In my time as an active feminist, many things have confused me about the way people respond to the concept of feminism. A lot of them boil down to: Is anything that diminishes feminism automatically supposed to be funny? I don't understand how a hundred men can think that saying "Go and make me a sandwich" or "You're really ugly" or "Oooh, I have a penis" over and over again is somehow really cool and clever and amusing. I also don't understand why "sammich" is suddenly a word.
A helpful troll explains that "it's fun to annoy you and you just don't understand that." No, troll. What I don't understand is exactly how you intend to annoy me with your endlessly repeated cliches and remarks about your genitalia. Is it simply their presence in what is meant to be a feminist space? Is it the repetition? Or is the content supposed to needle us? I'm genuinely unsure. I'm also curious, in a rhetorical sense, as to why these men feel the need to keep emphasising their dicks. I sort of think it's meant to be threatening, though it comes across more as "it's really small", but it's slightly odd. I also wonder how many of these men would say, if confronted, that they were just being funny and can't you take a joke and humourless feminist and what's next on the overused cliche list, and how many would claim that they were, in fact, making a valid point.
In Jessica's screenshot of youtube comments, I find the one that says: "[D]o you honestly think you are smarter than me? You better have an Iq [sic] above 125, stupid bitch" especially funny. Ooh, 125! That's, like, so huge! I'm not sure if that's the highest IQ he's ever come across or it was just the biggest number he could think of. Either way, the answer is yes, I do, stupid little boy, and the fact that you think 125 is so enormous is really rather adorable.
I have to console myself with the thought that all of these men are right to feel threatened by me. Should the troll brigade, through some strange quirk, actually find this trafficless blog, I will warn them beforehand that any comments like those in the screenshot will be made with either "Go mow my lawn, little boy" or "Hahaha, small penis!" Because the power of the internet does not extend to the education of anonymous morons, and I would prefer to amuse myself rather than waste my time.
Saturday, 31 May 2008
Wednesday, 28 May 2008
Sorry, Another Bishop Post
Oh, for fuck's sake. Now the Anglicans are getting in on it, insisting that Christianity must stick its nose in all over the place or else Muslim state scary terrorists battle against Islam yada yada yada. No, Bishop. People are perfectly capable of functioning without an all-governing religion being forced upon them. We don't need your religion, we don't need their religion, we don't need my religion.
I understand that when faith is such a huge part of your life, you cannot understand other people not feeling it, or not needing it. You probably assume that atheists have a big gaping hole inside them, and having turned aside your prayers for their souls they search in vain for something to make them feel whole. I understand, I do. But it's not true. Music junkies don't believe there can be anyone in this world who doesn't really like music. For my part, I cannot understand people who say they just don't read books. We all have things that are so vital, central to our lives and our beings and our personalities that we have a hard time comprehending that none of these things are essential. I was going to say "Reading really isn't essential", but I can't write that and believe it, although it probably is true. So if you've dedicated your whole life to Christianity, it's probably very hard to believe that not everybody gets their moral guidance from the Bible, and that not everyone feels an intangible ache and emptiness from the abscence of Jesus Christ. It must be almost impossible.
By the way, I use the example of reading and not religion when relating this mindset to myself because in order to find the right path for me I had to separate from what the world told me was spiritually right. It's a silent part of my life, for the most part, and I had to find it through enormous amounts of research and self-questioning. Mostly, though, I choose not to use it as an example because I question it every single day. I will not become one of those people whose beliefs remain rigid merely because that's what she's always believed. If I'm going to grow, I must question. My love of words, however, I have never questioned, not once. Besides my family it was my first love, and I give it at least partial credit for bringing me through some awful times in my life. Paganism, on the other hand, is what I have come out with on the other side - not the lifeline, but the urge to learn to swim. I think that any bishop would credit his religion with having sheltered and strengthened him through the bad times, every knock further solidifying what he knew for sure anyway. This to me is books, not faith.
However. I do not blame society's ills on lack of reading. I might say that lack of education was a factor, just as a bishop may reasonably say that lack of general, not specific, faith, had caused a not-altogether-welcome shift in society. I have yet to find a bishop who advocates any kind of belief as opposed to his (never found a female bishop, either, though I hopefully will soon) very exact faith. This is sort of like me blaming society's troubles on the fact that not everybody went to university and took English.
The bishop in question appears to be arguing that Christianity = Britishness (no, taking the piss = Britishness), that we must use Christianity to "fight" Islam (do we have to "fight" Islam?), that other religions are not adequate substitutes for Christianity (again, I understand, but fuck off), and that Christianity gives us hard principles by which to live as opposed to the governement's vague ones.
I admit to being very amused by this:
"The Bishop of Rochester said Christianity had created a British identity imbued with values such as liberty and freedom of conscience."
followed by this:
"What are needed, he insisted, were the "transcendental principles" of Christianity - the sort of fundamental issues that are raised when people consider what it is to be human, and life and death questions such as abortion, euthanasia and stem-cell research."
So, nothing to do with liberty, in fact. What the fuck is "freedom of conscience" anyway? Especially in this context? It seems to mean "freedom to think what we tell you to think."
I still don't know if there's been an upsurge of bishops and cardinals trying to assert their positions in society or if there's just more being written about it, but even though nothing's likely to come of it, it still drives me absolutely fucking nuts. Why is this news, and why are people listening? Why does it seem like such a threat to me? Don't answer that; I know the reason. In strict hard-line Christian parlance, I am both low and scary and need to have my rights taken away (I am a young Pagan feminist who cherishes her reproductive freedom despite having pretty conservative personal sexual values which means she can't just be dismissed as a slapper, and they have to go back to 'dangerous heretic' which isn't as belittling as they might like).
Note this:
"He is one of three Church of England bishops to back an initiative by a traditionalist Anglican to commit the Church to work explicitly for the conversion of Muslims."
Yup, conversion of Muslims. Assimilation is the goal here. We must not forget.
I understand that when faith is such a huge part of your life, you cannot understand other people not feeling it, or not needing it. You probably assume that atheists have a big gaping hole inside them, and having turned aside your prayers for their souls they search in vain for something to make them feel whole. I understand, I do. But it's not true. Music junkies don't believe there can be anyone in this world who doesn't really like music. For my part, I cannot understand people who say they just don't read books. We all have things that are so vital, central to our lives and our beings and our personalities that we have a hard time comprehending that none of these things are essential. I was going to say "Reading really isn't essential", but I can't write that and believe it, although it probably is true. So if you've dedicated your whole life to Christianity, it's probably very hard to believe that not everybody gets their moral guidance from the Bible, and that not everyone feels an intangible ache and emptiness from the abscence of Jesus Christ. It must be almost impossible.
By the way, I use the example of reading and not religion when relating this mindset to myself because in order to find the right path for me I had to separate from what the world told me was spiritually right. It's a silent part of my life, for the most part, and I had to find it through enormous amounts of research and self-questioning. Mostly, though, I choose not to use it as an example because I question it every single day. I will not become one of those people whose beliefs remain rigid merely because that's what she's always believed. If I'm going to grow, I must question. My love of words, however, I have never questioned, not once. Besides my family it was my first love, and I give it at least partial credit for bringing me through some awful times in my life. Paganism, on the other hand, is what I have come out with on the other side - not the lifeline, but the urge to learn to swim. I think that any bishop would credit his religion with having sheltered and strengthened him through the bad times, every knock further solidifying what he knew for sure anyway. This to me is books, not faith.
However. I do not blame society's ills on lack of reading. I might say that lack of education was a factor, just as a bishop may reasonably say that lack of general, not specific, faith, had caused a not-altogether-welcome shift in society. I have yet to find a bishop who advocates any kind of belief as opposed to his (never found a female bishop, either, though I hopefully will soon) very exact faith. This is sort of like me blaming society's troubles on the fact that not everybody went to university and took English.
The bishop in question appears to be arguing that Christianity = Britishness (no, taking the piss = Britishness), that we must use Christianity to "fight" Islam (do we have to "fight" Islam?), that other religions are not adequate substitutes for Christianity (again, I understand, but fuck off), and that Christianity gives us hard principles by which to live as opposed to the governement's vague ones.
I admit to being very amused by this:
"The Bishop of Rochester said Christianity had created a British identity imbued with values such as liberty and freedom of conscience."
followed by this:
"What are needed, he insisted, were the "transcendental principles" of Christianity - the sort of fundamental issues that are raised when people consider what it is to be human, and life and death questions such as abortion, euthanasia and stem-cell research."
So, nothing to do with liberty, in fact. What the fuck is "freedom of conscience" anyway? Especially in this context? It seems to mean "freedom to think what we tell you to think."
I still don't know if there's been an upsurge of bishops and cardinals trying to assert their positions in society or if there's just more being written about it, but even though nothing's likely to come of it, it still drives me absolutely fucking nuts. Why is this news, and why are people listening? Why does it seem like such a threat to me? Don't answer that; I know the reason. In strict hard-line Christian parlance, I am both low and scary and need to have my rights taken away (I am a young Pagan feminist who cherishes her reproductive freedom despite having pretty conservative personal sexual values which means she can't just be dismissed as a slapper, and they have to go back to 'dangerous heretic' which isn't as belittling as they might like).
Note this:
"He is one of three Church of England bishops to back an initiative by a traditionalist Anglican to commit the Church to work explicitly for the conversion of Muslims."
Yup, conversion of Muslims. Assimilation is the goal here. We must not forget.
Sunday, 25 May 2008
A Eurovision Plot
Terry Wogan might quit Eurovision because it's become entirely about the politics as opposed to the music. Hmmm. I remember watching it when I was younger and complaining that Greece and Cyprus gave each other maximum points for being "great neighbours". And most European countries hate the English. We're resigned to that. We smirk upon Europe from afar, comfortable in our superiority. But we ask ourselves: why do we still bother? If it's so obviously rigged, why don't we excuse ourselves? Others say: it's not rigged, we just send in shit songs.
So I propose: Next year, our entry is Bill Bailey. He's said he's willing (I didn't realise we could have had Morrissey last year, but the BBC told him he'd have to audition alongside Scooch and that pillock from The Darkness). If Bill Bailey doesn't win by a fucking landslide, it's rigged. Everyone, including snotty Eurovision judges, knows that Bill Bailey rules all. If this, ladies and gentlemen, doesn't win Eurovision for us, then nothing will:
So I propose: Next year, our entry is Bill Bailey. He's said he's willing (I didn't realise we could have had Morrissey last year, but the BBC told him he'd have to audition alongside Scooch and that pillock from The Darkness). If Bill Bailey doesn't win by a fucking landslide, it's rigged. Everyone, including snotty Eurovision judges, knows that Bill Bailey rules all. If this, ladies and gentlemen, doesn't win Eurovision for us, then nothing will:
Thursday, 22 May 2008
Please, Think Of The Children
Yay!
Yay!
Gordon Brown has earned himself two points. He voted for the 24-week abortion limit, and he voted to get rid of the heterosexist guff about a child's "need for a father". Well done, Gordon, you impressed me. The Tories, not so much.
First and foremost, I do not understand how, in this day and age, a man like Sir Patrick Cormack can have anything to do with the running of our country. He said: "A child that is deliberately brought into the world with no desire that there should be a man or a woman who is the parent is brought in with a disadvantage." This makes no sense whatsoever, and I sort of hope the BBC did that on purpose because they hate him, but translated into English, it means, "Lesbians shouldn't be parents."
I sincerely hope that David Cameron, a man whom I royally despise but who claims to be leading the charge to modernise his party, will realise that such sentiments are not endearing the Conservatives to the young generation. I seem to be his target voter; a young, white, middle-class woman. Young, white, middle-class women have no truck whatsoever with this sort of insidious gay-bashing. If Cameron ever wishes to win my respect, he must acknowledge that this ridiculous "need for a father" motion tabled by Iain Duncan Smith (the most useless Tory leader ever, and that ought to tell you something) comes out of an out-of-date view of Britain and is representative of his party's subconscious - or, indeed, conscious, in the case of Sir Patrick - bigotries. "Need for supportive parenting" is exactly the correct way to phrase it. When Duncan Smith and his ilk tell us that children who grow up without a father are more likely to go off the rails, they're ignoring a big chunk of the story. I know a lot of people who grew up without fathers, and they're fine. The ones that aren't fine are the ones whose fathers were present and neglectful, or present one day a month. They're the ones who grew up with abuse, casual insulting remarks tossed out to get them to shut up, and not so much as a card or phone call on their birthdays. These are the kids who feel deprived, who feel they've done something wrong to drive Daddy away and end up with no sense of self-worth, or who just can't get Daddy to acknowledge them and end up in deeper and deeper trouble. This is still a generalisation, but it's far more accurate than "single-parent families fuck kids up."
We will keep our 24-week abortion limit, no thanks to Mr Cameron, who voted to lower it by two weeks. Why two weeks? Lord knows. The BBC is careful to point out that all the Catholic Labour ministers voted to lower it to 12. Yeah, fucking 12. Nice one, Ruth Kelly. Someone called Edward Leigh is yacking on about sanctity as though he's a right-wing American pundit, and frankly he is so insignificant that I have nothing else to say about him. Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor turned up in the Times supporting everything I argue against and vice versa, using the phrase "incremental change". Remember this, ye who value your freedom: this two-week-at-a-time knockdown is part of the plan to erode your rights completely. If, God forbid, he should ever get his two-week knockdown, he'll be out there again arguing for another two weeks. And another, and another. Before you know it, we're in Ireland. You could have stayed there, y'know, Murph.
There are numerous things I could say about these votes, but I'll stick, for now, to this one: in general, the people voting to restrict IVF were the people voting to slash the abortion limit. This strikes me as a wee bit illogical. These people insist that it's absolutely vital that a baby has a mother and a father, but if a woman accidentally gets pregnant, the man pisses off and the woman doesn't want it, well, tough. Why isn't it better for a loving same-sex couple, or a single woman who wants a child enough to go to these expensive and invasive lengths, to have their baby than for a frightened, abandoned teenager to be unable to choose not to? I am feeling charitable, and so I'll assume the best. I'll assume that these men (as the vast majority are in the Commons) are loving and devoted parents who cannot imagine their babies being unwanted, who cannot imagine abandoning a woman pregnant with their child, who help to change the nappies and get up in the night and play football and read stories and consider there to be no greater joy than the laughter of their sons and daughters. Excellent. But guys, not all men are you. Some men cannot think of anything worse than having a baby. Some men will panic. Some men aren't ready, and have the luxury that women don't of just fucking off. Some men are just assholes. I know men who, variously, forget their children's birthdays, dump them with someone else on their visitation days, run the other way if they see mother and baby in the street, deny the child's existence to their friends, yell at the child, hit the child, hate the child. I know men who conceived children in wedlock - the Conservative lucky charm - and after divorcing the mother, try as hard as they can never to see the kids again. I'll assume, also, that your wives were delighted to be pregnant, wanted children, were ecstatic over the prospect of giving birth to your little one. Do you, any of you, have any idea what it's like to be pregnant and alone? To take an equal part in an 'accident' for which you alone are now reponsible? Do you have any idea what it's like to have something growing in you and hate it with a vicious passion, while sanctimonious arses like you are going on about the sanctity of life, and how abortions are 'social' and calling that horrible little ball of cells your 'baby'? It's not a fucking baby.
I wish people would stop going on about 'tradition' and lamenting the loss of 'traditional family'. I don't want the kind of tradition that forces women to have babies they don't want, and forces couples to shackle themselves together for eternity because one night has unexpected consequences. Duncan Smith complains that by removing the "need for a father" clause, we undermine the traditional family; well, duh. Some people aren't wired that way, mate. We're not all born traditional. Some people would love to be parents. They would love to devote themselves to raising a child. And if they happen to be a pair of women or a pair of men, so fucking what? When Catholic adoption agencies were trying to get themselves excepted from the "no homophobia" law - to ask for Government-sanctioned bigotry takes some nerve, I must admit - numerous commentators pointed out that Catholic adoption agencies took on the most difficult, unplaceable kids, and the people most likely to adopt one of these kids were gay couples. Instead of taking a lesson from this, the agencies threatened to shut down. To paraphrase Dara O Briain, essentially their stance was: "If you won't let us do what we want, we shall release the children into the wild."
Memo to Britain: The Conservative party is still nursing its bigotries. Please do not forget this next time Cameron starts going on about recycling in modern Britain.
Memo to Conservatives: For the love of God, move on. It's 2008. We can't still be proposing laws that basically say "Gays are weird".
Memo to Murphy-O'Connor: I still hate you, and everything you stand for.
Won't somebody please think of the children?
Yay!
Gordon Brown has earned himself two points. He voted for the 24-week abortion limit, and he voted to get rid of the heterosexist guff about a child's "need for a father". Well done, Gordon, you impressed me. The Tories, not so much.
First and foremost, I do not understand how, in this day and age, a man like Sir Patrick Cormack can have anything to do with the running of our country. He said: "A child that is deliberately brought into the world with no desire that there should be a man or a woman who is the parent is brought in with a disadvantage." This makes no sense whatsoever, and I sort of hope the BBC did that on purpose because they hate him, but translated into English, it means, "Lesbians shouldn't be parents."
