Frustrating. From my "Socks" posting earlier today, you'll know my suspicions about what has become of the missing four.
...
Sunday, 9 October 2011
9.10.11 Orphans
A check of the sock drawer shows four orphans. Despite my best efforts to help all parties with identification, through the purchase of socks bearing distinctive patterns, and even 'days of the week' sewn in, I still find myself with unmatched socks.
Frustrating. From my "Socks" posting earlier today, you'll know my suspicions about what has become of the missing four.
...
Frustrating. From my "Socks" posting earlier today, you'll know my suspicions about what has become of the missing four.
...
9.10.11 XXXX-Factor Wk1 Sunday
Louis - The Overs
Well, for once Louis made the right decision; Jonjo was the weakest of the four acts and had to go. I do however suspect that Louis likes the 'eee' sound, and his remaining three acts rhyme with his own name, and it's like he's just named three guinea pigs. Sami, Johnny and Kitty.
Gary - The Boys
The right decision was made. Not a lot else to say except Frankie was lucky that Michael was worse and available to be sent home.
Tulisa - The Groups
Disappointing, Tulisa, because on the night, Nu Vibe were shit, and Two Shoes were in tune. But, she's decided to give Nu Vibe a chance after listening back to the recording and deciding the group is capable of better. So, the 'on the night' performance didn't count then! Two Shoes withdrew with good grace, humour and dignity - lovely people.
Kelly - The Girls
The right decision was made. Not a lot else to say.
...
Well, for once Louis made the right decision; Jonjo was the weakest of the four acts and had to go. I do however suspect that Louis likes the 'eee' sound, and his remaining three acts rhyme with his own name, and it's like he's just named three guinea pigs. Sami, Johnny and Kitty.
Gary - The Boys
The right decision was made. Not a lot else to say except Frankie was lucky that Michael was worse and available to be sent home.
Tulisa - The Groups
Disappointing, Tulisa, because on the night, Nu Vibe were shit, and Two Shoes were in tune. But, she's decided to give Nu Vibe a chance after listening back to the recording and deciding the group is capable of better. So, the 'on the night' performance didn't count then! Two Shoes withdrew with good grace, humour and dignity - lovely people.
Kelly - The Girls
The right decision was made. Not a lot else to say.
...
9.10.11 Socks
There is a level of mystery surrounding the disappearance of so many socks. I am sure this phenomenon is in play in many households, though I contest that to no greater extent than is present in the environs of TMWSC.
TMWSC Junior and his younger sibling (JJ) are in equal need of socks (at face/foot value) but the process by which each adorns one or both feet on any given day is unusual, and bespoke.
At any one stage, the sock count for Junior is officially 'nil' because any sock ever purchased and designated as his has long since been lost, loaned out, binned or has evaporated or decomposed. Thus, there is not a single sock that is wearable and identifiable as a sock that was once officially owned by Junior. That is not to say, of course, that he doesn't wear socks.
The illicit supply of socks comes from two main sources. TMWSC and JJ. There is an ad-hoc benefit from occasional visitors leaving behind an odd sock, and in this way, the float is supplemented.
TMWSC - I provide, from time to time, an injection of socks by way of a 5-pack, usually after a visit to ASDA or Matalan or some other establishment. On such occasions, I am usually overcome by a slight sense of frustration mixed with some mild benevolence while noticing socks available at a low price. So, I grab the bundle of socks and convince myself that this injection will solve all problems. How utterly naive of me.
Junior is grateful, of course, for the instantly available and wearable foot adornments. I satisfy myself that the natural order of things has been restored, and that there is now a 'balance' in the world. My efforts should result in fewer of my own socks disappearing, and fewer of JJ's being misappropriated. Within five days, though, things start to go wrong. Evidence that things are not right is provided by the growing number of odd socks in my own collection. The most telling fact in the whole 'mystery' is that Junior is not averse to wearing odd socks. Thus, it is a perfectly straightforward thought process for me; one sock before me means the other is either still in the wash, or being held hostage by Junior (or has already made it on to a Junior foot). Annoyance comes from what is the permanent 'reminder' of the issue - the odd socks pile.
