Hello,
When I took to this gardening racket last June I entertained high hopes of attracting all sorts of wildlife to my corner of the city centre. Nothing too large like an elephant which would be more hassle than it's worth. No offence to elephants I'm a big fan but face it a couple of them charging around the city would be mayhem. I was hoping for something more like birds, bees and butterflies.
I'm pleased to say the bee count is high -good old bees! You have to hand it to the bees they've got the planet by the balls. One big mass bee suicide and we've had it. Hence why we should all plant more bee friendly flowers and the like, lest we make our buzzing overlords angry. I risked a few petunias this year but cunningly planted only red ones which bees can't see apparently so at least when the bee triggered apocalypse happens it won't be my fault. Oh and no smart arse comments about me letting the cat out the bag and angering the bees with my petunia confession. They won't read it. Bees recognise no human languages, considering themselves too lofty for such rot and having once leafed through The Da Vinci Code I can't help but think they might be on to something.
The bird count is much the same as it always was a million pigeons, too bloody many of those evil gull things, not enough sparrows and the odd starling. The butterflies remain elusive unlike moths who are appearing in such numbers that the Daily Mail is bound to start getting uppity. Just wait till one of them gets done for benefit fraud or converts to Islam. We shall never hear the bloody end of it.
I was out doing a spot of watering at Wilson Street when what can only be described as a battalion of moths enveloped me in a cloud of really boring wings. As attacks go it lacked the air of meance required to make make it even slightly frightening. I couldn't help but sneer at these beige flappers even when the attack was at it's peak. Until I remembered they eat clothes and got off my mark sharpish before their attentions left me nude.
I admit I'm a bit shallow but I just can't get very excited about flying halfwits of the sort of colour my mother paints her house. Horrid pale slurries that they call 'mink' and 'mushroom' on colour charts. Yuck! Give me a nice jolly red anyday.
As I hadn't knowingly planted anything that moths are into I was baffled by their interest in my patch. In fact it hadn't even occured to me that they were into plants, I thought it was all clothes and lightbulbs in the moth community. One minute I was happily watering my seedlings the next I had a face full of disgruntled moths trying to debag me in the street. Anyone who has read Decline and Fall will know what havoc can be wrought on a person by a public debagging. No one ever believes you haven't done it purpose.
I did think the explanation may lie with the supernatural but it turns out the wretched things are mad for chives. What seems to have happened is that they've been hanging round my chives getting up to God knows what and been startled by a sudden drenching from my watering can and attempted a strip attack. Freaks.
Still none of this explains the lack of butterfly action. I've done everything possible to lure the little dandies but they remain elusive. I've racked my brains but I really don't think there was anything else I could have done which calls for a scapegoat. The question is should I blame Gordon Brown, Fred Goodwin or the PC brigade. Answers please.
Cheerio
Showing posts with label chitchat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chitchat. Show all posts
6/30/2009
All Hail Frankie Boyle
Hello,
Obviously it has come to my attention that Michael Jackson has pegged it and whilst I was never a fan and remain somewhat bewildered by the massive media overreaction even I felt pity for him. Ending up as he did weighing a pathetic eight stone, bald and drug addled. In a sane world everyone around him who allowed him, evidently a severely mentally ill individual, get into such a state would be jailed or shot or both. Then again in a sane world he wouldn't have been half as rich or famous as he was and I daresay a lot happier.
Still for those who've had quite enough of this manufactured outpouring of grief and I exclude long term Michael Jackson fans from this as opposed to the hearse chasers here is the column that got Frankie Boyle the mutually agreed bullet from the Daily Record. It's a chucklesome antidote as these things go.
We can also learn a lesson from the example set down by Mr Clairwil who has barely moved in his entire life and as far as I can tell eats pasta, owns a fine head of hair, reads, sleeps, watches TV and little else. Like a non-racist Queen Mum without the hat collection. In contrast Michael Jackson worked flat out from an early age, ate fuck all, danced, made mediocre records as soundtracks to naff videos. Yesterday Mr Clairwil reached the grand old age of 51 and look at poor old Michael Jackson dead at 50 with not a hair on his head.
In other reasons to be cheerful Steven Wells is dead. Suddenly the world feels better written. If I'm not mistaken there might be a little less badly punctuated, manufactured adolescent petulance in the air. Like a eunuch in a harem he saw it done, knew how it should be done but had neither the balls or talent to do it himself. A dreadful music writer who couldn't handle anything that didn't square with his dogmatic outlook. A sort of lefty Littlejohn for people at the masturbation stage, a manky old man who hung about kiddie rag lest his lack of talent get him laughed out a wage on a grown up publication. Another grotesque off the list. Reading 'Susan' Wells attempt at teenage rage was like being encountered by an eighty year old at a bus stop who raises her skirt to display crotchless panties and begs you to admit she's still got 'it'. Oh and while I'm at it 'Susan' Wells. He can take that attempt at solidarity with the ladies and shove it up his arse -we've got more than enough tits of our own without men trying to frame us for shit writing. Tosser.
Cheerio
Obviously it has come to my attention that Michael Jackson has pegged it and whilst I was never a fan and remain somewhat bewildered by the massive media overreaction even I felt pity for him. Ending up as he did weighing a pathetic eight stone, bald and drug addled. In a sane world everyone around him who allowed him, evidently a severely mentally ill individual, get into such a state would be jailed or shot or both. Then again in a sane world he wouldn't have been half as rich or famous as he was and I daresay a lot happier.
Still for those who've had quite enough of this manufactured outpouring of grief and I exclude long term Michael Jackson fans from this as opposed to the hearse chasers here is the column that got Frankie Boyle the mutually agreed bullet from the Daily Record. It's a chucklesome antidote as these things go.
We can also learn a lesson from the example set down by Mr Clairwil who has barely moved in his entire life and as far as I can tell eats pasta, owns a fine head of hair, reads, sleeps, watches TV and little else. Like a non-racist Queen Mum without the hat collection. In contrast Michael Jackson worked flat out from an early age, ate fuck all, danced, made mediocre records as soundtracks to naff videos. Yesterday Mr Clairwil reached the grand old age of 51 and look at poor old Michael Jackson dead at 50 with not a hair on his head.
In other reasons to be cheerful Steven Wells is dead. Suddenly the world feels better written. If I'm not mistaken there might be a little less badly punctuated, manufactured adolescent petulance in the air. Like a eunuch in a harem he saw it done, knew how it should be done but had neither the balls or talent to do it himself. A dreadful music writer who couldn't handle anything that didn't square with his dogmatic outlook. A sort of lefty Littlejohn for people at the masturbation stage, a manky old man who hung about kiddie rag lest his lack of talent get him laughed out a wage on a grown up publication. Another grotesque off the list. Reading 'Susan' Wells attempt at teenage rage was like being encountered by an eighty year old at a bus stop who raises her skirt to display crotchless panties and begs you to admit she's still got 'it'. Oh and while I'm at it 'Susan' Wells. He can take that attempt at solidarity with the ladies and shove it up his arse -we've got more than enough tits of our own without men trying to frame us for shit writing. Tosser.
Cheerio
6/03/2009
Back To Earth!
Hello,
Off my tits as I am on two weeks of lovely medication I am feeling somewhat better then when I last blogged. So much so that I've declared war in defence of my garden. The student led destruction of my garden continues unabated, a fridge, kitchen unit, drawers and umpteen bags of rubbish have now been dumped atop my poor plants and seedlings.
