Better than a kick in the knickers with a winklepicker

So, Barnardos have launched an ad about us vilifying kiddles, using dialogue actually not that shockingly all taken from genuine comments on mainstream online news boards. I'm guessing they got about 70% off BBC's Have Your Say, and the rest from the Heil Online... although I think it's actually very possible to find 10 or so comments on the most innocuous of subjects from HYS to make us all look like a bunch of Sociopathic bastards, because HYS is peopled entirely by hateful, attention seeking cunts. Ad is here, if you want to vada.

I know I whinge about Bloody Kids from time to time, but really, the vast majority of kids and teenagers are fine. I come across far more vile adults, to be honest, and rotten adults don't seem to realise that kids are learning their behaviour off them. Kids do get unnecessarily demonised, it was the same when I was in my mid teens. I have never experienced so much sheer bloody rudeness from perfect strangers as I did when I was 16 through to 18... many of them middle aged or older. People can be really rotten to kids... usually to kids that they've weighed up will probably be too polite to do or say anything back. Bah.

Anyhoo, that over, here's a meme from davidbrider
( clickety-click - forty-five! )

Well. We were going to go to the Community Bonfire night, which was this evening... unfortunately, the weather had other ideas, and pissed it down continuously all bloody day. I think it's just about stopped now, but the field where it's held would be a swamp by now. Even if it hasn't been cancelled, it would have been very dreary and slippy, so we decided not to go. Poot. I love Bonfire Night. Plus, we usually have chums over for it and we don't this year, which is slightly depressing.

Also, I'm slightly annoyed that, on getting a whiff of the power that En-Masse whingeing over something they haven't heard and doesn't affect them can have over the pussies at the BBC, The Daily Arsefuck has decided to go after Frankie Boyle, over a silly, irreverent and bloody hilarious joke he made about our Vinegar Titted Kraut of a Monarch TWO YEARS AGO. The joke is two years old, and nobody complained about it at the time. Apparently four complaints were lodged after the repeat, at 10pm the other night - probably all from the one reporter that the Heil had got to trawl the airwaves for the next thing they could kick up a shitstorm about. There are far more terrible things going on, people!

I have decided to pander to the Daily Hate, however. I am going to see if I can get them to start a campaign of indignant complaint against this Blog, since they clearly have nothing better to do. I shall be signing off my entries with Mail-baiting soundbites for the next week, and am going to see what happens.

I fucked Margaret Thatcher, during my cocaine years. And once I've found out whichever Vampire it was that sired the Vampire that sired her, I'm going to sing him a little song all about it. Mwah-ha-ha-haaaa!!!

So a friend of my husband's that I bumped into at playgym last week told me about a toddler's group at a church not far from me. I'm a bit nervous about joining a church-run group because of the whole Atheism Thing, but she recommended it, so I checked out the website - it was due to run today at 9.30. Well, it takes a bit of effort to get us both ready and out quite that early, but I did it, in the rain, and walked the 20 mins or so to the church... which was, of course, deserted and locked. Found a way into a reception eventually, and asked if the playgroup was on. A needlessly huffy receptionist told me no, it was starting next week. I told her the website said today. Nothing to do with her, she told me. I sighed, actually furious, but determined not to take it out on her and said something like 'oh well, we got wet for nothing then, thanks anyway', because, dammit, I had gone to loads of effort and turned up, drenched, for an event that her organisation's website had advertised as being on but clearly wasn't and I wasn't even getting a smidgen of sympathy or apology from her, which I thought was really off, and she was all 'well, you're just going to have to take it up with the people who run the group, because it's nothing to do with me'.

I was already in a foul mood, but that took the biscuit. 10am and I'm soaked and fuming already. *sigh*

It is July - still a good week away from August. How comes it, then, that a traipse around the high street found a grand total of one pair of girl's size 5 sandals, and they were very expensive and really, really ugly? Couldn't bring myself to buy them, even though the nice Clark's man had done the measuring - they really were horrible and it's too hot for Autumn shoes. Bought a little pair of Converse style ballet pumps as Madam's summer shoes instead. £3.50 in the Next Sale! Woo!

