2.12.13 Various Points of Interest, Plus Naomi Campbell

Time To Cut Back

The latest scare tactic from the nanny state and those employed to have a say in how lives are lived relates to yet another cause of cancer.  Here's a direct quote from the latest advert being aired on ITV:

"The World Health Organisation classifies alcohol as a group one carcinogen; like tobacco and asbestos, it can cause cancer."

Oh well; it looks like I'll be giving up the asbestos then.


Look After Your Teeth

I was astounded to see a Colgate toothbrush advertised on TV at £80. Deciding this was a ludicrous price and certainly NOT an offer I'd be taking up, I looked in one of the Argos junk mail arrivals where I discovered a, 'Oral-B' version that has a RRP of £199.  WTF?  For a fucking toothbrush?  Utter madness.


Misuse and Abuse

To what am I referring?  The word 'Event', which seems to be the fashionable way to try and encourage us (particularly in the fashion world) to part with our money.  Adverts on TV seem to attempt to reinvent what an 'event' actually is. Rather than what it is, I will advise now on what it is NOT.

Debenhams - 25% off is a fucking sale, NOT an 'event'.

Wallis Fashion - your 'Flash Event' is a sale.  As for anyone wearing Wallis clothing and flashing at me, no thanks - you cater for rather older and bigger women.

Dorothy Perkins - your 'Pop Up Event' with 'Up to 30% off' is a SALE, not an 'event'.

Evans - your "Up to 30% off event' is simply a sale.


Signs of the Month - November

First Place
Near Hatfield, a sign that said, quite simply: "No Dumping".  I therefore had to hold on.

Runner Up
North of Stevenage, a sign that said: "Free Hardcore Tipping".  They like their gratuities in Stevenage, eh?


Pathetic Question of the Week

Dickinson's Real Deal provided an awful example, as follows:

"What is the traditional type of lively dance popular in Ireland and Scotland?
A: Jig
B: Jog
C: Jug

Fucking nobs!


No Need For The SS

The 'SS' sound is linguistically straightforward, and appropriate when a word is spelled with a double 'S'.  The very same sound is in fact appropriate for most instances of a single 's', with only the occasional 'sh' sound taking over (as in, for example, 'controversial').  There is absolutely NO NEED for a double 'S' sound to be emitted by a speaker when the word in use is 'Officiate', but the radio news reporter manager to tell me that "Kevin Friend will not be offissiating at the weekend".  TWAT.  It seems that after decades [stress on the FIRST FUCKING SYLLABLE] of fucking up the word 'negotiate' by replacing the 'sh' sound for the first 't' with 'ss', there is a move to have a go at the letter 'c' now.  Just as the 'Schutzstaffel' was a deplorable entity, use of an 'ss' instead of a 'sh' when pronouncing 'the letter 'c' is deplorable.


Blair, Books, Bollocks and Irony

I called in at Poundland on Saturday, and bought a 10 metre roll of brown paper for a quid.  I passed a shelf holding books, and noticed a strange selection on the top shelf.  The first three books were Alistair Campbell's diaries, with the chunky volumes each available as doorstops for a quid.  Next to these was Tony Blair's "A Journey".  So, these overpaid and self-obsessed politicians have rather less appeal than they'd suspect.  The other two books on the same shelf were "Serial Killers" and "A Fatal Strain".  I considered who might appreciate the humour of being presented with copies of A Journey and A Fatal Strain, and considered I had knowledge of no one who'd either find it funny or appreciate such a 'gift'.  The series of three weightier volumes from Campbell and A Serial Killer was equally discarded from my thoughts as a joke present, and there were no doors at home in need of stopping.


Naomi Campbell

Double Diamond

It seems she's been 'honoured' for her post-tsunami efforts at a Tea Ceremony in Japan.  This is the same woman who accepted blood diamonds from the ex-ruler of Liberia.  Hmmmm . . . I'd suggest the world would be rather better off without any input from NC in any respect whatsoever!  As an aside, "I am no diamond" curiously can be rearranged to 'DD Naomi Naomi'.