I sincerely hope that David Cameron, a man whom I royally despise but who claims to be leading the charge to modernise his party, will realise that such sentiments are not endearing the Conservatives to the young generation. I seem to be his target voter; a young, white, middle-class woman. Young, white, middle-class women have no truck whatsoever with this sort of insidious gay-bashing. If Cameron ever wishes to win my respect, he must acknowledge that this ridiculous "need for a father" motion tabled by Iain Duncan Smith (the most useless Tory leader ever, and that ought to tell you something) comes out of an out-of-date view of Britain and is representative of his party's subconscious - or, indeed, conscious, in the case of Sir Patrick - bigotries. "Need for supportive parenting" is exactly the correct way to phrase it. When Duncan Smith and his ilk tell us that children who grow up without a father are more likely to go off the rails, they're ignoring a big chunk of the story. I know a lot of people who grew up without fathers, and they're fine. The ones that aren't fine are the ones whose fathers were present and neglectful, or present one day a month. They're the ones who grew up with abuse, casual insulting remarks tossed out to get them to shut up, and not so much as a card or phone call on their birthdays. These are the kids who feel deprived, who feel they've done something wrong to drive Daddy away and end up with no sense of self-worth, or who just can't get Daddy to acknowledge them and end up in deeper and deeper trouble. This is still a generalisation, but it's far more accurate than "single-parent families fuck kids up."
We will keep our 24-week abortion limit, no thanks to Mr Cameron, who voted to lower it by two weeks. Why two weeks? Lord knows. The BBC is careful to point out that all the Catholic Labour ministers voted to lower it to 12. Yeah, fucking 12. Nice one, Ruth Kelly. Someone called Edward Leigh is yacking on about sanctity as though he's a right-wing American pundit, and frankly he is so insignificant that I have nothing else to say about him. Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor turned up in the Times supporting everything I argue against and vice versa, using the phrase "incremental change". Remember this, ye who value your freedom: this two-week-at-a-time knockdown is part of the plan to erode your rights completely. If, God forbid, he should ever get his two-week knockdown, he'll be out there again arguing for another two weeks. And another, and another. Before you know it, we're in Ireland. You could have stayed there, y'know, Murph.
There are numerous things I could say about these votes, but I'll stick, for now, to this one: in general, the people voting to restrict IVF were the people voting to slash the abortion limit. This strikes me as a wee bit illogical. These people insist that it's absolutely vital that a baby has a mother and a father, but if a woman accidentally gets pregnant, the man pisses off and the woman doesn't want it, well, tough. Why isn't it better for a loving same-sex couple, or a single woman who wants a child enough to go to these expensive and invasive lengths, to have their baby than for a frightened, abandoned teenager to be unable to choose not to? I am feeling charitable, and so I'll assume the best. I'll assume that these men (as the vast majority are in the Commons) are loving and devoted parents who cannot imagine their babies being unwanted, who cannot imagine abandoning a woman pregnant with their child, who help to change the nappies and get up in the night and play football and read stories and consider there to be no greater joy than the laughter of their sons and daughters. Excellent. But guys, not all men are you. Some men cannot think of anything worse than having a baby. Some men will panic. Some men aren't ready, and have the luxury that women don't of just fucking off. Some men are just assholes. I know men who, variously, forget their children's birthdays, dump them with someone else on their visitation days, run the other way if they see mother and baby in the street, deny the child's existence to their friends, yell at the child, hit the child, hate the child. I know men who conceived children in wedlock - the Conservative lucky charm - and after divorcing the mother, try as hard as they can never to see the kids again. I'll assume, also, that your wives were delighted to be pregnant, wanted children, were ecstatic over the prospect of giving birth to your little one. Do you, any of you, have any idea what it's like to be pregnant and alone? To take an equal part in an 'accident' for which you alone are now reponsible? Do you have any idea what it's like to have something growing in you and hate it with a vicious passion, while sanctimonious arses like you are going on about the sanctity of life, and how abortions are 'social' and calling that horrible little ball of cells your 'baby'? It's not a fucking baby.
I wish people would stop going on about 'tradition' and lamenting the loss of 'traditional family'. I don't want the kind of tradition that forces women to have babies they don't want, and forces couples to shackle themselves together for eternity because one night has unexpected consequences. Duncan Smith complains that by removing the "need for a father" clause, we undermine the traditional family; well, duh. Some people aren't wired that way, mate. We're not all born traditional. Some people would love to be parents. They would love to devote themselves to raising a child. And if they happen to be a pair of women or a pair of men, so fucking what? When Catholic adoption agencies were trying to get themselves excepted from the "no homophobia" law - to ask for Government-sanctioned bigotry takes some nerve, I must admit - numerous commentators pointed out that Catholic adoption agencies took on the most difficult, unplaceable kids, and the people most likely to adopt one of these kids were gay couples. Instead of taking a lesson from this, the agencies threatened to shut down. To paraphrase Dara O Briain, essentially their stance was: "If you won't let us do what we want, we shall release the children into the wild."
Memo to Britain: The Conservative party is still nursing its bigotries. Please do not forget this next time Cameron starts going on about recycling in modern Britain.
Memo to Conservatives: For the love of God, move on. It's 2008. We can't still be proposing laws that basically say "Gays are weird".
Memo to Murphy-O'Connor: I still hate you, and everything you stand for.
Won't somebody please think of the children?
Monday, 19 May 2008
In The Stocks: Self-Destructives and Uppity Bitches
The BBC posts an interesting article about the disproportionate hatred for celebrity women. In a poll, four out of the five most hated celebrities were female, and the man was Simon Cowell, who also appears on the "Most Loved" list, along with four other men. Just as an aside, Gary Lineker? Really?
The British, the poll concludes, love Paul McCartney and hate Heather Mills. We love David Beckham and hate Victoria Beckham. The article doesn't comment on this, but it seems a little weird to me. It's almost as though we pick our national treasures and then unleash hate on their wives. It never seems to happen the other way round - the only times we've come close, oddly enough, are with the other two women on the list. When Brian McFadden of awful Irish boyband Westlife left Kerry Katona of awful English girl band Atomic Kitten, we hated him. Boy, did we hate him, and his new girlfriend too. We hated him so much that he's buggered off out of the country. We were right to hate him, too, I think. I don't trust any man who compares having children with his ex to "having a dog we weren't ready for" (they'll read it, you asshole!), or who bashes the mother of his children to journalists and threatens in the national press to sue for custody then does jack shit about it. I think Brian McFadden is an odious piece of crap. But now that he's off in Australia or America or wherever and most people have forgotten about him, we've decided to hate her instead. We claim it's because she's behaving like an unfit mother, smoking and drinking, taking drugs (or so the delightful Mr McFadden informs us), and generally behaving like - hmmmm - someone who's not very well. Kerry Katona, back in the dark ages, was one of the most popular women in the country. She'd just split up from a man who slept with a lap dancer on his stag night, she'd just won an appalling but highly-rated reality show, and she was down-to-earth and Northern and smiley. We just loved her. She won Mother of the Year twice, and got the Iceland ads on the strength of her being a recognisable symbol for good parenting. My unofficial theory is that when she began to break down, we felt betrayed. How dare she not be the perfect mother? We gave her an award! We were proud of her for moving on from her nasty ex, and we expected to see a marked improvement in her future choice of partner. When she yet again opted for a loser - or someone represented to us by the press as a loser - we got impatient. When we heard that she was smoking while pregnant, we got mad. We're not having that, Kerry! We don't care what your problems are, you're a damn role model! Act like one!
Everything she does is now fair game for bile and ridicule. I can't imagine that she's still working with Iceland, but nevertheless she's still attacked for it. She is, or was, advertising insufficiently healthy food to the nation. How dare she? Whether you choose to attack her on a serious level or just make eight hundred jokes about lard, you're perfectly entitled to do so. I mean, it's her fault, isn't it? When she was subject to robbery at knifepoint in her own house, we took the piss. Relentlessly. Not a word of sympathy for her. And it's her fault, of course, because she let us down.
Amy Winehouse follows a similar pattern. When she really came to our attention with the release of her second album, we fell in love with her, bonkers beehive hair and all. So talented! Such a songwriter! Such a voice! Gather round, boys and girls, this is real music. We thought Simon Cowell had done away with actual musical talent. We were impressed. And then Amy, too, turned out not be perfect. A lot of pop stars like a drink, but Amy was old school and turned up drunk on Never Mind the Buzzcocks. I know people who went off her then, because her speaking voice was annoying and she was all uncouth and spat. Spat! On TV! Then she picked her unsuitable man, and all the drug-taking palaver unleashed itself upon us. And we blamed him. He was a useless smug little man who didn't appear to have a job of any description. Ditch him, Amy, we urged, but instead, she married him. And I think that's when the backlash started. Amy Winehouse's husband is currently awaiting trial for GBH or perverting the course of justice or both, depending on which reports you believe. Her parents blame him for getting her onto hard drugs. He has reportedly refused to go to rehab with her, saying instead, "You can go if you want to," which is classic manipulator's language if I ever heard it. Maybe it was never right to put all the blame on him, but no way in hell can it be right to put all the blame on her. She's self-destructing and needs help, which is NOT a hanging offence, but we blame her because she let us down too. She was our great white hope of British music and shouldn't expect to be allowed flaws and issues too. The day after Heath Ledger's death, I read five separate blogs (all male authors, incidentally) who screeched, "If someone was going to die, why not Amy Winehouse?" That, my friends, is not normal.
A commenter on that article claimed he could understand the hatred for all of them except Winehouse, who is talented. But we don't hate people for being untalented. As I said, we used to love Kerry Katona, and even when she had a singing career we all knew she wasn't any good. We used to love Posh too, and her singing ability hasn't deteriorated to any great extent. I've felt stung into becoming a Posh fan. She may look like Self-Tan Barbie but so fucking what? The reason people hate her and Heather Mills is because they married people the public have decided are too good for them. These women are up themselves. We can't have that. Amy and Kerry married below them and allowed themselves to get screwed up, we hate them for that. Victoria and Heather married above them and made a lot of money, and we hate them for that.
It's a terrible mistake to marry a Beatle. The press and public will hate you for it. They hate Heather now the way they hated Yoko then, and the way they've conveniently forgotten they treated Linda. Oh, she may be a veggie-burger-making saint now, but back then she was a damn outrage. How can she have the nerve, we asked. She must be a gold-digger. Only by being silent and supportive and staying at home and finally dying of breast cancer did she win our love, and turn into what might as well be a fictional character. Carole Malone in the Sunday Mirror wrote, in a short article that Google is currently refusing to turn up, that it's understandable that we hate Heather when we've been used to the wonderful Linda. She then went on to say (in what I was convinced would turn out to be a parody) that Linda stayed at home like a good wife and mother, supported Sir Paul and raised children. Bless her. Not like this bitch, with ambitions and other such shit that has no place in a woman's brain. This is a charming piece of revisionist history that beyond the appalling misogyny the woman is spewing, shows that we think we get to decide who is good enough for our heroes. If a man picks a woman we think is beneath him, we turn on that woman. If a woman picks a man who is beneath her, we wait five minutes then turn on the woman. Again.
Notice, if you will, that the McCartney divorce is perceived to be entirely, 100% Heather's fault. If Paul gets any flack, it's for being "a naive old man", caught by the surreptitious and scheming wiles of a predator. Notice, if you will, that when the story of Beckham's affair broke, he was the only one who got no flack at all. The mistress got a decent dose, and Posh got the rest. Ian Hislop, who is not normally my first point of reference on feminist issues, remarked on how weird it was: "God, her husband's cheated on her! What a cow! She's been humiliated publicly! Bitch!" If he cheated it was her damn fault and there's no use her crying about it now. The press waits breathlessly to this day for them to split up, even though they seem to have put it behind them and are moving on quite happily. Neither of these women get any points for being a mother, though there has been nothing to suggest that either are anything less than highly devoted and attentive parents, certainly more so than either jet-setting father. Heather Mills has made it acceptable to make horrendous jokes about artificial limbs ("no, it's OK, 'cause she's an evil bitch"), and gets villified daily for apparently being a compulsive liar. People don't take kindly to me when they make a nasty remark about that and I suggest that if that is the case, then she's ILL and shouldn't be subject to your judgement.
I think anyone would be surprised to see me defending these women. They're "offensive" and "talentless" and "selfish" after all. Some of the commenters on the article would be astonished to see a woman defending other women because they've decided we don't do that. One even manages to get in a "poor little white boy" whine, amusingly. Those people especially would tell me I'm wasting my time on these women. Why don't I defend someone who's worth it? It makes no odds that I like Beckham and Winehouse, or that I have no strong feelings either way on Katona and Mills. It would make no odds if I hated the lot of them. They are human beings. Human beings who have made choices that we think are inappropriate. They are women who happened to fall in love, or woman who happened to fall ill. They are women with problems that we'd rather pretend weren't real. They are women whose wretched humanity got in the way of our comfortable assumptions, and we're punishing them for it (some of those comments make me believe that we're punishing all women for it). We laugh at, or condemn them for, their misfortunes. We villify them for their mistakes, and for mistakes we asume or believe that they made. Basically, we're hating them for being women who behave in ways we consider "unfeminine". You married up? You must have chased him. You must be ambitious. Ambition is unfeminine, bitch. Drugs are unfeminine, bitch. Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch. We know how you should behave and YOU'RE NOT DOING IT. You deserve everything you get.
This has been a rant from a pissed-off woman. Thank you.
The British, the poll concludes, love Paul McCartney and hate Heather Mills. We love David Beckham and hate Victoria Beckham. The article doesn't comment on this, but it seems a little weird to me. It's almost as though we pick our national treasures and then unleash hate on their wives. It never seems to happen the other way round - the only times we've come close, oddly enough, are with the other two women on the list. When Brian McFadden of awful Irish boyband Westlife left Kerry Katona of awful English girl band Atomic Kitten, we hated him. Boy, did we hate him, and his new girlfriend too. We hated him so much that he's buggered off out of the country. We were right to hate him, too, I think. I don't trust any man who compares having children with his ex to "having a dog we weren't ready for" (they'll read it, you asshole!), or who bashes the mother of his children to journalists and threatens in the national press to sue for custody then does jack shit about it. I think Brian McFadden is an odious piece of crap. But now that he's off in Australia or America or wherever and most people have forgotten about him, we've decided to hate her instead. We claim it's because she's behaving like an unfit mother, smoking and drinking, taking drugs (or so the delightful Mr McFadden informs us), and generally behaving like - hmmmm - someone who's not very well. Kerry Katona, back in the dark ages, was one of the most popular women in the country. She'd just split up from a man who slept with a lap dancer on his stag night, she'd just won an appalling but highly-rated reality show, and she was down-to-earth and Northern and smiley. We just loved her. She won Mother of the Year twice, and got the Iceland ads on the strength of her being a recognisable symbol for good parenting. My unofficial theory is that when she began to break down, we felt betrayed. How dare she not be the perfect mother? We gave her an award! We were proud of her for moving on from her nasty ex, and we expected to see a marked improvement in her future choice of partner. When she yet again opted for a loser - or someone represented to us by the press as a loser - we got impatient. When we heard that she was smoking while pregnant, we got mad. We're not having that, Kerry! We don't care what your problems are, you're a damn role model! Act like one!
Everything she does is now fair game for bile and ridicule. I can't imagine that she's still working with Iceland, but nevertheless she's still attacked for it. She is, or was, advertising insufficiently healthy food to the nation. How dare she? Whether you choose to attack her on a serious level or just make eight hundred jokes about lard, you're perfectly entitled to do so. I mean, it's her fault, isn't it? When she was subject to robbery at knifepoint in her own house, we took the piss. Relentlessly. Not a word of sympathy for her. And it's her fault, of course, because she let us down.
Amy Winehouse follows a similar pattern. When she really came to our attention with the release of her second album, we fell in love with her, bonkers beehive hair and all. So talented! Such a songwriter! Such a voice! Gather round, boys and girls, this is real music. We thought Simon Cowell had done away with actual musical talent. We were impressed. And then Amy, too, turned out not be perfect. A lot of pop stars like a drink, but Amy was old school and turned up drunk on Never Mind the Buzzcocks. I know people who went off her then, because her speaking voice was annoying and she was all uncouth and spat. Spat! On TV! Then she picked her unsuitable man, and all the drug-taking palaver unleashed itself upon us. And we blamed him. He was a useless smug little man who didn't appear to have a job of any description. Ditch him, Amy, we urged, but instead, she married him. And I think that's when the backlash started. Amy Winehouse's husband is currently awaiting trial for GBH or perverting the course of justice or both, depending on which reports you believe. Her parents blame him for getting her onto hard drugs. He has reportedly refused to go to rehab with her, saying instead, "You can go if you want to," which is classic manipulator's language if I ever heard it. Maybe it was never right to put all the blame on him, but no way in hell can it be right to put all the blame on her. She's self-destructing and needs help, which is NOT a hanging offence, but we blame her because she let us down too. She was our great white hope of British music and shouldn't expect to be allowed flaws and issues too. The day after Heath Ledger's death, I read five separate blogs (all male authors, incidentally) who screeched, "If someone was going to die, why not Amy Winehouse?" That, my friends, is not normal.
