Sitting in the calmness of a wee coffee shop sipping a latte is great for me, no smoking cravings or anything, just me some coffee and a garibaldi biscuit.
That was until a glossy dark haired woman in a fancy leather jacket came over to me holding up a laminated card that said “I am from Romania, I am poor please give me money to feed my kids”
She had a designer handbag and smart heavy leather winter boots. I know this woman; she is always in and out of a big BMW car that cruises up and down the West End where I live. Then I recalled how I know her, she is part of the gang of beggars that work the west end and have been photographed and targeted as fraudsters.
She thrust the card under my nose again and looked at me with a nonchalant glance.
I stood up and shouted at the coffee counter staff “Excuse me are professional beggars supposed to be in here to annoy us” Remember I have Beggars and Thieves…
stopped smoking and am not easily negotiated at most times anyway.
The young waitress shook her head and pointed at the door.
At that moment a woman in a bright red head scarf sitting behind me said loudly “That’s awful, the woman is trying to feed her kids”
“Really?” I snapped “Outside is a BMW waiting to pick her and the other two girls that go round the shops and pubs begging, do you have a fucking BMW waiting on you outside?” I asked.
The Romanian woman butted in “It’s not a BMW it’s an old Mercedes”
“And she can fucking speak English, so the laminated card is defunct” I shouted.
The Romanian woman sneered and turned her back to me and carried on going round the café.
“Well” said the posh red scarved woman “Maybe she is forced to beg and the men are holding her hostage”
“Ok, you call the police then if you believe that” I shouted and saw the Romanian woman give me the finger then leave the café.
The red scarf woman, two waitresses’s and myself rushed to the window to see the Romanian woman get into a big blue Mercedes car and speed off, I stood smugly and pointed at them saying
“My niece lives on a minimum wage, she doesn’t claim benefits and for two days a week due to the low wages of her husband she cannot afford gas to heat her water, if she came in here with two wee Scottish babies and begged for gas money you would shout at her to go get a job, yet a well dressed Romanian manages to get her car repayments from a middle classed guilt ridden mung bean -salad - eating Lefty, aint the world fucked up?”
The people in the café pretended I wasn’t there and they all went back to drinking posh coffee as the Romanian Begging gang drove up further into the West End where posh people feel guilty enough to help fake beggars and poor Scottish people are scared to complain incase it looks like racism.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Saturday in Glasgow…
Last night I was dreaming that a huge tidal wave flooded my home and I was carried away on a giant gulf of water. The dream was so scary and I woke up terrified, then strangely when Ashley came into the living room she said “Mum I dreamt a Tsunami came and drowned us” that freaked me out, we both had the same dream. What does that mean? I don’t know.
Today I got ready and headed off to the Mitchell Theatre and did a talk on my autobiography. I was onstage with Ian Pattison, the famous Scottish writer; we were taking part in Aye Write –the Glasgow Writers Festival.
It was lovely to see people come along and chat about the book, I read some passages out and then they asked questions. I loved it.
I wish I had something more to tell you, but I have still kept off the fags and am grumpy and I think I may be eating my weight in chocolate.
Today I got ready and headed off to the Mitchell Theatre and did a talk on my autobiography. I was onstage with Ian Pattison, the famous Scottish writer; we were taking part in Aye Write –the Glasgow Writers Festival.
It was lovely to see people come along and chat about the book, I read some passages out and then they asked questions. I loved it.
I wish I had something more to tell you, but I have still kept off the fags and am grumpy and I think I may be eating my weight in chocolate.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
It always happens on buses…
I sat on the bumpy bus going to see my niece Ann Margaret today.
Everything was fine, baby Abi was funny. She told me she killed her pet mouse because ‘She standed on it’ then she told me her hamster died because it ‘had a cold and embarrassment’ I knew that no rodent could die of shame, so we concluded that ‘embarrassment’ was actually the word for ‘Exhaustion’ in Abi’s wee head. Funny!
Late afternoon came and I jumped on the bus home.
As usual there was a crazy man behind me on the bus. I could hear him practically breathe on my neck as he leaned close, then I heard him whisper ‘Fuck you’.
At first I thought he was on a mobile phone. Then I realised he was actually whispering to me.
