Monday, January 31, 2011

Melanie Phillips

Yes – Melanie Phillips has been proven right. Writing such a vicious, ignorant piece as her demented, deliberately misleading rant last week led to an “¬extraordinarily vicious outpouring of hate.” It’s almost as if her being hateful caused a reaction, isn’t it?  They will have to keep paying her to write now.  The Daily Mail cannot rely on a fascination with the fragile mind of Liz Jones alone.

I hadn’t seen any of the incitements to violence against her until she listed them in her article, just hundreds of people suggesting she is mentally unwell and that her article was extraordinary enough to make her a laughing stock. Given that so many find her a source of amusement or sympathy, I’m surprised she has been seen as a target for violence. I’m sure it will shock some, but I have seen a comment that suggests she is “bats*t paranoid” and yet had previously seen none like that asking her to bathe in the Thames. However, seeing as how her article this weekend concentrated on a very small element of the previous article it referred to, rather than the elements which caused some people to react angrily, I could well understand if her delusions / arse covering cause people to settle on her being a vile, reactionary has-been, desperate to move on from her role in the such nonsense as the MMR vaccine outrage (where she has played a part in the deaths of children – I hope she forgives some of the public for taking her apparent concern for children less than seriously after that). To be in “opposition” but not be “anti” is just deliciously nonsensical. She’s going completely off on one in trying to cover her dirty tracks this time. She is a lying aggressor determined to manipulate arguments to be kind on her, unfair to others. That she thinks anyone remains fooled is an amusing cue to let her waste a few months embarrassing herself.

Oddly but amusingly, the “gay lobby” she referred to seems to have been mostly heterosexual this time around. Singling out Johann Hari was odd – he is far less likely to chuck a kitchen sink at her than most (indicating she continues to miss the point, to much merriment). Disagreeing isn’t a vicious attack. Most gay people commenting on it all have gone with “Is she off on one again? Bless.” The shock tactics she used to deny genuinely worrying issues like climate change, combined with her attempts to create dramas where there are none, just means she’s become tiresome noise – although I must credit her for getting some interest with her lesbian equations and gay map reading nonsense. It is odd that one lot of rubbish should suddenly provoke a reaction, but it was her desperate intention so I’m sure she is thrilled.

“More frightening still, as has been so graphically demonstrated by the reaction to my article, they are also rendering people increasingly incapable of rational thought.” It’s almost too funny, isn’t it?

Monday, March 08, 2010


On Friday the 26th of February, I had a lovely civil partnership ceremony with my beloved Tom (thank Jane Griffiths – your work towards civil partnerships in the UK mean I will always treasure being a cyber pal). We made it through the whole thing without bursting into tears whilst looking into each other’s eyes.

It was a close thing though. I love that grumpy old git of mine.

Then we had a gorgeous meal with a few friends and family at the Forburys Restaurant before heading off to the wonderful myhotel Brighton for the weekend. Brighton was apparently full of Conservatives at some pointless conference or another that may be less lovely for them in their memories come the election. I do not think any of them stayed in the hotel, shopped in the Lanes alongside us or were in the pubs we drank around for much of the weekend. If they were, I was too happy to notice and missed the opportunity of behaving like a twat towards them. Damn. Anyway, I hope they all had a good time. The husband and I bought presents for each other, went clothes shopping for ourselves, and spent money on clothing for a dog at the gayest pet shop in the world. It was magnificent.

We had to come back to bloody Reading on Sunday the 28th as I needed to be at work the next day, yet my spirits remained high in spite of such damned misfortune.

On Monday, I made it through the day thinking of the evening – namely, taking ownership of the most fantastic puppy in the world. Patch is a staffy, and a Pompey supporter (trust me on this – no scummer he, whatever the husband/wife/might-just-still-call-him-partner says). We could not have taken ownership of him before we had wed. I do not want people to think of our child substitute as being ours out of wedlock. This puppy will be wearing a smoking gown, puffing on a pipe and then discretely peeing on the legs of common people in no time. Excellent. I love it when a plan comes together.

Anyway, ever since, life has been a mix of depressing, hideous lows (work) and wonderful, heavenly highs (cleaning up puppy poop and trying to ease jaws off my wrists and ankles).

It is rare for me to be happy for the majority of my time. Approaching a second full week of it, I thought I would share. And soon, very soon indeed, I WILL BE A COMPLETE WHINGING GIT AGAIN.

Make the most of these moments. They make life worth living.

(PS) I started this message at lunch time. After a full Monday of work, I hate you all again. Didn’t take long, did it? Ah well. X

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Beautiful Day

This morning, we paid for the rings for our civil partnership and spent a small fortune on food and gifts so that we could be a sickeningly sweet couple tomorrow.

This afternoon, "my" football team beat "your" football team 4-1.  You shrugged, smiled anyway, kissed me, and disappeared to the bedroom "to read and have a quick kip" (in short, to sulk without wanting me to know).  Had the result been reversed, I suspect I would not have spoken to you before our civil partnership, and your face would quite probably have had something rude scribbled across in it permanent marker whilst you slept.  Or gotten stuck in the u-bend.