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2.12.13 B&Q - Spelling Down The Toilet & Up The Junction (Box)

Unfortunately the toilet seat has broken.  For some time, the two fixings that are supposed to hold the seat in place have been so loose that the seat won't stay on.  A trip to B&Q was in order, and my starting point was the aisle with the plumbing supplies.  I have no idea what a "toliet" is, but B&Q sell accessories, as demonstrated by the picture above.  I took this as a signal that I was going to be disappointed in my endeavours to obtain the necessary components.  A look along the pegs revealed nothing suitable, so I moved on to the bathroom section.

Mrs MWSC had chosen are rather unusual style of WC when the bathroom was installed, and I was not expecting to see the same one for sale after eight years.  However, there it was, on display in a 'mock bathroom', complete with seat, for £200.  I thought for a billionth of a second and moved on to the toilet seats in a nearby aisle, because buying a new loo was out of the question; that would be like buying a new car because the ashtray was full.

Toilet seats are fucking expensive.  Forty fucking quid to sit and shit is a lot of money.  How can manufacturers and retailers justify that money for a plastic seat?  The fixing method of out loo seat is not standard, just as the seat itself is not standard, being rather square.  The seats on display seemed similar, but the display models were affixed to the shelves (which resembled Meccano) in a bespoke fashion, so I was not able to make a proper comparison with how I needed to configure our seat.

Back in the plumbing aisle, I found one plastic pack containing two brackets and some threaded steel.  It was so dubiously in line with my requirements that I decided not to bother.  So, I will attend to the matter in due course, with some checking of my own supplies in the shed, as I am actually quite likely to have , in one of the numerous tins accumulated over the years, a couple of fixings that might do the job.

Before leaving the store, I notice some odds and sods at the end of the aisle allocated to items electrical in nature.  Specifically, some junction boxes and a small contraption that converts a car cassette player to something compatible with a CD player or MP3.  I therefore decided to make a purchase.  The orange cardboard display held a lot of stuff, and the price per item was £2.  There was a printed offer saying 3 for 2 and my brain sent me on a faulty path.  For some reason, I took this as "two for three pounds", which made sense because the £2 per item would drop to £1.50 per item.  In my stupor ( for I was clearly addled) I picked up a pack of junction boxes and the cassette contraption.

Self-service is almost compulsory these days.  Passing the redundant checkouts, I arrived at the four self-service tills and scanned my two items: the display brought up £2 and £2, with a total of £4.  I was not surprised at all, because offers are always prone to failure.  A cheerful woman waddled over after I'd caught her eye.  I explained that the offer was not showing, and that it should be £3.  I was of course wrong, but at that stage she acknowledged there could be a problem, that the items were indeed on offer, and used her phone to call someone.  She confirmed the nature of the goods to the person on the phone and confirmed with me that I'd got them from the orange boxes. She ended the call and advised that I had to buy another one to make the offer work.  I realised I'd been in a world of my own; "3 for 2" was not £3 for two, of course.

I walked 1.72 miles on the round trip to the electrical goods in aisle 97, and returned to the self-service area with some more junction boxes.  Wanda the Willing was in attendance once more,  as I pointed to the display that had recorded on three separate lines, £2, £2 and £2, with a total of £6.  She acknowledged it was still not working, and I received no useful answer when I enquired as to why programmers never get things right.  In the next two minutes, I was bamboozled by Wanda quite unexpectedly.  I'd made the first mistake through misinterpreting the "3 for 2" offer, but the machine had now managed its own mistake, deciding to ignore the fact that I'd hiked back and forth to obtain the necessary third item, leading to a third scan.  Wanda was perturbed, but willing of course, and so clarified with me the offer, and I said: "Three for two".  I've no idea what planet she was on, and maybe she was away with the fairies, dancing in the clouds to a 3-4-2 pattern (whatever that is) because she leaned towards the screen and started tampering.

The override facility that the store manager had given her was not, I fear, given with any accompanying sense of duty or responsibility not to misuse it. Wanda made a mistake not a million miles in nature from my own, because she deducted £1.50 from two of the items, and £1.00 from the other, and the final bill was £2.00.  As she was doing this, I stood there baffled as fuck.