I looked across the bus aisle and there was a drunken man in big metal crutches looking at the neck whisperer behind me. The bus was full of fucking nutters.
I leaned round and faced the breather behind me and said “Did you just say ‘fuck you’ into my ear a minute ago?”
The dark haired shifty eyes man looked down and said “No”
The one thing nutters hate is confrontation and I LOVE doing that.
I turned back round and immediately he leaned over and whispered again “Fuck you”
This time I snapped round in my seat and said “Yes you did, you just said it again”
The man in crutches across the aisle said “I saw him saying it and he was near your neck”
The whispery man just dipped his head down. The man in crutches stood up and shouted “I will stick this crutch up your arse if you don’t stop annoying that woman you weird fucker”
At this the bus bumped, crutches man almost fell and the bus driver shouted “What the fucks going on back there?”
The driver wasn’t worried about trouble, I think he felt left out, so I stood up and shouted “Ok the man behind me keeps whispering ‘fuck you’ into my neck, he denied it when I asked him and then this man with crutches saw him do it and he said he will stick his crutch up that whispery mans arse” I sat back down having been confident that my news bulletin reached the drivers satisfaction.
Then the whispery man leaned towards me and the crutches man leaned over and whacked him on the leg with a thin metal crutch and screamed “Don’t fucking whisper sweary words to that woman ya cunt”
“What’s happening now?” shouted the driver.
I stood up and shouted “Well the whispery man did try to do it again and the man in crutches hit him with his metal crutch and everyone back here is watching it” I sat back down.
Other passengers on the bus tried hard to look way and pretend they weren’t part of this ensemble. I love it when people get too embarrassed to deal with a public situation….makes me giggle.
Crutches man growled at the whispery man and they all sat and stared at each other as I kept relaying the scene to the driver.
Then I got off at the Underground station.
I don’t know what happened next as crutches man and whispery man both got off and went separate ways at the same bus stop as me.
The tube ride went without incident…that was sad!
Everything was fine, baby Abi was funny. She told me she killed her pet mouse because ‘She standed on it’ then she told me her hamster died because it ‘had a cold and embarrassment’ I knew that no rodent could die of shame, so we concluded that ‘embarrassment’ was actually the word for ‘Exhaustion’ in Abi’s wee head. Funny!
Late afternoon came and I jumped on the bus home.
As usual there was a crazy man behind me on the bus. I could hear him practically breathe on my neck as he leaned close, then I heard him whisper ‘Fuck you’.
At first I thought he was on a mobile phone. Then I realised he was actually whispering to me.
I looked across the bus aisle and there was a drunken man in big metal crutches looking at the neck whisperer behind me. The bus was full of fucking nutters.
I leaned round and faced the breather behind me and said “Did you just say ‘fuck you’ into my ear a minute ago?”
The dark haired shifty eyes man looked down and said “No”
The one thing nutters hate is confrontation and I LOVE doing that.
I turned back round and immediately he leaned over and whispered again “Fuck you”
This time I snapped round in my seat and said “Yes you did, you just said it again”
The man in crutches across the aisle said “I saw him saying it and he was near your neck”
The whispery man just dipped his head down. The man in crutches stood up and shouted “I will stick this crutch up your arse if you don’t stop annoying that woman you weird fucker”
At this the bus bumped, crutches man almost fell and the bus driver shouted “What the fucks going on back there?”
The driver wasn’t worried about trouble, I think he felt left out, so I stood up and shouted “Ok the man behind me keeps whispering ‘fuck you’ into my neck, he denied it when I asked him and then this man with crutches saw him do it and he said he will stick his crutch up that whispery mans arse” I sat back down having been confident that my news bulletin reached the drivers satisfaction.
Then the whispery man leaned towards me and the crutches man leaned over and whacked him on the leg with a thin metal crutch and screamed “Don’t fucking whisper sweary words to that woman ya cunt”
“What’s happening now?” shouted the driver.
I stood up and shouted “Well the whispery man did try to do it again and the man in crutches hit him with his metal crutch and everyone back here is watching it” I sat back down.
Other passengers on the bus tried hard to look way and pretend they weren’t part of this ensemble. I love it when people get too embarrassed to deal with a public situation….makes me giggle.
