It’s Art innit?

I’ve had a friend visiting this weekend up from Somerset…….yes the temptation is there to sing I’ve got a brand new combine harvester…………but we don’t…she’s originally from Yorkshire…..but interestingly she doesn’t own a flat cap…hmmm

I digress

Yesterday we decided to go up to South Bank arguably the best spot in London for a wee Saturday afternoon walk and ended up at the Tate Modern. Nice bit of art on a Saturday afternoon……bit of culcha and all that.

WTF people can literally get away with anything in the name of art….I love the explanations next to each piece…..

Artist: Boris Fuckyouover, Title: explorations of the mind…….er….hang on……..no it’s not it’s two plastic brains one of which has a hammer sticking out of it………..

Artist: Jemima Puddleduck, Title: embankment……..no it’s 4000 white plastic boxes piled up that look like a factory warehouse….twats………

As for Pablo Fucking Picasso……………no really………….Title: Woman with necklace crying……………..yes she’s crying because she’s seen the fucking painting you’ve done of her…..what you cant draw curves? Do you really have to do every painting with a ruler and set-square? Twat. I hate Picasso………….but it appears I am the only one, for sat on the floor in front of each one with HUGE sheets of paper and some crayola crayons was some unwashed, multi-coloured scarf wearing, knit your own sandals, arse lovingly copying his ‘master piece’.

I swear it was like the Emperors New Clothes with some of it…… men with corduroy jackets and stroking their little beards ‘hmming’ and talking to grey haired, flowing skirts women about the depth of the ‘installations’ Twats.

I quite enjoyed sitting out on the Balcony on the 2nd floor having a fag and looking out at night time London though…………...that’s art innit?

In The Industry I Now....

.....work in people have what's known as 'breakthroughs' or 'moments of clarity' well as I sit here I too have just had one.

I have realized just how lazy.....no no no....just how energy efficient I can be.

There's a load going round in the tumble dryer that have been washed and dried three times.

Is this because of my 'super woman' complex?.....noooooooo

Is this because I have some sort of out of proportion / OCD disorder relating to germs?....noooooo

Is this because the whites were just not white enough?.....nooooo

Nope, none of the above. It's because I keep forgetting to take the clothes out of the dryer and so they sit in there and get creased to fuck, so what do I do? I put them back into the washing machine then dry them JUST so I don't have to do any ironing.

And the winner of this year Domestic Goddess Award goes to........................

Who is....

...rachel? Hmm? Who is she?

Well I don't know either, but I have had a piece of paper with 'Rachel' and a telephone number sitting on my kitchen table for about 6 months.

Every now and then I raise my right fist into the air with a defiant cry of "I shall reclaim my kitchen table" so I clear the piles of 'to be dealt with' mail (when I say clear I mean put them into a pile next to the p.c. in another room)..........

........... I gather up the ever increasing pile of 'waiting to be paired' socks (yeah I gather them up and throw them away because I'm sick of waiting for the others to appear)............

.............I show no mercy to Action Man nor Dr X as I fearlessly snatch them up (mid-battle) and throw them into the Son's bedroom.........

....and there it is...the note......in my hand writing with the name 'Rachel' and a sodding telephone number.......


Do I throw it away? No


Do I 141 and call it? That would be too easy


No, instead what I do is say (to anyone or no-one) Who the hell is Rachel? Then I place it back on the table , under the fruit bowl, and leave it to put a bit of excitement into my life another day.



I had a life once.................

The Sharks Were Circling Beneath…….

…what a marvellous weekend. My mates wedding…..it was fantastic

People there I hadn’t seen for years, and whose names I could not remember …..everyone looking terribly grown up….the bride and groom entered the room together to the Jaws theme tune, there were sharks circling in the water, the BBC was there…..the local press was there……………screech……rewind…..

Sharks? BBC? Jaws theme tune? Local Press?

Yes, yes, yes and yes.

So my friends got married on a bridge over a shark tank in Brighton’s Sea Life Centre. It was very very cool. The BBC was there as they are making a documentary on alternative weddings…or something like that. The local press were there…..well I guess because it’s not everyday a couple get married in Brighton over the shark tank….in fact they were the first one’s to do it.

They had asked me to do a reading at their wedding as I had introduced them to each other….yeah! I thought. I’m fine with public speaking I was both honoured and thrilled to be asked. What they forgot to mention was that it was to be part of the wedding ceremony, not at the reception along with all the other speeches.

And so it was that I found myself on Saturday afternoon standing on a bridge, the sharks circling beneath me, trying not to cry (having blubbed my way through the preceding part of the ceremony) reading I’ll Be There by Louise Cuddon. It was wonderful.