A commenter on that article claimed he could understand the hatred for all of them except Winehouse, who is talented. But we don't hate people for being untalented. As I said, we used to love Kerry Katona, and even when she had a singing career we all knew she wasn't any good. We used to love Posh too, and her singing ability hasn't deteriorated to any great extent. I've felt stung into becoming a Posh fan. She may look like Self-Tan Barbie but so fucking what? The reason people hate her and Heather Mills is because they married people the public have decided are too good for them. These women are up themselves. We can't have that. Amy and Kerry married below them and allowed themselves to get screwed up, we hate them for that. Victoria and Heather married above them and made a lot of money, and we hate them for that.
It's a terrible mistake to marry a Beatle. The press and public will hate you for it. They hate Heather now the way they hated Yoko then, and the way they've conveniently forgotten they treated Linda. Oh, she may be a veggie-burger-making saint now, but back then she was a damn outrage. How can she have the nerve, we asked. She must be a gold-digger. Only by being silent and supportive and staying at home and finally dying of breast cancer did she win our love, and turn into what might as well be a fictional character. Carole Malone in the Sunday Mirror wrote, in a short article that Google is currently refusing to turn up, that it's understandable that we hate Heather when we've been used to the wonderful Linda. She then went on to say (in what I was convinced would turn out to be a parody) that Linda stayed at home like a good wife and mother, supported Sir Paul and raised children. Bless her. Not like this bitch, with ambitions and other such shit that has no place in a woman's brain. This is a charming piece of revisionist history that beyond the appalling misogyny the woman is spewing, shows that we think we get to decide who is good enough for our heroes. If a man picks a woman we think is beneath him, we turn on that woman. If a woman picks a man who is beneath her, we wait five minutes then turn on the woman. Again.
Notice, if you will, that the McCartney divorce is perceived to be entirely, 100% Heather's fault. If Paul gets any flack, it's for being "a naive old man", caught by the surreptitious and scheming wiles of a predator. Notice, if you will, that when the story of Beckham's affair broke, he was the only one who got no flack at all. The mistress got a decent dose, and Posh got the rest. Ian Hislop, who is not normally my first point of reference on feminist issues, remarked on how weird it was: "God, her husband's cheated on her! What a cow! She's been humiliated publicly! Bitch!" If he cheated it was her damn fault and there's no use her crying about it now. The press waits breathlessly to this day for them to split up, even though they seem to have put it behind them and are moving on quite happily. Neither of these women get any points for being a mother, though there has been nothing to suggest that either are anything less than highly devoted and attentive parents, certainly more so than either jet-setting father. Heather Mills has made it acceptable to make horrendous jokes about artificial limbs ("no, it's OK, 'cause she's an evil bitch"), and gets villified daily for apparently being a compulsive liar. People don't take kindly to me when they make a nasty remark about that and I suggest that if that is the case, then she's ILL and shouldn't be subject to your judgement.
I think anyone would be surprised to see me defending these women. They're "offensive" and "talentless" and "selfish" after all. Some of the commenters on the article would be astonished to see a woman defending other women because they've decided we don't do that. One even manages to get in a "poor little white boy" whine, amusingly. Those people especially would tell me I'm wasting my time on these women. Why don't I defend someone who's worth it? It makes no odds that I like Beckham and Winehouse, or that I have no strong feelings either way on Katona and Mills. It would make no odds if I hated the lot of them. They are human beings. Human beings who have made choices that we think are inappropriate. They are women who happened to fall in love, or woman who happened to fall ill. They are women with problems that we'd rather pretend weren't real. They are women whose wretched humanity got in the way of our comfortable assumptions, and we're punishing them for it (some of those comments make me believe that we're punishing all women for it). We laugh at, or condemn them for, their misfortunes. We villify them for their mistakes, and for mistakes we asume or believe that they made. Basically, we're hating them for being women who behave in ways we consider "unfeminine". You married up? You must have chased him. You must be ambitious. Ambition is unfeminine, bitch. Drugs are unfeminine, bitch. Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch. We know how you should behave and YOU'RE NOT DOING IT. You deserve everything you get.
This has been a rant from a pissed-off woman. Thank you.
Sunday, 11 May 2008
Two Short Notes
Dear Dara O Briain,
Thank you. You were fucking brilliant. You have officially restored my faith in paying huge amounts of money to see stand-up gigs. I was getting worried after the homophobic mess of two weeks ago, but you managed to do a two-hour gig without attacking anyone for their inbuilt traits (I'll forgive your disdain for anything even vaguely New Age because I've met some of the people who gave you that impression), and you spoke to us! I was beginning to forget comedians did that. I was impressed that you didn't let the heckler get away with the nasty Austrian comment, and pleased that we provided you with the most bizarre heckle you've ever heard (stigmata?!). Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Jen
Dear world,
If you get the opportunity, you must see Dara O Briain live. Funniest show of the year so far.
Jen
Thank you. You were fucking brilliant. You have officially restored my faith in paying huge amounts of money to see stand-up gigs. I was getting worried after the homophobic mess of two weeks ago, but you managed to do a two-hour gig without attacking anyone for their inbuilt traits (I'll forgive your disdain for anything even vaguely New Age because I've met some of the people who gave you that impression), and you spoke to us! I was beginning to forget comedians did that. I was impressed that you didn't let the heckler get away with the nasty Austrian comment, and pleased that we provided you with the most bizarre heckle you've ever heard (stigmata?!). Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Jen
Dear world,
If you get the opportunity, you must see Dara O Briain live. Funniest show of the year so far.
Jen
Friday, 9 May 2008
EWWW.
This story, about a child abuser who's just been caught, contains the most intrinsically disturbing line I've read for a long time:
Judy Stone, a neighbour who worked with him as an entertainer, said he was "the best Santa Claus anyone has ever seen".
EWWWWW. Why did you have to put that in there, BBC? Why? Why make me panic about Santa Claus? That quote is so unnecessary, and disturbing on about eighty different levels. I feel quite sick now.
Judy Stone, a neighbour who worked with him as an entertainer, said he was "the best Santa Claus anyone has ever seen".
EWWWWW. Why did you have to put that in there, BBC? Why? Why make me panic about Santa Claus? That quote is so unnecessary, and disturbing on about eighty different levels. I feel quite sick now.
Thursday, 8 May 2008
Lost Cause Says: Shut Up, Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor
We must respect the atheists! says Murphy-O'Connor.
You first, tosspot.
If one is truly to "respect" the atheists, then one must respect that they are atheists, that is what they have chosen, and it is not one's place to try and convince them otherwise, yes?
No, of course not. "Respect the atheists" means "Give the atheists a cup of tea and a biscuit before giving them a Bible." One must "respect" the atheists in order to make the atheists think that atheism is a stupid idea, no? One must not insist to an atheist that God is a fact of life. Why? Because God is a fact of life and you're all stupid.
Murphy-O'Connor says: "Our life together in Britain cannot be a God-free zone and we must not allow Britain to become a world devoid of religious faith and its powerful contribution to the common good."
Yes it can, Murph. I sincerely hope that one day our life "together" will be a God-free zone. You can have as much God in your own personal life as you please, but that's not what you mean, is it? You want God to come into every little bloody thing, and it'll have to be your damn God as well. If my God (such as it is) were to enter into your interactions with me, you'd have a spiritual heart attack and start lecturing me on morals and values or some such crap. And what on earth does the second clause of that sentence mean? Don't worry, Cardinal, Britain will never become a world devoid of religious faith. Because it's a fucking COUNTRY. Yeesh. Please, for the sake of all our gods, cut down on that horrific flowery prose.
'Last year, he complained of a "new secularist intolerance of religion" and the state's "increasing acceptance" of anti-religious views.'
Shut up, Murph. We all know that when you say "anti-religious views" you mean "the atheists are persecuting me and not letting me have my hardline Christian way on absolutely everything! Waaah!" Jennifer is now complaining of a "new drive by Cardinals to foist their stupid religious views on everyone" and the state's "increasing acceptance" of "interfering old buggers". Also, she prefers not to write in the third person like this and is very upset at having been driven to it.
"I want to encourage people of faith to regard those without faith with deep esteem because the hidden God is active in their lives as well as in the lives of those who believe."
Quick translation:
People of faith: Christians (Muslims and Hindus and Buddhists and Pagans don't really believe in God, y'know)
Those without faith: Anyone who is not a Christian/Evil bastards
Esteem - Patronising, martyred patience
The hidden God - My personal judgement
Active in their lives - You can't get away from me, so there. You may as well just give up now.
I want to know why the Cardinals are making so much fuss lately. Is it because we have a new PM? Is it because Blair came out as Catholic after leaving office and they want to make sure to get as much guilt in as possible in case Brown is the same? Is it because of Bush and the Religious Right in America? I'll make my usual disclaimer that I have no problem with any religion in and of itself, but I will protest to the last second against religious "leaders" trying to advance the encroachment of their, or any, religion on our government and on our essentially secular state. I also feel the need to point out yet again that Cardinal Murphy O'Connor is a leader in the CATHOLIC church. The UK is officially an ANGLICAN nation. Those two are DIFFERENT. The CATHOLICS do not get to interfere with the running of the country because we are technically ANGLICAN. It doesn't work like that, bub. I apologise for all the capitals, but I've had several fights of this nature on the BBC's Have Your Say (I've stopped now, don't worry).
I get particularly cross even at the most innocuous stories regarding cardinals and bishops and their complaints about lack of religion in the public eye, because I know what they want. They rag on the abortion limit, saying that a lot of people would like to see it lowered. First of all, "a lot of people" are not doctors. Most don't even have a rudimentary understanding of the hows and wherefores of abortion. Second of all, most of these people don't want abortion banned. And the cardinals do. If we let them lead the charge of "Just a two-week drop" (though it appears they would push for a 12-week drop to bring us into line with some other European countries. Yeah, twelve fucking weeks. If you haven't been trying, you may not even have notied you're pregnant at twelve weeks), then they'll keep going. They'll keep attacking it a little bit at a time, using "new technology" as evidence - which means that when you can grow a foetus in a petri dish and incubator, they'll call for a total ban on the basis that every foetus is now viable - until we really have nothing left of our abortion laws. You think they'll leave it there? Bollocks they will. They want a Christian nation. They want five-year-olds to be forced to pray and go to church and learn the Bible, on the basis that for every hellchild like me who was put off Christianity by attending church and reading the Bible (it's horrible, guys), there'll be ten who believe what they're told or can at least be frightened into saying they believe.
I am going to make a fuss any time they say anything. I am going to yell about it. I am going to write to every single politician they go to, just to make sure they know that this stupid "women support lower abortion limits" thing is not in fact true. If any of their persuasive tactics begin to work, I will protest. I will make a banner out of a pillowcase and I will go down to London and I will scream my head off. I will not hand over control of my uterus to these men. I will not allow them to dictate what I say. I will not allow them to dictate what my future children do. I will not allow them to force me to act like a Christian and I will not allow them to further push the discrimination faced by those like me. I do not want my religion in schools or dictating law any more than I want theirs to do so. I just want religion kept OUT. Out of the schools, out of the government, out of society's model. I will fight you, Murphy-O'Connor. I went to church for years as a kid and I read the whole damn Bible from cover to cover, and as a result I am truly lost to your cause. Do not underestimate the lost cause, Cardinal. The lost cause is watching you.
You know, if I'd known I'd be doing so much Cardinal-bashing, I would have called this blog the Lost Cause. Perhaps I'll make it into a series instead.
You first, tosspot.
If one is truly to "respect" the atheists, then one must respect that they are atheists, that is what they have chosen, and it is not one's place to try and convince them otherwise, yes?
No, of course not. "Respect the atheists" means "Give the atheists a cup of tea and a biscuit before giving them a Bible." One must "respect" the atheists in order to make the atheists think that atheism is a stupid idea, no? One must not insist to an atheist that God is a fact of life. Why? Because God is a fact of life and you're all stupid.
Murphy-O'Connor says: "Our life together in Britain cannot be a God-free zone and we must not allow Britain to become a world devoid of religious faith and its powerful contribution to the common good."
Yes it can, Murph. I sincerely hope that one day our life "together" will be a God-free zone. You can have as much God in your own personal life as you please, but that's not what you mean, is it? You want God to come into every little bloody thing, and it'll have to be your damn God as well. If my God (such as it is) were to enter into your interactions with me, you'd have a spiritual heart attack and start lecturing me on morals and values or some such crap. And what on earth does the second clause of that sentence mean? Don't worry, Cardinal, Britain will never become a world devoid of religious faith. Because it's a fucking COUNTRY. Yeesh. Please, for the sake of all our gods, cut down on that horrific flowery prose.
'Last year, he complained of a "new secularist intolerance of religion" and the state's "increasing acceptance" of anti-religious views.'
Shut up, Murph. We all know that when you say "anti-religious views" you mean "the atheists are persecuting me and not letting me have my hardline Christian way on absolutely everything! Waaah!" Jennifer is now complaining of a "new drive by Cardinals to foist their stupid religious views on everyone" and the state's "increasing acceptance" of "interfering old buggers". Also, she prefers not to write in the third person like this and is very upset at having been driven to it.
"I want to encourage people of faith to regard those without faith with deep esteem because the hidden God is active in their lives as well as in the lives of those who believe."
Quick translation:
People of faith: Christians (Muslims and Hindus and Buddhists and Pagans don't really believe in God, y'know)
Those without faith: Anyone who is not a Christian/Evil bastards
Esteem - Patronising, martyred patience
The hidden God - My personal judgement
Active in their lives - You can't get away from me, so there. You may as well just give up now.
I want to know why the Cardinals are making so much fuss lately. Is it because we have a new PM? Is it because Blair came out as Catholic after leaving office and they want to make sure to get as much guilt in as possible in case Brown is the same? Is it because of Bush and the Religious Right in America? I'll make my usual disclaimer that I have no problem with any religion in and of itself, but I will protest to the last second against religious "leaders" trying to advance the encroachment of their, or any, religion on our government and on our essentially secular state. I also feel the need to point out yet again that Cardinal Murphy O'Connor is a leader in the CATHOLIC church. The UK is officially an ANGLICAN nation. Those two are DIFFERENT. The CATHOLICS do not get to interfere with the running of the country because we are technically ANGLICAN. It doesn't work like that, bub. I apologise for all the capitals, but I've had several fights of this nature on the BBC's Have Your Say (I've stopped now, don't worry).
I get particularly cross even at the most innocuous stories regarding cardinals and bishops and their complaints about lack of religion in the public eye, because I know what they want. They rag on the abortion limit, saying that a lot of people would like to see it lowered. First of all, "a lot of people" are not doctors. Most don't even have a rudimentary understanding of the hows and wherefores of abortion. Second of all, most of these people don't want abortion banned. And the cardinals do. If we let them lead the charge of "Just a two-week drop" (though it appears they would push for a 12-week drop to bring us into line with some other European countries. Yeah, twelve fucking weeks. If you haven't been trying, you may not even have notied you're pregnant at twelve weeks), then they'll keep going. They'll keep attacking it a little bit at a time, using "new technology" as evidence - which means that when you can grow a foetus in a petri dish and incubator, they'll call for a total ban on the basis that every foetus is now viable - until we really have nothing left of our abortion laws. You think they'll leave it there? Bollocks they will. They want a Christian nation. They want five-year-olds to be forced to pray and go to church and learn the Bible, on the basis that for every hellchild like me who was put off Christianity by attending church and reading the Bible (it's horrible, guys), there'll be ten who believe what they're told or can at least be frightened into saying they believe.
I am going to make a fuss any time they say anything. I am going to yell about it. I am going to write to every single politician they go to, just to make sure they know that this stupid "women support lower abortion limits" thing is not in fact true. If any of their persuasive tactics begin to work, I will protest. I will make a banner out of a pillowcase and I will go down to London and I will scream my head off. I will not hand over control of my uterus to these men. I will not allow them to dictate what I say. I will not allow them to dictate what my future children do. I will not allow them to force me to act like a Christian and I will not allow them to further push the discrimination faced by those like me. I do not want my religion in schools or dictating law any more than I want theirs to do so. I just want religion kept OUT. Out of the schools, out of the government, out of society's model. I will fight you, Murphy-O'Connor. I went to church for years as a kid and I read the whole damn Bible from cover to cover, and as a result I am truly lost to your cause. Do not underestimate the lost cause, Cardinal. The lost cause is watching you.
You know, if I'd known I'd be doing so much Cardinal-bashing, I would have called this blog the Lost Cause. Perhaps I'll make it into a series instead.
Monday, 5 May 2008
Whose Fault Is This?
Oh, for fuck's sake. "Beauties for Britain" party? Really?
If Miss Great Britain wants to be a politician, excellent. But what's up with this "ooh, politics is so dry and boring, let's make it sexy" crap?