I then proceeded to attempt M&S for sandals and ended up having a brain fail of much magnitude. There is one lift in M&S. I've used it several times before. It very clearly tells you what floor you're on. I had to go from the 2nd floor to the ground floor to get out. I get in the lift and press the ground floor level. Lift goes down. I put headphones in. Lift stops, two old dears get in, I get out, walk around in the direction of the exit. I suddenly realise I am amongst not the food hall of the ground floor, but the big knickers of the 1st. Cursing my stupidity, I turn around and call the lift again. There are already two people it it when it arrives, going to the 2nd floor. I ride with them to the 2nd floor, they get off, I hit the 'ground floor' button again and chat to Vi about getting it right this time. Lift goes down. Lift stops. Doors open, no one in waiting to get in. Still chatting to Vi, I walk out, take a few steps out and only realise I'm back on the fucking 1st floor again once the lift has gone again. At this point I'm positive that I'm being toyed with, like a character in a psychadelic 60s drama, or a tripping-out Daffy Duck. This isn't what is actually happening. What is actually happening is that I'm an idiot. I turn around and call the lift yet again, only to find it going up to the 2nd floor for a third time. Somebody gets on and wants to go to... yeah! The first floor! Woo! I am so very sick of the first floor by now, and it worries me that it took quite so much concentration on my part not to get off there yet another time, but to stay on instead to reach the fabled Ground Floor. Took about ten minutes to get out of a bloody shop. Eejit.

And then in Sainsburys I managed to get stuck behind a woman who insisted on packing her own shopping bags, which she did at the speed. Of. Mantle. And then realised she had to pay, which she did just as slowly, then stood for a while staring at her receipt while I rolled my eyes, Passive Aggressively.

Beautiful day today, though! I nearly made myself pass out blowing up Vi's paddling pool this afternoon and she had a good old splish about in the garden.

I suddenly had a weird flashback this evening, remembering Fun Filofaxes. I do believe that I had one. Why? Why the fuck did a little kid have a filofax, with pages full of useful information like Canadian National Holidays, the British Monarchs since William the Conquerer and a map of the London Underground? I have an abiding memory of Blue Peter teaching us how to make one out of flocked wallpaper or some Godawful 80s shit pretty much every week. Seriously - can anyone explain to me why we were supposed to all find these so very invaluable? Or were we all just emulating the contemptable honking adults who carried one, in which case I might have to invent a time machine, go back to the late 80s and give my 9-year-old self a smack.

EDIT - that's a good emoticon of Eric for 'Hot'! Look at that Bicep! Aah, the artists liked to spoil us ladies every once in a blue moon...

Is Empire Online the world's shittest, slowest, most annoying website?

Is "Sinking into the enormous king-sized bed in his room at the Luxor casino and hotel, he gave fervent thanks for Colin's inherent tightness" the best opening sentence of a chapter you've ever heard? (and it's not what you're all thinking - Beth, you're a genius!)

Is Ted Dansin'?

Was I right in getting loudly Passive Aggressive with the M&S Hags who entirely blocked the doorway shaking off their brollies while they could see me trying to get in and getting drenched in the process? (I loudly said to Vi 'Oh for the love of God, we'll just stand here and soak, shall we?' while stomping over to the other set of doors. Hubs said I should have just barged through since 'there's nothing worse than passive Aggression')

What does the sun look like, again? I have not a clue, it's been dark grey (occasionally, worryingly actually dark green. No Alien invasion yet... that I know of...) and pissing down all day. My hair is still wet and everything. It is June and we're all wearing jumpers. What is all that about, eh?

Any answers to any of these, please do let me know.

1 - at what point, exactly, did Playboy's Marketing Team sit down and say; 'You know what bracket we're missing out on selling to? Children. As a soft porn publication, don't you think that we're missing out on a lot of potential revenue from the under-16s. Not little boys, obviously, there's a wealth of porn on the internet now, why would they bother buying the magazine. No, we're talking about little girls. If sexuality - or, more importantly, pornography's image of sexuality - is pushed enough to little girls, and they're made to feel that becoming a porn star, stripper or glamour model is not only a genuine aspiration for a child, but the only valid aspiration there is, imagine how many pencil tins, school bags and academic year diaries we'll be able to flog with our brand attached! Somebody call the printer's and tell them to start making up Playboy Bunny TShirts for 11 year olds right this minute, before somebody notices that it's actually a completely fucked up concept.'