Crutches man growled at the whispery man and they all sat and stared at each other as I kept relaying the scene to the driver.
Then I got off at the Underground station.
I don’t know what happened next as crutches man and whispery man both got off and went separate ways at the same bus stop as me.
The tube ride went without incident…that was sad!
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Janey’s weird world…
I have had a really sore tummy and slept last night with a hot water bottle. I woke up this morning and stood on the cold wobbly-ness of the water bottle that had fallen on the floor and screamed.
I was half asleep and it felt like standing on a dead toddler’s cold belly beside my bed, and trust me with my nightmares that could be possible.
I am into day 3 of no smoking and it feels good-ish.
I have stopped before for almost a year! Ashley has stopped also but we both are actually ill, she has a throat and ear infection and I am suffering the worst period pains and womb cramps since an Australian midwife stuck two big metal spoons up my vag and pulled out a child.
So I am hoping we both feel better soon.
I met an old pal yesterday and she had stopped smoking two years but she was so fat as she had gained three stones in weight…holy Fuck…I hope I don’t swap fags for pies?
I was half asleep and it felt like standing on a dead toddler’s cold belly beside my bed, and trust me with my nightmares that could be possible.
I am into day 3 of no smoking and it feels good-ish.
I have stopped before for almost a year! Ashley has stopped also but we both are actually ill, she has a throat and ear infection and I am suffering the worst period pains and womb cramps since an Australian midwife stuck two big metal spoons up my vag and pulled out a child.
So I am hoping we both feel better soon.
I met an old pal yesterday and she had stopped smoking two years but she was so fat as she had gained three stones in weight…holy Fuck…I hope I don’t swap fags for pies?
Monday, February 19, 2007
No More Smoking
You wake up and know you can do it
Your body twitches but you stay strong
Everything everyone says makes you grind your teeth
You gnash your back teeth till they hurt
Every cup of tea reminds you that something is missing
You are missing a fag
You sit down in the bar and you know you can do it
Your fingers itch and feel empty
Your drink tastes funny without a gulp of smoke
Everyone talks shite as you focus on your hands
People smile and congratulate you for avoiding cancer
You are missing a fag
I woke up today and smiled
I didn’t have to run to the cupboard to check my supply
I don’t have to spend £70 this week on inflammables
I missed the smell and my breath felt good
My husband can’t stop kissing my clean mouth
I am missing a fag!
And it’s great!
Your body twitches but you stay strong
Everything everyone says makes you grind your teeth
You gnash your back teeth till they hurt
Every cup of tea reminds you that something is missing
You are missing a fag
You sit down in the bar and you know you can do it
Your fingers itch and feel empty
Your drink tastes funny without a gulp of smoke
Everyone talks shite as you focus on your hands
People smile and congratulate you for avoiding cancer
You are missing a fag
I woke up today and smiled
I didn’t have to run to the cupboard to check my supply
I don’t have to spend £70 this week on inflammables
I missed the smell and my breath felt good
My husband can’t stop kissing my clean mouth
I am missing a fag!
And it’s great!
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Yet Again I am late!
Sorry for being so damn crap at the blog lately. Just to keep you updated, I am in London. I flew here yesterday to do the radio thing.
The radio thing happened this morning; it was BBC Radio 4 Fi Glover Saturday Morning live!
The show is awesome but it did start at 9am, which meant I had to get up at 7am and get ready for the cab.
Now I am staying in Point West flats, they are situated behind the main houses in Cromwell road, now the problem there is…Point West claims to be ON Cromwell Road but its not really…the people who made this building decided that’s where it will be placed and the address will be Cromwell Road …and taxi cabs can never find it. Despite being a huge building, it’s hidden by the huge houses ON the Cromwell road. You can see the problem here cant you?
So I had to call the BBC driver and locate him, negotiate my way to HIM as he would have needed to seen through brick like Superman to find me.
I do love the flat, it is beautiful…I mean stunningly beautiful but even inside this huge block we have problems.
For a start if you are on the 4th floor, you have to take the main lift to floor 3 then walk right round the floor and take a single lift up to floor 4!
That’s not too confusing is it? Except all the halls look identical, all the doors are uniform and there are six banks of elevators and three sets of single lifts!
It’s like Narnia once you are in here. You can get lost for days.