"I think that people should be proud of Britain and proud of themselves especially the beauties that Britain has produced over the years and I'm very proud to be Miss Great Britain and standing for this."
Did they purposely not put punctuation in this sentence? I don't know if she really speaks like this or if they just want to make it look like she speaks like this. The whole thing sounds like a joke made up by The Sun, who will no doubt apply their usual writing style ("patronising lust") to this story for the next few weeks. If it wasn't the Sun's idea, then whose was it? Who told this girl to go into politics but make sure nobody thinks she's got a brain? After reading that article, I certainly don't think she's got one, which is awful. Does she have any opinions on global credit and Brown's standing in the polls? No, but she could give him some advice on beauty products.
I'm quite conflicted about this story, because I know it makes me angry for feminist reasons, but I can't pinpoint them any more precisely than that. I know someone has really screwed up here, but I'm not sure who to blame for it. I'm wary of blaming her for being a dumbass, or for trying to make everything revolve around her looks, or for perpetuating some seriously irritating stereotypes, but if it's not her fault then it's someone else's, and we get into the whole "women have no agency" thing. So I don't even know if I'd prefer her to be a pawn or a dumbass. Ugh.
If Miss Great Britain wants to be a politician, excellent. But what's up with this "ooh, politics is so dry and boring, let's make it sexy" crap?
"I think that people should be proud of Britain and proud of themselves especially the beauties that Britain has produced over the years and I'm very proud to be Miss Great Britain and standing for this."
Did they purposely not put punctuation in this sentence? I don't know if she really speaks like this or if they just want to make it look like she speaks like this. The whole thing sounds like a joke made up by The Sun, who will no doubt apply their usual writing style ("patronising lust") to this story for the next few weeks. If it wasn't the Sun's idea, then whose was it? Who told this girl to go into politics but make sure nobody thinks she's got a brain? After reading that article, I certainly don't think she's got one, which is awful. Does she have any opinions on global credit and Brown's standing in the polls? No, but she could give him some advice on beauty products.
I'm quite conflicted about this story, because I know it makes me angry for feminist reasons, but I can't pinpoint them any more precisely than that. I know someone has really screwed up here, but I'm not sure who to blame for it. I'm wary of blaming her for being a dumbass, or for trying to make everything revolve around her looks, or for perpetuating some seriously irritating stereotypes, but if it's not her fault then it's someone else's, and we get into the whole "women have no agency" thing. So I don't even know if I'd prefer her to be a pawn or a dumbass. Ugh.
Thursday, 1 May 2008
A Comedy-Goer's Perspective on Why Johnny Vegas is a Nasty Tosser
Johnny Vegas decides to sexually assault a woman onstage.
Full disclosure: Johnny Vegas ranks only slightly lower than Jim Davidson in my personal list of Shittiest Comedians Ever. I've never once found him funny. The episode of QI he did is not an exception - it's my least favourite episode. He is a slobby drunken loser with the world's most annoying voice and his routines are shambolic. He can get away with more than Jim Davidson because "Vegas is playing a character! He's being ironic!" Alright, but is he being funny? Well... no. What he's doing is getting audience members to carry a girl onto the stage and then assaulting her.
This story is disturbing enough in itself, but made all the worse by hundreds of commenters claiming that the girl can't have been sexually assualted because a) she didn't slap him in face, b) nobody tried to stop it and c) Vegas hasn't been arrested. I don't think any of these people are inveterate comedy fans. We who go to gigs (no, I did not see this gig - that makes none of my points about assault invalid) know that you don't get up and interfere with the act. You just don't. When a comedian drags you up on stage, you do as they tell you. I saw a woman reduced to tears when she was dragged up on stage at a Rex Boyd gig - she was humiliated, he wasn't funny, but she did as she was told. A shy person at a comedy gig does NOT want the audience turning on them, and chances are, if you screw up the routine, any half-decent comedian will immediately being making cruel jokes at your expense, and provided he's got laughs previously, that's enough to make the audience turn on you. We once saw a comedian we suspected was high on crack during his performance. We KNEW he was high on crack when my friend Jess and I started playing noughts and crosses, right at the front of the stage, and he didn't say anything. A lot of people like witty cruelty, and only a comedian high on crack wouldn't pick on us for blatantly disrespecting his act.
Also, the difference between a comedy club gig with four or five small-to-middling comedians and a show with a household name headline act is huge. Take my review of Sean Lock's abysmal gig on Saturday night. No way in hell would he have got away with that performance as an unknown perfoming third in a night's entertainment at Wolverhampton Jongleurs (I assume there's a Wolverhampton Jongleurs). He would have been heckled, booed, snarked at, people would have got up and gone out for a fag. What actually happened was that we sat there mostly in polite silence, forcing laughter at any joke we found even remotely funny. A few people made quiet, unobtrusive exits during the interval. No heckles. You don't heckle a big-name comedian, unless it's a Ross Noble type whose whole show thrives on heckles (and all those are very much pro-Ross heckles. I miss Ross. Come back to England and save me from all this shitty comedy!). It's an unwritten rule that you don't heckle someone whose audience has mostly come to see someone they recognise from the TV. They don't want heckles and it spoils their enjoyment, even if the heckle makes a good point. You do NOT get involved with an established comedian's act unless he invites you, and if he invites you, you do NOT attempt to swing his routine your own way. I like to think that if I'd accidentally ended up at this particular Vegas gig, I'd have least yelled, "Get the fuck off her, loser" or something to that effect. I know I'd have walked out and complained to the management. But despite what a couple of commenters on that Guardian article have said, established comedians have all the power in that room. They can choose not to prepare, to segue away from their planned material to complain about having to wait for a breakdown truck, to actually include the breakdown truck complaint in their written material (you suck, Lock), to insult the audience, to ignore the audience, whatever they choose to do, and the audience will say nothing. I wonder if these people arguing that Vegas has no power at all have ever disrupted a performance. I wonder if they'd be cross if they were in the cinema with two hundred other people, and someone came in and punched a hole through the screen because they thought it was disgusting. If you disrupt a show, the audience will turn on you. Everyone knows this. As one of the Guardian's commenters pointed out, comedians go to great lengths to imply that their brand of humour is edgy and fashionable and funny, and anyone who doesn't get it is a middle-class reactionary. If you don't get it, you're humourless, you're a prude, you're a member of the PC Brigade. You wouldn't know funny if it hit you in the face. I was certainly told this once when I complained about Bernard Manning (Bernard Manning! Edgy, fashionable and funny! Even he would have laughed at that). Why hasn't Vegas been arrested? Because if this girl was indeed assaulted as badly as Mary O'Hara claims, she's afraid of what people will say about her. She'll be the middle-class reactionary, the prude, the girl with no sense of humour. Johnny Vegas is a nationally-acclaimed comedian, so it must have been funny, and she doesn't want to look like a bad sport. And after all, she went up there. She did what he told her to do. She doesn't have a leg to stand on. And the truth is, she doesn't, even though she should. In her position I wouldn't file a complaint - I'd tell anyone who asked that it was 'no big deal', I'd beat myself up for a while then resolve to be much more careful in future, either stopping visiting comedy gigs altogether or only sitting right at the back where nobody could see me. We still don't consider coercion to be a real thing. We don't think everything described above is coercion, because coercion means "someone held a gun to her head". We say, "if you go to comedy gigs, what do you expect?" Even O'Hara, writing to condemn Vegas, says this.
Well, here's what I expect. I expect a comedy gig to BE FUNNY. Even if we assume that Vegas wasn't assaulting the girl, he was apparently using her to take the piss out of Shakespears Sister's "Stay" (I really hate the lack of apostrophe in that band name. Damn you, Siobhan Fahey). From nineteen-ninety-fucking-two. Jesus Christ, Johnny, try to move in the same century as the rest of us! To think we were scorning Sean Lock for doing a riff on Gail Porter's hair. The standard defence of Johnny Vegas as a "character" is crap, too. When his "character" gets involved with people who are not acting, everything that happens is his responsibility. Not his character's. It doesn't fly that it's alright to grope a stranger's breasts if you "don't really mean it". It's not alright to grope a stranger's breasts because "that's what the character would do" or because "he is trying to portray his character's self-loathing" or because "it indicates to the audience that his character is a loser". The last one is especially off, because if it were okay to grope strangers to show you were a loser, it doesn't really seem to have worked. People now think that Johnny Vegas is a criminal, Johnny Vegas didn't actually do it, or Johnny Vegas is allowed to do it because he's Johnny Vegas. It's not about his stupid fucking character.
In conclusion, Johnny Vegas is a nasty tosser. I'm cross and hate everybody. I will delete any of the following comments:
"But you weren't there!"
"Why didn't she stop him, if it was so bad?"
"Why haven't the police done anything, if it was really assault?"
"OMG you just don't get Johnny Vegas he's soooo funny" (I don't want this person on my blog ever again, thank you)
"How dare you condemn him before you've heard his side?"
"But you're forgetting that he's a truly brilliant actor - his performance in the BBC's Bleak House was exquisite." (This is not relevant and smacks of the 'he's an upstanding member of the community with a steady job' that people use to defend rapists.)
"But people saw her chatting to him afterwards! He said thank you!"
"The journalist hasn't gone to the police, which means she's lying."
Seen all of these, at least four times, and I just can't be arsed with them. Jennifer is not impressed. Jennifer SMASH.
Via Shakesville.
Edited to add: On Chortle, this is quoted:
"...[O]ne seemed to understand the point Vegas was trying to make by saying: ‘Not totally defending him but I'm sure that the point was that pathetic individuals/society are totally enthralled with celebrity and let them get away with murder. She, and others, could have told him to get lost but didn't probably for that reason.’"
The POINT he was trying to make? What the fuck? The POINT??? He wasn't making a point. If I killed someone in public and my defence was "I was trying to make a point", people would think I was a psychopath. You don't fuck with people on stage in order to make a point. Making a point, my arse. He wanted to grope a girl. Jesus. I'm interested to see if he'll make any comment on this at all. I always got the impression he'd like people to think that 'Johnny Vegas' was an idiot but that he himself was really a lovely guy. So, what do we think? Will he apologise, will he say nothing? Or will he claim he was making a fucking point? If he claims he was making a point, he will officially surpass Jim Davidson on my shit list. At least Davidson managed to apologise and admit he might have a problem with homophobia after all those 'shirtlifter' attacks. I never thought I'd see the day when a comedian could be worse than Jim Davidson. Christ.
Full disclosure: Johnny Vegas ranks only slightly lower than Jim Davidson in my personal list of Shittiest Comedians Ever. I've never once found him funny. The episode of QI he did is not an exception - it's my least favourite episode. He is a slobby drunken loser with the world's most annoying voice and his routines are shambolic. He can get away with more than Jim Davidson because "Vegas is playing a character! He's being ironic!" Alright, but is he being funny? Well... no. What he's doing is getting audience members to carry a girl onto the stage and then assaulting her.
This story is disturbing enough in itself, but made all the worse by hundreds of commenters claiming that the girl can't have been sexually assualted because a) she didn't slap him in face, b) nobody tried to stop it and c) Vegas hasn't been arrested. I don't think any of these people are inveterate comedy fans. We who go to gigs (no, I did not see this gig - that makes none of my points about assault invalid) know that you don't get up and interfere with the act. You just don't. When a comedian drags you up on stage, you do as they tell you. I saw a woman reduced to tears when she was dragged up on stage at a Rex Boyd gig - she was humiliated, he wasn't funny, but she did as she was told. A shy person at a comedy gig does NOT want the audience turning on them, and chances are, if you screw up the routine, any half-decent comedian will immediately being making cruel jokes at your expense, and provided he's got laughs previously, that's enough to make the audience turn on you. We once saw a comedian we suspected was high on crack during his performance. We KNEW he was high on crack when my friend Jess and I started playing noughts and crosses, right at the front of the stage, and he didn't say anything. A lot of people like witty cruelty, and only a comedian high on crack wouldn't pick on us for blatantly disrespecting his act.
Also, the difference between a comedy club gig with four or five small-to-middling comedians and a show with a household name headline act is huge. Take my review of Sean Lock's abysmal gig on Saturday night. No way in hell would he have got away with that performance as an unknown perfoming third in a night's entertainment at Wolverhampton Jongleurs (I assume there's a Wolverhampton Jongleurs). He would have been heckled, booed, snarked at, people would have got up and gone out for a fag. What actually happened was that we sat there mostly in polite silence, forcing laughter at any joke we found even remotely funny. A few people made quiet, unobtrusive exits during the interval. No heckles. You don't heckle a big-name comedian, unless it's a Ross Noble type whose whole show thrives on heckles (and all those are very much pro-Ross heckles. I miss Ross. Come back to England and save me from all this shitty comedy!). It's an unwritten rule that you don't heckle someone whose audience has mostly come to see someone they recognise from the TV. They don't want heckles and it spoils their enjoyment, even if the heckle makes a good point. You do NOT get involved with an established comedian's act unless he invites you, and if he invites you, you do NOT attempt to swing his routine your own way. I like to think that if I'd accidentally ended up at this particular Vegas gig, I'd have least yelled, "Get the fuck off her, loser" or something to that effect. I know I'd have walked out and complained to the management. But despite what a couple of commenters on that Guardian article have said, established comedians have all the power in that room. They can choose not to prepare, to segue away from their planned material to complain about having to wait for a breakdown truck, to actually include the breakdown truck complaint in their written material (you suck, Lock), to insult the audience, to ignore the audience, whatever they choose to do, and the audience will say nothing. I wonder if these people arguing that Vegas has no power at all have ever disrupted a performance. I wonder if they'd be cross if they were in the cinema with two hundred other people, and someone came in and punched a hole through the screen because they thought it was disgusting. If you disrupt a show, the audience will turn on you. Everyone knows this. As one of the Guardian's commenters pointed out, comedians go to great lengths to imply that their brand of humour is edgy and fashionable and funny, and anyone who doesn't get it is a middle-class reactionary. If you don't get it, you're humourless, you're a prude, you're a member of the PC Brigade. You wouldn't know funny if it hit you in the face. I was certainly told this once when I complained about Bernard Manning (Bernard Manning! Edgy, fashionable and funny! Even he would have laughed at that). Why hasn't Vegas been arrested? Because if this girl was indeed assaulted as badly as Mary O'Hara claims, she's afraid of what people will say about her. She'll be the middle-class reactionary, the prude, the girl with no sense of humour. Johnny Vegas is a nationally-acclaimed comedian, so it must have been funny, and she doesn't want to look like a bad sport. And after all, she went up there. She did what he told her to do. She doesn't have a leg to stand on. And the truth is, she doesn't, even though she should. In her position I wouldn't file a complaint - I'd tell anyone who asked that it was 'no big deal', I'd beat myself up for a while then resolve to be much more careful in future, either stopping visiting comedy gigs altogether or only sitting right at the back where nobody could see me. We still don't consider coercion to be a real thing. We don't think everything described above is coercion, because coercion means "someone held a gun to her head". We say, "if you go to comedy gigs, what do you expect?" Even O'Hara, writing to condemn Vegas, says this.
Well, here's what I expect. I expect a comedy gig to BE FUNNY. Even if we assume that Vegas wasn't assaulting the girl, he was apparently using her to take the piss out of Shakespears Sister's "Stay" (I really hate the lack of apostrophe in that band name. Damn you, Siobhan Fahey). From nineteen-ninety-fucking-two. Jesus Christ, Johnny, try to move in the same century as the rest of us! To think we were scorning Sean Lock for doing a riff on Gail Porter's hair. The standard defence of Johnny Vegas as a "character" is crap, too. When his "character" gets involved with people who are not acting, everything that happens is his responsibility. Not his character's. It doesn't fly that it's alright to grope a stranger's breasts if you "don't really mean it". It's not alright to grope a stranger's breasts because "that's what the character would do" or because "he is trying to portray his character's self-loathing" or because "it indicates to the audience that his character is a loser". The last one is especially off, because if it were okay to grope strangers to show you were a loser, it doesn't really seem to have worked. People now think that Johnny Vegas is a criminal, Johnny Vegas didn't actually do it, or Johnny Vegas is allowed to do it because he's Johnny Vegas. It's not about his stupid fucking character.
In conclusion, Johnny Vegas is a nasty tosser. I'm cross and hate everybody. I will delete any of the following comments:
"But you weren't there!"
"Why didn't she stop him, if it was so bad?"
"Why haven't the police done anything, if it was really assault?"
"OMG you just don't get Johnny Vegas he's soooo funny" (I don't want this person on my blog ever again, thank you)
"How dare you condemn him before you've heard his side?"
"But you're forgetting that he's a truly brilliant actor - his performance in the BBC's Bleak House was exquisite." (This is not relevant and smacks of the 'he's an upstanding member of the community with a steady job' that people use to defend rapists.)
"But people saw her chatting to him afterwards! He said thank you!"
"The journalist hasn't gone to the police, which means she's lying."
Seen all of these, at least four times, and I just can't be arsed with them. Jennifer is not impressed. Jennifer SMASH.
Via Shakesville.