It's hard to say exactly what ended my state of defeat, prescription drugs were part of it but the outrage of some of my neighbours at the state of my garden spurred me and them into action. I spent the afternoon fighting off flies and transferring the rubbish on the path in to the empty bins. I then agreed with my neighbours to write to environmental health, all the local property managers and local councillors about the frightful state of the place. After all that I felt I couldn't really tell my neighbours that I had in fact abandoned the garden -not when they were being so complimentary about my begonias. I'm off to the garden centre in the morning for summer bedding, a selection of self seeders and something thorny -let them try to pull that out.
Elsewhere I see the government has descended into farce. That said am I alone in thinking Gordon Brown would be as well staying in the top job until the election? Everywhere I go on the internet people are demanding he resigns. I honestly can't see the point, I very much doubt he's significantly worse than anyone else in the Labour Party. What difference will a new face make at this late stage? Everyone knows the tories are getting in at the next election no matter what happens, who cares who leads the Labour Party into defeat?
The tories though, it's a sobering prospect. I remember them last time. It was grim. Bearing in mind I was a mere child for most of it and I must confess I did enjoy the miners strike but other than that my memories consist of absurdly high interest rates, my parents being skint, my dad on the dole for six months, Thatcher cheating the Brighton bomb and an education that would insult the intelligence of a dead dog. Mind you if it wasn't for the tories we'd never have had the experience of a Religious Studies essay being confiscated by the police at our school. Apparently the police reckoned the essay was promoting homosexuality, happily the essay got off due to lack of evidence and was returned to it's somewhat surprised author who co-incidentally was the first woman I ever slept with.
As far as I can tell we'll merely be exchanging being fucked over by people with mortgages for being shafted by folk with moats. Anyone fancy joining me in a nice Passport to Pimlico style uprising?
Cheerio
UPDATE: In addition to the above my garden is now home to what I thought was a dead body until it asked me what I was looking at and called me a cunt.
Off my tits as I am on two weeks of lovely medication I am feeling somewhat better then when I last blogged. So much so that I've declared war in defence of my garden. The student led destruction of my garden continues unabated, a fridge, kitchen unit, drawers and umpteen bags of rubbish have now been dumped atop my poor plants and seedlings.
It's hard to say exactly what ended my state of defeat, prescription drugs were part of it but the outrage of some of my neighbours at the state of my garden spurred me and them into action. I spent the afternoon fighting off flies and transferring the rubbish on the path in to the empty bins. I then agreed with my neighbours to write to environmental health, all the local property managers and local councillors about the frightful state of the place. After all that I felt I couldn't really tell my neighbours that I had in fact abandoned the garden -not when they were being so complimentary about my begonias. I'm off to the garden centre in the morning for summer bedding, a selection of self seeders and something thorny -let them try to pull that out.
Elsewhere I see the government has descended into farce. That said am I alone in thinking Gordon Brown would be as well staying in the top job until the election? Everywhere I go on the internet people are demanding he resigns. I honestly can't see the point, I very much doubt he's significantly worse than anyone else in the Labour Party. What difference will a new face make at this late stage? Everyone knows the tories are getting in at the next election no matter what happens, who cares who leads the Labour Party into defeat?
The tories though, it's a sobering prospect. I remember them last time. It was grim. Bearing in mind I was a mere child for most of it and I must confess I did enjoy the miners strike but other than that my memories consist of absurdly high interest rates, my parents being skint, my dad on the dole for six months, Thatcher cheating the Brighton bomb and an education that would insult the intelligence of a dead dog. Mind you if it wasn't for the tories we'd never have had the experience of a Religious Studies essay being confiscated by the police at our school. Apparently the police reckoned the essay was promoting homosexuality, happily the essay got off due to lack of evidence and was returned to it's somewhat surprised author who co-incidentally was the first woman I ever slept with.
As far as I can tell we'll merely be exchanging being fucked over by people with mortgages for being shafted by folk with moats. Anyone fancy joining me in a nice Passport to Pimlico style uprising?
Cheerio
UPDATE: In addition to the above my garden is now home to what I thought was a dead body until it asked me what I was looking at and called me a cunt.
1/02/2009
Idle Chit Chat
Hello,
Do you think there will ever be a time when people throughout the world exclaim yippee! The Middle East is on the news? Gather round children, fetch grandma from the pantry, this is bound to be an uplifting life affirming report. I have my doubts.
Not I may add that I have any idea what should be done and I very much doubt anyone does. All anyone seems to do is sigh, adopt a faux confidence and start banging on about pre-1967 borders. Though as it's neighbours weren't terribly happy with the borders prior to 1967 I'm not terribly optimistic about it as a solution. Not I hasten to add before people start shoe throwing that I have any better ideas. I shall be sticking to changing the channel and sighing.
As such I have made it my new year's resolution to avoid the news. What's the point of necking anti -depressants and taking up a nice restful hobby like gardening when the news conspires to ruin your day for no real reason? Do these reports move significant numbers of people to do something to help the situation? There's something obscene about fat westerners gawping at misery porn and using it as nothing more than material for futile pub boredom. Can you tell I went for a pint earlier? Thank God for the smoking ban I'd never have escaped otherwise.
On an entirely different note today's Herald informs me that the pint I know and love is an English innovation, the old Scots equivalent measuring about the same as three 'Imperial pints'. Not for the first time I must extend my thanks south -three pints in one glass! What in God's name were we thinking. I expect it was a bet that got way out of hand like tripe.
I must say fag packets are getting more interesting these days. I've had all sorts on mine recently, a dead man, a diseased mouth, a before an after picture of a diseased lung. What the anti-smoking mob forget is that I had this gore foisted upon me at school and was hardened to it long before I took up the noble habit. Anyway I have decided to make my own 'packet burkhas' which hide everything but the gory picture out of sheer bloody mindedness. For the love of God you've put us outside can we not be left in peace now? Nah thought not.
That said I am looking forward to the introduction of fags under the counter. I haven't bought under the counter fags since I was a girl. Being from Glasgow I've witnessed plenty of smoking related deaths and have concluded that awful as they are they're nowhere near as bad as the horror of senility hence why I smoke. Not that you get me holding up pictures of piss stinking old ladies in other folks ill fitting clothes rotting in chairs to non-smokers. They know the risks.
Right enough chatting to the internet. I'm off.
Cheerio
3/02/2008
Back From My Travels
Hello,
I'd always been led to understand that the people of London were rude and deeply unpleasant. Having only been there three times I'm not in a position to comment with any certainty but based on my experiences this weekend I can honestly say I haven't met a finer bunch of people in my life. Every time my sense of direction let me down leaving me staring myopically at a tube map someone would appear and put me on the right train. If it wasn't for the chap in Victoria Station I'd still be in London.
If any of you are single and looking for a click I strongly recommend Earls Court tube station. Honestly in the space of about 10 minutes my phone number was requested twice. Why did these things not happen before I met Mr Clairwil? That's the thing with life often you do get what you want -about 10 bloody years too late.
The seminar I was down for was a roaring success and has been very helpful in getting my big project off the ground. Mind you I think I must have been the poorest person in the room which wasn't a problem -real toffs in my limited experience being a pleasant bunch. It's the Hyacinth Buckets that set to to make you feel like scum.