I weighed up my options, and decided that rather than re-confuse Wanda, and try to agree with her what the offer is/was/should be, I'd simply put my note into the machine and accept the reduction with good grace.  The truth of the matter was I'd only actually wanted the cassette thingy for £2.00 and had picked up the pack of junction boxes because I thought it would in effect be only another quid.  When I'd learned of the necessity to choose a third item and had considered the resultant £4 bill, I had questioned myself as to the real need for junction boxes, especially as I now had to purchase two double packs.  In the end, I'd paid £2 and got the junction boxes free, perhaps in payment for all my searching and walking.

I decided that if retailers actually stopped pissing about with stupid offers, useless tills and self service facilities, there might be a better environment for all.  They should just sell products individually, at a decent price, and keep things fucking simple.  If you want something, you could then buy just the one without having your mind played with through encouragement to buy a second or even a third.  Just to finish, then - What would you want to buy more than one three for two for?  1-3-4-2-4  Wanda!  Help!


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2.12.13 Get Me Out Of Here Now!

My Jungle Prediction was that Helen Flanagan would have absolutely nothing intelligent to say, and would portray herself accurately as vacuous, pointless, irritating, and simply pathetic whilst using a squawking voice and saying 'like' or 'kind of' every few seconds.  On IACGMOOH Now, she has so far lived up to my expectations, and with a couple more days of input to go, I am confident that she'll maintain this low standard, and bring into question the actions of ITV in flying her to Australia to stare into a camera.  She is everything that a bad role model should be.  Sadly the media manage to promote and reward talentless, pouting airheads and thus encourage more such people to make themselves known.  Why oh why are we supposed to pander to the useless, while paying them stupid money for being twats?

* ** * * * * * * * * * * *

Laura Whitmore introduced the panel with reference to: "The stunning screaming queen" for Helen.  Well, one of the three words (screaming) was accurate.  Yesterday Laura used the word "flapper" which was rather more helpful and amusing.  After ten minutes, Helen had said "kind of" or "kinda" no less than 340 times.

"He's got such a weird annoying face - and that's coming from me."  That was from Rob Beckett, regarding Matthew.

Helen Flanagan: "I have not a clue."  This was actually an answer to one specific question from Laura, but could in fact be a generic answer to ANY question, and a disposition that suits the airhead.

Helen's annoyance with people saying things about Amy was typical, and she sided with her in all respects.  Making an excuse for Amy because she "might find it hard to adapt" is useless, as you'd expect from Flapper Flanagan.  Keeping contraband was simply selfish - but as I've said before, Amy is generally selfish and oblivious - almost refusing to acknowledge the argument about right and wrong, and obsessing on getting caught or not.  Alfonso had to repeatedly try to get this through to her.

Quote of the Week must go to Steve Davies for his comment to an upset Annabel from the dunny:

"Annabel, I don't think I can counsel you while I'm having a shit."

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1.12.13 Jungle News - Crocodile Walford

Laila is managing to annoy me with her horrible attitude, sloth-like qualities (ie. non-movement) and crassness.  Going on about how she'd not heard of Amy Willerton before the show was unnecessary.  I'd not heard of her, but considering Laila is hardly Nicole Kidman, she ought to stop playing the part of Mo and display some actual ability herself!  As for her going for 64% instead of 53% in the challenge, well her conviction and declaration within half a second of the options being presented was amusing, seeing as she was wrong.  Last time, when she adopted the same approach and the group went for the opposite option and got it wrong, she could not stop herself saying: "I told you. If you'd listened to me . . blah blah."  This time, she was fucking quiet as a mouse!

Does anyone else think Matthew is looking more and more manic with every day that passes, and with every extra millimetre of beard?  I turned to Mrs MWSC and she agreed with my analogy.

I expect Matthew to go head to head with Wilson in the final.  That's if he manages not to pick his beard out before then.  In actual fact, a few of the people in the jungle are nuts, and many have traits that are unattractive. Laila/Mo is not the likeable old dear she had the chance to portray herself as. Alfonso is just a big waste of space - a lot of space.  Amy is in a world of her own, and defaults to a mixture of selfish and oblivious.  Steve is funny enough, as is Vincent.  Kian and Joey are clearly doing well, as is David.  Lucy has repaired her weak position, and is coming across as just plain speaking rather than horrible.  Annabel is simply too weak to be in a jungle, even if her dry sense of humour for a while was quite entertaining. Rebecca is by and large irrelevant.

