Sink or Swim

Show them a picture of the sun.

Yes. It's bloody raining again.
Pissing it down, in fact.

And thundering.
And lightninging.

What's that?

BOL!!

Don't be ridiculous; of course I haven't got an umbrella...

*sigh*

A phone call...

"Hi RTB. Sorry to call you at work, I know you're busy."

"No probs, Pops. What's up?"

"Well... I just had to call. I've been worried ever since we spoke last night. You said you're not sleeping. Are you ok? Are you worried about anything?"

"Oh, other than the fact that I haven't had any alcohol for the past few days, which has probably surprised my body into wondering what on earth is going on and how is it supposed to relax into oblivion without the aid of red wine, which probably means I'm well on the way to alcoholism, I'm fine! Nothing to worry about at all, Pops. Seriously."

"Oh great. I just wanted to check. In fact, I didn't sleep very well worrying about you last night. Do you need anything? Can I send you any money? Do you need some time out? Do you want a hug?"

"Send me a hug down the phone, Pops, that'll be fine."

"Ok, love. It was great to see you at the weekend. Up the gas! Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Pops. Bye."

A little something found on my doormat this afternoon.

Dear Rowtheboat,

We would love your readers to know about Bovey Castle, a fabulous luxury hotel and sporting estate in 400 acres in the heart of Dartmoor National Park in Devon.

I would very much like to offer you and a partner to be my guest for two nights on a dinner, bed and breakfast basis, with the opportunity to try out the many activities available.

Well yes, I would love my readers to know about it, too.

Shame, therefore, that the mag I used to do travel features for has turned the travel page into a paid advertising feature, and I don't get to write those features any more.

Dya reckon they'd accept you lot out there as my "readers"?

*ahem*

Anyway, carrying on...

Wonderful accommodation, wonderful food and staff who want to make sure that your stay is so good that you will want to come back time and time again.

Sounds wonderful.

You can choose from over 73 countryside

Er...

sporting

Blergh...

and leisure activities

Hmm...

These include golf, badminton, swimming, croquet, cricket, mountain biking, table tennis, archery, pistol shooting, fishing, riding

Blimey...

and ferret racing.

Er... what???

and ferret racing.

...

More relaxing are falconry displays, art classes, cider pressing, bee keeping, sloe gin making and collecting eggs.

So. This is what they do in the Devonshire countryside. Ferret racing and egg collecting.

Doesn't really seem as though I'm missing out on an awful lot.

However. It also says this:

As you'd expect, the dining experience is exquisite, featuring modern English cuisine made from only locally sourced quality ingredients, all imaginatively prepared and deliciously presented.

And this:

Naturally, the wine cellar provides a deservingly excellent accompaniment to the food, with a truly international list of fine wines.

Right.

I have got to get me some readers...

On the way back from getting yummy-hot-and-spicy-noodle-souped up this lunchtime, upon witnessing the daily flashing blue light and siren-wailing parade that heralds a weekday lunchtime in Ardwick, the following remarks passed between my two colleagues and I:

"High-speed car chases automatically make me fancy the drivers."
"They always make me fancy driving the cars."
"They make me worry about the insurance."

Which one d'ya reckon was me?

Also on the way back, the following items were purchased by my colleagues and I:

A bunch of grapes.
A box of raspberries and blueberries.
A packet of Maltesers.

No, I'm not going to ask you which one you think I bought; the answer's too bloody obvious.

The stranger has to make do with the information you provide, and is unlikely to refute you with yourself.

It's not always major deception. It's not pretending to be a fighter pilot, or the fifth richest woman in Spain. It's more omission, and realigning your past in a more favourable light.

It's saying, "I love New York," and no-one saying, "But you hated it, and moaned constantly about it during the five years you lived there."

New life through new ears.

No, I haven't turned.
Nor am I planning to spend the evening in front of the mirror.

It's just that, with only a third of my screen now visible, that's pretty much all I can see on my TV.

And yes, I am sad enough to still have it on.

So, here we go with a topical press release. Any kids out there got a spare £150?