I just felt a bit like the time I was sitting in 'the tories' back garden as a child -like a stranger in a foreign land. Oh come on it wasn't just their politics they were actually playing croquet and drinking 'squash'. They used to play tennis and golf as well. Mind you the croquet was no problem to me -a veteran of the free games for children the council used to lay on at Haggs Castle.
Naturally that's all gone now the council being 'socialists' of the the worst and most vindictive variety decided that a free children's museum in a posh bit of Glasgow offering an opportunity for children of all classes to mix and do something a bit out of the ordinary was a waste of money. Today the museum is a private residence bought for the bargain price of £250,000. I should stress it is an actual castle with a turret and everything -the large cottage beside it which came with the castle alone could have fetched at least £500,000 on the open market, God knows what the going rate for a castle in Glasgow is. The council turned down an attempt by the local community to buy it and keep it going out of spite. Unfortunately the locals had the temerity to not to vote Labour and worse elect a Tory. Lord knows why for she is the most useless tory ever to draw breath and she was rude to my mother which is my job.
Still I've rather strayed from the point here haven't I but you've all learned something which is the main thing. Right I'm off to drench my aching muscles in Arnica oil -too much exercise is a terrible thing!
Cheerio
I'd always been led to understand that the people of London were rude and deeply unpleasant. Having only been there three times I'm not in a position to comment with any certainty but based on my experiences this weekend I can honestly say I haven't met a finer bunch of people in my life. Every time my sense of direction let me down leaving me staring myopically at a tube map someone would appear and put me on the right train. If it wasn't for the chap in Victoria Station I'd still be in London.
If any of you are single and looking for a click I strongly recommend Earls Court tube station. Honestly in the space of about 10 minutes my phone number was requested twice. Why did these things not happen before I met Mr Clairwil? That's the thing with life often you do get what you want -about 10 bloody years too late.
The seminar I was down for was a roaring success and has been very helpful in getting my big project off the ground. Mind you I think I must have been the poorest person in the room which wasn't a problem -real toffs in my limited experience being a pleasant bunch. It's the Hyacinth Buckets that set to to make you feel like scum.
I just felt a bit like the time I was sitting in 'the tories' back garden as a child -like a stranger in a foreign land. Oh come on it wasn't just their politics they were actually playing croquet and drinking 'squash'. They used to play tennis and golf as well. Mind you the croquet was no problem to me -a veteran of the free games for children the council used to lay on at Haggs Castle.
Naturally that's all gone now the council being 'socialists' of the the worst and most vindictive variety decided that a free children's museum in a posh bit of Glasgow offering an opportunity for children of all classes to mix and do something a bit out of the ordinary was a waste of money. Today the museum is a private residence bought for the bargain price of £250,000. I should stress it is an actual castle with a turret and everything -the large cottage beside it which came with the castle alone could have fetched at least £500,000 on the open market, God knows what the going rate for a castle in Glasgow is. The council turned down an attempt by the local community to buy it and keep it going out of spite. Unfortunately the locals had the temerity to not to vote Labour and worse elect a Tory. Lord knows why for she is the most useless tory ever to draw breath and she was rude to my mother which is my job.
Still I've rather strayed from the point here haven't I but you've all learned something which is the main thing. Right I'm off to drench my aching muscles in Arnica oil -too much exercise is a terrible thing!
Cheerio
1/31/2008
What Fresh Madness Is This?
Hello,
For reasons that are at the time of writing a complete mystery, a well intentioned person has presented me with a kit entitled 'The Best Year of Your Life' . Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth I eagerly got it out the wrapping and poked it about a bit.
I must say I was surprised that The Best Year of Your Life involves awarding oneself 'Self- Love points. Surely they cannot be referring to the world's must popular solitary vice? Not online bingo -the one the Victorians had a bee in their bonnets about. Whilst I think devices like this are absurd, I'm slightly dubious about any system which rewards masturbation of all things. One might as well start dishing out nectar points for scratching an itch.
In addition to the opportunity to earn points for gusset typing the kit also contains 52 cards each of which have a task on them. I've glanced through them and they terrify me with their mad ideas. I cannot let go of my grudges, If I didn't have my bile I'd have nothing, I cannot forgive anyone! With the exception of religious folk I have a deep mistrust of anyone who owns a forgiving nature. Quite frankly if they think so little of themselves why should I waste my time on them?
For those preparing to muck up my comments box by sneering at my love of self-improvement -I hate you as well. People with no ambition should be dipped in acid then shot. Again I exclude religious folk from this. It's the every day arse scratching whiner that riles me with their disgraceful over-confidence. Neither use nor ornament they slouch about 'I can'ting', 'I won'ting' and 'I don'ting'. Yet they have the effrontery to imagine the world should be interested in them. Whether the cause is lax potty training, fast food or central heating I cannot say. I wouldn't mind but when one considers the horrific conditions people in some parts of the world exist in, pampered western tossers moaning their way through life in the rich bit of the world is appalling. Mummy was right you should think of the starving Africans when you turn your nose up at dinner. Mind you if people who profess to have no ambition really meant it -they'd give up their opportunities, set up home in the world's poorest country and make way for some ambitious third world individual.
Right I'm off to regenerate.
Cheerio
For reasons that are at the time of writing a complete mystery, a well intentioned person has presented me with a kit entitled 'The Best Year of Your Life' . Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth I eagerly got it out the wrapping and poked it about a bit.
I must say I was surprised that The Best Year of Your Life involves awarding oneself 'Self- Love points. Surely they cannot be referring to the world's must popular solitary vice? Not online bingo -the one the Victorians had a bee in their bonnets about. Whilst I think devices like this are absurd, I'm slightly dubious about any system which rewards masturbation of all things. One might as well start dishing out nectar points for scratching an itch.
In addition to the opportunity to earn points for gusset typing the kit also contains 52 cards each of which have a task on them. I've glanced through them and they terrify me with their mad ideas. I cannot let go of my grudges, If I didn't have my bile I'd have nothing, I cannot forgive anyone! With the exception of religious folk I have a deep mistrust of anyone who owns a forgiving nature. Quite frankly if they think so little of themselves why should I waste my time on them?
For those preparing to muck up my comments box by sneering at my love of self-improvement -I hate you as well. People with no ambition should be dipped in acid then shot. Again I exclude religious folk from this. It's the every day arse scratching whiner that riles me with their disgraceful over-confidence. Neither use nor ornament they slouch about 'I can'ting', 'I won'ting' and 'I don'ting'. Yet they have the effrontery to imagine the world should be interested in them. Whether the cause is lax potty training, fast food or central heating I cannot say. I wouldn't mind but when one considers the horrific conditions people in some parts of the world exist in, pampered western tossers moaning their way through life in the rich bit of the world is appalling. Mummy was right you should think of the starving Africans when you turn your nose up at dinner. Mind you if people who profess to have no ambition really meant it -they'd give up their opportunities, set up home in the world's poorest country and make way for some ambitious third world individual.
Right I'm off to regenerate.
Cheerio
12/29/2007
Oh God!
Hello,
I have just swanned back over the border having been in England for the first time this decade. Unfortunately I saw rather too much of the wrong sort of England -their fucking motorways. Almost 14 hours I spent trapped in the car with my Radio 2 loving parents. Apparently a lorry crashed somewhere and caused a tailback stretching from Manchester to London. Honestly the service station we dropped into was like a refugee camp. Dazed folk wandering about nibbling Kit Kat Chunkys and mumbling 'please let's book a travel tavern'. It was appalling.