Last night a young journalist came to the flat to interview me and got lost inside the place until I had to go find him, the poor guy was running round hopping on lift after lift and going up and down floors like a hyperactive child. I had to give him tea to calm him down before the interview.
My best mate Monica and I went out last night to Groucho, we ate some chips, had a few drinks and went upstairs and played some snooker…well I say snooker…I am too small to play it and the table was huge so we just potted balls for a while.
That was until two guys arrived and we knew we couldn’t be that crap in front of people…so we gave up. Being shit at snooker is only something you can do without an audience.
Back to this morning…O I located the taxi at 8am and made it to broadcasting house in time. The radio show went great and Fi Glover is a wonderfully funny host. I really loved the show.
Just thought I would let you know…my videos on various websites including YouTube have received some funny death threats…apparently you are not allowed to take the piss out of Jade Goody or George Bush!
I don’t care…I love that attention…I mean its not like some Brazilian or crazy American is going to actually come over to the UK to find me…especially if I hide in the flats at Point West…they will take days to track me down and probably get lost in the process!
The radio thing happened this morning; it was BBC Radio 4 Fi Glover Saturday Morning live!
The show is awesome but it did start at 9am, which meant I had to get up at 7am and get ready for the cab.
Now I am staying in Point West flats, they are situated behind the main houses in Cromwell road, now the problem there is…Point West claims to be ON Cromwell Road but its not really…the people who made this building decided that’s where it will be placed and the address will be Cromwell Road …and taxi cabs can never find it. Despite being a huge building, it’s hidden by the huge houses ON the Cromwell road. You can see the problem here cant you?
So I had to call the BBC driver and locate him, negotiate my way to HIM as he would have needed to seen through brick like Superman to find me.
I do love the flat, it is beautiful…I mean stunningly beautiful but even inside this huge block we have problems.
For a start if you are on the 4th floor, you have to take the main lift to floor 3 then walk right round the floor and take a single lift up to floor 4!
That’s not too confusing is it? Except all the halls look identical, all the doors are uniform and there are six banks of elevators and three sets of single lifts!
It’s like Narnia once you are in here. You can get lost for days.
Last night a young journalist came to the flat to interview me and got lost inside the place until I had to go find him, the poor guy was running round hopping on lift after lift and going up and down floors like a hyperactive child. I had to give him tea to calm him down before the interview.
My best mate Monica and I went out last night to Groucho, we ate some chips, had a few drinks and went upstairs and played some snooker…well I say snooker…I am too small to play it and the table was huge so we just potted balls for a while.
That was until two guys arrived and we knew we couldn’t be that crap in front of people…so we gave up. Being shit at snooker is only something you can do without an audience.
Back to this morning…O I located the taxi at 8am and made it to broadcasting house in time. The radio show went great and Fi Glover is a wonderfully funny host. I really loved the show.
Just thought I would let you know…my videos on various websites including YouTube have received some funny death threats…apparently you are not allowed to take the piss out of Jade Goody or George Bush!
I don’t care…I love that attention…I mean its not like some Brazilian or crazy American is going to actually come over to the UK to find me…especially if I hide in the flats at Point West…they will take days to track me down and probably get lost in the process!
Thursday, February 15, 2007
When Bush's Mouth Moves He Lies
When George W opens his funny shaped mouth to talk you know that what comes out is going to be a lie or a word he doesn't understand, fed to him through a sometimes malfunctioning ear piece... Well I say no more, there's an old saying where I come from: Fool me once shame on me, try and fool me again and I'll kick you in the balls.
read more | digg story
read more | digg story
Victoria Beckham Wants Pie
Victoria Beckham has arrived in LA the perfect size zero but now that the fashion industry are beginning to shun these stick women, should Victoria eat some pie?
read more | digg story
read more | digg story
Victoria Beckham’s Talking Boob
Now that Victoria Beckham and Husband David have transferred to LAs Soccer Club; Galaxy, Victoria has set her sites on USA airhead stardom following in the footsteps of Paris Hilton, Kelly Osborne and Nicole Richie.
read more | digg story
read more | digg story
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
The Pain of Childbirth
Top Scottish stand up comic Janey Godley talks about the pain of childbirth. Funny and strong language.
read more | digg story
read more | digg story
My Mammy
Real live stand up from Top Scottish comic Janey Godley. She talks about poverty,shame and abusive teachers. Funny and extremely poignant.
read more | digg story
read more | digg story
Jade Goody gets panned
Here is a satirical comedy video by Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie (Scottish top comedy duo) who do a mock up of CBB 07. Very funny.
read more | digg story
read more | digg story
Monday, February 12, 2007
Time…
I have realised that time is a currency and I have to spend mine wisely.