The first eviction was announced tonight - and it was either Alfonso or Annabel. The loser was Annabel and sadly she'll be disappointed.  I've no doubt her not getting immunity after Amy's input and manipulation will be carried in her head for a while.

Actually, Annabel is better off out of there.

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1.12.13 X-Factor Week 8: Sunday

Sunday


The results show is apparently a slot where we, the viewers, are desperate to see past acts and 'celebrities' performing, despite the fact that most are little better (but often worse) than the contestants.  This week is no exception. It made my skin crawl when Dermotitis hit me (do you see what I did there?) with the announcement that James Arthur would be singing.  The wailing annoyance is someone who is never welcome; only if I were blind and stone deaf would I manage to copy without reaction.  He is impossible to like, never mind listen to; hey, now there's a good title for an album if ever I heard one.  Oh, it seems his marketing people are ahead of me . . .

Rebecca Ferguson is rather more acceptable to listen to, assuming I have a need to hear past competitors at all.  The seven finalists then appeared to 'sing live', although I think it might have sounded better if they weren't breathing.  The input from Tamera and Sam was horrendous!  The shit song was made to sound so much worse than I thought it could sound.  I know exactly what I'd like to 'Burn'.

Rebecca came on, and sang the most awful song I've heard for a long time, and sang it badly.  This was a disaster.  It's a shame because she has a talent but kept it away from us today.  I hope, I hope, I hope, I hope she manages rather better in producing a better song to follow this one.

Dermotitis gave us a five minute warning.  I considered that he was actually five minutes late with it, because I'd have avoided the Ferguson noise.  The warning was not to give me notice to leave my sofa and avoid James Arthur, but to signal voting would be ending shortly.

In the advert break I heard a plug for Ferguson's album, and a rendition of the 'I hope, I hope, I hope, I hope' track that was rather better than her live version, but still concluded it is a naf song.  Lily Allen warbled to animation rather than whined against a backdrop of twerking women.  Yet another advert for a re-re-showing of all of the Harry Potter films was deemed necessary by ITV before we rejoined Dermot O'Dreary, who told us the lines were closed.

Mrs MWSC returned to the living room and groaned at having not missed James Arthur.  "I took ages making that bed as well", she said, disgusted that her avoidance tactic hadn't worked.  I am sure that the whinging and wailing and straining was unappreciated by gay rappers and everyone else that he's offended recently, but their disgust will have been a long way short of my own abhorrence at the self-indulgent fucking shitty noise.  I trod on some Lego earlier this year and my wail was more tuneful than his outburst.  His mumbling afterwards (which included an apology of sorts) was proof of no personality.

We went to a break, and there was a complete blackout on ITV, certainly in my region.  After all that fannying around and waiting, just as the results were due, the signal went.  The frustration was high, and in desperation I phoned the DIL - she gets her TV via Virgin - and apparently there was a message on ITV apologising to people in The North for the loss of signal.  That's a cunting stupid message seeing as the people in The North who have no signal CAN'T READ THE MESSAGE!

Normal service was resumed at 9.15pm, leaving me to piss about and catch up.  Back on ITV+1 (after a short dose of IACGMOOH) I was just in time to be fucking annoyed all over again with James Arthur's moaning and pleading and wailing and straining.  I considered again his admission that he's made some "silly mistakes" and decided that he hasn't made any silly mistakes, but has fucked up by showing his true colours and getting his just desserts for being a twat.

ITVcut out again!  The CUNTS at ITV displayed: "If you can see this it means legally we're not allowed to show you what was on earlier.  We don't want you to miss out, so please switch to ITV.  The CUNTS withdrew the service on +1, and sent me back to I'm A Celebrity, fifteen minutes after I aborted earlier.  So, I missed some of IACGMOOH as well.  CUNTS.