I devoured fifteen chapters of my book before the light went and then I was trapped with my knees under my chin listening to 'Whispering' Bob Harris. It got so bad at one point I was praying that we'd get there for my niece starting nursery. Needless to say I flew back earlier than planned, having refused to travel long distance in a car ever again. Fuck carbon footprints! There are my human rights to consider.
It was during car hell that news received my ears of the death of Benazir Bhutto. To be awfully silly female and trivial about it I was sorry because she was so beautiful and stylish. To be more serious I don't approve of political assassinations when folk are participating in a democratic system. On a purely personal note a charming acquaintance of mine is in Pakistan as I type which is a worry and I was hoping for a holiday there at some point. As a country it intrigues me, I think because of the vast number of it's former residents I'm pally with just now. Note to immigrants if you bring me home cooked food I will worship your country like a god. I'm like that.
I'm pondering making a few New Year's resolutions because I've mostly found them effective and yes, fans giving up blogging is in there or at least giving it up under the 'Clairwil' banner. I may not it's just a thought. In truth I don't understand why I receive so much hate email. It doesn't wound me or distress me as I presume it's meant to but it is very, very wearing.
Cheerio
I have just swanned back over the border having been in England for the first time this decade. Unfortunately I saw rather too much of the wrong sort of England -their fucking motorways. Almost 14 hours I spent trapped in the car with my Radio 2 loving parents. Apparently a lorry crashed somewhere and caused a tailback stretching from Manchester to London. Honestly the service station we dropped into was like a refugee camp. Dazed folk wandering about nibbling Kit Kat Chunkys and mumbling 'please let's book a travel tavern'. It was appalling.
I devoured fifteen chapters of my book before the light went and then I was trapped with my knees under my chin listening to 'Whispering' Bob Harris. It got so bad at one point I was praying that we'd get there for my niece starting nursery. Needless to say I flew back earlier than planned, having refused to travel long distance in a car ever again. Fuck carbon footprints! There are my human rights to consider.
It was during car hell that news received my ears of the death of Benazir Bhutto. To be awfully silly female and trivial about it I was sorry because she was so beautiful and stylish. To be more serious I don't approve of political assassinations when folk are participating in a democratic system. On a purely personal note a charming acquaintance of mine is in Pakistan as I type which is a worry and I was hoping for a holiday there at some point. As a country it intrigues me, I think because of the vast number of it's former residents I'm pally with just now. Note to immigrants if you bring me home cooked food I will worship your country like a god. I'm like that.
I'm pondering making a few New Year's resolutions because I've mostly found them effective and yes, fans giving up blogging is in there or at least giving it up under the 'Clairwil' banner. I may not it's just a thought. In truth I don't understand why I receive so much hate email. It doesn't wound me or distress me as I presume it's meant to but it is very, very wearing.
Cheerio
12/02/2007
Quickie!
Hello,
I must draw your attention to Longrider's cat blog. It is a joy! Of course of you're one those freaks that hates cats then it's not for you. As I said below I love cats to the point of madness. I remember bringing my ninth birthday party to a swift halt when someone within earshot said that they hated cats. I was so outraged I stood up on a chair and bellowed at the top of my voice 'everyone who doesn't like cats get out of my house NOW!' and to be fair they did. Since that day the girl who hated cats and I have been sworn enemies and if I were to run into her now I'd spit in her eye.
You should also pop in to the Scottish Round Up it is excellent this week and I'm in it twice-though you shouldn't let that put you off. There is lot's of great stuff and this week if you hate Labour you'll be in hog heaven.
Chherio
I must draw your attention to Longrider's cat blog. It is a joy! Of course of you're one those freaks that hates cats then it's not for you. As I said below I love cats to the point of madness. I remember bringing my ninth birthday party to a swift halt when someone within earshot said that they hated cats. I was so outraged I stood up on a chair and bellowed at the top of my voice 'everyone who doesn't like cats get out of my house NOW!' and to be fair they did. Since that day the girl who hated cats and I have been sworn enemies and if I were to run into her now I'd spit in her eye.
You should also pop in to the Scottish Round Up it is excellent this week and I'm in it twice-though you shouldn't let that put you off. There is lot's of great stuff and this week if you hate Labour you'll be in hog heaven.
Chherio
11/11/2007
I'm not proud of this but....
Hello,
I was over at my mothers when my eye fell upon The Daily Mail. I'm not proud of it but it is a fact and as we live in a confessional age I am compelled share the following information.
I know it's hard to believe but it contained not one but two good articles! More bizarre one of them was about a Muslim and I thought it was a fair and rather sensitive piece of work on recent (ish) internet hate figure 'Islamic rage boy'. All I'm saying on the matter that it illiteracy hardly makes for sophisticated political statements and that 'Mr Rational' Christopher Hitchens ought to be ashamed for responding less thoughtfully than the Daily Mail of all papers to a bad photo. Then again alcohol hardly makes for sophisticated political statements - just read my archives if you're not convinced.
What do you reckon the Mail is up to?
As for their other good article. I cannot find it on their wretched website but it was very rude about Tony Blair - sometimes there is as much to unite us as divide us. Here's one they did earlier. I fully expect that by the year 2020 one will be able to purchase a Blair blow job for as little as fifty pence - he's got to be good for something.
Right I'm off to tut at some immigrants for besmirching Diana's memory and wrecking the housing market. I suggest you all join me -right after you've read this.
Cheerio
I was over at my mothers when my eye fell upon The Daily Mail. I'm not proud of it but it is a fact and as we live in a confessional age I am compelled share the following information.
I know it's hard to believe but it contained not one but two good articles! More bizarre one of them was about a Muslim and I thought it was a fair and rather sensitive piece of work on recent (ish) internet hate figure 'Islamic rage boy'. All I'm saying on the matter that it illiteracy hardly makes for sophisticated political statements and that 'Mr Rational' Christopher Hitchens ought to be ashamed for responding less thoughtfully than the Daily Mail of all papers to a bad photo. Then again alcohol hardly makes for sophisticated political statements - just read my archives if you're not convinced.
What do you reckon the Mail is up to?
As for their other good article. I cannot find it on their wretched website but it was very rude about Tony Blair - sometimes there is as much to unite us as divide us. Here's one they did earlier. I fully expect that by the year 2020 one will be able to purchase a Blair blow job for as little as fifty pence - he's got to be good for something.
Right I'm off to tut at some immigrants for besmirching Diana's memory and wrecking the housing market. I suggest you all join me -right after you've read this.
Cheerio
10/15/2007
Advice For Beggars
Hello,
There is a new chap in my local area who claims to be stranded here. It really is very unfortunate. I first encountered him last Thursday when the poor fellow had lost all his money and had no means of getting back to Cumbernauld, so I gave him the necessary £3.00.
Imagine my surprise when he sprang out a doorway at me on Saturday! I asked him if he was still stranded and he affected not to know what I was on about. That cost me £1.00. He was after £3.00 but in all honesty I felt that was an excessive price for the same old story.
Of course I should point out that this is all a bit of a game. I know the chap is lying, he knows I don't believe him and am paying him to leave me alone.
I spotted him again on Sunday and managed to take evasive action. No such luck tonight, though at 20p I feel I got off lightly.
