Gender Fuck Me Baby's Palace Of Unparalleled Cynicism
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Modern Way- Kaiser Chiefs
Topic: Aimless Post

Good evening,

I decided to google myself or rather my blog in an idle moment and came across the best name for... well anything really. Gender Fuck Me Baby's Palace Of Unparalleled Cynicism is a website ruled by someone by the name of Gashgirl. I mad as a horse! Why in the name of God did I not think of that name first? I would steal it but Gashgirl looks a tough lass and I'm feart. Not to worry when I'm as rich as Croesus and dictator of the first world government I'll steal the name for my parliament.

I was very excited to get an e-mail offering me the chance to teach English on a voluntary basis to a gaggle of asylum seekers. By the time I'm finished they will all talk like me, which for some reason I find rather funny. There is also the other benefit of working with asylum seekers- the food. I'm sure there are asylum seekers that can't cook and don't want to feed me, but I haven't met many and I hope I don't.

Finally my 'Mischief Of Magpies has expanded to include some very welcome new contributors. There is still room for more, if anyone is interested and that includes a a certain gentleman who hasn't yet responded to my kind invitation.


Cheerio

Oh God!
Mood:  caffeinated
Topic: Aimless Post
Good Evening,

It's been a rather uneventful few days notable only for this being the week I lost all interest in politics. I used to be a political fiend. It distressed me to see all these buffoons trying to run the show and making an arse of it, when I'd do it so much better. I will now strive to know nothing about politics and world events. I did that by taking rather a lot of drugs in the early nineties. It was great. I know virtually nothing about what happened at that time to the extent that the Bosnian war is a total mystery to me. Mind you, I followed the run up to the present war avidly and they still went ahead despite my objections. The arrogant bastards.

I just feel so despondent about politics at present. This government are becoming increasingly nasty, authoritarian and arrogant and only about five people seem to mind about it. Come the election the great unwashed of Glasgow will trundle out and vote Labour because their parents did.

Over the last few months in work I have been attending meetings with a local councillor. I concede the man is very funny but only because he is an idiot with an odd obsession with chocolate biscuits. He can barely string a comprehensible sentence together. He is unfit to hold public office for so many reasons. Yet he has a gigantic majority. Why? What's the attraction in him?

Oh God! Why has that fucking woman just appeared on my telly. Yes It's the pun queen Kathy Lette. I fucking hate that monstrosity. I don't mind the odd pun or as Kathy would have it I like a bit of punnilingus. ARRRRGH! I want to feed her head first through a paper shredder screaming 'poor puns are not wit'. The poor Vucaj family get deported yet that fucking boot Lette is allowed to remain here. There is no justice!

Bloody hell! Who'd have thought Kathy Lette would revive my interest in politics?


Cheerio

Yuck!
Mood:  blue
Now Playing: Suffer Little Children-The Smiths
Topic: Aimless Post
Dear God..

Why is there a a market for this?

'Animal of the day is at the bottom of the page.


Goodbye

Clairwil Is Paid A Compliment
Mood:  quizzical
Now Playing: Fever-Pink Grease
Topic: Aimless Post


Evening,

I came home from work today only to discover that another part of my ceiling had come down. I'm not ashamed to say I was getting rather frightened by this stage and summoned the emergency builder. He seemed a pleasant enough chap, if slightly mad.

I enquired as to what he suspected might be making my ceiling fall down and he replied that I was a very attractive woman. I looked behind me twice and was surprised to note that I was the only woman present. In an attempt to change the subject, I started on about the gutters and the damp. Very attractive, my arse! I spent thirteen years of school being tormented for being a dog, if it hadn't been for underage drinking I'd hardly have pulled at all.

In any case I'm puzzled as to how my personal appearance would cause parts of the ceiling to fall down. Does this happen to attractive men? Can anyone attractive advise me if this is normal? I merely require information.

Cheerio

The Grapple In The Big Apple And Other Horror.
Mood:  incredulous
Now Playing: Nashville Skyline-Bob Dylan
Topic: Aimless Post





Evening,

Let me start by posing a question. You leave work one evening and chance upon one of your female colleagues being pawed and harassed by a ned/chav.