I caught none of the singing, just the result announced by Dermotitis between Tamera and Luke.  Gary Barlow wimped out and left it to the public, who ejected Tamera, after her numerous let-offs.

Fucking ITfuckingV.  I am concentrating on IACGMOOH now, and IACGMOOH Now shortly.

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1.12.13 A Cunt In Redcar

Yesterday, Mrs MWSC had need to use the toilet while we were in the Redcar Morrisons.  Upon her return, she reported to me the atrocious comment by a cunt-of-a-mother.

Mrs MWSC had to wait briefly in a queue for the facilities.  While waiting, the door behind her opened, and there stood a woman with her small daughter. The woman spoke to the daughter:

"Oh, there's a queue - we're not waiting here, you'll have to use the mental bog."

Unfortunately I have no photograph of this complete cunt, otherwise you'd be looking at her now.  I fear there is little hope for society when children are educated in this way by ignorant and cuntish parents.

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1.12.13 X-Factor Week 8: Saturday

Saturday


Nicholas (a bit weak) and Sam (a bit predictable) were okay - and simply did what was expected of them. Nothing to write home about. Tamera was able to remember the words of a Rihanna song (all ten of them) and we learned from Louis that she's only 16.  YAWN.  I will never buy an album released by any of them.

Luke wailed at the microphone about Skinny Love, and confirmed no real talent or vocal interest; I need the album only to level up the mild deficit on the length of one of my table legs in the front room, otherwise it will (subject to local council confirmation of recycling arrangements) be in the blue bin.

Nicole has had a haircut but unfortunately not a brain transplant.  Louis never had one (a brain) in the first place.  "Potato."

Rough Copy rounded off the first round of performances with a tuneless load of shite and I felt that this year's X-Factor is the most mediocre melee of crap that I could have expected.  The vocals of Rough Copy are rough as hell.  So, let's hope that the second song from each of them is worth bothering to listen to.

Nicole has proved she's on something - possibly drugs but equally likely is Jelly Tots and vodka.  Louis questioned the vocals of Rough Copy for good reason.  Mrs O lost the plot in 1989, so her weirdness is to be expected. Barlow managed to be so two-faced it defied any laws of the universe.

Ding-Ding, Round 2

Nicholas managed to fuck up a Gary Barlow song by having no real ability to hit the notes.  Still, he's only 17.

Mrs O apparently felt the passion, as well as the effects of a quadruple Tia Maria.  Gary thought he did "really well" and Nicole referred to him as "pumpkin" before saying "shamazing".  Some might say she's a "sha-stupid cunt!"  Elf said Nicholas reminded him of a young Gary Barlow.

Sam sang Clown, and was a nice change from Emeli Sande.  "You look relevant," said Louis - what a compliment from an irrelevant bloke.

After the break, Dermotitis managed to include tweets from Ed Cunting Balls and Rio Fucking Ferdinand!  How totally pathetic - why do their views count let alone be judged worthy of mention?  Next up was Luke, or "Looooook Friend" as the announcer said, by way of introduction.  Luke managed to wail again, and sound average, if rather noisy.

"Great balls of fire - with some hair on them."  Nicole, have a 17th dose of whatever it is you take, and then fuck off.

Tamera was awarded one of the best songs ever written, and I was sceptical as to her ability to do it justice.  Luckily for her she managed to do it okay for the most part, and reclaimed some kudos - even though the whole week has been about 'fixing' things for her.  Someone (Cowell) wants her to win.  Louis confirmed this by saying she is "relevant".  Nicole talked bollocks - some might say "stupid cunt."

Rough Copy believed they could fly (on an individual basis, as each one sang "I Believe I can Fly") and I conceded the point, even though they would be doing so for just five seconds after being nudged from a fifth storey window.  Louis confirmed that they'd be in the final, along with every other act!  "If Carlsberg made contestants . . ." said Gary, by way of compliment for hard work; unfortunately he omitted the next line, which would/should have been: " . . then you'd have been bypassed and nudged from a fifth storey window."  I almost expected Dermotitis to say: "Other lagers are available."

What a totally uninspiring show.


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