Now if I were him which mercifully I'm not I'd have a few tales up my sleeve. For example once I was followed the length of three whole streets by a man covered what appeared to be beetroot juice. He was demanding £5.00 for a taxi to get to hospital having been 'stabbed', I did offer to phone an ambulance but he was having none of it. I gave him £1.00 which made him very angry, very angry indeed. Honestly I was affronted as he followed me screaming to passers by that I'd stolen his money! He'd still be after me if I hadn't enlisted the help of a pub bouncer.
Whilst I feel his aggressive behaviour was highly unprofessional I will give him full marks for entertainment value and taking the trouble to come up with a good yarn and special effects. Saved renting a video that night.
Similarly the young lady who haunts the Trongate with a pram and tales of not having eaten for two days is quite impressive and rather Dickensian. I rather like to imagine Tiny Tim waiting at home for mum to return with a few bags of Space Raiders purchased thanks to the generosity of the public. Well it saves thinking about the smack she'll blow it on.
If only the stranded resident of Cumbernauld was so imaginative. He is a mere amateur in the world of begging. Really to get the best donations one has to do a bit of acting -the more unconvincing the better. I have been known to pay top whack for an appallingly acted tale of woe, especially if it's prefaced by the words 'this is really embarrassing'. I also like a new story. I'm sorry to say this is a consumer society and we're all after value for money. Beggars who don't move with the times will be left behind.
Of course if one doesn't want to go down that route there is always honesty. Now I concede this is a gamble but I rarely refuse an honest request particularly if it's funny. A while back a young fellow scoffing a bag of chips stopped me outside the chippy and requested a donation to buy his girlfriend a bag of chips. I looked at him, I looked at the rather sullen looking young lady standing obediently at his side and burst out laughing before reaching for my purse. Good Lord! Sod going out with him. A gentleman would have bought the lady the chips and then begged to get his own. A thinking man would have shared the chips with the lady, though that wouldn't have been as funny.
Before I met Mr Clairwil my romantic life was sheer torture but even I never suffered the indignity of night out funded by begging for change. Mind you I always paid my own way to avoid misunderstandings and unreasonable demands.
I should stress that I'm not experienced in street begging, I'm not an expert. Any beggars reading should accept this as customer feedback.
Cheerio
There is a new chap in my local area who claims to be stranded here. It really is very unfortunate. I first encountered him last Thursday when the poor fellow had lost all his money and had no means of getting back to Cumbernauld, so I gave him the necessary £3.00.
Imagine my surprise when he sprang out a doorway at me on Saturday! I asked him if he was still stranded and he affected not to know what I was on about. That cost me £1.00. He was after £3.00 but in all honesty I felt that was an excessive price for the same old story.
Of course I should point out that this is all a bit of a game. I know the chap is lying, he knows I don't believe him and am paying him to leave me alone.
I spotted him again on Sunday and managed to take evasive action. No such luck tonight, though at 20p I feel I got off lightly.
Now if I were him which mercifully I'm not I'd have a few tales up my sleeve. For example once I was followed the length of three whole streets by a man covered what appeared to be beetroot juice. He was demanding £5.00 for a taxi to get to hospital having been 'stabbed', I did offer to phone an ambulance but he was having none of it. I gave him £1.00 which made him very angry, very angry indeed. Honestly I was affronted as he followed me screaming to passers by that I'd stolen his money! He'd still be after me if I hadn't enlisted the help of a pub bouncer.
Whilst I feel his aggressive behaviour was highly unprofessional I will give him full marks for entertainment value and taking the trouble to come up with a good yarn and special effects. Saved renting a video that night.
Similarly the young lady who haunts the Trongate with a pram and tales of not having eaten for two days is quite impressive and rather Dickensian. I rather like to imagine Tiny Tim waiting at home for mum to return with a few bags of Space Raiders purchased thanks to the generosity of the public. Well it saves thinking about the smack she'll blow it on.
If only the stranded resident of Cumbernauld was so imaginative. He is a mere amateur in the world of begging. Really to get the best donations one has to do a bit of acting -the more unconvincing the better. I have been known to pay top whack for an appallingly acted tale of woe, especially if it's prefaced by the words 'this is really embarrassing'. I also like a new story. I'm sorry to say this is a consumer society and we're all after value for money. Beggars who don't move with the times will be left behind.
Of course if one doesn't want to go down that route there is always honesty. Now I concede this is a gamble but I rarely refuse an honest request particularly if it's funny. A while back a young fellow scoffing a bag of chips stopped me outside the chippy and requested a donation to buy his girlfriend a bag of chips. I looked at him, I looked at the rather sullen looking young lady standing obediently at his side and burst out laughing before reaching for my purse. Good Lord! Sod going out with him. A gentleman would have bought the lady the chips and then begged to get his own. A thinking man would have shared the chips with the lady, though that wouldn't have been as funny.
Before I met Mr Clairwil my romantic life was sheer torture but even I never suffered the indignity of night out funded by begging for change. Mind you I always paid my own way to avoid misunderstandings and unreasonable demands.
I should stress that I'm not experienced in street begging, I'm not an expert. Any beggars reading should accept this as customer feedback.
Cheerio
9/28/2007
Going about things the wrong way........
Hello,
I see we have had another small victory in The War Against Terror in that this rather unassuming chap has been arrested for trying to kill civil servants.
Whilst there can be few among us haven't at some point longed to kill a civil servant I'm afraid our Mr Cooper has gone about things the wrong way. Some time ago Flying Rodent gave the world a handy post full of advice and tips on sending civil servants mad and I would refer anyone contemplating killing a civil servant to read it and reconsider. Had Mr Cooper taken the time to do a spot of research he wouldn't be in the mess he's in today. To think people think blogs are just a load of oafs writing drivel!
Anyway the whole letter-bomb thing is a waste of time, they never get to anyone who really deserves a face full of rusty nails instead some poor New Deal office monkey cops it. Apparently it was some sort of protest about I-D cards which will probably make their introduction more likely than ever knowing the way our rulers minds work.
That's it from me I'm a way to huff impotently at events in Burma and feast on vegetarian haggis and mashed potatoes.
Cheerio
I see we have had another small victory in The War Against Terror in that this rather unassuming chap has been arrested for trying to kill civil servants.
Whilst there can be few among us haven't at some point longed to kill a civil servant I'm afraid our Mr Cooper has gone about things the wrong way. Some time ago Flying Rodent gave the world a handy post full of advice and tips on sending civil servants mad and I would refer anyone contemplating killing a civil servant to read it and reconsider. Had Mr Cooper taken the time to do a spot of research he wouldn't be in the mess he's in today. To think people think blogs are just a load of oafs writing drivel!
Anyway the whole letter-bomb thing is a waste of time, they never get to anyone who really deserves a face full of rusty nails instead some poor New Deal office monkey cops it. Apparently it was some sort of protest about I-D cards which will probably make their introduction more likely than ever knowing the way our rulers minds work.
That's it from me I'm a way to huff impotently at events in Burma and feast on vegetarian haggis and mashed potatoes.
Cheerio
9/24/2007
Traumatised
Hello,
As some of you may be aware 'The Merchant City Festival' was in full swing this weekend. As a resident I'm a bit ambivalent about the whole thing. The local shops have done a roaring trade and not just the wank boutiques but paper shops and the like, we've had a street market and opera singers at the back of the close. All of which please me.