Edited to add: On Chortle, this is quoted:
"...[O]ne seemed to understand the point Vegas was trying to make by saying: ‘Not totally defending him but I'm sure that the point was that pathetic individuals/society are totally enthralled with celebrity and let them get away with murder. She, and others, could have told him to get lost but didn't probably for that reason.’"
The POINT he was trying to make? What the fuck? The POINT??? He wasn't making a point. If I killed someone in public and my defence was "I was trying to make a point", people would think I was a psychopath. You don't fuck with people on stage in order to make a point. Making a point, my arse. He wanted to grope a girl. Jesus. I'm interested to see if he'll make any comment on this at all. I always got the impression he'd like people to think that 'Johnny Vegas' was an idiot but that he himself was really a lovely guy. So, what do we think? Will he apologise, will he say nothing? Or will he claim he was making a fucking point? If he claims he was making a point, he will officially surpass Jim Davidson on my shit list. At least Davidson managed to apologise and admit he might have a problem with homophobia after all those 'shirtlifter' attacks. I never thought I'd see the day when a comedian could be worse than Jim Davidson. Christ.
Tuesday, 29 April 2008
Ashton Kutcher: Grrrr
Grrrr.
I really hate these articles. Oh, thank you, Ashton Kutcher, for telling me what you don't find attractive in a woman. It's wonderful "advice". No, really:
Tip One: He doesn't like too much perfume. He warns us not to be "that woman", the one who oversprays and chokes you with her scent. Call me crazy, but eight times out of ten, the oversprayer is a man and his Lynx. This is not a 'woman thing'.
Tip Two: Don't say mean things. It's sexy when a woman is nice and quiet and sweet. Bollocks. I don't trust anyone who never says a mean thing.
Tip Three. My absolute favourite - "Dress how you want to be treated. If you show respect for yourself, you will be respected." GAAAAAAHHHHHH. How fucking dare you? If I have a bit of midriff on show, you get to treat me like crap? GAH. Oh, but you still have to look sexy, you don't want to be Hillary Clinton, now, do you? So Tip Three is essentially "Dress exactly the way I want you to dress. Not doing so gives me the right to be a shithole to you."
Tip Four: Don't wear too much expensive jewellery, because it means you're a gold digger. Yeah, Ashton, women don't ever have any money. You tell Demi Moore not to wear expensive jewellery because everyone will think she's sponging off you? Do you? Seriously, what world is he living in? No woman has any money, and all men have loads.
Tip Five: Don't be selfish. "Don't worry about what you are getting; worry about what you're giving." HAH. So what he's saying is, he wants a nice doormat who won't complain if he treats her like crap. Honey, please. Stop worrying about what you're getting out of this relationship. Selfishness is so unattractive.
Tip Six: Don't drop brand names. "Have you ever heard someone say 'Do you like my new Prada sweater?'" Well, no, actually, Ashton. I don't know anyone who can afford Prada sweaters. Get out of Hollywood, man, your brain is melting. As a side note, I was particularly amused by his assertion that "most guys...couldn't pick a pair of Louboutin shoes out of a line-up" because a couple of weeks ago my father, apropos of absolutely nothing, dropped the name into conversation and proceeded to describe the distinguishing mark of a Louboutin shoe. So sucks to you, Ashton. My fifty-six-year-old brain-damaged father can do it.
Articles like this make me want to throw things. Actually, what I really want to do is get on a plane to La-La Land, find Ashton Kutcher (he's probably hanging out with a unicorn or something), go right up to him and scream, "IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU, YOU KNOW! SOMETIMES, WOMEN DO THINGS BECAUSE THEY WANT TO, WITHOUT ANY REFERENCE TO WHETHER OR NOT A MAN WILL FIND THEM ATTRACTIVE! I'LL WEAR WHAT THE FUCK I LIKE, AND IF YOU CHOOSE TO DISRESPECT ME BECAUSE OF IT I'LL KNEE YOU IN THE SOLAR PLEXUS, YOU FUCKING ARSEHOLE!"
Ahem.
Tip Three is the most straight-up offensive, but Tip Five actually frightens me. It reminds me of Buffy, when Warren programmed his Aprilbot to believe that crying is blackmail and good girlfriends don't do it. Everyone has to be selfish. A man who tells his girlfriend, or women in general, not to worry about what they're getting is a misogynistic wanker. It's one of the things on my private 'abusive man' red flag list. And let me tell you, if that one wasn't there, I would be absolutely fucked now. I hate these articles, but just once I'd like to see one that says: "I like difficult women. I like honest, self-aware women who will call me on my bullshit and do whatever the hell they please with reference only to their own moral code. Not to society's, not to mine. I like women who own themselves." Half-formed wish, probably, but I'll continue to keep half an eye out, just in case.
I really hate these articles. Oh, thank you, Ashton Kutcher, for telling me what you don't find attractive in a woman. It's wonderful "advice". No, really:
Tip One: He doesn't like too much perfume. He warns us not to be "that woman", the one who oversprays and chokes you with her scent. Call me crazy, but eight times out of ten, the oversprayer is a man and his Lynx. This is not a 'woman thing'.
Tip Two: Don't say mean things. It's sexy when a woman is nice and quiet and sweet. Bollocks. I don't trust anyone who never says a mean thing.
Tip Three. My absolute favourite - "Dress how you want to be treated. If you show respect for yourself, you will be respected." GAAAAAAHHHHHH. How fucking dare you? If I have a bit of midriff on show, you get to treat me like crap? GAH. Oh, but you still have to look sexy, you don't want to be Hillary Clinton, now, do you? So Tip Three is essentially "Dress exactly the way I want you to dress. Not doing so gives me the right to be a shithole to you."
Tip Four: Don't wear too much expensive jewellery, because it means you're a gold digger. Yeah, Ashton, women don't ever have any money. You tell Demi Moore not to wear expensive jewellery because everyone will think she's sponging off you? Do you? Seriously, what world is he living in? No woman has any money, and all men have loads.
Tip Five: Don't be selfish. "Don't worry about what you are getting; worry about what you're giving." HAH. So what he's saying is, he wants a nice doormat who won't complain if he treats her like crap. Honey, please. Stop worrying about what you're getting out of this relationship. Selfishness is so unattractive.
Tip Six: Don't drop brand names. "Have you ever heard someone say 'Do you like my new Prada sweater?'" Well, no, actually, Ashton. I don't know anyone who can afford Prada sweaters. Get out of Hollywood, man, your brain is melting. As a side note, I was particularly amused by his assertion that "most guys...couldn't pick a pair of Louboutin shoes out of a line-up" because a couple of weeks ago my father, apropos of absolutely nothing, dropped the name into conversation and proceeded to describe the distinguishing mark of a Louboutin shoe. So sucks to you, Ashton. My fifty-six-year-old brain-damaged father can do it.
Articles like this make me want to throw things. Actually, what I really want to do is get on a plane to La-La Land, find Ashton Kutcher (he's probably hanging out with a unicorn or something), go right up to him and scream, "IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU, YOU KNOW! SOMETIMES, WOMEN DO THINGS BECAUSE THEY WANT TO, WITHOUT ANY REFERENCE TO WHETHER OR NOT A MAN WILL FIND THEM ATTRACTIVE! I'LL WEAR WHAT THE FUCK I LIKE, AND IF YOU CHOOSE TO DISRESPECT ME BECAUSE OF IT I'LL KNEE YOU IN THE SOLAR PLEXUS, YOU FUCKING ARSEHOLE!"
Ahem.
Tip Three is the most straight-up offensive, but Tip Five actually frightens me. It reminds me of Buffy, when Warren programmed his Aprilbot to believe that crying is blackmail and good girlfriends don't do it. Everyone has to be selfish. A man who tells his girlfriend, or women in general, not to worry about what they're getting is a misogynistic wanker. It's one of the things on my private 'abusive man' red flag list. And let me tell you, if that one wasn't there, I would be absolutely fucked now. I hate these articles, but just once I'd like to see one that says: "I like difficult women. I like honest, self-aware women who will call me on my bullshit and do whatever the hell they please with reference only to their own moral code. Not to society's, not to mine. I like women who own themselves." Half-formed wish, probably, but I'll continue to keep half an eye out, just in case.
Sunday, 27 April 2008
Worst. Show. Ever.
I didn't expect to have to write this. I'm not normally a person for in-depth reviews, but even though the traffic on this blog is pretty much non-existent, I feel this should be out there somewhere.
Last night, I went to a comedy gig. I do this quite a lot - I love stand-up. So far, the general rule is that when you go to a comedy club, the entertainment is quite bad. When you go to a comedian's show, the entertainment is quite good. Well, last night, the rule did not hold up. Adam and I went to see one Sean Lock. I normally like Sean Lock. I like him on QI, I like him on Have I Got News For You, I liked his chat show and I liked his sitcom. I thought this would be guarantee enough that I'd have a good time. Wikipedia informed me that he'd been booed off stage at Wembley, but all recent reviews assured me that he was brilliant. So, feeling fairly confident, off we went.
Sean Lock comes onstage looking like the Proclaimers' uncle. He has an utterly shocking widow's-peak combover. Well, it makes me giggle. He then gets off to a terrible start by mumbling, bumbling and rambling. He talks about his voice, and how it makes everything he says sound sarcastic. That's a lie; it makes everything he says sound nasty. It also sounds nothing like his TV voice. He attempts to personalise the show a little bit by mentioning the taxi strike taking place. He asks us why. We tell him. The cab drivers are striking in protest, because the council have painted all the cabs navy blue. He basically says "oh" and moves on. Oh, come on, man! Striking over blue taxis! That's a comic gift! At this point, I really wish I was watching Ross Noble. He'd have had a field day with blue taxis. Sigh. But back to Sean. He rants on about swans for a bit (Adam believes that Sean Lock must have had a previous bad experience with a swan), but it's neither of the funny kinds of rant - the fiery, angry, biting rant or the charming, bewildered rant. It's a man standing on stage grousing. It's a bitter old uncle. His timing is completely off, too - he's not an improv comedian, and the whole show is scripted, but you wouldn't believe it. There are awkward pauses, mumbles and qualifiers like, "So that's the joke." Bristol was not impressed, and Bristol wasn't laughing much. So, as you would, he panics a little bit. For the rest of the first half, every time he gets a laugh he pushes the joke far beyond its funny conclusion, until the audience is staring at him in stony silence. Then he says, "I've put the shit joke at the end again, haven't I?" This seriously happens five times. He then offends me a little by claiming that breakdown rescue vehicles shouldn't prioritise single women. Why not? Because he has to wait for three hours. Loser. This comes just after a right-on bit about racism, so I'm not impressed, particularly when he follows it up with a jab against transvestites. Men who eat salad are transvestites! HA HA HA. More grumpiness about the bits in orange juice. Your lovely reviewer is bored, and wonders whether or not to skip out during the interval. She decides not to. Bad idea.
Sean Lock re-emerges, and my hopes are raised a little when he makes a David Cameron joke (which is very funny but, naturally, he pushes it a few sentences beyond funny). He goes on about the environment, most of which isn't joke-based. It's "yeah, some people really care, I care, but not a lot" for twenty minutes. He smushes the odd joke in the middle (he'd been to America and came to the conclusion that compared to their level of consumption, him recycling was like bringing a dustpan and brush to an earthquake. I laughed), but he seems to lose his place repeatedly. He talks about showing his daughter Finding Nemo without realising that Nemo's mother and siblings get eaten by a barracuda one minute in, and why isn't there a warning? Which, YES! I saw that at the cinema, I was so upset I missed all the jokes! Everyone thinks I'm nuts. He wanders off into Scarface, and I marvel that a show which rips on David Cameron and Finding Nemo isn't even the slightest bit engaging. Sigh.
At this point, I'm still thinking, "Perhaps he's just not cut out for stand-up" and prepare to come away unimpressed, but still with an affection for his TV work. Then he says that a near-death experience can teach you who you really are. He describes sitting on a plane with engine failure, next to an old woman who is very upset. He says he yelled, "FUCK YOU OLD LADY! BLAH BLAH BLAH GOING TO DIE ISN'T IT FUNNY THAT I'M AN ARSEHOLE! HA HA HA!" (Naturally paraphrased because I'm not writing all that shit out).
Huh? No, Sean, I'm sorry. Yelling "Fuck you, old lady" qualifies you as neither witty nor charming. I don't know if you noticed me in the third row, totally silent with a contemptuous look on my face. If not, it would do you well to pay attention to your audience in future.
He moves on. He talks about hair. He stands on stage for twenty minutes flipping his hand about on top of his head. Seriously, twenty minutes. Pretending his hand is some hair. This is a centre parting. This is me on a pier. Be careful if you play tennis. You can literally hear five individual people laughing. The rest of the room stares at him. Just because he acknowledges after fifteen minutes that it's pretty shitty of him to be standing on stage flipping his hand around doesn't make it better or funnier. Your lovely reviewer and her companion are exchanging eye-rolls every two minutes now.
He talks about relationships. He goes to some lengths to prove that he's embarrassed to have any feelings for his partner. This is so 1970s it's unbelievable. He tells a boring, hackneyed story about coming home to find his ex in bed with an old friend of his "And I couldn't remember his name!" YAWN. So, he decides to go on the offensive and tell his ex that he never insulated the loft and is actually the Riddler. He takes off his clothes to reveal a fluorescent long-sleeved Lycra jumpsuit with a question mark on it. No, really, he does. We then have to endure half an hour of him standing in his jumpsuit, looking awkward, giggling at himself and making knob gags. Again, the fact that he acknowledges that knob gags are rubbish doesn't make it any funnier. At this point, he definitely notices me and says, "Some people think it's funny, some people are concerned." Concerned? For myself, yes. He says "I'm glad you like it" eight hundred times, then leaves. Phew.
Oh crap, no, he's not finished. He comes back. He talks about the fluorescent jumpsuit some more. Then he says, "I'm probably one of the straightest men in the entire world." Oh, fucking hell. He's going to try and prove his sexuality. His partner calls him "such a bloke". He does a charming routine which can be summed up as: "Gay men can't do DIY". Then he makes some blow job jokes. Yes, blow job jokes. What is he, twelve? Fucking blow job jokes. Let's mention ladyboys! That's funny. They look like ladies, don't they, but now listen for five minutes while I make very loud orgasm noises. I'm not kidding. We paid thirty-five quid to watch a man have a fake orgasm. Fucking loser. He then says something so disgusting about post-op transsexuals that I absolutely refuse to repeat it under any circumstances. And it was his closing joke! Sean Lock is a serious homophobe.
I've seen a lot of bad gigs, but I've never seen one this bad when I've paid to see a particular comedian. This wasn't the most sexist show I've ever seen (stand up, Simon Clayton), but it was without a doubt the most homophobic. And despite his right-on racism bit, he still made a joke about lynchings. Nice one, Sean. But what bothered me most about this show is that I now harbour a serious personal dislike for him. He's not just a bad comedian. He came across to me as unpleasant, creepy, misanthropic and self-indulgent. At the interval I complained to Adam about the rescue breakdown bit, and he assured me it was just the lead-in to a joke. After the show, it seemed to both of us like a genuine gripe. He is genuinely cross that because women get attacked, he has to wait for rescue breakdown. My only solace was that every time he said something particularly sexist, one guy at the back laughed and clapped all on his own, and Sean had to backtrack a little. You don't want the arsehole in the corner being the only one on your side. You could, I suppose, say that that's his onstage character. If he wants to stick with this "character", he'd better get a hell of a lot funnier. Very, very fast. The show in general seemed very 1970s, and every single one of his references was at least a couple of years out of date (Robbie Williams? Gail Porter's hair? Oh, for fuck's sake).
Before the very end bit, I would have given the show an overall rating of two out of ten. One point for Cameron, one point for Nemo. However, the end bit was the worst ten minutes I have ever sat through in my whole life, and I will hold that transsexual joke against him forever. So, Sean Lock: Worst. Show. Ever. That should be the name of his next tour.
Last night, I went to a comedy gig. I do this quite a lot - I love stand-up. So far, the general rule is that when you go to a comedy club, the entertainment is quite bad. When you go to a comedian's show, the entertainment is quite good. Well, last night, the rule did not hold up. Adam and I went to see one Sean Lock. I normally like Sean Lock. I like him on QI, I like him on Have I Got News For You, I liked his chat show and I liked his sitcom. I thought this would be guarantee enough that I'd have a good time. Wikipedia informed me that he'd been booed off stage at Wembley, but all recent reviews assured me that he was brilliant. So, feeling fairly confident, off we went.