It is worth (in my opinion anyway) expanding on the variations in 'tolerance' of odd/unmatched socks. For my part, I generally wear socks in the pairs that the manufacturer deemed fit to pass on to the retailers to then sell them to me. My only concession is the acceptance that whether mistakenly or, in line with modern acceptance of oddness, purposely, it is tolerable to have socks that vary in colour. In other words, there is no difference in any other regard - just the colour. So, if a multipack contains five pairs, say a couple that are black, a couple blue and one grey, then a 'mixed approach' would at least allow the wearer to retain a sense of equilibrium via the sense of touch, if not through the sense of sight. Wearing one black sock and one blue sock should not lead to any discomfort, nor should the owner of the feet inside them be aware of any difference in feel - eg. thickness, softness, size, composition, design elements.
In summary, my concession to the modern approach is to accept colour variation - period. It is therefore staggering to see Junior wearing odd socks that overstep the mark. It is apparently not an issue for him to wear socks that quite simply come from different sides of the universe. How could one have a left foot covered by a white sports sock, size 6-11 ("One Size - Fits All", but it fucking doesn't!) and on the other foot a size 9-12 black sock, inside out, and consisting of a different fibre content/composition? Equally mad is the pairing of a 'trainer sock' with a beige, thin ankle sock. I quite simply despair.
I am eventually left with a collection of odds and sods that is of no use to man nor beast, but is of course of some use to Junior. Having secured temporary use of 50% of my sock pairings, the 'orphans' are basically ready to be passed over to Junior as well, at a later date. For every sock stolen, another will follow later on. It is under this 'instalment arrangement' that Junior fleeces me of socks.
His other source of socks is JJ. His younger sibling (Junior Junior) is provided with socks from time to time, but more regularly than he can ever 'consume' socks. The reason is that Junior finds ways of syphoning off socks. This could be through stealth, and subtle pilfering from the laundry pile, or from bedroom drawers when no one is around. In any event, JJ is forever short of socks.
The truth emerges every once in a while. Last month, Mrs MWSC found five pairs of socks (the provenance of which was most clearly associated with JJ and TMWSC) in Junior's room. This was during an attempt to locate a pair for JJ to wear, and out of sheer desperation, a check on Junior's room was necessary. The disappointment came in two waves. The first was discovering that five pairs of socks not belonging to Junior were in his room. The second was finding them all worn, and in need of washing. In fact, their state was such that return of the items to the proper/original owner was perhaps not the best course of action, after what I deemed to be (and so named it) 'contamination'.
The socks graveyard is most generally 'Junior's Room', but the exact location can vary. Dead socks tend to be hidden in weird places, such as behind cupboards, at the bottom of a wardrobe, under the bed, in side-table drawers, at the back of drawers behind clean clothes that never see the light of day. The maths, though, suggests another factor - disposal. It is mathematically a fact that numerous socks leave the house without any record. The 'Schindler's List' of the sock world is operated by Junior from his bedroom. I think most socks escape via black bin liners, during forced 'tidying up' measures enforced by Mrs MWSC or fiancee of Junior.
We have established that Junior is more than capable of obtaining socks, and does not need to resort to a dealer to get hold of them. He is also most flexible with regard to wearing them, and can manage well, whether the socks are odd or in proper pairs. Odd/unmatched socks may be of any design, size, colour, material/composition, and may be worn correctly or inside out. Further, holes present no issue. Typically, a hole can be 'worked around' because of the inside-out approach, thus switching the offending deficiency in material to the left or right side of the foot, over and above the flexibility offered by the sock being worn on either foot in the first place. There is almost nothing that prevents Junior from wearing a sock [with the exception of a traditional-style flipflop!]. For the record, there's an 81% chance that on any day, Junior is not wearing a properly matched pair of socks - and so the use of the word "pair" should henceforth be banned when Junior is involved.
We have established that my socks go walkies. Once they leave my ownership, their lives are most often shortened because they are not cared for by Junior. Their demise is premature because they typically have to exist undercover, and disclosure of their whereabouts means a risk that I will call Junior to account. The riskiest endeavour, then, is for Junior to get them washed, as relinquishing control means they will necessarily be inspected during the wash cycle. Junior knows that I do as much washing as Mrs MWSC, and so will notice variations in sock identity, and sock 'health'. Letting go of a sock in the hope that it may one day be worn again is something that is necessary, although Junior will I am quite sure get more than a day's wear out of many specimens (judging by the state they are in when added to the wash pile). To avoid drawing too much attention to the issue and creating 'Sock-gate', I believe Junior often wears the fuckers to death, and then disposes of them - or occasionally takes advantage of a 'straight-to-the-machine' opportunity, when there's a wash that's about to go on. If we lived at 10 Rillington Place, he'd be hiding them below floorboards, and behind false walls!