However as with all things there is a terrible, terrible downside. Every single arsehole in Glasgow has descended on the place, all weekend I've had to repress the urge to take to the streets with a loudhailer screaming 'get back to the west end cunts'. Some truly appalling music has been played live by various folk who'd be better off as accountants and worst of all I was attacked!
I was strolling along Ingram Street minding my own business when I was cornered by two chaps dressed as dogs, who proceeded to bark loudly and sniff bits of me that should be left undisturbed in public. Black affronted does not even begin to cover it. Naturally I put on my 'good sport' face but I wanted to kill them. A small crowd gathered to point and hoot at this blatant sexual assault as if what was happening was not already embarrassing enough. As you know I'm not one to point fingers but the pair of beasts have the nerve to bill themselves as 'suitable for children' -they ought to be lynched.
As a direct result of this I've been having one of my turns all evening. Nerves as per bloody usual. I expect the drama students in dog costumes have been smugging all night about making the public part of the performance. I hope they are murdered in their beds.
Cheerio
As some of you may be aware 'The Merchant City Festival' was in full swing this weekend. As a resident I'm a bit ambivalent about the whole thing. The local shops have done a roaring trade and not just the wank boutiques but paper shops and the like, we've had a street market and opera singers at the back of the close. All of which please me.
However as with all things there is a terrible, terrible downside. Every single arsehole in Glasgow has descended on the place, all weekend I've had to repress the urge to take to the streets with a loudhailer screaming 'get back to the west end cunts'. Some truly appalling music has been played live by various folk who'd be better off as accountants and worst of all I was attacked!
I was strolling along Ingram Street minding my own business when I was cornered by two chaps dressed as dogs, who proceeded to bark loudly and sniff bits of me that should be left undisturbed in public. Black affronted does not even begin to cover it. Naturally I put on my 'good sport' face but I wanted to kill them. A small crowd gathered to point and hoot at this blatant sexual assault as if what was happening was not already embarrassing enough. As you know I'm not one to point fingers but the pair of beasts have the nerve to bill themselves as 'suitable for children' -they ought to be lynched.
As a direct result of this I've been having one of my turns all evening. Nerves as per bloody usual. I expect the drama students in dog costumes have been smugging all night about making the public part of the performance. I hope they are murdered in their beds.
Cheerio
9/20/2007
Stuffed Animals!
Hello,
I could try but I'd be sure to fail if I were attempt to convey to you my love of stuffed animals. Taxidermy rocks! What a fantastic thing to be. My whole life I've longed for a job title worth living up to but to no avail. Observe my C.V
Paper Girl- Left due to fear of dogs
Shop assistant- Sacked for bursting into tears at the sheer misery of it all.
Checkout Girl- Sacked for being 'enigmatic with customers'.
Barmaid- Sacked for getting on too well with customers or topping up pints after the first gulp.
Shopkeeper- Gave it up after premises became unsafe.
Band Manager- The band were rubbish.
Savings Advisor- Ah the rock and roll years in the bank- promoted.
Resource Officer- As above
Personal Finance Advisor- Left because I hated the customers and wished them all dead.
Admin Assistant- Left because they failed to treat me with the correct level of deference.
Welfare Rights/Outreach Worker - Still grinding away but the job title and description is not what I'm after. It conjures up visions of overweight women with cropped grey hair and shoes made of mung beans. That isn't me at all, I like gaudy things, pole dancers, gambling, sex booze, drugs, sneering and staring into space. I'm quite partial to 'making things' as well, in fact today I made 6 pairs of earrings which will be for sale at the Royal Concert Hall in Glasgow on the 29th if anyone fancies a Clairwil original although I suspect you don't. Call me psychic.
Now imagine how much more impressive that would have been if there had been a spot of taxidermy in there. Or tattoo artistry I fancy a go at that. Actually I'm thinking of getting another tattoo but that's besides the point.
Have a peep at the stuffed things....
A stuffed magpie
A stuffed snake
An inflated puffer fish
Mr Fox
A Pine Martin
A Scorpion
A spider crab
Wendy Alexander Naked!!!!
I could try but I'd be sure to fail if I were attempt to convey to you my love of stuffed animals. Taxidermy rocks! What a fantastic thing to be. My whole life I've longed for a job title worth living up to but to no avail. Observe my C.V
Paper Girl- Left due to fear of dogs
Shop assistant- Sacked for bursting into tears at the sheer misery of it all.
Checkout Girl- Sacked for being 'enigmatic with customers'.
Barmaid- Sacked for getting on too well with customers or topping up pints after the first gulp.
Shopkeeper- Gave it up after premises became unsafe.
Band Manager- The band were rubbish.
Savings Advisor- Ah the rock and roll years in the bank- promoted.
Resource Officer- As above
Personal Finance Advisor- Left because I hated the customers and wished them all dead.
Admin Assistant- Left because they failed to treat me with the correct level of deference.
Welfare Rights/Outreach Worker - Still grinding away but the job title and description is not what I'm after. It conjures up visions of overweight women with cropped grey hair and shoes made of mung beans. That isn't me at all, I like gaudy things, pole dancers, gambling, sex booze, drugs, sneering and staring into space. I'm quite partial to 'making things' as well, in fact today I made 6 pairs of earrings which will be for sale at the Royal Concert Hall in Glasgow on the 29th if anyone fancies a Clairwil original although I suspect you don't. Call me psychic.
Now imagine how much more impressive that would have been if there had been a spot of taxidermy in there. Or tattoo artistry I fancy a go at that. Actually I'm thinking of getting another tattoo but that's besides the point.
Have a peep at the stuffed things....
A stuffed magpie
A stuffed snake
An inflated puffer fish
Mr Fox
A Pine Martin
A Scorpion
A spider crab
Wendy Alexander Naked!!!!
9/19/2007
Pray for me....
Hello,
I've just applied for a paying thing. It's a one off so I can't call it a job but I really want it.
Can all my religious readers pray for me, the atheists may scowl in a corner playing with their calculators.
Cheerio
I've just applied for a paying thing. It's a one off so I can't call it a job but I really want it.
Can all my religious readers pray for me, the atheists may scowl in a corner playing with their calculators.
Cheerio
Dereliction Of Duty
Hello,
It occurs to me that I haven't posted anything rude about a politician for ages. I can only apologise to my elected chums and trust none of them are feeling too neglected.
First up the Tories have irritated me. It's just like the 80's again. As you'll all be aware Thatcher popped round to Gordon Brown's pad for tea and crumpets or to noise up David Cameron depending on your view. Anyway a few of the Tories have got all huffy and upset about it, claiming that she's a frail and lonely old lady and is being exploited. Have they seen her lately? She looks more terrifying than ever. In any case in the unlikely event she and Cameron were to have a bare knuckle boxing contest I know where my money would be going.
That being their opinion I wonder how many of them pop in to visit or give her a ring to see if she wants any shopping done? Not many because they all keep their distance depending on how much of a liability they see her as having consulted with umpteen focus groups. If I were her I'd join Respect to really mess with their minds.
Obviously the government have upset me, I believe it was one of those pledges they kept banging on about. Apparently 24 hour licencing has got to go because some people are too bloody stupid to go to the pub without making a nuisance of themselves. Naturally this has got the puritans creaming their drawers with excitement.