Incidently, I think the header is supposed to be some kind of witty play on words...

TREAT DAD TO A FLOATING GOOD PRESENT WITH A DIFFERENCE THIS FATHERS' DAY

Racking your brains to come up with an original Fathers’ Day present? An inflatable canoe or kayak from Adventure Supplies UK could be the perfect suggestion!

Even better, these inflatable canoes and kayaks aren’t only suitable for adult males in the prime of life. Adventure Supplies UK sells a wide range of models to suit both sexes of practically every age, strength and skill level, including teenagers and active older people.

Nick Miles, managing director, says: "Essentially, the canoes and kayaks we sell are fun for all the family, so everyone benefits from ‘Dad’s’ present!"

Prices start at £146.99.  

They say that writing poetry can help you deal with trauma.

So, here goes...

It was just some puppy love.
But when push came to shove
I'm afraid I had to say,
Mojo, put your tongue away;
Cos I like my morning naps
Without dogs licking my baps.

Thanks for the inspiration, eggbod. I feel cleansed. The shower helped too.

My tv is fucked.

1. I'm a redwineoholic. Okay, not exactly a revelation...

2. I think the Annapurna base camp is the most beautiful place I have ever been to.

3. I'm scared of cockroaches.

4. I once sang "Love Is All Around" with a band I didn't know to a bar full of strangers in Kuala Lumpur. And got an encore.

5. I have seven body piercings and a tattoo.

6. I often sometimes put chocolate eclairs (of the toffee and chocolate kind, not the cream cakes, which would be far too uncomfortable) into my bra to get them to the optimum level of melted chocolate squidgy delusciousness.

7. I am not in the slightest bit partial to dogs licking my breasts.

I love that feeling when you wake up early in the morning, on a day when you know you don't have to get up for anything in particular, and can afford to lounge in bed for as long as you like; when you're with someone else, and you're sharing a cuddle, and he gently starts to nuzzle your breasts.

I confess I'm quite partial to a bit of breast-nuzzling. A few slow, soft licks; a bit of teasing around the nipples.

Yes.

BUT...

I have to say that it is NOT at ALL pleasurable when the "he" in question is one of these:

We're loyal supporrrrterrrrs
We're faithful and truuuue
We always follllllowwww
The boys in blue
AND WHITE!!

Final score: 3-1 to the Rovers. Wonderful Walker twice and a sneaky trundle over the line by Sammy.

Ah, what a fantastic day.

And just as well, because if I'd undergone that nightmare seven and a half hour journey home from hell after we'd lost, not to mention getting half-drowned in the pelting, pissing Manchester rain, I would not have been a happy bunny...

PS I see I've been tagged a few times for a meme - will get round to it shortly

Ace!

Your Pirate Name Is...

Arch-Pirate Firecrotch

I'm guessing she's not into running... *ouch*

A boob op too far

A German estate agent who wanted to have the biggest breasts in Europe has been fired.

Annina Ulrich, 29, says her boss told her that her breast implants were not an asset and were damaging the company's image.

Annina, who also works as a model, has admitted she is "addicted" to breast surgery which has increased her breasts to a massive 42 H cup.

She said: "Since childhood I dreamt of big breasts. I have become addicted to breast surgery.

"My breasts are bigger than those of Katie Price. I'm happy every morning when I look at my superbreasts in the mirror. My clients too think it's great. I can't understand why my boss doesn't think I am an asset to the company."

Ananova, today.

 

But I don't care.

I'm off to Wembley tomorrow!!

HURRAH!!!!!!

A farmer from Northumberland has been playing Pink's album to his cows in preparation for the Northumberland County Show on Monday.

Mark Lewis, who has been breeding award-winning cattle for the last 10 years, told the Newcastle Journal that the only thing that really prepares them for the show is a bit of popular music.

Mr Lewis said, improbably: "Pink's hot stuff at the farm at the moment. All the cows are used to her, and when I put her on the radio they all have a little hum along."

From The Guardian, Northerner.

What next?

Victoria Beckham for sheep trials? Well, she is entirely unoriginal.
Mariah Carey for Crufts? Well, she is a dog.