I was recently amazed to learn that Junior's approach to socks is perhaps not unique. There is some basis, I feel, for an in-depth study, and even reason for a PhD thesis to be produced, to cover the various aspects of sock-wearing, sock-handling, and the whole sociological side of socks in the world. There is reason to consider in some detail the methods by which socks travel, and how through socks, wearers interact. I would even go so far as to suggest that Darwinian-style theories could have a place in our aims at understanding this subject. I am reliably informed that a few months ago, Junior's finacee's younger brother was seen wearing one of my socks; not two, of course, but one! How the fuck does one of my socks get from my drawer on to the foot of someone five fucking miles away? AND, why the fuck was he happy to wear this one, odd, large cuntin' sock? This proves beyond all doubt that there is a weird phenomenon in play, and that there is clearly a desperation, or obsession, for people other than me to wear my fucking socks! One day, I expect to get a Facebook poke from a cunt in Guatemala who asks if I want a photo of him ironing extremely while wearing one of my pissing socks! The other fucking sock will be in Junior's cuntin' bedside drawer!
Just to draw to an end this subject, I should like to point out that I have not seen Junior buy a single sock for himself in many years. Oh, he'll buy clothes, but socks apparently do not count. I despair at my own inability to prevent sock abuse, despite efforts to buy socks with bright colours and distinctive patterns/markings. Even if I state "The ones with coloured hoops belong to JJ", they end up with rigor mortis and stuffed in the base of a wardrobe. Whenever I eat a Crunchie I think of a dead sock, killed by Junior by over-wearing and abandonment. My only recourse is to adopt an approach involving electronic tagging. To date, I have not pursued this option, but on principle it is starting to become attractive.
Sock abuse is a real problem, and it's about time it is given some airtime, and people work to raise awareness. To be fair, there is a single exception to all of the above. For Father's Day a couple of years ago, I was given some socks with 'Dad' written on them, and these have somehow managed to stay in my domain. Ah, bless . . . .
...
TMWSC Junior and his younger sibling (JJ) are in equal need of socks (at face/foot value) but the process by which each adorns one or both feet on any given day is unusual, and bespoke.
At any one stage, the sock count for Junior is officially 'nil' because any sock ever purchased and designated as his has long since been lost, loaned out, binned or has evaporated or decomposed. Thus, there is not a single sock that is wearable and identifiable as a sock that was once officially owned by Junior. That is not to say, of course, that he doesn't wear socks.
The illicit supply of socks comes from two main sources. TMWSC and JJ. There is an ad-hoc benefit from occasional visitors leaving behind an odd sock, and in this way, the float is supplemented.
TMWSC - I provide, from time to time, an injection of socks by way of a 5-pack, usually after a visit to ASDA or Matalan or some other establishment. On such occasions, I am usually overcome by a slight sense of frustration mixed with some mild benevolence while noticing socks available at a low price. So, I grab the bundle of socks and convince myself that this injection will solve all problems. How utterly naive of me.
Junior is grateful, of course, for the instantly available and wearable foot adornments. I satisfy myself that the natural order of things has been restored, and that there is now a 'balance' in the world. My efforts should result in fewer of my own socks disappearing, and fewer of JJ's being misappropriated. Within five days, though, things start to go wrong. Evidence that things are not right is provided by the growing number of odd socks in my own collection. The most telling fact in the whole 'mystery' is that Junior is not averse to wearing odd socks. Thus, it is a perfectly straightforward thought process for me; one sock before me means the other is either still in the wash, or being held hostage by Junior (or has already made it on to a Junior foot). Annoyance comes from what is the permanent 'reminder' of the issue - the odd socks pile.
It is worth (in my opinion anyway) expanding on the variations in 'tolerance' of odd/unmatched socks. For my part, I generally wear socks in the pairs that the manufacturer deemed fit to pass on to the retailers to then sell them to me. My only concession is the acceptance that whether mistakenly or, in line with modern acceptance of oddness, purposely, it is tolerable to have socks that vary in colour. In other words, there is no difference in any other regard - just the colour. So, if a multipack contains five pairs, say a couple that are black, a couple blue and one grey, then a 'mixed approach' would at least allow the wearer to retain a sense of equilibrium via the sense of touch, if not through the sense of sight. Wearing one black sock and one blue sock should not lead to any discomfort, nor should the owner of the feet inside them be aware of any difference in feel - eg. thickness, softness, size, composition, design elements.