Do you:

(a) Go up and start talking to her in an effort to deter the ned in a non-confrontational way?

(b)Swiftly gather a few colleagues and approach mob handed to scare the ned?

(c) Summon one of the workplace security guards to chase the ned?

Now to me any of the above would be acceptable. I would prefer either (a) or (c) as it is usually better not to rattle any cages. However I am not my irritating work colleague. Neither are you. My irritating work colleague's solution to this problem was to stand a few feet away and smile and giggle at my predicament. When my bus arrived he followed me to the door and said 'I wonder what your boyfriend will think of that?'.

I was so furious I ignored him and got on the bus. Until today, if had I seen him being hassled by neds outside of work I would have summoned security. Not because I like him but because I don't approve of pointless violence or neds.

I would also like to apologise about my depressing post yesterday. I was at a low ebb but should not have bored my readership with it. However I've been very amused by the career suggestions thus far of zoo keeper and inventor, please feel free to make further suggestions.

Now with all that out the road I would like to express my disappointment at the much hyped Galloway v Hitchens debate in New York. It's hard to say who won really, as neither was on top form and I think Hitchens might have taken a wee refreshment beforehand.

They didn't get particularly in depth about the issues surrounding the Iraq war, each preferring to accuse the other of being friends with someone unpleasant. At one point I thought it was going to turn into that old Newman and Baddiel sketch with Hitchens saying 'You know that Saddam Hussein, that's your mum that is'.

I'm not really bothered that Christopher Hitchens is supporting the Iraq war as I've never liked the man. His writing is good but his manner annoys me. He comes across like supply teacher who thinks he's too good for teaching which is hardly inspiring.

That is all from me for this evening.


Cheerio

Domestic Flare Ups
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Beetlebum-Blur
Topic: Aimless Post


Good Evening,

Everywhere I have been today, there has been a rowing couple. My favourite of the day were the whiny pair in the queue in Tesco.

I wasn't really sure at first who to support in the row. I thought they were both loathsome. She was most indignant that he didn't want her to spend a 'bit of money, doing something nice for him on his birthday'. She couldn't 'believe he was behaving like this'. Neither could I.

However no matter how close to tears she got or how much I wished they would both die, he remained firm. He did not want her to 'waste all our money.' I thought he sounded like a bit of a tightwad, especially given that the 'something nice' she wished to spend 'all our money' on appeared to be a carton of Tropicana, a jar of Lloyd Grossman pasta sauce, a packet of Tesco Value spaghetti and a jar of Nutella.

Good God, is there ever a stronger hint that a relationship is dead and buried than a jar of chocolate spread? It is the sure sign of someone whose sexual imagination was formed entirely by More magazine. I bet she's also bought lager flavoured nipple drops and Banana Dick lick from Ann Summers. She looked the type. Can you tell I eventually came down on the chap's side? Not because he said or did anything impressive, but because at the peak of their fascinating dispute she did something I found so deeply offensive I'm angry just typing it. I'm truly appalled. She picked up the whole basket, contents and all and placed it on an empty shelf, then walked out the shop. I hate her, but not half as much as the poor minimum wage earning individual that had to take said basket round the shop and replace everything on the correct shelves, must loathe her.

Naturally her boyfriend simply trotted obediently out the store behind her. If I were him I would have gone to the pub. People with martyr complexes must be treated like tantrum throwing children. You must never give in to them no matter how bad they try to make you feel. If you back down they'll be throwing wobblers at every turn and then you really will be sorry.

Cheerio

Clairwil Fails To Make Poverty History.
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Complete Control-The Clash
Topic: Aimless Post


Good Evening,

I am back at work after my annual leave. God how depressing! The poor are still with us, the bus journey to work is still a terrifying ordeal. Nothing changes. Still I have set myself a deadline of two years to become good at something enjoyable- like football, then I shall skip off to a happier life.