I seem to spend half my time asleep, in a world of mismatched people and frightening faces that remind of a time that made my soul feel dark.
Why do these dreams haunt me so much?
I am spending too much time alone, refusing to go out. When I do venture out for supplies it’s not a pretty sight.
I am not wearing a bra under my winter anorak, and I am no longer caring that I am wearing trackie bottoms that I wear to bed as I shuffle along to the shops. No make-up on, hair in a tangled ponytail.
I must look like those women who I remember looking at as I walking to the shops years ago, letting themselves go….no longer caring about their skin or hair.
I would mock them to myself and think “Surely a bit of make up or a decent hair brush would make all the difference, I will never let myself go”
I think I have.
I can’t be arsed doing anything right now, except getting onstage.
I am like a junkie waiting on my next hit…a crack whore waiting on her next rock.
I will get dressed nice for a gig, then let myself go tatty till the next time…
It’s all downhill from here….I fear.
Time is a currency and I am running on empty.
I seem to spend half my time asleep, in a world of mismatched people and frightening faces that remind of a time that made my soul feel dark.
Why do these dreams haunt me so much?
I am spending too much time alone, refusing to go out. When I do venture out for supplies it’s not a pretty sight.
I am not wearing a bra under my winter anorak, and I am no longer caring that I am wearing trackie bottoms that I wear to bed as I shuffle along to the shops. No make-up on, hair in a tangled ponytail.
I must look like those women who I remember looking at as I walking to the shops years ago, letting themselves go….no longer caring about their skin or hair.
I would mock them to myself and think “Surely a bit of make up or a decent hair brush would make all the difference, I will never let myself go”
I think I have.
I can’t be arsed doing anything right now, except getting onstage.
I am like a junkie waiting on my next hit…a crack whore waiting on her next rock.
I will get dressed nice for a gig, then let myself go tatty till the next time…
It’s all downhill from here….I fear.
Time is a currency and I am running on empty.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
My Mammy…
I had a great time last night at East Kilbride Arts Centre, it was amazing.
The show sold out!
Loads of people who had come had already read my book and that totally stuns me that people are still reading my autobiography. I am very humbled.
I started talking about my mum; those who know me know that she was murdered in 1982.
When I was telling a really funny story about her I actually started to cry a bit, not terribly noticeable to be honest. I have the video clip here and its very funny trust me I was just emotional slightly when I remembered her face, and the audience can’t really tell.
I really miss her sometimes. My daughter is reaching 21 years old and that was the age I was when my mammy was killed.
I was so numb at the time and actually pretended that my mammy was still alive. This was a huge emotional mistake; I had to face my mammy’s death eventually.
I can’t imagine leaving Ashley behind at that age, to me she is still a baby and we are incredibly close.
I wish I had been that close to my mammy, I often wonder how she felt when she was fighting for her life that dark night she was thrown into the River Clyde.
I torture myself wondering if she lay there in dark injured and flailing till her life slowly ebbed away. We will never know. The police never made much of an effort to charge her killer. Peter was his name, he was her boyfriend and had previously been charged with trying to kill her two years earlier. She thought he would change if she was good to him.
I miss her…if you want you can view the clip here
YouTube My Mammy clip
I am going to sit and watch TV with Ashley today, I love our Saturdays when I am not out of Glasgow. We both lie on the sofa and click through chart shows, films and our favourite TV shows.
I am lucky to still have this time with her and trust me I know that!
The show sold out!
Loads of people who had come had already read my book and that totally stuns me that people are still reading my autobiography. I am very humbled.
I started talking about my mum; those who know me know that she was murdered in 1982.
When I was telling a really funny story about her I actually started to cry a bit, not terribly noticeable to be honest. I have the video clip here and its very funny trust me I was just emotional slightly when I remembered her face, and the audience can’t really tell.