Sean Lock comes onstage looking like the Proclaimers' uncle. He has an utterly shocking widow's-peak combover. Well, it makes me giggle. He then gets off to a terrible start by mumbling, bumbling and rambling. He talks about his voice, and how it makes everything he says sound sarcastic. That's a lie; it makes everything he says sound nasty. It also sounds nothing like his TV voice. He attempts to personalise the show a little bit by mentioning the taxi strike taking place. He asks us why. We tell him. The cab drivers are striking in protest, because the council have painted all the cabs navy blue. He basically says "oh" and moves on. Oh, come on, man! Striking over blue taxis! That's a comic gift! At this point, I really wish I was watching Ross Noble. He'd have had a field day with blue taxis. Sigh. But back to Sean. He rants on about swans for a bit (Adam believes that Sean Lock must have had a previous bad experience with a swan), but it's neither of the funny kinds of rant - the fiery, angry, biting rant or the charming, bewildered rant. It's a man standing on stage grousing. It's a bitter old uncle. His timing is completely off, too - he's not an improv comedian, and the whole show is scripted, but you wouldn't believe it. There are awkward pauses, mumbles and qualifiers like, "So that's the joke." Bristol was not impressed, and Bristol wasn't laughing much. So, as you would, he panics a little bit. For the rest of the first half, every time he gets a laugh he pushes the joke far beyond its funny conclusion, until the audience is staring at him in stony silence. Then he says, "I've put the shit joke at the end again, haven't I?" This seriously happens five times. He then offends me a little by claiming that breakdown rescue vehicles shouldn't prioritise single women. Why not? Because he has to wait for three hours. Loser. This comes just after a right-on bit about racism, so I'm not impressed, particularly when he follows it up with a jab against transvestites. Men who eat salad are transvestites! HA HA HA. More grumpiness about the bits in orange juice. Your lovely reviewer is bored, and wonders whether or not to skip out during the interval. She decides not to. Bad idea.
Sean Lock re-emerges, and my hopes are raised a little when he makes a David Cameron joke (which is very funny but, naturally, he pushes it a few sentences beyond funny). He goes on about the environment, most of which isn't joke-based. It's "yeah, some people really care, I care, but not a lot" for twenty minutes. He smushes the odd joke in the middle (he'd been to America and came to the conclusion that compared to their level of consumption, him recycling was like bringing a dustpan and brush to an earthquake. I laughed), but he seems to lose his place repeatedly. He talks about showing his daughter Finding Nemo without realising that Nemo's mother and siblings get eaten by a barracuda one minute in, and why isn't there a warning? Which, YES! I saw that at the cinema, I was so upset I missed all the jokes! Everyone thinks I'm nuts. He wanders off into Scarface, and I marvel that a show which rips on David Cameron and Finding Nemo isn't even the slightest bit engaging. Sigh.
At this point, I'm still thinking, "Perhaps he's just not cut out for stand-up" and prepare to come away unimpressed, but still with an affection for his TV work. Then he says that a near-death experience can teach you who you really are. He describes sitting on a plane with engine failure, next to an old woman who is very upset. He says he yelled, "FUCK YOU OLD LADY! BLAH BLAH BLAH GOING TO DIE ISN'T IT FUNNY THAT I'M AN ARSEHOLE! HA HA HA!" (Naturally paraphrased because I'm not writing all that shit out).
Huh? No, Sean, I'm sorry. Yelling "Fuck you, old lady" qualifies you as neither witty nor charming. I don't know if you noticed me in the third row, totally silent with a contemptuous look on my face. If not, it would do you well to pay attention to your audience in future.
He moves on. He talks about hair. He stands on stage for twenty minutes flipping his hand about on top of his head. Seriously, twenty minutes. Pretending his hand is some hair. This is a centre parting. This is me on a pier. Be careful if you play tennis. You can literally hear five individual people laughing. The rest of the room stares at him. Just because he acknowledges after fifteen minutes that it's pretty shitty of him to be standing on stage flipping his hand around doesn't make it better or funnier. Your lovely reviewer and her companion are exchanging eye-rolls every two minutes now.
He talks about relationships. He goes to some lengths to prove that he's embarrassed to have any feelings for his partner. This is so 1970s it's unbelievable. He tells a boring, hackneyed story about coming home to find his ex in bed with an old friend of his "And I couldn't remember his name!" YAWN. So, he decides to go on the offensive and tell his ex that he never insulated the loft and is actually the Riddler. He takes off his clothes to reveal a fluorescent long-sleeved Lycra jumpsuit with a question mark on it. No, really, he does. We then have to endure half an hour of him standing in his jumpsuit, looking awkward, giggling at himself and making knob gags. Again, the fact that he acknowledges that knob gags are rubbish doesn't make it any funnier. At this point, he definitely notices me and says, "Some people think it's funny, some people are concerned." Concerned? For myself, yes. He says "I'm glad you like it" eight hundred times, then leaves. Phew.
Oh crap, no, he's not finished. He comes back. He talks about the fluorescent jumpsuit some more. Then he says, "I'm probably one of the straightest men in the entire world." Oh, fucking hell. He's going to try and prove his sexuality. His partner calls him "such a bloke". He does a charming routine which can be summed up as: "Gay men can't do DIY". Then he makes some blow job jokes. Yes, blow job jokes. What is he, twelve? Fucking blow job jokes. Let's mention ladyboys! That's funny. They look like ladies, don't they, but now listen for five minutes while I make very loud orgasm noises. I'm not kidding. We paid thirty-five quid to watch a man have a fake orgasm. Fucking loser. He then says something so disgusting about post-op transsexuals that I absolutely refuse to repeat it under any circumstances. And it was his closing joke! Sean Lock is a serious homophobe.
I've seen a lot of bad gigs, but I've never seen one this bad when I've paid to see a particular comedian. This wasn't the most sexist show I've ever seen (stand up, Simon Clayton), but it was without a doubt the most homophobic. And despite his right-on racism bit, he still made a joke about lynchings. Nice one, Sean. But what bothered me most about this show is that I now harbour a serious personal dislike for him. He's not just a bad comedian. He came across to me as unpleasant, creepy, misanthropic and self-indulgent. At the interval I complained to Adam about the rescue breakdown bit, and he assured me it was just the lead-in to a joke. After the show, it seemed to both of us like a genuine gripe. He is genuinely cross that because women get attacked, he has to wait for rescue breakdown. My only solace was that every time he said something particularly sexist, one guy at the back laughed and clapped all on his own, and Sean had to backtrack a little. You don't want the arsehole in the corner being the only one on your side. You could, I suppose, say that that's his onstage character. If he wants to stick with this "character", he'd better get a hell of a lot funnier. Very, very fast. The show in general seemed very 1970s, and every single one of his references was at least a couple of years out of date (Robbie Williams? Gail Porter's hair? Oh, for fuck's sake).
Before the very end bit, I would have given the show an overall rating of two out of ten. One point for Cameron, one point for Nemo. However, the end bit was the worst ten minutes I have ever sat through in my whole life, and I will hold that transsexual joke against him forever. So, Sean Lock: Worst. Show. Ever. That should be the name of his next tour.
Tuesday, 22 April 2008
I'm Terribly Juvenile
HA HA HA HA!
Note: This is only funny if you know the back story, if you don't like Lembit Opik and if you know how disproportionately annoyed he gets when someone dares to make fun of him. I meet all of these criteria, and am feeling terribly juvenile this evening. So: HA HA HA HA! Insert "Touch My Bum" joke here. Snigger.
I do apologise.
Note: This is only funny if you know the back story, if you don't like Lembit Opik and if you know how disproportionately annoyed he gets when someone dares to make fun of him. I meet all of these criteria, and am feeling terribly juvenile this evening. So: HA HA HA HA! Insert "Touch My Bum" joke here. Snigger.
I do apologise.
Sunday, 20 April 2008
Prescott Has Bulimia (and Jen Swears a Lot)
John Prescott has suffered from bulimia. Good grief.
I'm impressed that he's talking about it. In his position, I certainly wouldn't. "John Prescott is fat" jokes have long been a staple of British political humour (example: "He can't wear a tie and a belt at the same time, or he'll turn into sausages"), and I'll be keeping a close watch on next week's edition of Have I Got News For You to count the bulimia jokes. Because bulimia is funny. It's a fat joke and a vomit joke, all in one handy little package.
He says it was brought on by stress:
"The only break I ever took was to eat. That’s all I did. Work, and then quickly eat something. It became my main pleasure, having access to my comfort food. So what I did was stuff my face with anything around, any old rubbish, burgers, chocolate, crisps, fish and chips, loads of it, till I felt sick - but at least I’d had the pleasure of stuffing my face and feeling really full. Then there would be a weird kind of pleasure in vomiting and feeling relieved."
I had terrible trouble with comfort eating as a teenager. I never threw up, but I was a binger for years. I still find a sick sort of comfort in a giant bar of chocolate. With that fully disclosed, I bring you the comments left on the article, horrible spelling and grammar left intact.
"Ah poor Prescott... not. He ought to be grateful that he could pay the bills unlike the 5 million poor people [blah blah blah fishcakes]."
"All that taxpayers' money down the drain, literally, as you can be sure that the food bills would have been paid out of expenses." Seriously, what does that have to do with it? Why are they harping upon about taxpayers? Gah.
"Even as a bulemic [sic] he is a failure." GAH.
"What a cheek to try and gain public sympathy by blaming the stress of office for his greed and his Neanderthal lavatory etiquette. It seems from some of the earlier posts that a few gullible souls have already been taken in." GAAAHHHH.
"...talk about a Big Girls Blouse." (I feel ever so slightly comforted that none of these idiots can spell or punctuate. Don't ask me why. It's Big Girl's Blouse, ass.)
"Bulimia - what a laugh - who has ever seen such a gross overweight, over eating man like Prescott suffering from Bullimia - what a load of rubbish." Oh, fuck off. Fuck. Off. Take your horrible sentence formation and your nasty views and fuck off.
I'll stop there. I'll ignore the tremendously amusing man who compares bulimia to throwing up a kebab when you're pissed and all the other posts talking about "greed". This really frightens me. He's too fat to be bulimic? Huh? Most of the time I love this country. I love the people, I love our collective attitude towards life. I love that no politician is too high or too important to take the piss out of. The one thing I truly hate about the British is our refusal to have personal sympathy with someone whose professional decisions we don't agree with. It disgusts me that people are proudly claiming they'll never feel sorry for him because taxes are going up (bear in mind the man is now retired and has nothing whatsoever to do with the Auditor's new tax plans), or because he's got more money than them, or because he's got a memoir coming out. "Ooh, what a coincidence," says someone sarcastically, having not bothered to read the article. This is IN the memoirs. That's where the story came from. The memoirs are about to be serialised by this newspaper. Dipshit. I hate these people.
Look, I'm no John Prescott fan. I thought he was incompetent as a politician, terrible as a public speaker - like the wonderful Linda Smith, I suspect language isn't his first language - and awful PR for Labour both as a party and a government. If you're an MP, you don't punch protesters. Even if they have thrown an egg at you (ooh, egg! That's food! Look out for a "Why Prescott Really Threw That Punch" bulimia joke coming soon to a comedian near you!). I thought he was completely useless. I still think that, as a professional politician, he was completely useless. However, it doesn't follow that he deserved to get an eating disorder because he was so useless. His uselessness doesn't preclude my now admiring his courage to be honest about it. He's a 69-year-old gruff Northern man with a big stomach. Eating disorders, in the public imagination, are the province of skinny, whiny suburban teenage girls. A man who gets an eating disorder is pathetic. A fat man with an eating disorder is just asking for it. I intend to make a John Prescott Bulimia Bingo card for my personal use when watching TV for the next couple of weeks.
To John Prescott, I say: Well done, that man. Well done. And I apologise for the utterly shitty quality of this post.
I'm impressed that he's talking about it. In his position, I certainly wouldn't. "John Prescott is fat" jokes have long been a staple of British political humour (example: "He can't wear a tie and a belt at the same time, or he'll turn into sausages"), and I'll be keeping a close watch on next week's edition of Have I Got News For You to count the bulimia jokes. Because bulimia is funny. It's a fat joke and a vomit joke, all in one handy little package.
He says it was brought on by stress:
"The only break I ever took was to eat. That’s all I did. Work, and then quickly eat something. It became my main pleasure, having access to my comfort food. So what I did was stuff my face with anything around, any old rubbish, burgers, chocolate, crisps, fish and chips, loads of it, till I felt sick - but at least I’d had the pleasure of stuffing my face and feeling really full. Then there would be a weird kind of pleasure in vomiting and feeling relieved."
I had terrible trouble with comfort eating as a teenager. I never threw up, but I was a binger for years. I still find a sick sort of comfort in a giant bar of chocolate. With that fully disclosed, I bring you the comments left on the article, horrible spelling and grammar left intact.
"Ah poor Prescott... not. He ought to be grateful that he could pay the bills unlike the 5 million poor people [blah blah blah fishcakes]."
"All that taxpayers' money down the drain, literally, as you can be sure that the food bills would have been paid out of expenses." Seriously, what does that have to do with it? Why are they harping upon about taxpayers? Gah.
"Even as a bulemic [sic] he is a failure." GAH.
"What a cheek to try and gain public sympathy by blaming the stress of office for his greed and his Neanderthal lavatory etiquette. It seems from some of the earlier posts that a few gullible souls have already been taken in." GAAAHHHH.
"...talk about a Big Girls Blouse." (I feel ever so slightly comforted that none of these idiots can spell or punctuate. Don't ask me why. It's Big Girl's Blouse, ass.)
"Bulimia - what a laugh - who has ever seen such a gross overweight, over eating man like Prescott suffering from Bullimia - what a load of rubbish." Oh, fuck off. Fuck. Off. Take your horrible sentence formation and your nasty views and fuck off.
I'll stop there. I'll ignore the tremendously amusing man who compares bulimia to throwing up a kebab when you're pissed and all the other posts talking about "greed". This really frightens me. He's too fat to be bulimic? Huh? Most of the time I love this country. I love the people, I love our collective attitude towards life. I love that no politician is too high or too important to take the piss out of. The one thing I truly hate about the British is our refusal to have personal sympathy with someone whose professional decisions we don't agree with. It disgusts me that people are proudly claiming they'll never feel sorry for him because taxes are going up (bear in mind the man is now retired and has nothing whatsoever to do with the Auditor's new tax plans), or because he's got more money than them, or because he's got a memoir coming out. "Ooh, what a coincidence," says someone sarcastically, having not bothered to read the article. This is IN the memoirs. That's where the story came from. The memoirs are about to be serialised by this newspaper. Dipshit. I hate these people.
Look, I'm no John Prescott fan. I thought he was incompetent as a politician, terrible as a public speaker - like the wonderful Linda Smith, I suspect language isn't his first language - and awful PR for Labour both as a party and a government. If you're an MP, you don't punch protesters. Even if they have thrown an egg at you (ooh, egg! That's food! Look out for a "Why Prescott Really Threw That Punch" bulimia joke coming soon to a comedian near you!). I thought he was completely useless. I still think that, as a professional politician, he was completely useless. However, it doesn't follow that he deserved to get an eating disorder because he was so useless. His uselessness doesn't preclude my now admiring his courage to be honest about it. He's a 69-year-old gruff Northern man with a big stomach. Eating disorders, in the public imagination, are the province of skinny, whiny suburban teenage girls. A man who gets an eating disorder is pathetic. A fat man with an eating disorder is just asking for it. I intend to make a John Prescott Bulimia Bingo card for my personal use when watching TV for the next couple of weeks.
To John Prescott, I say: Well done, that man. Well done. And I apologise for the utterly shitty quality of this post.
Friday, 18 April 2008
Personal Lexicon: The Auditor
I didn't want to tack this on the end of my last post, because I'm still pathetically excited about the idea of having a series. So just a short one this time.
The Auditor: Gordon Brown. After Terry Pratchett's Auditors. For when Brown is pissing me off and being a bit scary.
Prime Minister FridgeVoice: Gordon Brown. For when he's pissing me off and I'm feeling especially juvenile.
The Auditor: Gordon Brown. After Terry Pratchett's Auditors. For when Brown is pissing me off and being a bit scary.
Prime Minister FridgeVoice: Gordon Brown. For when he's pissing me off and I'm feeling especially juvenile.
Thoughts on Gordon Brown
This... isn't really relevant. I just wanted to pretend Gordon Brown had done something interesting so I could talk about it. But no, he hasn't. He's gone to America, he's spouted a few nice cliches, he just lurves Bush and McCain and Clinton and Obama, he has no opinions that he'll state out loud, and I STILL can't take in a word he says because that man's voice is exactly like the hum of a fridge. I try to listen to him, I really do. I sit in front of the news and I concentrate hard. I take in the first sentence. I'm so pleased that I've taken in the first sentence that I miss the next couple of sentences. Then I realise I've forgotten what the first sentence was. Since he's become Prime Minister, I've tried to listen to numerous speeches he's made, and I've retained two things: "The EU treaty is not a constitution because it specifically says it's not a constitution" (as though that will have any effect on the content, which most people say is essentially the same - I tried to read the proposed constitution when the French were voting on it, planning to do a easy breakdown of it for my website, but they've deliberately made it unreadable. I think I got fifty pages in and went loony. What happened to the notes I made, I've no idea) and, from the other day, "Oh yes, I love American TV." Come on, Gordon, you do not. Unless you mean you love the craftsmanship on the fine American-made TV set in your hotel room.