Rather than restrict opening hours could they not try something like policing the town centres at peak times. They started doing it Glasgow a while back and fuck me violent crime at the weekend fell by 13%! It's almost as if the police were acting as some sort of deterrent. In addition to the visible and surprisingly civilized and good natured police presence they have fellows in fluorescent jackets who keep the taxi queue moving in an orderly fashion and direct folk to buses etc.
If the government place us all under house arrest at any point in the next ten years I will not raise an eyebrow. More seriously why can't they just leave us alone. Stop smoking, lose weight, stop drinking. For God's sake it's like living with my mother.
Has anyone looked into the effects of all this nagging on the population? Maybe all the stress they're putting us under is causing everyone to reach for the bottle. At times they make me want to smoke crack and bite folk.
Why can't they accept that human nature cannot be perfected by legislation? Look at the smoking ban. The only difference in my habits is that I sit outside at the pub and talk to all the interesting folk, leaving all the lemon suckers inside. Life expectancy in the U.K is longer than it's ever been. Why the sudden hysteria about self inflicted premature death?
I live in a town centre so I'm no stranger to the problems caused by drunken halfwits but I also know that the majority of people are able to go out for a few pints without causing mayhem. I am merely suggesting that they leave the rest of us alone and arrest the idiots. Honestly they're worse than those teachers that punish entire classes for the 'crimes' of an individual.
Cheerio
It occurs to me that I haven't posted anything rude about a politician for ages. I can only apologise to my elected chums and trust none of them are feeling too neglected.
First up the Tories have irritated me. It's just like the 80's again. As you'll all be aware Thatcher popped round to Gordon Brown's pad for tea and crumpets or to noise up David Cameron depending on your view. Anyway a few of the Tories have got all huffy and upset about it, claiming that she's a frail and lonely old lady and is being exploited. Have they seen her lately? She looks more terrifying than ever. In any case in the unlikely event she and Cameron were to have a bare knuckle boxing contest I know where my money would be going.
That being their opinion I wonder how many of them pop in to visit or give her a ring to see if she wants any shopping done? Not many because they all keep their distance depending on how much of a liability they see her as having consulted with umpteen focus groups. If I were her I'd join Respect to really mess with their minds.
Obviously the government have upset me, I believe it was one of those pledges they kept banging on about. Apparently 24 hour licencing has got to go because some people are too bloody stupid to go to the pub without making a nuisance of themselves. Naturally this has got the puritans creaming their drawers with excitement.
Rather than restrict opening hours could they not try something like policing the town centres at peak times. They started doing it Glasgow a while back and fuck me violent crime at the weekend fell by 13%! It's almost as if the police were acting as some sort of deterrent. In addition to the visible and surprisingly civilized and good natured police presence they have fellows in fluorescent jackets who keep the taxi queue moving in an orderly fashion and direct folk to buses etc.
If the government place us all under house arrest at any point in the next ten years I will not raise an eyebrow. More seriously why can't they just leave us alone. Stop smoking, lose weight, stop drinking. For God's sake it's like living with my mother.
Has anyone looked into the effects of all this nagging on the population? Maybe all the stress they're putting us under is causing everyone to reach for the bottle. At times they make me want to smoke crack and bite folk.
Why can't they accept that human nature cannot be perfected by legislation? Look at the smoking ban. The only difference in my habits is that I sit outside at the pub and talk to all the interesting folk, leaving all the lemon suckers inside. Life expectancy in the U.K is longer than it's ever been. Why the sudden hysteria about self inflicted premature death?
I live in a town centre so I'm no stranger to the problems caused by drunken halfwits but I also know that the majority of people are able to go out for a few pints without causing mayhem. I am merely suggesting that they leave the rest of us alone and arrest the idiots. Honestly they're worse than those teachers that punish entire classes for the 'crimes' of an individual.
Cheerio
9/18/2007
For The Love Of God.......
Hello,
Back in April I decided to transfer my mortgage following a few misunderstandings with the bank. That is to say the bank don't understand that I'm disorganised and require far more money than I earn to live decently. Anyway I tootled along to a mortgage broker who reckoned he could get anyone anything -to look at him you'd think butter wouldn't melt but he tried to bribe me to refer clients to him during the course of my application! Naturally I declined out of fear of getting caught rather than any moral objection.
After trying for months on end to get the bank to give me a settlement figure (six written requests 17 phone calls and two faxes), I had all that I needed to go ahead. The nice lady at my new mortgage company assured me that everything was fine and I should have my old mortgage settled and the wee bit extra within a week. That was three weeks ago.
I phoned again last week at was told all the paperwork was at the lawyer so it should be done and dusted in the next few days. I phoned the lawyers who advised that I should have the money in the next 5-7 days. Still nothing.
I had intended to go away for a few days next week -Belfast since you ask and was relying on that money to pay for it. There doesn't appear to be any law against torturing debtors in this way and you may be surprised to learn I seem to be the only person anything like this has ever happened to -something of a recurring theme in my life.
I'm at the end of my tether with it. Any suggestions that don't involve me strangling a hapless office clerk with my bare hands.
Back in April I decided to transfer my mortgage following a few misunderstandings with the bank. That is to say the bank don't understand that I'm disorganised and require far more money than I earn to live decently. Anyway I tootled along to a mortgage broker who reckoned he could get anyone anything -to look at him you'd think butter wouldn't melt but he tried to bribe me to refer clients to him during the course of my application! Naturally I declined out of fear of getting caught rather than any moral objection.
After trying for months on end to get the bank to give me a settlement figure (six written requests 17 phone calls and two faxes), I had all that I needed to go ahead. The nice lady at my new mortgage company assured me that everything was fine and I should have my old mortgage settled and the wee bit extra within a week. That was three weeks ago.
I phoned again last week at was told all the paperwork was at the lawyer so it should be done and dusted in the next few days. I phoned the lawyers who advised that I should have the money in the next 5-7 days. Still nothing.
I had intended to go away for a few days next week -Belfast since you ask and was relying on that money to pay for it. There doesn't appear to be any law against torturing debtors in this way and you may be surprised to learn I seem to be the only person anything like this has ever happened to -something of a recurring theme in my life.
I'm at the end of my tether with it. Any suggestions that don't involve me strangling a hapless office clerk with my bare hands.
9/15/2007
9/12/2007
Fantastic Lunchbox OK
Hello,
This is possibly the most wonderful blog in the world. It is ruled by a young Japanese lady and is devoted to pictures of the fabulous things her mother makes her for lunch. Do look it is one of life's innocent pleasures.
Cheerio
This is possibly the most wonderful blog in the world. It is ruled by a young Japanese lady and is devoted to pictures of the fabulous things her mother makes her for lunch. Do look it is one of life's innocent pleasures.
Cheerio
Sex For Fruit and A Strap-on In The Daily Mail
Hello,
News from the kingdom of nature reaches my ears. Apparently nowhere is safe from vice or the systematic oppression of women by the patriarchy as shouting females keep telling me I should be calling it. I am referring to the surprising revelation that lady chimpanzees have been exchanging sex for fruit. I should stress that this is sex with boy chimpanzees not the pervy boffins that have been spying on the chimps romps.
I can't help but think this information could be of use to the government in it's endless campaign to make us eat our five a day. Perhaps they might consider me for the position of 'Fucking Fruit Czar'. Mother would be so proud and it is one of my many ambitions to have a publicly funded job with a title and remit so bizarre the population rise up and overthrow the state.