In summary, my concession to the modern approach is to accept colour variation - period. It is therefore staggering to see Junior wearing odd socks that overstep the mark. It is apparently not an issue for him to wear socks that quite simply come from different sides of the universe. How could one have a left foot covered by a white sports sock, size 6-11 ("One Size - Fits All", but it fucking doesn't!) and on the other foot a size 9-12 black sock, inside out, and consisting of a different fibre content/composition? Equally mad is the pairing of a 'trainer sock' with a beige, thin ankle sock. I quite simply despair.
I am eventually left with a collection of odds and sods that is of no use to man nor beast, but is of course of some use to Junior. Having secured temporary use of 50% of my sock pairings, the 'orphans' are basically ready to be passed over to Junior as well, at a later date. For every sock stolen, another will follow later on. It is under this 'instalment arrangement' that Junior fleeces me of socks.
His other source of socks is JJ. His younger sibling (Junior Junior) is provided with socks from time to time, but more regularly than he can ever 'consume' socks. The reason is that Junior finds ways of syphoning off socks. This could be through stealth, and subtle pilfering from the laundry pile, or from bedroom drawers when no one is around. In any event, JJ is forever short of socks.
The truth emerges every once in a while. Last month, Mrs MWSC found five pairs of socks (the provenance of which was most clearly associated with JJ and TMWSC) in Junior's room. This was during an attempt to locate a pair for JJ to wear, and out of sheer desperation, a check on Junior's room was necessary. The disappointment came in two waves. The first was discovering that five pairs of socks not belonging to Junior were in his room. The second was finding them all worn, and in need of washing. In fact, their state was such that return of the items to the proper/original owner was perhaps not the best course of action, after what I deemed to be (and so named it) 'contamination'.
The socks graveyard is most generally 'Junior's Room', but the exact location can vary. Dead socks tend to be hidden in weird places, such as behind cupboards, at the bottom of a wardrobe, under the bed, in side-table drawers, at the back of drawers behind clean clothes that never see the light of day. The maths, though, suggests another factor - disposal. It is mathematically a fact that numerous socks leave the house without any record. The 'Schindler's List' of the sock world is operated by Junior from his bedroom. I think most socks escape via black bin liners, during forced 'tidying up' measures enforced by Mrs MWSC or fiancee of Junior.
We have established that Junior is more than capable of obtaining socks, and does not need to resort to a dealer to get hold of them. He is also most flexible with regard to wearing them, and can manage well, whether the socks are odd or in proper pairs. Odd/unmatched socks may be of any design, size, colour, material/composition, and may be worn correctly or inside out. Further, holes present no issue. Typically, a hole can be 'worked around' because of the inside-out approach, thus switching the offending deficiency in material to the left or right side of the foot, over and above the flexibility offered by the sock being worn on either foot in the first place. There is almost nothing that prevents Junior from wearing a sock [with the exception of a traditional-style flipflop!]. For the record, there's an 81% chance that on any day, Junior is not wearing a properly matched pair of socks - and so the use of the word "pair" should henceforth be banned when Junior is involved.
We have established that my socks go walkies. Once they leave my ownership, their lives are most often shortened because they are not cared for by Junior. Their demise is premature because they typically have to exist undercover, and disclosure of their whereabouts means a risk that I will call Junior to account. The riskiest endeavour, then, is for Junior to get them washed, as relinquishing control means they will necessarily be inspected during the wash cycle. Junior knows that I do as much washing as Mrs MWSC, and so will notice variations in sock identity, and sock 'health'. Letting go of a sock in the hope that it may one day be worn again is something that is necessary, although Junior will I am quite sure get more than a day's wear out of many specimens (judging by the state they are in when added to the wash pile). To avoid drawing too much attention to the issue and creating 'Sock-gate', I believe Junior often wears the fuckers to death, and then disposes of them - or occasionally takes advantage of a 'straight-to-the-machine' opportunity, when there's a wash that's about to go on. If we lived at 10 Rillington Place, he'd be hiding them below floorboards, and behind false walls!
