Loneliness Of A Long Distance Insomniac

Being an insomniac is a lonely existence. You only get to interact with people for a short space of time. Then they go to bed.
Rubbing your nose in their ability to sleep.
Some will even give you examples of epic slumbers they have had in the arms of Morpheus.
“Yes, the tree came straight through the window and I slept through it!”
Or they come out with the line that makes me want to break their nose,
“I NEVER have trouble sleeping. Head hits the pillow and I’m gone”
I am sure there is someone in the ‘great beyond’ telling someone else,
“Yeah, I was on the Titanic. Slept right fucking through it, me. Didn‘t even hear the band”
Well, fucking bully for you. Twat! How is that helping me?
This afternoon I was so tired my eye sockets ached and I felt sick.

The other day I made a comment about ‘Extreme Makeover’.
Well, I need to revisit it.
I was waiting for CSI and watched an episode. I want to know how many of the newly ‘made over’ have blown their partners out afterwards? Especially when they realise they can do so much better now.
Come on people lets not be shy about this.
The partners of these people are fucking monsters too. They need to do people as a couple otherwise there are going to be tears.
In this one a guy had lost 200lbs in a year. He had loads and loads of baggy skin just hanging around waiting for a burger and pizza relapse.
When they took him back to his loved ones we got a squint at the wife. She was fucking enormous. Another half inch in any direction and she would have been perfectly round. Verucca Salt style.
It was obvious to me that future fornication for these people was going to be a logistical nightmare. Not that I’m a great expert on the practicalities of Heterosexual intercourse!

HOW do you people DO it? There you go..
I’m sure that’s not the second or third question most of you are asked when you introduce your partner to people.
Turning you into an unwitting ambassador for your lifestyle choice.
Strangely, it’s usually some married, middle class, middle aged woman who asks. Especially when they’ve got a few drinks on them. Most will tell you of a ‘crush’ they had in school and that they have thought about ‘it’ a few times. Eeeesh!
Welcome to my world.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006


I’m feeling fractious.
Four hours sleep in the last 48. I’ve run out of things to read, I’ve cleaned the house to within an inch of it’s life and I’m bored with porn, such as it is.

Fucking adverts of children singing ’Christmassy’ tunes together are doing me in… Fuck off.. It’s unnatural. Stepford children.
Makes me shudder in fact.
Sounds like that don’t come out of normal children, they don’t look like that and they definitely don’t speak Latin!
Not in Pompey anyway.

I still bear the scars of Sister Ruth Mary beating Latin verb conjugation in to me and one wonderful memory of punching Sister Bernadette spark out! There ended my Catholic school days.
I was expelled and had to go to the local comprehensive.
I’m not saying all Nuns are wicked, spiteful bastards. I have met a few whom I consider truly holy and a Novice who was truly horny! Sister J, you know who you are and what you let me do to you.
My eternal thanks and prayers are yours! You set me on a path and I’ve never looked back, no closet, no apologies, no regrets.

Also, clips of the Christmas films have been advertised SO many times I don’t want to watch any of them now. Which is a real piss off as there were a couple I was looking forward to seeing.
Equally, there is some complete and utter shit on as well. Footloose? Fucking Footloose?! How is that a Christmas film?
What films would you like to see Christmas Day?
I think my morning film would be Yankee Doodle Dandy. Drinking Bucks Fizz, eating Bagels and Lox, watching Cagney dance, there is no better start to the day.
I’d probably go for something long for the afternoon, Once Upon A Time In America or The Godfather Trilogy.
For the evening I want something that will make me laugh ‘til I hurt.
Topped off by Withnail and I. Of course.

BBC News 24 informed me, sometime in the early hours, that obesity is now a bigger killer than cigarettes in Britain.
But does the government bring in a law banning the Clinically Obese from eating in public?
Does it bring in a law banning them from anywhere that serves food?
Is food advertising banned?
Does it put a crippling tax on burgers? Make a Big Mac £6?
Then let me smoke in a fucking pub then!
I’m not making anyone fat, in fact I’m doing the Salad Dodgers a favour, freely suppressing their gargantuan appetites with my second hand smoke.
I’m providing a service.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Bashing The Bishop

I am loving this. One day last week the Bishop of Southwick phoned the police and complained he had been mugged. It was reported on the news and seemed quite serious. I must admit I pissed myself laughing when the very serious radio 4 reporter said,
‘the Bishop’s head was so swollen he couldn’t wear his Mitre’. Classic!
It turns out he wasn’t mugged but absolutely pissed. A couple had found him in the back seat of their Mercedes flinging out all of their kid’s toys. When asked his name he said,
‘I’m the Bishop of Southwick. It’s what I do’.
All the stuff he thought had been stolen was left in the back of the car.