How?

Simple. I've decided that I'm going to be the Dr Dolittle and, yes, the name has never seemed so appropriate of the Health and Wellbeing industry.

Petowners all over the world suffering from having nothing better to think about - or, more to the point, spend their money on a variety of health, social and emotional problems, unfortunate by-products of the increasing idiocy pressures of modern western living, will turn to me for help and advice tailored to their unique form of gullibility needs.

Is your pet obese?
Put them on my strict regime of Pedigree Chum/ Whiskers complex nutritional therapy and take them for a walk cardio-vascular calisthenics, guaranteed to produce startlingly effective results startling, that is, for those idiots who still haven't grasped the concept that diet and exercise helps you lose weight.

Is your pet stressed?
Enrol them in my Pet Yoga classes (which they can naturally only undertake once they've purchased all the suitable gear: leggings, Alice band, yoga mat with built-in litter tray, T-shirt reading "I may be man's best friend, but Buddha is mine", etc).

I'll teach them all the classic positions, such as Downward-Facing Dog, and Roll Over To Get Your Buddha Belly Rubbed, to have them Zenned up in no time.

Is your pet depressed?
My one-to-one pet counselling will help, where I shall listen calmly and without prejudice to their confessions of how they came to realise they were a mouse trapped in a cat's body, or that fateful day when they were taken out of the hamster cage and shooed up this dark, tight and really rather smelly tunnel...

Then I'll cheer them up with a few choice pet jokes - "Why didn't the man cross the road? He'd forgotten his guide dog!" - and release them back into society with the bounce back in their step and wag back in their tail or I'll release them into the wild, free forever from their vacuous owners whose stupidity is obviously getting right on the poor animals' tits.

I think I'm onto a winner.

After all, if pet owners - or, more appropriately, pets - will swallow this load of guff, they'll swallow anything:

Increasingly, caring pet owners understand the health benefits of feeding their animals organic and non GM food - but where can they find a drink to complement this healthy diet?

Now, with the UK launch of ‘Water Cat’ TM and ‘Water Dog’ TM - specially formulated drinks from French company, Special Waters SAS - pets can stay hydrated and healthy every day, the natural way.

Developed by a team of veterinary specialists, the daily drink formulae cater specifically for a pet’s biological needs.

Unlike chlorinated tap water, which is off-putting to an animal’s more sensitive nose, or commercial bottled water which can have high mineral levels, Water Cat TM and Water Dog TM contain pure spring water along with active ingredients to boost overall pet health.

Water Dog TM and Water Cat TM are available in 0.5 litre bottles at £0.85 RRP, with a 1.5 litre size available for larger dogs at £1.49 RRP. Pets at Home is the official stockist.

 

Well, I have to confess there was a certain sense of inevitability about it.

But no disgrace, lads, you played a decent game, nothing to be ashamed of. And the ref was pretty shite.

Onwards.

Sunday
I wasn't where I'd planned to be; I wasn't doing what I'd thought I would be doing; I wasn't with who I'd expected to be with.

But it shot past so fast in a blur of relaxation, indulgence and companionship that I can't help but think that I was where I most wanted to be.

Today
I'm where I'd planned to be; I'm doing what I thought I would be doing; I'm with who I expected to be with.

But I've been here for an hour and a half, and time is already dragging like mozzarella off a slice of pizza. And I think we all know what that means.

Ah, the joys of work. Roll on this evening (and the Champions League).

Those of you based in the UK who have working memories may recall The Judderman; the evil little imp who tempted people (who were probably already certifiable insane, considering that they thought spending the night wandering through what anyone could see was a scary haunted wood, full of goblins and werewolves and orks and other evil Lord-of-the-Rings-esque creatures, was a good idea) into getting sloshed on drinking schnapps, making them Judder from the DTs cold, after which they would lose all sober control and make a drunken tit out of themselves become the puppets of the evil Judderman.

Freaky, eh?

Anyway, the ads scared a lot of wusses people, and the campaign left our screens, and The Judderman was no more.

Or so we all thought...
 
