Wednesday, 27 August 2008

Finger Lickin` Good

Husband D is driving me to work, someone cuts him up, the usual fuck wit comments, wanker signals and spitting all over me as he does this. As he gets back on a par with the driver, he shouts "It`s a woman!!!" I ask why he never shouts "It`s a man" when they make mistakes, blank look. Chauvinism lives.

On the way back home after the shift, i jump the bus, an old woman sits down beside me, the smell of moth balls takes my breath away, didn`t know that people still use the things. Back in the fifties everyone suffered from a wang of eau de moth ball, come to think of it, haven`t seen many moths around lately, we are plagued by spiders, they are so big we can see the hairs on their legs. Our bull terrier used to eat them if he saw one scuttling over the laminate floor.

Amused to see a photo in one of the papers showing a burglar hanging upside down from a window, his foot had become caught and he hung there for an hour, good. I like to imagine what I would have done if I`d just got home and he was dangling in my house. "Oops, sorry, I`ve just broken your frigging leg as I was helping you down...oh I`ve broken the other one, silly me." I wonder if he has back issues of Hang Glider monthly.

I also found a website on Stumble, alternative cards, maybe I could have sent the burglar a get well card

"I know your not feeling well, just try to see it as a rehearsal for death."

"I hope you get well soon, funerals depress the life out of me."

There`s currently a craze for songs which have a line which sounds like something else:-

Abba- Chikkitita tell me what`s wrong...
(Kick your teeth in tell me what`s wrong)

Phil Collins- She seems to have that invisible touch yeah
(She seems to have an invisible todger)

Attended the book launch of Christopher Brookmyre (A Snowball in Hell) What an excellent, hilarious talk. He apologised before starting that lots of strong language would be used, he has received letters from readers who accuse him of trying to look hard or cool, but he explained that the characters he writes about wouldn`t say "Bloody", if anyone wanted to leave before this began, he would understand. An editor noticed that one of his drafts contained 40 fucks, and suggested that he cut it to 15, Christopher couldn`t imagine which moron would say "You`ve got 16 fucks, you need to cut one out. Then maybe if an author hadn`t any swear words in his book, could he trade for some of his fucks, but if anyuone asked C for one of his fucks, he would say, no, sorry, I`m saving them up for a cunt.

There were no early leavers until C spoke of his grand surroundings for this launch at the Laing Art Gallery, usually he goes to book shops, one place he went to needed a code to get into the toilet, it was to prevent vandalism. Someone had left a warm chicken on the bench in there, apparently used it for sex. C said "Can they not cook, why don`t they do this in their own homes, maybe they just saw the chicken and needed it immediately, sort of gives a new meaning to boning a chicken." At this point a lone male got up and walked out. Maybe he found this distasteful. I couldn`t help but notice that it was the person who had attended a previous book launch where his wife told him off because he claimed the free raffle prize of a selection of books and he didn`t even have that number ticket!!!! So, better to be a thief than to listen to a dirty story???? Dishonest bugger, now that`s what I call distasteful.

I bought one of C`s books, Attack of the Unsinkable Rubber Ducks, it`s described as containing "Bad language, scatalogical humour, razor wit, convoluted plot with high readability" That`ll do for me. The talk was well attended and most people bought a book or three.


Swearing Mother said...

He sounds like my sort of guy!

Thanks for visiting my blog by the way. I agree with you about Devon. It's simply the best, especially Dartmouth.

Just love it.

Yvonne Young said...

Last time we were at Dartmouth, saw a lad wearing a t shirt which read "I caught crabs at Dartmouth."
Kids aren`t interested in the little man on the horse nowadays.

I could live in that part of the world, my Dad`s family came from Devon, my maiden name was Luscombe, thousands of them down there.Used to have the nickname Lusbrush at school.