That's why I love you.  It is also why so many of my past lovers flew like the wind within a few hours or days, and why the football league will now have FA Cup placings to add to the list of reasons why they will have to try to help Pompey survive. 

These all matter (not equally, but that's football for you), and have made an old whinger like me feel all warm and content.  Look - I'm putting something on my blog and it isn't even hateful shit.

You mean more than I think I can ever let you know.


Sunday, January 24, 2010

Salter Balls

If you have not visited the feeblest blog at the “not thrilling” Politics section of The Telegraph website, I strongly encourage you to do so for a giggle.

The comments, as with the getreading website, are what provide most interest. Uhm, “hysterical abuse” (January 22nd comments)? Perhaps when suggesting someone has behaved like a lunatic for pointing out a tired level of distain towards Mr Salter, yes? The soon to be former MP is using the website seemingly because any criticism of his words brings about great defence by others. He cannot defend himself any more then, poor thing?

That aside, the blog needs defending by someone at the Telegraph. Otherwise, the number of comments would be noticeably fewer and the value would be more readily apparent. And I’m saying that as someone drawing no comments whatsoever. Which at least means I can relax and not run crying to others for help.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Pants On The Ground

General Larry Platt speaks for us all. Iconic.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

People Are People, So Why Should It Be...?

Examples of stupid this week:
1) reading over the phone to someone who has the document I am reading from in their hands and knows which section to look at (page 2 of 5 – epic...);
2) telling a supplier what his email address was as he could not remember it;

God. There are so many coming to mind that I cannot be bothered with that already. It just hasn't been a great week at work.

To be honest, I am starting to think I need therapy. This has been a terrible year for workloads and distractions and arguments. I’m getting hateful towards the public. My long-term plan to eliminate all who cannot stand to the side on escalators without being asked is stuck in development hell. I now get funny looks when I push people out of shop doorways when they have stopped there for a chat on their mobile. I'm the one who tries to avoid getting in anyone's way, and that makes me the minority. And not just in Reading, although that thought had kept me going for the last few years.

Breaking point - where I suspect I start throwing my faeces at passersby and seeing if anyone thinks it unusual behaviour - was nearly reached by going to the London Film Festival this week. I have a lot of fun at the BFI, I love the festival, this has been a fairly good year from what I have seen there so far, and the trips should therefore be a nice treat.

But dear god, the other people. Them. Possibly, you.

On Wednesday night, I found myself being thoroughly (open mouthed) appalled by
(a) media students spouting total bull around all the open plan areas of the BFI (very few ever actually seem to go into the screenings, and I saved an especially withering look for the girl that decided to slag off denim and checked shirts – guess what I was wearing? - whilst sat next to me in a beret, sunglasses, pleated skirt, poncho, it’s-eight-in-the-evening-and-you-are-at-a-cinema-complex-you-total-muppet); and
(b) people who obviously go to the cinema once a decade and are immediately panic stricken enough to fail to understand very simple things.

Simple Things:
• door numbers;
• seat numbers;
• queuing, as shut doors with a member of staff stood in front and people queuing outside them mean it’s not time to go in yet – yes, that’s why the people you just saw trying to push past the poor member of staff (someone who doesn’t usually have to deal with so many cretins a night) didn’t get in and are being stared at by the normal people;
• personal hygiene (yes, even I can complain about some of them), especially mid-queue;
• some people may find your voice shrieking and painful, especially if mid-movie, or throughout a movie;
• people sat next to you are not cup holders, and on a related note...;
• it’s easier to remove backpacks whilst stood in the aisle than when you get to your seat after the movie starts, and on a related note...:
• you should turn up before the movie starts (late, due to other morons ahead of you, some of whom dressed themselves and everything), in case you struggle with, say, your drink and backpack at a significant part of the film you didn’t have enough interest in to watch all of;
• there is an innate hideousness to spandex as a lifestyle choice, especially if worn by people who (possibly) dress themselves;
• the removal of tw*t hats (especially if worn at a jaunty angle, which suggest you are unhinged) if you are over six foot three and will be sat near the front of a crowd would be appreciated;
• mobile phones can be turned off, or can even be jammed into one of your orifices with considerable force;
• you need to get change ready before you get to a bar;
• you need to check you have money before ordering at a bar;*
• those who can barely walk should not push to the front of a queue and then stop for a chat with themselves every half, achingly painful step forward or to the side; and
• mention of your revolting corporation funding a movie generally held to be quite sh*t makes you look really stupid, especially if your flies are undone whilst you are doing it, stood right in front of the door a disappointed and tired audience for said film are trying to get out of.

Golly, aren’t I all happy and bubbly in the run up to Christmas shopping?

*Uh, I must admit to a long shop in M&S without thinking of this one first. You live and learn.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

When a gay icon calls an out bisexual an out bisexual...

...the world stops turning.

I had no idea such disaster could happen so easily. Did you know?