I really miss her sometimes. My daughter is reaching 21 years old and that was the age I was when my mammy was killed.
I was so numb at the time and actually pretended that my mammy was still alive. This was a huge emotional mistake; I had to face my mammy’s death eventually.
I can’t imagine leaving Ashley behind at that age, to me she is still a baby and we are incredibly close.
I wish I had been that close to my mammy, I often wonder how she felt when she was fighting for her life that dark night she was thrown into the River Clyde.
I torture myself wondering if she lay there in dark injured and flailing till her life slowly ebbed away. We will never know. The police never made much of an effort to charge her killer. Peter was his name, he was her boyfriend and had previously been charged with trying to kill her two years earlier. She thought he would change if she was good to him.
I miss her…if you want you can view the clip here
YouTube My Mammy clip
I am going to sit and watch TV with Ashley today, I love our Saturdays when I am not out of Glasgow. We both lie on the sofa and click through chart shows, films and our favourite TV shows.
I am lucky to still have this time with her and trust me I know that!
Friday, February 09, 2007
Baby Abi and I…
My baby niece is three years old and has a vivid imagination, in fact it scares me the stuff she says. Yesterday she told me this story…read on.
Abi- “This story starts in a church; don’t worry as it’s a zombie church. There is me, Grandpa, two Meer cats and baby. The baby is dead. The mummy was sad and took the dead baby home, she gave the Meer cat’s two strawberry jellies and then in the night the dead baby woke up and ate the mummies’ face!”
I sat there with Abi’s mum and we stared at each other in horror….dead babies eating their mummies face? YUK!
Apparently Abi loves Tim Burton stuff, no surprise then!
On another subject…
I am sitting here watching a TV show about teenagers who are addicted to porn. I mean for fucksake who would let their teenagers go on TV admitting an addiction to porn…he is now a target for perverts! He is going to get to 30 years of age and shoot his parents in the head for allowing him to go live on telly and talk about wanking himself to death.
Guess what they did to cure him of his sexual wanking addiction? They handed him over to the church! Yes…of course give him to a priest to help with a sex problem! That will work eh?
Husband told me that when he was a teenager porn to him was flicking to the women’s underwear pages of Kay’s Catalogue, he would spend hours ogling women in their knickers and bra’s!
This hasn’t stopped last week the brochure for Bravissimo Bra’s came through for me; it is a bra company that makes amazing bra’s for big boobed women and he sat there flicking through it saying “mmmm nice boobs!”
Took him back to his teenage years!
Porn can’t be all bad or all good…depends on how you use it in your life, I think every teenage boy and girl possibly go through a stage of misusing porn…though I can’t imagine what misusing porn actually is! I think everyone knows what porn is for; porn can be a good world to get into…unless you are Anna Nichole Smith.
Abi- “This story starts in a church; don’t worry as it’s a zombie church. There is me, Grandpa, two Meer cats and baby. The baby is dead. The mummy was sad and took the dead baby home, she gave the Meer cat’s two strawberry jellies and then in the night the dead baby woke up and ate the mummies’ face!”
I sat there with Abi’s mum and we stared at each other in horror….dead babies eating their mummies face? YUK!
Apparently Abi loves Tim Burton stuff, no surprise then!
On another subject…
I am sitting here watching a TV show about teenagers who are addicted to porn. I mean for fucksake who would let their teenagers go on TV admitting an addiction to porn…he is now a target for perverts! He is going to get to 30 years of age and shoot his parents in the head for allowing him to go live on telly and talk about wanking himself to death.
Guess what they did to cure him of his sexual wanking addiction? They handed him over to the church! Yes…of course give him to a priest to help with a sex problem! That will work eh?
Husband told me that when he was a teenager porn to him was flicking to the women’s underwear pages of Kay’s Catalogue, he would spend hours ogling women in their knickers and bra’s!
This hasn’t stopped last week the brochure for Bravissimo Bra’s came through for me; it is a bra company that makes amazing bra’s for big boobed women and he sat there flicking through it saying “mmmm nice boobs!”
Took him back to his teenage years!
