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Archives for: January 2006

A great big self-indulgent whinge. Sorry

by Emsbabee @ 2006-01-31 - 12:03:43

I'm not sure how far I'm going to get with this post, as there's only so much whining you can put up with, even when it's your own. I FEEL BAD. And I have no real reason to. I have a job, a boyfriend, friends and all my own teeth. My body is not rejecting any of my organs. Nobody has ever shot my mother in front of me. My period has been and gone. THERE IS NO REASON TO FEEL LIKE THIS SO WHY DO I?

My mum has told me to eat two brazil nuts every day. The appliance of science there. I think it's probably the end of Big Brother on Friday and the aftermath of the Lassiters party plane crash on Neighbours that's affecting my mood. Harold's not taking it well. I'm hoping we'll see the return of evil Harold very soon. I'm also hoping he'll take to dressing like Pete Burns, who got booed like a pantomine villain on Friday and looked the part.

In other inconsequential news, my friend Georgie heartily agreed with me when I showed her how much my breasts have shrunk. That's not the way it works in girl world, you lie to the point of total fabrication when asked anything relating to your friend's appearance. Also, I decided to put this whole Big Brother thing in perspective by seeing what the Guardian had to say on the matter, finding this article and getting all guilt-stricken, as I haven't done a thing for the Stop The War camapign since the invasion of Iraq.

Comment

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'Galloway can no longer count on the indulgence of polite society'

Nick Cohen
Sunday January 15, 2006
The Observer

The first series of Big Brother in 2000 drew a long howl of disgust from the British intelligentsia. Martin Amis said it proved that meritocracy was dead - because 'now you can become famous without having any talent by abasing yourself on a TV nerdothon'. Writers as diverse as James Hawes and Ben Elton wrote state-of-the-nation novels about contestants who will do anything to please the peeping Tom producers and their creepy audiences. I lost count of the newspaper pundits who said the show encapsulated everything that was sinister in modern life, and may well have said it myself.
The leaders of the anti-war movement should have paid attention. The rage showed that there were limits to the tolerance of the liberal middle class. We had our lines in the sand, damn it. Unfortunately, they were on the wrong beach.

George Galloway and his backers in the Socialist Workers Party are finished now. The alliance they organised between the Trotskyist far left and the Islamic far right, which produced the most disgraceful protest movement since the Thirties, can no longer count on the indulgence of polite society.

Was it Galloway's support for every anti-American tyrant on the planet that did for him? Not at all. He could salute the 'courage, strength and indefatigability' of Saddam Hussein, Tariq Aziz and Bashar al-Assad with impunity. How about his apologetics for the 'martyrs' of al-Qaeda and the Baath Party who represent everything the liberal-left has been against since the Enlightenment? No, not at all, that was fine, too. Or perhaps his sickening attacks on 'quisling' Iraqi trade unionists when they were being murdered by those same al-Qaeda and Baathist terrorists?

Once again, polite society found no reason to take offence. Indeed, it cheered itself hoarse when Galloway dodged pertinent questions from US senators about how many starving Iraqi children had seen the profits from the option to buy 23 million barrels of oil Saddam gave his charity.

The liberal media have turned on Galloway because of a far more heinous crime: his appearance on Celebrity Big Brother. The Independent and the BBC are furious that Galloway is failing to represent his constituents while he is in the Big Brother house. Why they believe an operator who saluted Saddam and described the fall of the Soviet Union as 'the worst day of my life' should want to observe the niceties of parliamentary democracy is beyond me. He was hardly ever in the Commons when he wasn't on Big Brother

However dunderheaded the charge, the SWP, which runs Galloway's Respect party, is panicking. The comrades in his Bethnal Green and Bow constituency admit in a communique to the faithful that 'it would be foolish to pretend that the issue will not cause us some damage'.

There is obviously an element of bourgeois snobbery about prole-TV at work here. But it is also the case that polite society couldn't break with the thug on anything resembling a serious point of principle because it had so compromised itself.