I have a troubled love for politics. I wish I could be one of those people who think all politicians are the same so it doesn't matter who you vote for. Actually, I kind of do think that. For some reason that makes it worse. It's vital to me that David Cameron never gets within whipping distance of Number 10, even though he'd probably be, for all intents and purposes, exactly the same as Tony Blair. I don't say Brown, because he's a different bucket of aardvarks. I don't hate him as much as Cameron, because Brown actually knows what he's doing. Problem is, I really don't like what he's doing. I've finally worked out why he makes me so uncomfortable: Gordon Brown is an Auditor.
There just aren't enough Pratchett references in political blogging, and I think it's a damn shame, so this is the first of my attempts to correct it. I fully expect to have a lot of explaining to do. Stephen Fry and QI will help me. I love QI. Somewhere in my Top Ten Most Used Phrases is "It's true. Stephen Fry told me." Stephen Fry told me and BBC viewers in general that 90% of the universe is missing. We don't know where it is. It's slightly embarrassing. Terry Pratchett, who is one of the great unacknowledged philosophers of our time (he is. Just because it's funny doesn't mean it should be disregarded) suggests in Thief of Time that "nine-tenths of the universe is the paperwork." Said paperwork is done by the Auditors. The Auditors are basically grey robes, with nothing visible inside the hoods. They have no real voices - should they wish to communicate, the words arrive in the other person's brain without passing through the ears. This is exactly how I feel about Gordon Brown's voice, although I clearly have some sort of reverse Babel fish in my brain which immediately translates everything into intangible nonsense. The Auditors also hate humanity, because humans are irrational and irregular. If they could eliminate humanity, they could get the filing finished.
I would swear that Gordon Brown wishes there were no people in Britain so he can finish the filing. He always seems so affronted when we object to something. Blair would sigh, grit his millions of teeth, and tell us that he understood where we were coming from, but this was very important and we must trust him. And yeah, that was irritating. It's not as irritating as Gordon Brown's "What do you mean, no? You can't say no. I have decreed that this is what will happen. You can't object to it. I'm Gordon Brown. How dare you attempt to disagree with me?" Which, in turn, is less irritating (though scarier) than David Cameron's "You disagree? Oh no! Panic! Well, you're right, of course. Of course you're right, I totally screwed that up. Sorry. We'll try it your way instead!" Repeat ad nauseam when it turns out that not everybody agrees on everything. Dumbass. More about him another time.
Gordon Brown is scary. He's fundamentally scary. His default expression may be, "oh bugger, we're out of loo roll again. Why are we always out of loo roll?" but when he attempts some sort of expression, it always looks like some variant on "man who is going to kill you, probably because he thinks you took his loo roll." His 'happy' face looks like that. His 'angry' face looks like that. His 'neutral but relatable politician' face looks like that, and he's been practicing it a lot the past few days. It doesn't translate well, because Americans don't say 'loo roll'. It was a nice image, him and Bush strolling around together. Bush stole an election, Brown didn't even bother to have an election.
Goddammit, Liberal Democrats, why did you have to draft in Baby Cameron as your leader? Anyone else and you would have had my vote! I'd even have voted for old Ming above Brown and Cameron, and he was a corpse on wheels! Anyone except Baby Cameron! You know I can't support anyone who bears any political resemblance to Cameron! (I'm looking at you, Obama.) Alright, I wouldn't vote for Lembit Opik, but that's because he's shagging a Cheeky Girl and expects us not to laugh. I used to quite like him, but really, a freakishly thin Transylvanian in silver hot pants who was rejected in the first round of Popstars who sang a song called Touch My Bum written by her mother and a twisty-faced Lib Dem obsessed with doom-mongering asteroid theories, and we're not supposed to laugh? He seems to think he's too important to be laughed at. For fuck's sake, Lembit. You're in fucking Britain. One, you're never too important to be laughed at here. Two, you're not actually important at all. Three, it's hilarious! Have some self-awareness, man, yikes. (Sorry.)
Attention anyone who may be reading: For the headline "Thoughts on Gordon Brown", kindly read, "Thoughts on Gordon Brown, David Cameron, Terry Pratchett and his works, Lembit Opik, that whole stupid situation with the Cheeky Girl, and the state of Britain today if politicians forget that their entire purpose is to be criticised and laughed at." Thank you.
I have a troubled love for politics. I wish I could be one of those people who think all politicians are the same so it doesn't matter who you vote for. Actually, I kind of do think that. For some reason that makes it worse. It's vital to me that David Cameron never gets within whipping distance of Number 10, even though he'd probably be, for all intents and purposes, exactly the same as Tony Blair. I don't say Brown, because he's a different bucket of aardvarks. I don't hate him as much as Cameron, because Brown actually knows what he's doing. Problem is, I really don't like what he's doing. I've finally worked out why he makes me so uncomfortable: Gordon Brown is an Auditor.
There just aren't enough Pratchett references in political blogging, and I think it's a damn shame, so this is the first of my attempts to correct it. I fully expect to have a lot of explaining to do. Stephen Fry and QI will help me. I love QI. Somewhere in my Top Ten Most Used Phrases is "It's true. Stephen Fry told me." Stephen Fry told me and BBC viewers in general that 90% of the universe is missing. We don't know where it is. It's slightly embarrassing. Terry Pratchett, who is one of the great unacknowledged philosophers of our time (he is. Just because it's funny doesn't mean it should be disregarded) suggests in Thief of Time that "nine-tenths of the universe is the paperwork." Said paperwork is done by the Auditors. The Auditors are basically grey robes, with nothing visible inside the hoods. They have no real voices - should they wish to communicate, the words arrive in the other person's brain without passing through the ears. This is exactly how I feel about Gordon Brown's voice, although I clearly have some sort of reverse Babel fish in my brain which immediately translates everything into intangible nonsense. The Auditors also hate humanity, because humans are irrational and irregular. If they could eliminate humanity, they could get the filing finished.
I would swear that Gordon Brown wishes there were no people in Britain so he can finish the filing. He always seems so affronted when we object to something. Blair would sigh, grit his millions of teeth, and tell us that he understood where we were coming from, but this was very important and we must trust him. And yeah, that was irritating. It's not as irritating as Gordon Brown's "What do you mean, no? You can't say no. I have decreed that this is what will happen. You can't object to it. I'm Gordon Brown. How dare you attempt to disagree with me?" Which, in turn, is less irritating (though scarier) than David Cameron's "You disagree? Oh no! Panic! Well, you're right, of course. Of course you're right, I totally screwed that up. Sorry. We'll try it your way instead!" Repeat ad nauseam when it turns out that not everybody agrees on everything. Dumbass. More about him another time.
Gordon Brown is scary. He's fundamentally scary. His default expression may be, "oh bugger, we're out of loo roll again. Why are we always out of loo roll?" but when he attempts some sort of expression, it always looks like some variant on "man who is going to kill you, probably because he thinks you took his loo roll." His 'happy' face looks like that. His 'angry' face looks like that. His 'neutral but relatable politician' face looks like that, and he's been practicing it a lot the past few days. It doesn't translate well, because Americans don't say 'loo roll'. It was a nice image, him and Bush strolling around together. Bush stole an election, Brown didn't even bother to have an election.
Goddammit, Liberal Democrats, why did you have to draft in Baby Cameron as your leader? Anyone else and you would have had my vote! I'd even have voted for old Ming above Brown and Cameron, and he was a corpse on wheels! Anyone except Baby Cameron! You know I can't support anyone who bears any political resemblance to Cameron! (I'm looking at you, Obama.) Alright, I wouldn't vote for Lembit Opik, but that's because he's shagging a Cheeky Girl and expects us not to laugh. I used to quite like him, but really, a freakishly thin Transylvanian in silver hot pants who was rejected in the first round of Popstars who sang a song called Touch My Bum written by her mother and a twisty-faced Lib Dem obsessed with doom-mongering asteroid theories, and we're not supposed to laugh? He seems to think he's too important to be laughed at. For fuck's sake, Lembit. You're in fucking Britain. One, you're never too important to be laughed at here. Two, you're not actually important at all. Three, it's hilarious! Have some self-awareness, man, yikes. (Sorry.)
Attention anyone who may be reading: For the headline "Thoughts on Gordon Brown", kindly read, "Thoughts on Gordon Brown, David Cameron, Terry Pratchett and his works, Lembit Opik, that whole stupid situation with the Cheeky Girl, and the state of Britain today if politicians forget that their entire purpose is to be criticised and laughed at." Thank you.
Wednesday, 16 April 2008
Useless Information from the Tuesday Pub Quiz
Not much to tell you today, because we only got two questions wrong. And really, it's kind of embarrassing. There's a "wipeout" round in the quiz, where if you put down answers for all 10 questions, you get an extra five points if they're all right and no points at all if you get any wrong. This week it was a lyrics round and I essentially got six points for knowing the words to "The Chicken Song". I don't know if this particular piece of magic is an international phenomenon, but the bit most people know goes: "Hoooooold a chicken in the air, stick a deckchair up your nose..."
So this week, I learned that there are five seconds between each chime of Big Ben, and that the word "fuck" is used 257 times in Pulp Fiction. Use this information wisely, my friends.
So this week, I learned that there are five seconds between each chime of Big Ben, and that the word "fuck" is used 257 times in Pulp Fiction. Use this information wisely, my friends.
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
Hey, Tesco, Leave Our Kids Alone
Tesco is selling padded bras to eight-year-olds.
Tesco says the bra is "designed to cover up, not flatter", but that sure as hell looks like a plunge bra to me. If it was designed to cover up, it would be a crop top. This is obviously meant for eight-year-olds developing slightly faster than normal (as in, A cup), and at that size you don't need a bra. Really. Making it into a bra, as opposed to a crop top or sportswear, does nothing but draw attention to the fact that the girl is developing. This is what early developers complain about - a bra is a stigma. YOU DON'T FUCKING NEED IT. Eight-year-olds sure as hell don't need an underwire. And if they do? Don't buy a £4 Tesco bra. Jesus.
Tesco says the bra is "designed to cover up, not flatter", but that sure as hell looks like a plunge bra to me. If it was designed to cover up, it would be a crop top. This is obviously meant for eight-year-olds developing slightly faster than normal (as in, A cup), and at that size you don't need a bra. Really. Making it into a bra, as opposed to a crop top or sportswear, does nothing but draw attention to the fact that the girl is developing. This is what early developers complain about - a bra is a stigma. YOU DON'T FUCKING NEED IT. Eight-year-olds sure as hell don't need an underwire. And if they do? Don't buy a £4 Tesco bra. Jesus.
Sunday, 13 April 2008
RIP Mark Speight
This is so sad. I'm getting all teary-eyed over a kids' TV presenter that I hadn't thought of in years before this whole chain of events began. It was sad enough when his girlfriend died (I am ready to snap at anyone who starts apportioning "blame" because there were drugs involved), but we as a country have watched him fall apart in little article-sized snapshots. He blamed himself, as you would if you'd been taking drugs with your partner and she died. Sometimes you see people unravel due to grief, but he didn't even do that - he just broke. It's taken a while for him to hit the ground, but he's been dead for months. Staying with his dead girlfriend's mother, quitting his job, making noises about a charity concert, and then they find a body. Of course they did. It's not been officially confirmed as his, but dead man he is nevertheless.
Like everyone else who keeps up with the news, I've seen probably thousands of photos of smiling people who are dead now. It's so common that I don't tend to think about it. There's the occasional one that just won't budge out of my mind, like Holly and Jessica, Peter Woodhams, Nick Berg. And with dead celebrities, we've seen so many pictures of them grinning away that even if we were admired them the picture is no trigger. I've been upset at the death of many a celebrity, because I'm a big softy, but the photos don't make me cry. For some reason, this one is different. I can't look at it because I burst into tears. And I don't know why. It's not just tears, it's a real wrench on my gut. Poor, crazy dumbass. Poor, crazy, talented dumbass with such an ordinary story. Girlfriend dies of an overdose and he loses it. There's no trace of celebrity in this story - she wasn't a druggie, it was stupid middle-class cocaine dabbling. I know a hundred people who would do that and think nothing of it. I know a hundred men who would fall apart exactly like he did in these circumstances. There's nothing special about this story. It's just a very human death.
Like everyone else who keeps up with the news, I've seen probably thousands of photos of smiling people who are dead now. It's so common that I don't tend to think about it. There's the occasional one that just won't budge out of my mind, like Holly and Jessica, Peter Woodhams, Nick Berg. And with dead celebrities, we've seen so many pictures of them grinning away that even if we were admired them the picture is no trigger. I've been upset at the death of many a celebrity, because I'm a big softy, but the photos don't make me cry. For some reason, this one is different. I can't look at it because I burst into tears. And I don't know why. It's not just tears, it's a real wrench on my gut. Poor, crazy dumbass. Poor, crazy, talented dumbass with such an ordinary story. Girlfriend dies of an overdose and he loses it. There's no trace of celebrity in this story - she wasn't a druggie, it was stupid middle-class cocaine dabbling. I know a hundred people who would do that and think nothing of it. I know a hundred men who would fall apart exactly like he did in these circumstances. There's nothing special about this story. It's just a very human death.
Personal Lexicon: Naderbots
Look, another Part Two of a regular feature! I'm on a roll this week.
I was reading this excellent Shakesville post a while ago, and my intention was to use it to start a post of my own about the American elections. However, I took a glance at the comments first. Most of them are, for some unfathomable reason, by one guy banging on about Ralph Nader. The post doesn't mention Ralph Nader, but apparently this funny little man has absolutely nothing to say about anything else. Considering the original post was so interesting, this really annoys me, but someone used the term "naderbot" to describe him, and I'm always on the market for funny new words.
Because ScriptFrenzy is in progress (I refer to mine as Rent meets Yes Minister), I immediately thought of a whole chorus of Naderbots who show up at inopportune moments and sing about something irrelevant. They're going into my script as a chorus of protesters who turn up and sing about how great Ralph Nader is, despite the fact that they're in England and Nader has nothing to do with British politics. I foresee the Naderbots as a great recurring feature in my writing (what better way to pad out a Screnzy or NaNo?) - always referred to as Naderbots but given a new subject for each story. In NaNo '08, the Naderbots may sing about kettles. Screnzy '09? Punctuation. Dammit, I really want to write songs about punctuation.
Naderbot is soon to enter my everyday life as a term for someone who, no matter what is going on around him, talks about his chosen subject and only his chosen subject. No segues, no lame attempts to link it to the conversation at hand, nothing. In such a situation, Ralph Nader may be brought into the conversation as shown:
Naderbot: Blah blah chosen subject blah did you know that [insert crap fact] blah.
You: You know who's great? Ralph Nader.
Naderbot: What does that have to do with [chosen subject]?
You: Ralph Nader cares about the planet. How cool is that?
Naderbot: Oh. [chosen subject] blah blah.
You: Nader is awesome on Bacon-lettuce with cheese issues.
Naderbot: ?
You: Nader is not God, because we Nader supporters do not believe in a God, or Gods, or any master real or imagined.
Naderbot: !
Also, please note the original Naderbot's highly amusing outrage that he is not getting props from the feminists despite his support of sex-selective abortion in the third world. I kind of think he's a bored kid who thinks he's a satirist, but I really hope not. I took all the Nader-based quotes except the first one directly from the Naderbot, and I so want to believe there's someone in the world who genuinely speaks like this. I love the Naderbot. I'm having so much fun with this. He keeps referring to "imperialism" and "empire" (Naderbot thinks he's in Star Wars! and Nader rhymes with Darth Vader! Spooooky.) and anyone who disagrees with Nader not only isn't a progressive, but HATES progressives. That's his entire response to any contradiction.
Naderbot fun:
"Nader has sacrificed for us all, yet we show no gratitude."
"Jesus was a socialist, if he could get himself to vote...it would be for Nader."
"Deride, deride me if you must. But you know I speak the TRUTH!"
"Why do you turn your back on Ralph? Is it because he's Lebanese! You racist bastard."
"Your aloofness is very un-progressive. I also like Progressive Rock."
"Dude, I'm not gay, but I would blow you if you promised to vote for Nader."
There will never again be such an entertaining spammy troll.
I was reading this excellent Shakesville post a while ago, and my intention was to use it to start a post of my own about the American elections. However, I took a glance at the comments first. Most of them are, for some unfathomable reason, by one guy banging on about Ralph Nader. The post doesn't mention Ralph Nader, but apparently this funny little man has absolutely nothing to say about anything else. Considering the original post was so interesting, this really annoys me, but someone used the term "naderbot" to describe him, and I'm always on the market for funny new words.
Because ScriptFrenzy is in progress (I refer to mine as Rent meets Yes Minister), I immediately thought of a whole chorus of Naderbots who show up at inopportune moments and sing about something irrelevant. They're going into my script as a chorus of protesters who turn up and sing about how great Ralph Nader is, despite the fact that they're in England and Nader has nothing to do with British politics. I foresee the Naderbots as a great recurring feature in my writing (what better way to pad out a Screnzy or NaNo?) - always referred to as Naderbots but given a new subject for each story. In NaNo '08, the Naderbots may sing about kettles. Screnzy '09? Punctuation. Dammit, I really want to write songs about punctuation.
