Cheesy tears and Darwinism

Hello there.  It's 2.30pm and I've not long got up, I'm in my pyjamas and no housework has been done.  That's because last night I drove 250 miles to Birmingham and back and drank many cans of Red Bull on my way home to avoid being involved in a sleep-deprivation disaster on the M5, resulting in being WHIZZED OFF MY TITS till about 3 this morning.  Before this, I had consumed a GIANT ROLL OF HEART ATTACK from the local Wickes carpark, comprising of a jumbo sausage, bacon, fried egg AND burger, with half a portion of cheesy chips (which reminds me of a story about an American tourist I once happened upon in a pub in Lacock, home of speccy wizard-impersonator Harry Potter.  I met up with a couple of mates for dinner and while we were at the bar perusing the menu, we became aware of a table of American tourists behind us, that had obviously come to see where Harry Potter emerged from his mum's wizard's sleeve.  The man of the family was reading down the menu, and we heard this (you must read this in your head in an American accent)
'Cheesy chips.  What is that?  Chips?   With cheese?
No, you absolute FUCKWIT.  It's fucking Boiled Hagrid with a side order of Ron Weasley's Lonely Ginger Tears, you THICK TWAT.  OF COURSE IT'S FUCKING CHIPS.  WITH CHEESE.) 
Anyway, my titanic breakfast and copious consumption of a caffeine and bull-semen based energy drink resulted in this week's mis-sung lyrics as follows:
Kate Bush's Cloudbusting 'oooooo I just know that something good is gonna happen'
My Bumbusting 'ooooo I just know that something brown is gonna happen'.
All the way to Birmingham. 


We went to see wonky-eyed Bristol comedian Russell Howard.  We have seen him before and think he is very funny, and 50% of our joint children have a huge crush on him too.  Now, before he even came on stage we were laughing.  One, because my cashcard was declined at the ATM because I only had 68 pence in my account (that's right, I'm a 43 year old mother of two that has 68 pence in her bank account to last till payday).  Also, I've been to loads of different shows in my time, mostly live music but some comedy, generally there are lots of pissed up people, headbanging, lots of hair flying around, and even saw almost the entire seating provision of the NEC ripped up and thrown on the stage during the performance of 'Everything's Ruined' by Faith No More on 28th November 1992.  Never once, though, have I seen anyone ejected from a venue for fist fighting - until last night.  That's right - two UTTER BELLENDS started a fight at a COMEDY SHOW.  No idea what the fight was about, we just all of a sudden saw a kerfuffle in front of us, with some poor lad taking three or four well-placed right hooks to the cheek - security swiftly intervened, and the pissed-up twats were marched away.  They missed out on a good show - I think Russell is very amusing, with the right level of fanny-gags and observational humour mixed with a bit of political RIGHT-ON-ness, and always gives you something to think about at the end.


I've always been a ROCK fan.  You're probably not aware (JOKES) but a couple of weeks ago I was lucky enough to attend a small secret gig by a little rock band from America called the FOO FIGHTERS, who's singer is the spitting image of the drummer from Nirvana.  Anyway, after that gig there was a feature about it in heavy metal publication KERRANG.  I used to buy Kerrang every week when I was a minted teenager with nothing else to spend my money on except 20 Lambert and Butler and a bottle of Thunderbird, but have obviously moved on to Private Eye now I'm a grown up.  But I wanted a copy of this edition so I sent this text to the kid:
'When you leave work can you look at Kerrang magazine and if it's the one with the FOO FIGHTERS on the top right corner of the cover can you buy it please?'.
Now, that's fairly clear instructions, right?
Wrong.
I received back a picture of Metal Hammer magazine with Ozzy Osbourne on the front 'is this the one?'.
Where did I go wrong?


Two things in the news this week that perturbed me somewhat:
A man charged his phone while in the bath, inevitably the phone fell in the bath, and the man was electrocuted.  Very sad.  Also very stupid.  This is natural selection at it's best.  If a grown man doesn't know that getting into a huge tub of water with something balanced on it that is attached to an electrical current is not asking for, at least, a singed beard and at worst, CERTAIN DEATH, then I'm afraid you made your electric waterbed (wasn't that a Jimi Hendrix album?), and now you must lay in it. 
Also, The Daily Shitrag reported that late comedienne Victoria Wood had not left a single penny of her considerable wealth to her ex-husband.  And?  Why is it anyone's business who she leaves her wealth too?  And why would she leave it to her ex?  The clue is in the EX bit.  It USUALLY (not always, I know, but usually) means you don't fucking like them any more and want them to DIE HORRIBLY IN A FREAK ACCIDENT INVOLVING A COFFEE MACHINE AND A SMALL HORSE (No?  Just me then?).  If by some miracle I came into a substantial amount of cash, if anyone suggested I should leave some of it to my ex-husband I would punch them in the tits.  Not least because I've only got 68 fucking pence in my bank account right now.  It took me over 20 years to start getting the maintenance I was entitled to out of one of the sperm-donors (I know, right, what a dirty old slag, two kids, two dads, THE HORRORS), I'm hardly going to fucking GIVE IT BACK to him just because I've pegged it!  I'd rather die!


Well-known boffin and regular inhabitant of Countdown's Dictionary Corner, Gyles Brandreth, tweeted this week about the new phenomenon of people saying 'myself' and 'yourself', instead of 'I' and 'you'.  I'm so glad he did because I thought it was just me that thinks this makes one sound not intelligent, but like a TOTAL NOBBER.  Picture the scene - De La Soul are sat around in their 'crib' (I know, I'm amazing), they've written this proper funky tune, and need lyrics to match.  'I'VE GOT IT!' says Derek (names changed to protect the fact that the blogger has no clue about the names of the people in De La Soul), 'The song shall be called 'MYSELF, MYSELF AND MYSELF!'.  Lyrical fucking genius!