Those of a nervous disposition should flee now for I bring you alarming news regarding Madonna and that clown she's married to. The Daily Mail (of all papers) informs a shocked nation that Madonna was seen carrying a 'Purple Penetrator' dildo in a see through bag. Unfortunately I have been haunted by a terrible mental image since this was put before me. Though by a strange coincidence I have always wanted to shove something up Guy Ritchie's arse albeit wrapped in barbed wire beforehand.
It has to be said I am tickled that the words 'strap-on' have appeared in The Daily Mail. This could herald the beginning of a new cultural era.
Cheerio
News from the kingdom of nature reaches my ears. Apparently nowhere is safe from vice or the systematic oppression of women by the patriarchy as shouting females keep telling me I should be calling it. I am referring to the surprising revelation that lady chimpanzees have been exchanging sex for fruit. I should stress that this is sex with boy chimpanzees not the pervy boffins that have been spying on the chimps romps.
I can't help but think this information could be of use to the government in it's endless campaign to make us eat our five a day. Perhaps they might consider me for the position of 'Fucking Fruit Czar'. Mother would be so proud and it is one of my many ambitions to have a publicly funded job with a title and remit so bizarre the population rise up and overthrow the state.
Those of a nervous disposition should flee now for I bring you alarming news regarding Madonna and that clown she's married to. The Daily Mail (of all papers) informs a shocked nation that Madonna was seen carrying a 'Purple Penetrator' dildo in a see through bag. Unfortunately I have been haunted by a terrible mental image since this was put before me. Though by a strange coincidence I have always wanted to shove something up Guy Ritchie's arse albeit wrapped in barbed wire beforehand.
It has to be said I am tickled that the words 'strap-on' have appeared in The Daily Mail. This could herald the beginning of a new cultural era.
Cheerio
8/14/2007
Sex For Consumers
Hello,
Like many members of the 'lady community' I have been orphaned by the tragic demise of Marie Claire. I am aware it's still limping on but a cursory glance at the contents leaves one wondering why it bothers.
For the last couple of years I've been in search of a suitable replacement but it's as if the last people on earth who still take Madonna seriously have got together and entered a competition to see who can run the dullest magazine possible.
Anyway I've been hearing wonderful things about Scarlet Magazine which purports to be some sort of erotic periodical for ladies. Do not be taken in. Whilst all glossy magazines carry a lot of advertising this rag is about 95% advertising and none of it very interesting. Worse still any article that promises to be interesting is confined to one side of a single page. It's as if they fear entertaining the reader.
There is a section of 'erotic' literature or 'Cliterature' as they're calling it. A woman gets locked in a chastity belt in one of the stories, I couldn't be arsed reading on to see if she gets out. The one about the 'frantic sun lounger' is a big bore as well. I'm not really sure who all this tedium is aimed at. People who want to appear to be interested in sex perhaps?
Mind you the sex tips were good for a laugh, there are, you will be surprised to hear sixty-nine of them. Most too dull to repeat but I shall leave you with a few of my favourites on the condition that you don't hold me responsible for the consequences should you be silly enough to try them.
1. 'Suffering from wrist-ache during hand jobs? Try bagpiping as an alternative.'
2. 'Buy a Skype phone'
3. 'During masturbation use your spare hand to pull your hair'
4. 'Cut up bin liners, place them all over the floor and have a naked cream fight.'
5. 'Refuse whenever you want to.'
6. 'Cover your body in lube and play catch'
7. ' Borrow a pair of your mans boxers and masterbate in front of him.'
8. 'For convenient watersports use the bath'
9. 'A fly-swatter delivers a playful sting to the buttocks.'
By now I'm sure you are as bewildered as I am. Good Lord Mr Clairwil would hit the roof if I peed in his bath, especially if he happened to be in it at the time. Bear with me for what I think is quite possibly the worst sex tip ever printed. It's the sort of thing I'd do to someone I was about to chuck. For sheer cock-teasing cruelty it takes some beating and exposes the author as a dishonest prude who should be confined to a convent before someone explodes.
10. '.....enlist a broadminded friend and kiss her in front of him, on the condition that later when you're both alone together, he verbally completes the scenario, sharing with you the fantasy of what could have happened next.'
Hahaha! Of course in a just and sensible world the chap and the broadminded friend would go off together and leave the tease to pull the wings off flies. For the love of God! What's in next weeks 'pretend you've won the lottery and get your man to describe in detail what he plans to do with his share of the cash before telling him it's all a hoax?'
Scarlet -can't read it for the articles, can't read it for the sex and there's not even a free gift. Avoid like a salesman.
Like many members of the 'lady community' I have been orphaned by the tragic demise of Marie Claire. I am aware it's still limping on but a cursory glance at the contents leaves one wondering why it bothers.
For the last couple of years I've been in search of a suitable replacement but it's as if the last people on earth who still take Madonna seriously have got together and entered a competition to see who can run the dullest magazine possible.
Anyway I've been hearing wonderful things about Scarlet Magazine which purports to be some sort of erotic periodical for ladies. Do not be taken in. Whilst all glossy magazines carry a lot of advertising this rag is about 95% advertising and none of it very interesting. Worse still any article that promises to be interesting is confined to one side of a single page. It's as if they fear entertaining the reader.
There is a section of 'erotic' literature or 'Cliterature' as they're calling it. A woman gets locked in a chastity belt in one of the stories, I couldn't be arsed reading on to see if she gets out. The one about the 'frantic sun lounger' is a big bore as well. I'm not really sure who all this tedium is aimed at. People who want to appear to be interested in sex perhaps?
Mind you the sex tips were good for a laugh, there are, you will be surprised to hear sixty-nine of them. Most too dull to repeat but I shall leave you with a few of my favourites on the condition that you don't hold me responsible for the consequences should you be silly enough to try them.
1. 'Suffering from wrist-ache during hand jobs? Try bagpiping as an alternative.'
2. 'Buy a Skype phone'
3. 'During masturbation use your spare hand to pull your hair'
4. 'Cut up bin liners, place them all over the floor and have a naked cream fight.'
5. 'Refuse whenever you want to.'
6. 'Cover your body in lube and play catch'
7. ' Borrow a pair of your mans boxers and masterbate in front of him.'
8. 'For convenient watersports use the bath'
9. 'A fly-swatter delivers a playful sting to the buttocks.'
By now I'm sure you are as bewildered as I am. Good Lord Mr Clairwil would hit the roof if I peed in his bath, especially if he happened to be in it at the time. Bear with me for what I think is quite possibly the worst sex tip ever printed. It's the sort of thing I'd do to someone I was about to chuck. For sheer cock-teasing cruelty it takes some beating and exposes the author as a dishonest prude who should be confined to a convent before someone explodes.
10. '.....enlist a broadminded friend and kiss her in front of him, on the condition that later when you're both alone together, he verbally completes the scenario, sharing with you the fantasy of what could have happened next.'
Hahaha! Of course in a just and sensible world the chap and the broadminded friend would go off together and leave the tease to pull the wings off flies. For the love of God! What's in next weeks 'pretend you've won the lottery and get your man to describe in detail what he plans to do with his share of the cash before telling him it's all a hoax?'
Scarlet -can't read it for the articles, can't read it for the sex and there's not even a free gift. Avoid like a salesman.
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