In every developed country, the story has been the same. At the beginning of the Iraq crisis, the far left moved to the far right and took control of the anti-war protests. Behind them came many decent people who were against war for good reasons. Unfortunately, their hatred of Bush was such they couldn't bring themselves to back democracy once it was over. They didn't go as far as Galloway and support the Baathists, but they didn't oppose them either.

In Britain, we had the honourable exceptions to the rule of Tony Blair, the majority of Labour MPs and the trade unions, but there was no sense among the wider liberal-left that the struggle in Iraq was anything to do with them.

The other day, I ran into Kanan Makiya, a writer who has done more than anyone to expose the horrors of the Saddam regime, and he was disgusted with the rich world's liberals. He is collecting millions of old files in Baghdad so Iraqis will be able to find out what happened to their families during the 35-year Baath dictatorship. 'All the time, I hear the insurgents crowing, "Even your friends in the West don't support you." And they're right. We have been betrayed.'

The madness is passing now, with a whimper, not a bang. When Galloway comes out of the Big Brother house, no one in the middle classes will want to know him and that will be for the good. Far from being sinister, Celebrity Big Brother deserves to win a Bafta for its exposure of the truly sinister.

Still, aren't they weird? The liberals who think it is worse to appear on a TV show than in the court of a fascist tyrant; the socialists who believe that it is left wing to ignore Iraq as the forces of the far right blow it to pieces. Not just fatuous and immoral, but weird beyond measure.

Who goes? Who stays? Who cares?

by Emsbabee @ 2006-01-22 - 17:43:42

My head is going spinny spinny, and I don't know why. No alcohol has passed my lips for nigh on three days, and I'm pretty sure I've consumed an adequate amount of calories. I may have forgotten to take a tablet, but I don't usually feel the effects this quickly. I may go take one now, so if you'll excuse me...

...I don't feel any better. Probably because the pineapple juice I just washed it down with tasted like wee.

Meanwhile, am torn between watching some heavy weight drama about Queen Victoria (which I am only drawn to because it has Fiona from Shameless in, though I'm not holding out for any mentions of 'spunkbucket') or Celebrity Big Brother. This gets me so wound up that I'm practically spitting blood, but it's still stangely compulsive viewing. I love tuning in just to see who's turned against who, who's having a breakdown, who's arse is hanging out the furthest. Pete Burns has to be the most nauseating example of the perils of fame. I love to watch him twitching his monstrous lips and preening in the mirror, bitching about somebody he was probably hugging all of two seconds ago. He looks like a ropey old tart from the back, and the bride of frankenstein from the front. I HATE HIM! Yet I can't stop watching him.

Maybe it's Maybelline?

I've just heard on the news that there is to be a cull of grey squirrels, as apparently they threaten other wildlife? How exactly? Stealing their dinner money, giving them wedgies?

Here's our Graham with a quick reminder...

by Emsbabee @ 2006-01-20 - 20:48:38

...don't ever organise blind dates for your friends. They will end up coming back and biting you on the arse, as everybody sits around and stares at their shoes, secretely blaming you for everything that has gone wrong in their lives to date, but especially this.

Actually, it wasn't so bad. Here is a quick reminder in Graham stylee: My friend Itsuka met a man on NYE whom she had no interest in, yet still spent three hours talking to. I meanwhile was getting on stupendously well with his Jarvis Cocker looky-like mate Elliot. It turned out that we both like interfering in other people's lives, so when Matt texted Itsuka to ask for another date and she didn't want to go alone, Elliot and I decided it would be fun to set up his mate Adam with my sister, then sit back and feel the lurve.

Except there wasn't any lurve in this room, everybody was terribly polite and got on terribly well but there was absolutely no snogging of any description, and they ended the evening with a round of awkward hugs and 'see ya around'. So, a complete waste of everyone's time then.