However, I have some breaking news which may shock and terrify you. And rightly so. Because this weekend I experienced The Judders for myself... and it wasn't caused by drinking Metz. In fact, it wasn't caused by drinking anything at all. Yes, ok, you can pick yourselves off the floor now.

It was caused by eating a fried egg.

That's right. One traditional English brekkie consumed at a particular drinking establishment - which I couldn't possibly name, but shall instead considerately conceal its shame behind the subtle pseudonym of Spetherwoons - and I was struck with a series of shakes and shudders and jolts and Judders the likes of which I haven't experienced since I had my mini fit at the opticians last year. Which lasted all fecking Saturday.

So, dear readers, do take note. The Judderman is back - and this time he's obviously eggstremely pissed off...

Whatever will be, will be,
We're going to Wemberley,
Que sera, sera.

Five goals!!!

Up the gas!!

Ohhhhh, Mr Weirdo,
I ignored the superimposed halo,
Didn't think you were a psycho,
Til you texted me a kiss.

Nowww, Mr Freaky,
You won't stop talking to me,
Inviting me out for lunch-y,
And just taking the piss.

Soooo, Mr Oddball,
I might just make a quick call
To my "fella", who's ten feet tall,
And built like Mr T.

Buuut, Mr Creepy,
Don't go getting weepy,
Cos I've just sent off your CV
To that desperate Miss Jodie.

After a 12-hour day in the office, and a wander home in the rain after the fecking bus driver's only reaction to my frantically waving arm was to cackle manically as he accelerated through the cavernous puddle next to me, all I wanted to do is crash out in front of the tv with a takeaway curry and glass of wine.

But I can't afford a takeaway curry, so I've eaten half a pack of feta cheese and a piece of lemon tart instead, and now feel sick.

And I've turned on my tv to find that the fecking tube has given up and I only have half of the picture. Naturally, I find this out the day after my dad has taken the old tv to the tip.

Right. Now what?

Believe me, they'll thank you for it...

MTV to take Jodie Marsh up the aisle

The latest instalment of the Totally strand on MTV will see glamour model Jodie Marsh embark on a nationwide quest to find a husband.

Totally Jodie Marsh – Who'll Take Her Up the Aisle? is a 9 x 30-minute series from Zig Zag Productions that will chronicle Marsh as she scours the country in a bid to find a suitor.

Marsh has decided that she wants to get married before she is 30 and will launch the nationwide search for a husband this weekend.

She will visit major UK cities, including London, Edinburgh, Sheffield, Birmingham and Cardiff, to find potential suitors.

MTV will also broadcast the wedding, scheduled for September, if Marsh finds her ideal partner. The series will premiere in the summer of 2007.

From Broadcast Now

 
So much to say about it, so little time. I shall leave you all to hold your splitting sides and try desperately to tighten your relaxing bladders as the hilarity of this, the saddest concept in the history of everything, is set to car crash into our screens.

And that's even if you're not a divorce lawyer.

And lo, a hellish day doth lie in wait ahead...

That's what I feel as though I'm doing.

Need to kick my arse into gear. Take some control again.

Onwards.

x

But not before they cleaned - no, washed my flat.

I don't think it's been this clean since I first moved in. It's certainly never been properly polished.

God love 'em.

Now I have to get some work done. But first, there's something I've got to do.

*flick*
*inhale*

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....

*stumbles over from head-rush*

Differences between me now and me 48 hours ago:

I have a cleaner flat.
I have cleaner lungs.
I'm fatter.
I'm knackered.
I have a crick in my neck.
I have a new shelving unit.
I have renewed aspirations of getting my arse into gear and sorting my life out.
I have new aspirations of going to Wembley to witness Bristol Rovers reach the giddy heights of Division One (look, a girl can dream, can't she?)
I have food in the fridge.
I have food outside the fridge.
I have very belated Christmas presents.
I have memories of a fun weekend.

Yes, you've guessed it. The family are visiting (and I'm "sleeping" on the sofa).

So it's just as well that the only things going in my mouth this afternoon are alcohol and cigarettes.

BBC, today.