The wedding reception was quite conventional, there were elderly relatives being fed foreign food (pasta) little girls looking pretty, the Son sucking helium out of every balloon he could find then filling the balloons with water and chasing the little girls with them……..there was Cinderella moment when all of the women’s 4 inch killer heels turned into trainers, the kilt wearing BF being asked if he was a true Scotsman – he is, the BF telling the kids that his Sporran was made out of kittens – it isn’t….and so on.

All in all a fabulous weekend…..

Cilla is here...

...to celebrate the fact that two of my mates (introduced to each other by Me) are getting married next Saturday I have decided to see if I cant do a little more matchmaking.

Please apply to date on of my lovely bitches.....Ooops...sorry I mean little minxes via email...

On the right we have the lovely Arabella.

Stats are 48dd -45-52

She describes herself as 'homely' and 'quite shy'. She is looking for someone to spend weekends 'fell walking' and curling with. Her hobbies include 'homecrafts' I think she has put her crafts to good use with this modest little number dont you boys?

Next we have Elizabeth. She describes herself as 'fertile' and prone to binges on guerkins.

Ha ha ha...we can also see she has a wonderful sense of humour.

Her stats are 28-38-28

Elizabeth enjoys the finer things in life like 'wimpy' and shopping for deli treats at Aldi or Lidl

So what are you lonely hearts out there waiting for...get in touch and maybe I'll be making more rip roaring speeches at your wedding. As Cilla says "I've got me 'at"

Fuck......I need to get out more........

Rosa Parks...

....died this week. http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/25/national/25parks.html?ex=1145851200&en=4b6bd4603f35dfef&ei=5087&excamp=GGGNrosaparks

I'm sure loads of you will be saying "Who?"

The thing is I thought she'd died years ago....and that makes me feel crap. Why?

I've never been one for great political /moral/religious beliefs.....I quite enjoy the fact that I'm just too lazy to be a fundamentalist.......or an activist. Oh sure I joined all the clubs when I was at Uni.....I even signed up for the black panthers once at a festival.....but I only ever joined anything to meet guys. No really I am that shallow.


Would I have done what Rosa did? Doubt it.

There is always this fine line with racism.....I am half caste/mixed race/bi-racial and it's only with black people that I have had to justify my 'blackness'.....and that pisses me off. Newsflash I grew up listening to Mozart as well as Marley....I'm never questioned about my 'whiteness' by white people. Although the 70's were a blast for unsolicited 'wog' jibes.

It's now ok for black stand comedians to make jokes about white people and yet if a white person makes a black joke they're a Nazi......er.....no.......either everyone can do it (which is so much funnier) or nobody can....



....except me....cause I'm both.......


So there was an Englishman, a Jamaican man and a..............

Our top story

Something keeps on beeping in my flat. I don't know what nor where it is. It has happened three times this morning.

Our other news.......

I found a ladybird in my bath last night. There I was halfway through shaving my leg and it was there bold as brass. Well as bold as a dead ladybird can be.

And finally......

It's national bulb planting day (in my house). Yes those daffodil bulbs that have been sat on top of the tumble dryer for the last 6 weeks will today be re-housed in 'window boxes' They will be replacing the (long) dead summer arrangements that now look like crud.

Thank you for your time. And now it's over to you with the weather where you are........

I hate shopping...

.....with a passion. I'm just not that type of girl.

My idea of hell is spending an entire Saturday or Sunday stomping round Buchanan galleries or the Whitgift centre (i spend my life flitting between south London and Glasgow). Gads! How is that fun? Eh?

My sister has five.....count em...five wardrobes full of stuff....hand bags...shoes....stuff.....just stuff...in a fucking dressing room......who the fuck has a dressing room? Like I said I'm not that sort of girl.

I would rather be sat in a pub watching the F1 qualifying. Yes I love F1. A lot. I love fast cars and big bikes.............a lot.


But today I had to go to the shops.....Croydon (Crud-den) not only that I had to go to 'Poundland'. (getting stuff for the Son for Halloween) I deserve a fucking medal.

Christ-on-a-fucking-bike. It was shite. I've never seen so much gold jewelery, nor seen so many scabs on kids, ever. I actually heard a mom calling out "Wayne" to her little market track suit attired, cubic zirconia earring wearing, lambert and butler smoking, asbo awarded offspring.

As I queued up to pay (cash only) I read the list of 'safety recalled' products......all electrical items.


Why bother?

Darwin was right