2 - why do some blokes think that touching his girlfriend's buttock in public is not enough and actually walk around with their middle finger parting their partner's bumcrack and practically inserting said digit into her nether eye, through her jeans? I'm all for a sly bit of botty-squeezing, it's rather sweet and fun to do, since Hubs has a very nice bottom, but this crosses the line from a cheeky pat on the rump to full-on, very public anal goosing. And I can never look away! It's like a car wreck. A bizarre high street car wreck where a couple are merrily ignoring the fact that the man has his finger on the woman's bumhole and seem to expect everyone else to do the same.

That is all. Feeling a bit hormonal and crotchety, as you've probably guessed!

Memo to self: never, ever attempt to sell anything on eBay ever again. Partially because I've now put up 6 garments and only sold 2, both at the starting bid price of ninety-nine-pee, but mostly because it means going into the FUCKING POST OFFICE! Queued for 20 mins to post off my sale, which, if I was getting a fiver for it, I'd be OK with, but since once eBay and Paypal have taken their cut I'm going to all of this hassle for about 60p, it's really not worth it. Oxfam shall be getting my cast-offs again in the future. They are out of the doghouse once more, in spite of their weird new ad campaign that looks like it's for TSB.

Also on the irritating front, iChoons still doesn't have the latest episode of Lost to download. Me Wanty! They tempt me in by offering the first 8 eppies, and now what? Hmm?

Also, there was another annoying woman at Sing & Sign today, taking (albeit noisy) toys off Vi and ignoring her own brat pushing all the other kids over. Really put Hubs' back up in full Protective Father mode, and rather irritated me too.

However, Greaves was down today! He listened patiently as I sang renditions of 'Close friends get to call him J.G, he'll invite himself round to tea' (to the tune of 'Top Cat'), called me a fucking bitch whore slag*, the usual banter, ate our food and whatnot. Bought us Brownies and nicecream, though. Nyum nyum! I introduced him to the modern phenomenon that is Lolcats, and he asked why all the captions were spelled wrong. We discussed the merits of his getting a virgin girlfriend to 'break her in' and, were a man to have a penis that was 8 inches long flaccid but only 3 erect, whether it would become really thick in its excited state or whether all the flesh be redispersed and go to his nipples.* He talked me through his critical opinion of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Again. Happy Days.

* Only when the babe was a-kip, though. Greaves, Hubs and I do have a tendency for our humour to gravitate towards the peurile and offensive when we're together, but he is a thrice-over uncle and actually very good with kiddiwinks.

And Hubby has had his hair cut. I hate it when he does that. It means there's less of him to love :(

This http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/lancashire/7316601.stm is so horrible. I think I'm more appalled by it than most hate crimes I hear about because it's violence that has been levelled at a group in which I have friends and sympathies. (As well as the shock factor, I suppose... perhaps the usual Race, Faith and Sex based attacks have become so regular that I'd become desensitised to them) I have never been a Goth, although as a teenager I was what I describe as Goth-Lite... a lot of black and purple, black nail varnish, lots of eyeliner and so on. I had loads of Gothy mates and we'd all go down to Rock City together on Student Night and Rock Night. I have never known a nasty Goth. I've known a lot of really big Gothy blokes - 6 foot brick shithouses... occasionally Transvestites to boot... and they've all been teddy bears. And they get so much stick you wouldn't believe it. One of the worst things about this case seems to be that the scumbag cunt teenagers' useless fucking parents seemed to think, when their sons were being interviewed for horribly mauling an innocent woman to death because of what she looked like, that it was all a bit of a laugh. I'm not sure whether that's just because they're animals or because our society seriously needs to get a grasp of the basic concept of civilisation that just because somebody doesn't look and act exactly the same as you doesn't make them any less worthy of walking down the street in peace than you are. Unfortunately, I still don't think we've Got that one.

(On a lighter, but equally important note, I have solved the problem of my fally-down jeans by purchasing a nice pink belt from H&M. Hooray for moi.)

Oh God.