Naderbot is soon to enter my everyday life as a term for someone who, no matter what is going on around him, talks about his chosen subject and only his chosen subject. No segues, no lame attempts to link it to the conversation at hand, nothing. In such a situation, Ralph Nader may be brought into the conversation as shown:
Naderbot: Blah blah chosen subject blah did you know that [insert crap fact] blah.
You: You know who's great? Ralph Nader.
Naderbot: What does that have to do with [chosen subject]?
You: Ralph Nader cares about the planet. How cool is that?
Naderbot: Oh. [chosen subject] blah blah.
You: Nader is awesome on Bacon-lettuce with cheese issues.
Naderbot: ?
You: Nader is not God, because we Nader supporters do not believe in a God, or Gods, or any master real or imagined.
Naderbot: !
Also, please note the original Naderbot's highly amusing outrage that he is not getting props from the feminists despite his support of sex-selective abortion in the third world. I kind of think he's a bored kid who thinks he's a satirist, but I really hope not. I took all the Nader-based quotes except the first one directly from the Naderbot, and I so want to believe there's someone in the world who genuinely speaks like this. I love the Naderbot. I'm having so much fun with this. He keeps referring to "imperialism" and "empire" (Naderbot thinks he's in Star Wars! and Nader rhymes with Darth Vader! Spooooky.) and anyone who disagrees with Nader not only isn't a progressive, but HATES progressives. That's his entire response to any contradiction.
Naderbot fun:
"Nader has sacrificed for us all, yet we show no gratitude."
"Jesus was a socialist, if he could get himself to vote...it would be for Nader."
"Deride, deride me if you must. But you know I speak the TRUTH!"
"Why do you turn your back on Ralph? Is it because he's Lebanese! You racist bastard."
"Your aloofness is very un-progressive. I also like Progressive Rock."
"Dude, I'm not gay, but I would blow you if you promised to vote for Nader."
There will never again be such an entertaining spammy troll.
Thursday, 10 April 2008
For Future Reference
The BNP occasionally seizes upon an issue of the moment - usually immigration or some such - to try and appeal to those of us who are white British. We would never treat you like that. Under a BNP government, you come first. Yes you do. Oh, you're worried about the non-white British? No, we're fine with them [snigger]. It's just those immigrants. We hate them.
I've seen this almost work on a couple of my friends. So I just wanted to link this, just so I don't forget.
"Rape is simply sex (I am talking about 'husband-rape' here)... Women enjoy sex, so rape cannot be such a terrible physical ordeal... To suggest that rape, when conducted without violence, is a serious crime is like suggesting force-feeding a woman chocolate cake is a heinous offence."
That is the sort of stuff that members of the BNP think. These people are racists ("show these ethnics the door?" What the hell was that?) and want non-whites returned to "their lands of ethnic origin". These people know that since they're excluding a large percentage of the population with their policies, it's not within their interests to alienate half their target demographic with such sentiments as the above, but those thoughts are there, within the party. Oh, and Nick? Force-feeding IS a heinous offence. If someone force-fed me anything, even if it was a tasty pudding, they would be guilty of assaulting me. Rape is a crime. Force-feeding is a crime. I'm almost tempted to make a "force-feeding you a knuckle sandwich" joke, but I'll just tell you to fuck off instead. Nick? Fuck off.
So for my future reference: The BNP are racist, sexist, stuck in the past, have absolutely no sense of empathy and must never, ever, ever be allowed within sniffing distance of power. EVER. Thank you.
I've seen this almost work on a couple of my friends. So I just wanted to link this, just so I don't forget.
"Rape is simply sex (I am talking about 'husband-rape' here)... Women enjoy sex, so rape cannot be such a terrible physical ordeal... To suggest that rape, when conducted without violence, is a serious crime is like suggesting force-feeding a woman chocolate cake is a heinous offence."
That is the sort of stuff that members of the BNP think. These people are racists ("show these ethnics the door?" What the hell was that?) and want non-whites returned to "their lands of ethnic origin". These people know that since they're excluding a large percentage of the population with their policies, it's not within their interests to alienate half their target demographic with such sentiments as the above, but those thoughts are there, within the party. Oh, and Nick? Force-feeding IS a heinous offence. If someone force-fed me anything, even if it was a tasty pudding, they would be guilty of assaulting me. Rape is a crime. Force-feeding is a crime. I'm almost tempted to make a "force-feeding you a knuckle sandwich" joke, but I'll just tell you to fuck off instead. Nick? Fuck off.
So for my future reference: The BNP are racist, sexist, stuck in the past, have absolutely no sense of empathy and must never, ever, ever be allowed within sniffing distance of power. EVER. Thank you.
Useless Information From The Tuesday Pub Quiz
(Look, a second post in a regular feature!)
A baby oyster is called a spat. As opposed to a regular oyster, which is a spit (I mean, yuck). I don't know who picks these baby names - it can't be the same person who picked "puppy" which is one of the loveliest words in the English language. It just sounds cute and fuzzy. Baby animals should have cute names, even if they're not cute. In previous pub quizzes, we've been asked what a baby pigeon is called. It's a squab. Which is nice, but nowhere near as nice as "pidgelet".
Also, I have no interest in watching Mulholland Drive, but is there really a scene with three women in spangly dresses and two grinning clean-cut blokes singing in what appears to be some sort of diner? I'm just checking, because Cheese has a habit of not checking the answers, and people singing in a diner doesn't tie in with what I've heard about the film. But then, perhaps it's some sort of cosmic lesson. It's probably not right that I retain my position as the team's resident film expert when I've barely seen any films. I read film reviews and have a worryingly good memory for plots and actors and such, but I have the world's lowest gore-and-violence tolerance. Out of the IMDb Top 250, I've seen 25. Ten per cent. That's a bit crap. I really must watch Annie Hall and boost it up one.
A baby oyster is called a spat. As opposed to a regular oyster, which is a spit (I mean, yuck). I don't know who picks these baby names - it can't be the same person who picked "puppy" which is one of the loveliest words in the English language. It just sounds cute and fuzzy. Baby animals should have cute names, even if they're not cute. In previous pub quizzes, we've been asked what a baby pigeon is called. It's a squab. Which is nice, but nowhere near as nice as "pidgelet".
Also, I have no interest in watching Mulholland Drive, but is there really a scene with three women in spangly dresses and two grinning clean-cut blokes singing in what appears to be some sort of diner? I'm just checking, because Cheese has a habit of not checking the answers, and people singing in a diner doesn't tie in with what I've heard about the film. But then, perhaps it's some sort of cosmic lesson. It's probably not right that I retain my position as the team's resident film expert when I've barely seen any films. I read film reviews and have a worryingly good memory for plots and actors and such, but I have the world's lowest gore-and-violence tolerance. Out of the IMDb Top 250, I've seen 25. Ten per cent. That's a bit crap. I really must watch Annie Hall and boost it up one.
Tuesday, 1 April 2008
Personal Lexicon: The Davidson Effect
Today, the BBC informs me that there is no point in allowing mass immigration because it has little to no positive effect on our economy. I think this is an interesting subject, mainly because there is absolutely no answer that won't make you a) naive or b) a bigot. For example, clearly if the entire world immigrates to Britain, Britain is screwed. Whilst the entire world is obviously not going to immigrate to Britain, but there will come a point where there are just too many people coming in. If you disagree, you're naive. Someone will do an impression of a floaty, brainless hippy who thinks people can survive with no food is only they love each other. If you agree, you're a bigot. Someone will do an impression of a Nazi.
I do believe, for example, that immigrants should have to learn English. I won't even go abroad without learning at least "hello" and "thank you" in my destination country's language. I wouldn't dream of moving there and expecting them to accommodate me, even though most people do speak English now. Some people thought it was bigoted of Gordon Brown to suggest mandatory English classes for immigrants. You won't often find me standing up for Brown, but how on earth is this a problem? I'd hate to live in a country where I couldn't understand what was going on. If someone offered me free language classes, brilliant. Reading back over that last paragraph, I can see that it may, to some people, appear that I am bigoted against immigrants.
I have a term for this - The Davidson Effect. Named after World's Most Terrible Comedian, Jim Davidson. When writing the above, I worried all the time that my sentiments were ones Jim Davidson would agree with. For those who don't know (lucky bastards), Davidson makes racist, sexist, homophobic jokes (he also hates the disabled, but I'm not sure what the right word for that is), and commits the worst crime of all by not even bothering to make said jokes funny. Some comedians can make nasty jokes of this kind and be hailed as "pushing comedy's boundaries" and "having a refreshing disregard for political correctness". Davidson, however, is regarded as a pathetic, out-of-touch '80s throwback. If a new stand-up's comedy stylings are compared to Jim Davidson's, you can be certain that it isn't a compliment. Jim Davidson's fans are regarded in much the same light as he is. For example, if I were to admit to liking America's Next Top Model (sorry, it really is entertaining), people would just think I was suffering from a lapse in taste. They wouldn't assume that I was everything the show was - i.e. shallow, fluffy, camp and a waste of most people's time - but Jim's fans are assumed to be exactly like him.
In his stand-up, Dara O Briain told his audience that he'd made a very bad joke that had offended the gay community. I think he made it when he hosted Have I Got News For You, and was a really shit joke about Elton John and Billy Elliot. He received an angry letter from OutRage ("For those of you who don't know, one of the previous targets of one of their campaigns was Robert Mugabe. And now me.") and explained that once he realised he'd fucked up, he backed down immediately "because if I hadn't, I might just as well have started playing golf with Jim Davidson." If the joke itself didn't offend you, and the letter from OutRage didn't sway your thoughts, then this line tells you all you need to know: it's wrong because Jim Davidson thinks it's right. Golf has often been shorthand for exclusion and bigotry, and it only serves to ram the point home. If he hadn't backed down once he knew he'd been offensive, he would be a sad old loser with absolutely no place in the modern world. "Playing golf with Jim Davidson" has entered my personal lexicon as the actions of someone who has embraced his or her own bigotry. O Briain was also disturbed to receive a letter of support from some "concerned citizens" who wanted to praise his "comments on the link between paedophilia and homosexuality." They ended by expressing their support for his "stance against the forces of sodomy". Yes, forces of sodomy. O Briain finished reading the letter and added a sardonic, "Yours sincerely, Robert Mugabe", which is an extremely handy phrase to throw into a conversation when someone has said something particularly shocking.
I can't call this a regular feature yet, because I've done that with half my entries so far and haven't yet done a second one for any of them. Oh well.
I do believe, for example, that immigrants should have to learn English. I won't even go abroad without learning at least "hello" and "thank you" in my destination country's language. I wouldn't dream of moving there and expecting them to accommodate me, even though most people do speak English now. Some people thought it was bigoted of Gordon Brown to suggest mandatory English classes for immigrants. You won't often find me standing up for Brown, but how on earth is this a problem? I'd hate to live in a country where I couldn't understand what was going on. If someone offered me free language classes, brilliant. Reading back over that last paragraph, I can see that it may, to some people, appear that I am bigoted against immigrants.
I have a term for this - The Davidson Effect. Named after World's Most Terrible Comedian, Jim Davidson. When writing the above, I worried all the time that my sentiments were ones Jim Davidson would agree with. For those who don't know (lucky bastards), Davidson makes racist, sexist, homophobic jokes (he also hates the disabled, but I'm not sure what the right word for that is), and commits the worst crime of all by not even bothering to make said jokes funny. Some comedians can make nasty jokes of this kind and be hailed as "pushing comedy's boundaries" and "having a refreshing disregard for political correctness". Davidson, however, is regarded as a pathetic, out-of-touch '80s throwback. If a new stand-up's comedy stylings are compared to Jim Davidson's, you can be certain that it isn't a compliment. Jim Davidson's fans are regarded in much the same light as he is. For example, if I were to admit to liking America's Next Top Model (sorry, it really is entertaining), people would just think I was suffering from a lapse in taste. They wouldn't assume that I was everything the show was - i.e. shallow, fluffy, camp and a waste of most people's time - but Jim's fans are assumed to be exactly like him.
In his stand-up, Dara O Briain told his audience that he'd made a very bad joke that had offended the gay community. I think he made it when he hosted Have I Got News For You, and was a really shit joke about Elton John and Billy Elliot. He received an angry letter from OutRage ("For those of you who don't know, one of the previous targets of one of their campaigns was Robert Mugabe. And now me.") and explained that once he realised he'd fucked up, he backed down immediately "because if I hadn't, I might just as well have started playing golf with Jim Davidson." If the joke itself didn't offend you, and the letter from OutRage didn't sway your thoughts, then this line tells you all you need to know: it's wrong because Jim Davidson thinks it's right. Golf has often been shorthand for exclusion and bigotry, and it only serves to ram the point home. If he hadn't backed down once he knew he'd been offensive, he would be a sad old loser with absolutely no place in the modern world. "Playing golf with Jim Davidson" has entered my personal lexicon as the actions of someone who has embraced his or her own bigotry. O Briain was also disturbed to receive a letter of support from some "concerned citizens" who wanted to praise his "comments on the link between paedophilia and homosexuality." They ended by expressing their support for his "stance against the forces of sodomy". Yes, forces of sodomy. O Briain finished reading the letter and added a sardonic, "Yours sincerely, Robert Mugabe", which is an extremely handy phrase to throw into a conversation when someone has said something particularly shocking.
I can't call this a regular feature yet, because I've done that with half my entries so far and haven't yet done a second one for any of them. Oh well.
Sunday, 30 March 2008
ScriptFrenzy
ScriptFrenzy starts Tuesday! I've decided to write a musical, because I am insane. I've never written a song before in my life, so my plan is to write some lyrics, sit in front of my brother's keyboard, attempt to find the key that matches the note I'm singing and write it down. Accompaniment be damned. If I can sing it, it's a musical.
Shit Celebrity Fun
I have a question, then.
Being up late and bored, I decided to watch a little Art Attack on Youtube and indulge my inner eight-year-old, who by the way is still throwing a tantrum over its cancellation. So I search "Art Attack" and it gives me some videos and some alternative searches: art atack, art attak, the usual misspelled goodness. However the first one is "mensaje subliminal". Why? Is this a new conspiracy theory? Was Neil Buchanan actually an evil genius putting subliminal messages into his programmes? In Spanish? I suppose it would explain my continued love of the man. He's my favourite shit celebrity ever, just ahead of Roy Walker and Maurice Flynn of BBC Points West. He's only third because of the time I actually met him, which provided me with endless amusement. We were at the Balloon Fiesta, collecting free stuff, and when we discovered that we could get Maurice Flynn's autograph, our Shit Celebrity radars went off. Brilliant! We'd never even heard of him! A nice man informs Maurice Flynn that we want his autograph.
"What?" says Maurice, looking genuinely petrified, "No they don't!"
We assure him that yes, we do, and he signs the photos whilst looking at us partly as though we're insane, but mostly as though we're going to eat him. He then turns bright red and vanishes. I do occasionally wonder if we scarred him for life that day. Poor bloke.
I do want to point out the difference between a Shit Celebrity and a Celebrity Who Is Shit. A Shit Celebrity is barely remembered, but fondly remembered. A Celebrity Who Is Shit is well known but everyone hates them. This particular blog is a Shit Celebrity supporter, and will try not to mention Celebrities Who Are Shit unless they're actually relevant to the national news somehow. I do enjoy collecting Shit Celebrities and might turn them into another regular feature. Yay!
ETA: Oh My God. This is the best thing I've ever seen. Oh, Neil. You do make it so easy for me to love you.
Being up late and bored, I decided to watch a little Art Attack on Youtube and indulge my inner eight-year-old, who by the way is still throwing a tantrum over its cancellation. So I search "Art Attack" and it gives me some videos and some alternative searches: art atack, art attak, the usual misspelled goodness. However the first one is "mensaje subliminal". Why? Is this a new conspiracy theory? Was Neil Buchanan actually an evil genius putting subliminal messages into his programmes? In Spanish? I suppose it would explain my continued love of the man. He's my favourite shit celebrity ever, just ahead of Roy Walker and Maurice Flynn of BBC Points West. He's only third because of the time I actually met him, which provided me with endless amusement. We were at the Balloon Fiesta, collecting free stuff, and when we discovered that we could get Maurice Flynn's autograph, our Shit Celebrity radars went off. Brilliant! We'd never even heard of him! A nice man informs Maurice Flynn that we want his autograph.
"What?" says Maurice, looking genuinely petrified, "No they don't!"
We assure him that yes, we do, and he signs the photos whilst looking at us partly as though we're insane, but mostly as though we're going to eat him. He then turns bright red and vanishes. I do occasionally wonder if we scarred him for life that day. Poor bloke.
I do want to point out the difference between a Shit Celebrity and a Celebrity Who Is Shit. A Shit Celebrity is barely remembered, but fondly remembered. A Celebrity Who Is Shit is well known but everyone hates them. This particular blog is a Shit Celebrity supporter, and will try not to mention Celebrities Who Are Shit unless they're actually relevant to the national news somehow. I do enjoy collecting Shit Celebrities and might turn them into another regular feature. Yay!
ETA: Oh My God. This is the best thing I've ever seen. Oh, Neil. You do make it so easy for me to love you.
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