One of the papers tells us he had been to the Irish Embassy for some sort of party.
Ahhhh.. That explains it!
EVERYBODY knows if you spend more than an hour with the Irish you will be pissed or at least well on your way!
I think I know what happened.
Embassy staff saw the Dog Collar and just kept the booze coming.
In my experience, Catholic clergy can drink. And I mean DRINK.
One of the Housemates has an uncle who is a Priest, he can put away a bottle of Whiskey in a sitting and still say Mass.
Protestant clergy aren’t so hardy! What does the occasional sherry prepare them for? Nothing. Especially not the Irish!

Now everybody is calling for him to make a statement. What would absolutely make it for me, is if he stood up and said the words at least 90% of us have uttered,

“I went out with some Irish mates and they got me fucking wankered! I don’t know how I got home, I’ve left my fucking mobile somewhere, lost my glasses and I’m covered in bruises!. Excellent night!!”

Fortunately for us, what we did in that state comes back to us gradually over a few days. This poor bastard gets it splashed across all the headlines!
Where’s the crime? He got pissed. He wasn’t curb crawling (unless you count him falling over in the gutter) he wasn’t chasing choir boys or worrying sheep.
Think about the most embarrassing thing you have done whilst drunk….. Got it? Right, would you want it in the paper?

Give the guy a break.

Monday, December 11, 2006

Trouble, Bubble, Toil And Leak

The delightful Augusto Pinochet is dead. In the process, avoiding punishment for his human rights abuses. Who the fuck is going to go to his funeral and still hold their heads up?
Thatcher I suppose, but she’s a bit ‘Daggers’ now.
She claims he’s ok because Chile helped us out in The Falklands. Amazingly, during the late 70’s, Chile was on the brink of war with Argentina over the ownership of some Islands off the coast of South America. Funny coincidence that.
He also got rid of the minimum wage, Trade Union rights, disappeared/murdered the people who disagreed with him and privatised fucking everything. The real cheek is that he wants to be cremated so that his grave is not desecrated by ’people who always hated him’.
Does he mean the families of those people he murdered and have no known grave?.
What a guy! Fuck him, he’s no loss to humanity.
Fidel Castro isn’t looking long for this world either.

Last night the weather was brutal. Gale force winds and driving rain. If people had bins out they are now in a collective heap at the end of the road and beyond. The lids will never be found.
I came down this morning to discover we have a serious leak in the downstairs toilet. It is something to do with the window frame, so the man from Everest will get some shit. The cats didn’t seem to mind it at all, evidenced by their wet, muddy footprints all over the kitchen. Brilliant. We can all afford that just before Christmas. The likelihood that I will find a builder before the 25th is slim in the extreme. So it appears the jug to catch the drip will be there far into the New Year.

Another thing that pisses me off about this time of year is Cliff fucking Richard. ‘Christian Crooner’ the media calls him. I think he is evil. Totally fucking evil. As they say, the Devil’s greatest triumph is that he makes us believe he doesn’t exist. He does and his name is Cliff. Do not buy this man’s music and definitely don’t listen to any of his crap. He is evil.

This evening I have had Bubble and Squeak for dinner. Yummy. Another reminder of childhood. We always had it on Mondays and Boxing Day. It is such a comfort food and a good way to use up all the leftovers from the roast dinner. I also have a chicken carcass which will be transformed into Jewish Penicillin tomorrow, in anticipation of the nasty winter bugs that are about.

Sunday, December 10, 2006

From Marple To The Ridiculous...

My most favourite thing about Sunday mornings is watching Miss Marple played by Joan Hickson. This morning it was ‘The Mirror Crack’d’. This was the last one in which Hickson played the part. She was 86 years old. The last line said by her is, “More tea, Vicar”.
She is absolutely the definitive Jane Marple for me.
Margaret Rutherford played her with too much humour. Although, as Madame Arcarte she was perfect.
Angela Lansbury had a go and was totally crap. Helen Hayes was too cute and Geraldine McEwan just wasn’t her.
Another Agatha Christie character I love is Hercule Poirot but I adore Peter Ustinov’s portrayal him. My friend Ingrid, insists that David Suchet is the definitive Poirot and I’m inclined to agree. Christie herself didn’t think Ustinov was right for the part. I have a thing for logical minds!