Something that certainly wasn't a waste of time was Brokeback Mountain, gay cowboys have become my new favourite thing ever. Jake Gyllenhal wearing nothing but cowboy boots. If I had a penis, then would surely have passed out by the force of the blood rushing to it when this came on the screen. I can barely type now, lust is making my vision hazy.

Ooh, ooh, also, I might get to go backstage at the Boosh! Elliot's mate knows somebody who knows somebody whose dog is very well connected, whose sister once saw Bobby Davro in the street and well anyway, he might be able to get us backstage after the show!!! I'm trying to think of something really funny and original to say to Vince Noir, to cover up my inevitable declarations of love, marriage and cute little hairy babies when I get within ten feet of him. Note to self, must remember to spill something offensive all down my sister (possibly urine?) so she'll have to go home and change whilst I am schmoozing with my future bride.

Peace and lurve

by Emsbabee @ 2006-01-17 - 11:45:42

www.maketradefair.com

BECOME A CYBER WARRIOR, TODAY!

Anyhoo, today is the date with Mr Unsuitable. How exciting. Or, how would have been exciting if this was a year ago and I was still dribbling at the thought of his crotch in those baggy jeans. Not that I have much time for crotches normally you understand, and I certainly don't have time for his any more.

The pregnant girl of car parking peeing fame came round yesterday so I could give her loads of baby stuff that people had collected for her. To be honest, she seemed rather embarrassed and said she didn't like most of it, but when she'd left I got a text from another member of staff saying that she was really happy and couldn't wait to have the baby now. All together...aaaaaw. As long as she doesn't go into labour when I'm on sleepeover duty, tend to gag if somebody has bad breath, let alone is bleeding and screaming like they do on ER.

My ex boyfriend has just texted me to tell me that he was sexually abused as a kid!?! Am sitting here in genuine shock. Feel awful, but I don't quite believe him, because this has NEVER NEVER been mentioned before and we were together three years and he told me everything. Plus he's made stuff up before. I know you'd have to be pretty unhinged to make this sort of thing up, so I shall give him the benefit of the doubt. Feel quite sick now.

Is it me, or is that a pretty fucked up way of telling somebody something like that? I'm being really selfish, but I don't see why he needs to tell me, or what I'm supposed to do. We split up years ago, and I wouldn't say we're exactly the best of friends.

Girl number three

by Emsbabee @ 2006-01-16 - 21:36:36

A typical Friday night in deepest Chichester. Three girls, none of them exactly in the first bloom of youth, nevertheless are refused service at three seperate bars. Damn girl number one for leaving her passport and driving licence in Wales. Desperate, yet not defeated, three girls go to Tesco Express where they purchase vodka and spare rib flavoured crisps (girl number two will realise at 3am the next morning that the latter were a terrible mistake).

Three girls hurry home with their purchases and sit around the table, pouring them down their respective necks. As their inhibitions dissolve, the conversation takes a turn for the worse. Three girls confess seperately to the following:

* Taking it up the wrong'un
* Having sex in the school common room
* Finding Patrick Turman sexually attractive!?!

Actually I made the last one up. But the piece de resistance was a confession by girl number three at around twelevety o'clock:

"When I was 14, me, my brother and our two cousins (aged 7 and 5) were all messing around on a double bed. We got under the covers and were playfighting. Suddenly, my cousin grabbed my breasts, and not knowing what to do, I just lay there and let him!"

To sum up, girl number three's first experience of light to medium petting was with her seven year old cousin!!

The best bit of the story however comes next day when girl number three is looking through a photo album with her mother and comments how one of her uncle's looks a bit like a sex offender. Her mother disagreed, saying that she thought the breast-grabbing 7 year old (now all grown up) looked a far more likely contender for this title.

I would just like to make it clear at this point that I am not, nor will ever be, girl number three.

The Boosh is loose...

by Emsbabee @ 2006-01-10 - 18:31:00

A ha. A ha ha ha ha. I had a double date with Mr Unsuitable. On Thursday. Him and his missus. Me and my bloke. It was to the cinema. He cancelled. And rearranged. For a night that only we two could go. I have the power. And can't stop writing like this. So, in conclusion, a ha ha ha ha ah h...