Porn can’t be all bad or all good…depends on how you use it in your life, I think every teenage boy and girl possibly go through a stage of misusing porn…though I can’t imagine what misusing porn actually is! I think everyone knows what porn is for; porn can be a good world to get into…unless you are Anna Nichole Smith.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
My daughter has decided…
So Ashley has decided that her dad and I are too old for sex. She told me yesterday “Mum you and dad are middle aged and you should both give up having sex”.
I am stunned that she has the choice over this, but to be honest she always did in a bizarre way.
When she was a foetus she almost killed me in pregnancy, so therefore sex stopped. When she born she almost ended my life by taking 3 days to come out and I ended up getting 54 stitches in my poonanny… so therefore sex stopped.
Then when she was a toddler and very curious there was no amount of Vaseline on the door handle to keep her out of our bedroom…so therefore sex stopped.
Then when she was a teenager and kept banging about the house, we had no privacy…so therefore sex stopped.
We were kind of looking forward to her getting older so that when she left, we could have sex on the sofa again…but she is still here and she has decided that our sex life has to stop.
So there we have it….we wont stop, in fact we may start to do shouty loud bangy sex just to annoy her. I think that will give her enough psychological problems to keep her in therapy for a few years.
On another note, I was contacted through a website I was on the other day.
A man messaged me to tell me he and his wife (they were scarily ugly and very greasy looking) like ‘cupples’ for sex. They live in Barnsley and have a semi (I think that was a reference to his penis) and they like other cupples to come over for dinner, music and sex. Videos of the event are optional and can be ordered!
The thought of Chunky chicken and chips, Phil Collins and greasy sex with Norma and Norris made be heave.
You have to see this man to understand why I am horrified. Not only does this odd
freakish looking man have a wife (trust me he makes Quasimodo look like George Clooney) together in the picture they make a fucking frightening ‘cupple’ and I cant imagine anything more scary than being stuck in a semi with those two!
Who are these people that think contacting strangers for illicit sexual encounters is a good idea? Do they actually get takers?
I live a very sheltered life and if Ashley has her way it will be more closeted.
I am stunned that she has the choice over this, but to be honest she always did in a bizarre way.
When she was a foetus she almost killed me in pregnancy, so therefore sex stopped. When she born she almost ended my life by taking 3 days to come out and I ended up getting 54 stitches in my poonanny… so therefore sex stopped.
Then when she was a toddler and very curious there was no amount of Vaseline on the door handle to keep her out of our bedroom…so therefore sex stopped.
Then when she was a teenager and kept banging about the house, we had no privacy…so therefore sex stopped.
We were kind of looking forward to her getting older so that when she left, we could have sex on the sofa again…but she is still here and she has decided that our sex life has to stop.
So there we have it….we wont stop, in fact we may start to do shouty loud bangy sex just to annoy her. I think that will give her enough psychological problems to keep her in therapy for a few years.
On another note, I was contacted through a website I was on the other day.
A man messaged me to tell me he and his wife (they were scarily ugly and very greasy looking) like ‘cupples’ for sex. They live in Barnsley and have a semi (I think that was a reference to his penis) and they like other cupples to come over for dinner, music and sex. Videos of the event are optional and can be ordered!
The thought of Chunky chicken and chips, Phil Collins and greasy sex with Norma and Norris made be heave.
You have to see this man to understand why I am horrified. Not only does this odd
freakish looking man have a wife (trust me he makes Quasimodo look like George Clooney) together in the picture they make a fucking frightening ‘cupple’ and I cant imagine anything more scary than being stuck in a semi with those two!
Who are these people that think contacting strangers for illicit sexual encounters is a good idea? Do they actually get takers?
I live a very sheltered life and if Ashley has her way it will be more closeted.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Noisy Sex!
My daughter Ashley and I were laughing as we were recalling the night in a hotel in Auckland where we were staying when I was touring there last year.
We had a lovely hotel suite and one night about 3am the room next door had banging noises that soon woke us up and we immediately recognised the noises as SEX….we giggled.
The sex got so noisy and violent that plates fell from our kitchen shelf!
In the morning, as we left for breakfast we saw the room next door open…..we stood and waited to see the sexy beasts emerge, expecting to see two young fit healthy Kiwi’s, but what did come out of the room was a pair of really OLD MEN!