(Schnee, engage sports filter.)
The other great thing about Sunday, is the afternoon football match. Although, today two of the clubs I hate the most were playing. Arsenal and Chelsea. (Disengage)
At this point, I have to admit to tucking in to one of the bottles I bought yesterday. There was never much hope for them anyway and I could be dead in the morning. I’d get really bitter and twisted if some other fucker were drinking my wine.
I must remember not to brush my teeth just before drinking wine. Not only does the wine taste shitty, the toothpaste tastes bad as well. No happy medium.

It’s like that, ‘eat parsley if you have garlic breath’ one. You end up with lots of green bits in your teeth. I’d definitely go with the garlic breath for a first impression over green teeth.
It might do it for Popeye, huge turn off for me.
I do like nice teeth though. I find them extremely sexy. My first ‘tooth’ based crush was on the dark one from Abba. Mmmm… Yummy.. Shame her Dad was a Nazi officer. I didn’t know that when I was eight, so I think she still counts.

Yeah! Zara Phillips is BBC Sports Personality Of The Year! Go Girl!

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Booze And Boos

This morning I was rudely awoken by the postman, who for some reason couldn’t be arsed to use the letterbox.
I staggered out of bed and dragged on some trousers and patted my big hair down. I opened the door and stared at him with the one eye I could open. He looked at me as if I had just got HIM out of bed and more or less threw my post at me. All done without a word or a smile.
Fuck you too.

This is the time of year when everybody who delivers to, or takes stuff away from your house starts ringing the doorbell to wish you a ‘Merry Christmas‘.
This is bollocks. They want money.
And if you don’t pay up?
For the next year your dustmen will leave a fair proportion of your rubbish scattered around the forecourt. Your Green Bin will be 3 millimetres too far from the gate, will have a huge red warning sticker attached and won’t get emptied for a fortnight.
Your daily newspaper will look like it’s been through a shredder rather than just the letterbox. Or you will get the top paper of the bundle left in the rain. If it turns up at all.
Got to be worth a fiver for an easy life. But I fucking resent having to do it.

At last! Tony Blair has said what everybody (including those who believe they are a liberal) has been thinking for a long time.
“Conform, or don’t come”.
Fair enough. What’s wrong with saying that?
I can’t go to Saudi and walk along the street swigging from a bottle of Vodka.
I can’t walk through certain areas of Jerusalem in shorts and a tee shirt. There are buildings I can’t go in at all, no matter how I am dressed, because I am a woman.
I can’t trundle around the Vatican in a crop top and cut-offs. Or snog a woman beneath the ceiling of The Sistine Chapel.
If I want to go to these places I have to conform or fuck off.
What’s the problem?

Sassy and I have been out and about with our Threshers vouchers. I got six really nice bottles of white wine for £25. Pouilly Fume, Sancerre, Chablis, Macon etc. Not bad! The trick will be staying away from them until Christmas. In all honesty, I can’t see it happening.
I have some ‘deferred gratification’ issues with certain things.

To the twat in the BMW in St Ronan’s Road. Don’t fucking bib your horn at me, when you are performing an illegal manoeuvre, I WILL ignore you. Tosser.
The same to anyone who tries to get my attention by whistling.. I am not your fucking dog!.

Friday, December 08, 2006

Freaks And Freebies

For some reason David Gest is on every conceivable TV show and he didn‘t even win ‘I‘m Celeb….’. He is quite possibly the strangest looking man I have ever seen.
Is that the result of plastic surgery? If so, what the fuck did he look like before?!!
Most people undertake plastic surgery with the hope that SOMETHING will look better. I’ve seen ‘Extreme Makeover’, nobody has ever gone on and said, ‘make me look like a balding, half-choked Pug dog, please’.

ATM always wanted to ‘have her eyes done’, whatever the hell that meant. There is no operation that could have made them less evil. That was what she planned to do with her inheritance once she had paid off debt. As far as I know, she got a new bathroom and my Step-Dad got his eyes lasered.
I’d probably have my nose done. Nothing changed, just put back. It’s been broken three times and looks a fucking mess. I can’t remember what it used to look like anymore and I’m always too stoned to recognise myself in photos.

One photo from my childhood really sticks in my mind.
It’s me, stood in the garden. I’m wearing a pair of blue/green cord trousers and a tee shirt. My fists are jammed into my pockets and I don’t look at all happy. In my hair are fucking ribbons! Ribbons, and my hair is in bunches. It’s obvious I’m furious.
I can’t remember the photo being taken, but when I look at the picture I remember the ‘feeling’, exactly.
I hated it. Hated the hair. Hated being made to pose for the photo. Hated it! (Thank G-d for nits!)
The photo was dated, I was three at the time.