Violet, Sis and I have had our first encounter with an Obnoxious Parent. We went to playgym this morning... now I'm actually a little too cautious when it comes to Vi playing. I try to follow the other mums' leads and take a step back to let her play a little free-er, but I'm often to be found hovering around her, especially when she decides she wants a go on the trikes. She still just likes to push them around, and is often quite interested in trikes other kiddies are already riding. She's had fun in the past pushing older kids on their trikes/pushcars for a couple of minutes, half the time the toddlers think Vi wants to push them off and ride the trike herself, and tell her to go away, or try to push her away, in which case i swiftly intervene, take her away from the other kid and find a trike nobody's using for her to play with. After a wee while with the trikes today I tried to lead her off somewhere else but she decided she wanted to go back for a second go... went to the nearest trike that a girl of about 2 was standing next to, contemplating getting on. Vi put her hands on the trike and the kid grabbed Vi. I thought the kid was getting annoyed, but then she seemed quite happy, calling 'baby, baby...' The kid's mother (I assume) then pulls Violet's hands off the trike. I was a bit taken aback, to be honest, too surprised to say anything. The woman then swiftly scooped the child up and went somewhere else so the moment had passed anyway. I was about to make a comment to Sis that 'apparently the trike had that kid's name on it' when Sis (who had been closer) told me that apparently this Bitch had told her to 'keep that baby out of the way'. Fucking Whore! Is it her kid's fucking gym? Has she ever heard of sharing? Has she ever heard of fucking PLAYING? God forbid her precious brat be forced to interact with another child in a PUBLIC PLACE! I pity that kid, with such an overbearing, rude, paranoid bitch of a mother, she'll probably grow up thinking she deserves to have everything she wants right now and that all other human beings are just in her way.

Ugly Cunt of a woman, by the way. Fuck knows how she tricked some thick bloke into slinging his beans up her in the first place, because Christ knows she doesn't have a Lovely Personality to make up for it.

Apart from that, Sis and I have had a lovely day. Vi is doing new stuff all the time at the moment. Did I mention she's walking loads by herself now? And saying 'gone' and doing a cute palms-up shrug when she throws/drops/eats/hides something? She also barks if you ask her what a doggie says and pats her belly if you ask her where her tum-tum is!

Spotted this morning on my way to sing & sign - a baby girl about Vi's age with big Hoop Earrings.

At the risk of sounding like a massive snob: FUCKING EURGH!
A, I think babies look awful with earrings - their little faces are so pure and perfect, why the Hell would you want to adorn them with cheap Argos bling?
B, Part of the reason that I think babies with piercings look totally wrong is that I associate it with, if not adulthood, then adolescance at least. It's the imposition of an adult accessory upon a very young child and it just looks weird.
C, I hate taking Vi to have her injections, but they're neccesary. Piercing might not hurt much but it still hurts a bit, why the fuck would you do that to your kid for aesthetic reasons?
D, Yes it's small, and yes it's not neccesarily permanent, but a piercing is still a body modification - to do that unnecessarily to somebody without their consent just because you think it looks cute should be illegal.
E, Even in the light of all these things, little stud earrings are one thing, fuck-off hoops are another. I have a one-year-old, and I know how much she likes to pull at and chew anything to hand - buttons, zips, ears, hair and definately jewellery. I've lost one necklace to her grabby hands, and the various friends and rellies who give Violet cuddles tend to have the common sense not to wear big earrings themselves when they do so for fear of getting one ripped out. Plus - toddlers fall. All the time. I hate to think of some poor brat having a tumble and catching her enforced tat on something on the way down. Eurgh.

I must pull myself out of this Middle-Class red mist, but really, Pikeys have been doing my nut all day. There was another bloke making a big noisy, aggressive thing about bombing down the footpath to Sainsburys on his bike (how much did I want to grab it and fling it in the canal?) and another gaggle lolloping down my street, Pit Bull in tow, stoned and swearing every other word at, like, 4 in the afternoon. Raaaaarrr. I need to get myself down to M&S to remind myself that posh people can be obnoxious cunts too.

Mind you, M&S can't make pants sturdy enough to support Paxo's Penis any more (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/7199696.stm) so should I really trust their over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders?

I can't stop singing 'On The Good Ship Lollipop' for some reason.

Oh, and I got some ST:TNG DVDs today! (Season 6... I've decided to start almost at the end... it's a very good place to start) Oh, the memories! The stilted fight choreography! The shaky camera whenever they're hit! The yellow shirt wearing redshirts! Deanna Troi's crazy accent! Watched one this morning with the Borg and Lore in. I like Lore, firstly because Data's obviously having so much fun playing him and secondly because sarcastic androids are always fun.