I had to take a heavily pregnant girl to the doctor's yesterday, (for work purposes. I didn't find her giving birth in the street) and then dissuade her from peeing in the car park. I had no idea what she was doing until she handed me her bag and started unbuttoning her flies.

Booked tickets to see the Might Boosh in February! Many many huzzahs! Both me and my sister want to do dirty things to the pointy featured blonde one (pictured below. Mhmm).

Fuck me he's beautiful

We're arguing over who gets to go first. I'm the oldest, so naturally it should be me. We do have experience, we hung around the stage door for a good 20 mins until we got Kate Rusby's autograph, although no boning took place as naturally, she is a girl, and married. Actually, I don't so much want to do dirty things to him as comb his hair and wash his silly outfits and get him to pull faces all day long.

Feeling warm and fluffy

by Emsbabee @ 2006-01-07 - 12:48:42

I want to go to sleeeeep. Did a night shift and can't eve get to sleep before about 2, which by that time seems kind of pointless as have to get back up at 7. I am not the kind of person who can function on less than 8 hours. Plus I love to sleep more than just about anything, with about ten pillows and three blankets, a book, a cat, my sexy knee length socks. Ah bliss....

Although the night shift here is so much different to where I used to work. It was supported housing, but with British teenagers and on an average night you'd have to sort out a couple of fights, kick out a few drug dealers, stop people climbing in through the windows and have at least one person come to the office to announce they'd self harmed / attempted suicide. I'd sit up all night there watching the security camera, willing them to try something dodgy. Some of the kids had had really appalling starts in life, but frankly, some of them hadn't, and their behaviour was so self-indulgent that you completely lost patience. Whereas here, this little bunch of orphans and exiles sat and played Monopoly for about 3hrs last night, helping each other out with the rules and the money. Then they all cooked dinner together and played ping pong. It sounds like the Waltons, but the difference in attitude is quite honestly embarrassing.

I made this one myself

by Emsbabee @ 2006-01-06 - 16:55:44

I can feel a new obsession coming on. Coming soon, 'what type of pasta are you?'

http://www.thequizzery.com/quiz.php?id=30

Which made up creature are you?

by Emsbabee @ 2006-01-06 - 13:55:39

http://www.jamiefrost.co.uk/narniaquiz/quiz.php?lang

As Puddleglum the marshwiggle, you are very much pessimistic and paranoid! However, you're respected and trusted, and have a heart of gold.

Me, apparently

Totally essential television...

by Emsbabee @ 2006-01-02 - 11:33:25

...totally Scott-Lee. Cannot believe I forgot to mention this programme. I watched a marathon when I was at home in Wales. The Scott-Lee's, so desperate for fame that they've allowed MTV to make a programme in which they openly take the piss (the song that goes over the opening credits is about how this is their last chance at fame etc.) Lisa cries at least three times an episode, because she can't open a tin of tuna, or her socks don't match, or she can't get anybody to give her a record deal. Even Butlins don't seem to be interested any more. Highlights included:

* What Lisa wore to Andy and Michelle of Liberty X's engagement party, she looked like a demented cheerleader
* Michelle of Liberty X demanding her engagement ring being taken back to the jewellers to have more diamonds put on
* Lisa being taken on by the same record label as her brother, and then them both copping a strop about the possibility of going head to head in a frantic attempt to drum up some interest
* Lisa being stung by a wasp (the TV highlight of 2005)
I could go on, and on. And on...

It makes even better viewing when you know her career is now on a par with a Kleenezee salesman, and that all the plucking and fake tanning and warbling and strop copping HAVE BEEN FOR NOTHING. Although I hear she wants to do Eurovision this year, so I imagine there's another series on the way. Hopefully she'll end up working in the very same tanning shop where she and everybody she knows appear to have discount cards.

http://totallyscottlee.lisascottlee.com/