I was recently amazed to learn that Junior's approach to socks is perhaps not unique. There is some basis, I feel, for an in-depth study, and even reason for a PhD thesis to be produced, to cover the various aspects of sock-wearing, sock-handling, and the whole sociological side of socks in the world. There is reason to consider in some detail the methods by which socks travel, and how through socks, wearers interact. I would even go so far as to suggest that Darwinian-style theories could have a place in our aims at understanding this subject. I am reliably informed that a few months ago, Junior's finacee's younger brother was seen wearing one of my socks; not two, of course, but one! How the fuck does one of my socks get from my drawer on to the foot of someone five fucking miles away? AND, why the fuck was he happy to wear this one, odd, large cuntin' sock? This proves beyond all doubt that there is a weird phenomenon in play, and that there is clearly a desperation, or obsession, for people other than me to wear my fucking socks! One day, I expect to get a Facebook poke from a cunt in Guatemala who asks if I want a photo of him ironing extremely while wearing one of my pissing socks! The other fucking sock will be in Junior's cuntin' bedside drawer!
Just to draw to an end this subject, I should like to point out that I have not seen Junior buy a single sock for himself in many years. Oh, he'll buy clothes, but socks apparently do not count. I despair at my own inability to prevent sock abuse, despite efforts to buy socks with bright colours and distinctive patterns/markings. Even if I state "The ones with coloured hoops belong to JJ", they end up with rigor mortis and stuffed in the base of a wardrobe. Whenever I eat a Crunchie I think of a dead sock, killed by Junior by over-wearing and abandonment. My only recourse is to adopt an approach involving electronic tagging. To date, I have not pursued this option, but on principle it is starting to become attractive.
Sock abuse is a real problem, and it's about time it is given some airtime, and people work to raise awareness. To be fair, there is a single exception to all of the above. For Father's Day a couple of years ago, I was given some socks with 'Dad' written on them, and these have somehow managed to stay in my domain. Ah, bless . . . .
...
Saturday, 8 October 2011
8.10.11 XXXX-Factor Wk1
Two and a half hours (less promotions, competitions, adverts and padding - so one hour and forty minutes) of X-Factor tonight is an ordeal. Removing all the cliches would get rid of another twenty minutes, and playing Gary Barlow's (Thomas the Tank / TTT) comments at full speed would cut another ten minutes from the running time. Anyway, how many more times will I have to hear Louis (the Elf) confirming to me that so-and-so 'deserves to be on that stage'?
The whole 'twist' shit is a cop-out, and basically it means that rather than the judges picking just three acts to go through, they have allowed 4 interloper acts to hang on and fool themselves for one more week, with no ability for the public to have influence. So, the four judges will by tomorrow [probably they've decided already] get rid of one of the four and allow the ten week run to Christmas work for one per week to drop out.
I would prefer that the four worst were kicked out by a vote. That way, I suspect that we could probably chop the hopes of Louis winning by three quarters! Instead, I have no doubt that we'll be seeing a good singer go home while a waster is retained for a while longer.
Amelia Lily - Okay. Not good, not bad, probably sounds better if you're there. Will probably have to go because the category is strong.
Johnny - Oh dear. Why did Louis ever pick him; lovely chap, no doubt, but a gerbil in a mac.
Rhythmix - Okay. With not too much effort, they sort of suggested they'll be okay and get better.
Frankie - Oh dear. For some reason Gary likes him, as will 13-year-old girls. TTT did himself no service by suggesting his worries about Frankie's voice were misplaced. Unfortunately it is quite clear that he cannot really sing, and strains to squeeze out the words at half speed. I suspect that the breathy Joanna Lumley could rustle up a better effort at singing/gushing between jaunts to Egypt and Greece.
Sophie - Someone who can, and did sing. And the first one on stage not to be joined by a whole tribe of people jerking around and cluttering up things.
JonJo - Oh dear. Poor. Hope that he doesn't get picked to go through just because he's a soldier. Elf, you have the shittest group.
Two Shoes - Okay. I think they are fun, and at least they can sing.
James Michael - Oops. Weak. Thought he'd be a bit better than that! He looked like he was auditioning for a part in Oliver!
Misha Bryan - Good. Interesting. Not scared to be herself. She can sing!