Tomorrow, I’m off to spend my 40% off voucher from Threshers. The one that was meant for a select few, and everybody in the country has got! Bless Thresher, they are going to honour them.
Can’t help but think it is all a scam to stop us from going to France and stocking up. 40% off just gives us the booze at Euro prices. This way I only have to bimble up to Albert Road and not have to remember ‘please may I…’ and ‘Thank You’ in another language.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

The Elements

Today a tornado tore through Kensal Rise in London and I pray to all that’s Holy, that the houses ripped apart were those with all the fucking Christmas lights and blow up Santas!
The weather is foul. It’s blowing a hoolie and pissing down with rain. Roads in Pompey have been flooded and what gets me, is that people are surprised. Why?
The drains are full of leaves and fucking rubbish, water doesn’t dissolve these. The ground has been as dry as a bone for months, remember the drought? Water doesn’t soak in as well.

Alexander Litvenenko and Polonium 210. I know this sounds cruel and heartless, but I really couldn’t give a flying fuck! Had anyone heard of him before all this?
I hadn’t.
If he was one of Mr Putin’s strongest critics shouldn’t we have heard of him? Ex KGB agent granted British citizenship, how did the media miss that one I wonder?
Britney flashing her gash, that we get for days on end.
Potentially dangerous spies and radioactive elements, not a fucking whiff.
Three aircraft were found to have traces, thank G-d for all that increased security on flights, eh?. No fucking eyebrow tweezers or face cream but radioactive poison, no problem. What Bollocks!
Polonium was the first element discovered because of it’s radioactivity by Marie Curie. We know what a picture of health she ended up.
Livenenko was buried in a lead lined coffin because this shit has a half life of 103 years. I thought we were in the business of shipping OUT radioactive waste.

Barry Manilow’s ‘new’ (60’s covers) album is being advertised to death at the moment. Please check out the picture and tell me if he looks like Julian Clary. Something really weird has happened to his face. It looks wrong somehow, too symmetrical and too smooth. Not that he was overly blessed with fantastic looks to begin with.
Pete Docherty, another ugly bastard, didn’t go to prison YET AGAIN!
But the pensioner who was growing Cannabis for herself and a group of other arthritic old dears gets 6 months. There is also an on-going case against a husband and wife team. They were growing it, putting it in chocolate and flogging it to MS sufferers. They claim they made no profit which I find hard to believe, but at least they were trying to help people.
Docherty deserves prison. He is scum.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Love And Hate

Today is my baby brother’s birthday. He is 19.
19 years ago I limped to St Mary’s hospital for my first look at him.
I limped because a few days previously I had been in a motorbike crash and had 40 stitches in my knee.
He was very ruddy, his eyes were swollen shut and he had loads and loads of jet black hair. I loved him instantly. I’d always wanted a brother, someone to play football with, build tree houses and cheer on my beloved Spurs.
He was 17 years too late but I had a brother!
As he grew up I realised he wasn’t going to be that sort of brother. I have to admit I thought he was a spoiled little brat who just sat indoors, playing computer games and getting his own way all the time.
He has grown up in to one of my favourite people. He is intelligent, honourable, quick witted and we share a sense of humour.
He loves music and plays the guitar brilliantly.
I introduced him to ‘Withnail and I‘, which he shared with his mates. I bought him ‘The Diceman’ to read and like me, he loved it. He introduced me to Rodrigo Y Gabriella and Nine Inch Nails.
He is 6’ 4”, has hair down to his shoulders and goatee beard. I call him ‘my big little brother’ and I adore him.

I am SO fed up with Christmas adverts, Christmas music and TV programmes telling me how to cook a fucking turkey. They are boring the shit out of me and winding me up at the same time.
Also, this seems to be the time of year they advertise all the cough ’n’ cold remedies, all the charities and CD‘s compilations from dead people. Fucking Lockets, battered children, starving animals and Johnny Cash. Piss off.
You can piss off with decorations too. Houses with fucking lights that can be seen from space? I pray for electrical fires!. Tossers. Carbon Footprint suspended for the Festive fucking Season is it?
I fucking HATE Christmas, just in case you were in any doubt.
Give it three weeks and all the ad’s will be Summer holidays galore, tampax and fucking Easter eggs.

Housemates… What is the point of leaving 14 fucking Pasta shells in the packet? It is NOT a single portion for fuck’s sake, it’s pointless! So is the half a teaspoon of milk left in the bottom of the carton. Especially if there is another 4 pints in the fridge.
Drink it, pour it away. Nothing can be done with it.