Ashley and I pissed ourselves laughing…..the two old guys smiled and shuffled towards the lifts.
I can’t even begin to imagine what they had been doing….I just walked on and went for some coffee!
The same thing happened last week when we were in Nottingham in a Holiday Inn.
Some incredibly fit couple woke us up banging fuck out of the wall we shared with our beds. We were separated with some cheap thin plaster and most of our night was taken up with two people who had watched porn and thought the best way to have a good time was to fucking scream their way through sex….I thought a pigeon was being slammed off the walls!
Who are these people?
I don’t have the energy to shout and thrash that much during sex, I am too old and fat!
We had a lovely hotel suite and one night about 3am the room next door had banging noises that soon woke us up and we immediately recognised the noises as SEX….we giggled.
The sex got so noisy and violent that plates fell from our kitchen shelf!
In the morning, as we left for breakfast we saw the room next door open…..we stood and waited to see the sexy beasts emerge, expecting to see two young fit healthy Kiwi’s, but what did come out of the room was a pair of really OLD MEN!
Ashley and I pissed ourselves laughing…..the two old guys smiled and shuffled towards the lifts.
I can’t even begin to imagine what they had been doing….I just walked on and went for some coffee!
The same thing happened last week when we were in Nottingham in a Holiday Inn.
Some incredibly fit couple woke us up banging fuck out of the wall we shared with our beds. We were separated with some cheap thin plaster and most of our night was taken up with two people who had watched porn and thought the best way to have a good time was to fucking scream their way through sex….I thought a pigeon was being slammed off the walls!
Who are these people?
I don’t have the energy to shout and thrash that much during sex, I am too old and fat!
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Nottingham was fun…
I love working away at the weekends, this weekend was Nottingham. The club is fabulous and the place is really cool. As usual the hotel had internet at £6000 a minute…ok that was an exaggeration, it was £15 but that is still extortion as far as I am concerned.
The other downside of the hotel was that I clocked a look at myself in the toilet mirror and saw a huge big fat woman staring back, so I am on a diet AGAIN…yes again…I hear you say…well honestly I am FAT.
I am at that stage where I am not fat enough to be pointed at in the street- yet not thin enough to wear jeans without feeling as though some medieval sexual torture is being inflicted on me.
Nottingham has apparently a huge gun crime scene but I saw only lovely people.
Although I did wake up to the horrible news that bird flu is back in the UK…fucking hell…I knew birds would kill me eventually, that’s what I get for kicking pigeons in every UK high street.
I am finally home…it took ages as I stopped off in York. It is absolutely beautiful in York and I was stunned at the wonderful architecture. So amazing is York.
Husband and I pack flasks of tea on our journeys and we do like those two old people at the side of the road having tea sitting on deckchairs like loonies….but we love it.
Oh and I did a pee outside…yes we stopped in a lay-by and I pulled down my fat persons trousers and peed…I was so desperate I had to. No one saw me but a big horse that was standing in a field and I know it was disgusted, but fucksake I had to go.
My daughter is horrified that I just wrote that…so deal with it…I am off to eat less.
The other downside of the hotel was that I clocked a look at myself in the toilet mirror and saw a huge big fat woman staring back, so I am on a diet AGAIN…yes again…I hear you say…well honestly I am FAT.
I am at that stage where I am not fat enough to be pointed at in the street- yet not thin enough to wear jeans without feeling as though some medieval sexual torture is being inflicted on me.
Nottingham has apparently a huge gun crime scene but I saw only lovely people.
Although I did wake up to the horrible news that bird flu is back in the UK…fucking hell…I knew birds would kill me eventually, that’s what I get for kicking pigeons in every UK high street.
I am finally home…it took ages as I stopped off in York. It is absolutely beautiful in York and I was stunned at the wonderful architecture. So amazing is York.
Husband and I pack flasks of tea on our journeys and we do like those two old people at the side of the road having tea sitting on deckchairs like loonies….but we love it.
Oh and I did a pee outside…yes we stopped in a lay-by and I pulled down my fat persons trousers and peed…I was so desperate I had to. No one saw me but a big horse that was standing in a field and I know it was disgusted, but fucksake I had to go.
My daughter is horrified that I just wrote that…so deal with it…I am off to eat less.
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