Nu Vibe - Bollocks.
Marcus Collins - Good. Nice chap, modest, and he can sing.
Sami Brookes - Okay. She can sing but is probably limited to ballads and noisy stuff. The Elf comes out with "I totally believe in you" - this is the man who chose Goldie and ditched Sami; then he asked her back when Goldie dropped out. Idiot.
The Risk - Okay. A bit wimpy but probably 'could' get better. However Supergroup my arse! Tulisa (TC) took a risk but I prefer to think that she was so desperate to cobble together something to make up the numbers, she had no real choice.
Craig Colton - Excellent!
Kitty Brucknell - Very Good. Weird woman, but no doubt she can sing, and she's interesting.
Janet Devlin - Excellent.
TTT, Elf, KR & TC can all now bin someone tomorrow and the competition proper can start next Saturday.
...
The whole 'twist' shit is a cop-out, and basically it means that rather than the judges picking just three acts to go through, they have allowed 4 interloper acts to hang on and fool themselves for one more week, with no ability for the public to have influence. So, the four judges will by tomorrow [probably they've decided already] get rid of one of the four and allow the ten week run to Christmas work for one per week to drop out.
I would prefer that the four worst were kicked out by a vote. That way, I suspect that we could probably chop the hopes of Louis winning by three quarters! Instead, I have no doubt that we'll be seeing a good singer go home while a waster is retained for a while longer.
Amelia Lily - Okay. Not good, not bad, probably sounds better if you're there. Will probably have to go because the category is strong.
Johnny - Oh dear. Why did Louis ever pick him; lovely chap, no doubt, but a gerbil in a mac.
Rhythmix - Okay. With not too much effort, they sort of suggested they'll be okay and get better.
Frankie - Oh dear. For some reason Gary likes him, as will 13-year-old girls. TTT did himself no service by suggesting his worries about Frankie's voice were misplaced. Unfortunately it is quite clear that he cannot really sing, and strains to squeeze out the words at half speed. I suspect that the breathy Joanna Lumley could rustle up a better effort at singing/gushing between jaunts to Egypt and Greece.
Sophie - Someone who can, and did sing. And the first one on stage not to be joined by a whole tribe of people jerking around and cluttering up things.
JonJo - Oh dear. Poor. Hope that he doesn't get picked to go through just because he's a soldier. Elf, you have the shittest group.
Two Shoes - Okay. I think they are fun, and at least they can sing.
James Michael - Oops. Weak. Thought he'd be a bit better than that! He looked like he was auditioning for a part in Oliver!
Misha Bryan - Good. Interesting. Not scared to be herself. She can sing!
Nu Vibe - Bollocks.
Marcus Collins - Good. Nice chap, modest, and he can sing.
Sami Brookes - Okay. She can sing but is probably limited to ballads and noisy stuff. The Elf comes out with "I totally believe in you" - this is the man who chose Goldie and ditched Sami; then he asked her back when Goldie dropped out. Idiot.
The Risk - Okay. A bit wimpy but probably 'could' get better. However Supergroup my arse! Tulisa (TC) took a risk but I prefer to think that she was so desperate to cobble together something to make up the numbers, she had no real choice.
Craig Colton - Excellent!
Kitty Brucknell - Very Good. Weird woman, but no doubt she can sing, and she's interesting.
Janet Devlin - Excellent.
TTT, Elf, KR & TC can all now bin someone tomorrow and the competition proper can start next Saturday.
...
8.10.11 September Jess of the Month
1st Place - "Sometimes I have to stand in the yard to cool down"
2nd Place - "What about oregano, isn't that a spice? [Ref it not being possible to spell 'CUNT' with the spice pots printed with big initial letters at Morrisons, as there isn't one with beginning with 'U']
3rd Place - "Yeah, but I don't go in cheek first" [Commenting on hot baths]
4th Place - "Is she gonna swing round that post as well?" [Ref a woman walking quickly and purposefully along a Spanish street, behind an old man who was exercising by walking backwards and forwards, swinging round a post at the end of his short 'course']
5th Place - "Thick men don't read"
6th Place - Views on Zombies: three in a row
a) "Black people make crap zombies; you can't see their make-up"
b) "That is actually a compliment though, because they really need the make up"
c) "They look much better dead than white people"
[ We all know what she meant but she treads a thin line, though with total innocence ]
...