I don't know why I do it to myself. I joined the SNP once and was honestly surprised that independence didn't follow straight after. Then I joined the SSP and fuck me, we're still a capitalist country. It's the same with my job, I got into the welfare rights game and thought 'I'll soon sort this out'. I have come to realise that there is no earthly point to my job. I might as well sit and chant 'tralala, sex on the beach, a queer hairnet' over and over again to my clients for all the notice they take of me. Today I spent ten precious minutes of my life being looked at like I was an idiot for suggesting to a young woman that she do a college course. I was genuinely trying to be helpful, she said she hated her job, I was merely trying to point out that it might just be possible to a acquire a skill and get a better one. I might as well have suggested that she turn into a bluebottle and fly about the room. See- it's all pointless.

People like me shouldn't have to work. We should receive a generous subsidy from the government to float about, go to the pub, have a read, eat cheese and chat to people. I'd be happier, more relaxed and I'd have the time to become really good at football. Right, I'm off now to write to my MP. You could click here for a sneaky blow job.

Cheerio

The Devil Looks After His Own.
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Hurt -Johnny Cash
Topic: Aimless Post


Evening,

I have a good excuse for not posting much this week. Every time I tried to get on the internet I got a message telling me I was dialing the wrong number. After phoning various helplines and harassing baffled staff in Mumbai call centres, I managed to identify the culprit as my phone which has taken to dialing random numbers. I have now replaced it and promise I will never leave you so long again.

I'm a bit concerned about dear old Mr Pond, he hasn't posted since 19/07/05. Where can he be?

I was out doing a spot of shopping this morning when I learned that Robin Cook is dead. Whilst I wasn't a huge fan of Robin Cook, I very much admired his stance on the Iraq war. It's fucking typical, a murdering terrorist bastard like Tony Blair has heart trouble and no matter how hard I wish stubbornly refuses to die and poor old Robin Cook cops it instead. The Devil, it would seem, looks after his own.

Thats about all from me. As an experiment I am going to put a request for Tony Blair's death into the special 'magic pyramid' my increasingly mad mother bought me to see if it works. I will of course keep you posted.

Cheerio

Oh My God! Sienna Miller Is Up The Duff!
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Jolene-Dolly Parton
Topic: Aimless Post


Evening,
Here I am knitting bootees and a matinee jacket after hearing the exciting news that 'she who dresses in the dark', Sienna Miller is six weeks pregnant. What marvelous timing! Still it's not too late to abort.

Moving on to more exciting matters a ripple of excitement swept through Easterhouse today with the news that 'The Happy Haddock' has a new and exciting menu. In addition to their usual lukewarm deep fried items, they are now offering toasties and baked potatoes. But that's not all a charming young lady behind the counter reckons that they can get 'anything you want' added to the menu except houmous which I suggested in a moment of mischief.
And as if that isn't enough they will also be doing lattes and cappuccinos.

I must say Easterhouse is getting very continental these days. My only concern is that some of the rougher elements might start naming their children cappuccino or latte with that amazing tendency of the criminally insane to give their children names which scream 'social services intervention urgently required'.

That's all for this evening. I shall of course keep you informed on The Happy Haddock's progress towards their first Michelin star.


Cheerio

A Prisoner!
Mood:  chatty
Now Playing: Prince Charming- Adam And The Ants
Topic: Aimless Post



Evening,

I've been trapped at home most of today awaiting a parcel that the liars at TNT assured me would come today. It didn't. Bastards! Come the revolution I will have them all slain like dogs.

On a brighter note my captivity meant I got to see Nigella for the first time today. It is a very strange show but rather lovely all the same. I kept expecting Nigella to announce the next item to be a cute picture of a kitten in that wonderful, calm manner of hers. As you may have noticed I have something of a crush on Nigella.

Other than that bombshell I have nothing much to say, apart from a tit bit from this weeks Holy Moly mailout. You will no doubt have noticed the horrifying pictures at the top of this post but fear not there is an incredible explanation. Someone is selling the above skirt on eBay and believes that the above picture will help. Why in the name of all that is sacred and holy would anyone think that would help shift the skirt? I want clothes that flatter me not make me look like a portly middle aged woman. The politically correct feminist side of wants to applaud the woman for being so at ease in her own skin. The realist in me wouldn't want to see a mans flabby belly either so really it has nothing to do with feminism. The voyeuristic peeper in me just says for fucks sake put it away.

It's hard to believe that I actually enjoy my own company with that shoddy level of internal debate.


Cheerio