2nd Place - "What about oregano, isn't that a spice? [Ref it not being possible to spell 'CUNT' with the spice pots printed with big initial letters at Morrisons, as there isn't one with beginning with 'U']
3rd Place - "Yeah, but I don't go in cheek first" [Commenting on hot baths]
4th Place - "Is she gonna swing round that post as well?" [Ref a woman walking quickly and purposefully along a Spanish street, behind an old man who was exercising by walking backwards and forwards, swinging round a post at the end of his short 'course']
5th Place - "Thick men don't read"
6th Place - Views on Zombies: three in a row
a) "Black people make crap zombies; you can't see their make-up"
b) "That is actually a compliment though, because they really need the make up"
c) "They look much better dead than white people"
[ We all know what she meant but she treads a thin line, though with total innocence ]
...
8.10.11 September Quotes of the Month
1st Place - "You associate technophobe with computers, but in Dad's case it's a toaster" [Liam]
2nd Place - "Aw, Jess, you really like stuffing . . balls . . " [Debs]
3rd Place - "Wouldn't you be better off in your own shop, luv?" [Brian, working on the checkout at the Co-op, to a customer wearing a T-shirt with Tesco written on it]
4th Place - "He hasn't even shut the door and he's bloody reaching over for his bible" [TMWSC, commenting on H in his desperation to get hold of his book]
5th Place - "Would you like me to put one between your toes? [Aly, ref prawns she was de-shelling]
6th Place - "Fungal my arse!" [Liam, after Jess described something as Fungal]
...
2nd Place - "Aw, Jess, you really like stuffing . . balls . . " [Debs]
3rd Place - "Wouldn't you be better off in your own shop, luv?" [Brian, working on the checkout at the Co-op, to a customer wearing a T-shirt with Tesco written on it]
4th Place - "He hasn't even shut the door and he's bloody reaching over for his bible" [TMWSC, commenting on H in his desperation to get hold of his book]
5th Place - "Would you like me to put one between your toes? [Aly, ref prawns she was de-shelling]
6th Place - "Fungal my arse!" [Liam, after Jess described something as Fungal]
...
8.10.11 Pretty In Pink
Every cunt who fixes windscreens or farts down a pot hole has a vehicle adorned with brightly coloured chevrons, or checked to kingdom fucking come. There was a time when the only way of customising the look of a vehicle and at the same time trying to claim some 'level of importance' was to put a yellow hard hat on the back shelf so the people following thought you might be a surveyor or inspector or some other part of the 'people who count' clan. Now, we are exposed to vehicles covered in coloured plastic squares and stripes - orange, red, yellow, blue, black, white and green.
'Highway Maintenance' annoys the fuck out of me, as does any 4x4 with the name of some useless fucking quango stencilled on the side - you know what I mean, something like "Enterprise Monitoring Response Agency" and a load of yellow and green on the back and side panels.
In the North East this week, I have noticed a number of police motorbikes. On each occasion it took me a while to verify I was indeed looking at an officer of the law astride a motorbike, rather than a clown pretending to be one. At first I had doubts because of the colour scheme now adopted; the police force has had to resort to PINK being part of the official colour scheme. Now there is more pink than blue to announce to motorists that the rider is a police officer. I suppose there were only brown and grey as further choices, and they are hardly visible in poor weather. So, after every other colour seems to be in general use by every man and his dog, the police force now displays through its motorbike fleet what could be considered a mobile advertising service for Barbie, or perhaps My Little Pony!
...
'Highway Maintenance' annoys the fuck out of me, as does any 4x4 with the name of some useless fucking quango stencilled on the side - you know what I mean, something like "Enterprise Monitoring Response Agency" and a load of yellow and green on the back and side panels.
In the North East this week, I have noticed a number of police motorbikes. On each occasion it took me a while to verify I was indeed looking at an officer of the law astride a motorbike, rather than a clown pretending to be one. At first I had doubts because of the colour scheme now adopted; the police force has had to resort to PINK being part of the official colour scheme. Now there is more pink than blue to announce to motorists that the rider is a police officer. I suppose there were only brown and grey as further choices, and they are hardly visible in poor weather. So, after every other colour seems to be in general use by every man and his dog, the police force now displays through its motorbike fleet what could be considered a mobile advertising service for Barbie, or perhaps My Little Pony!
...
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