http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/en-EUMokoFeed10http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/37/53640befc3e4ac75929d993ccd35c5_160x200.jpghttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/20/telly-belly-7420097/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-11-20:/2009/11/20/telly-belly-7420097/Fri, 20 Nov 2009 14:39:22 +0100 <p><strong>It's back, and if you can be bothered, it's right <a href="http://www.theargus.co.uk/blogs/blogs/4751214.I_m_A_Celebrity___Get_Me_Out_Of_Here_/">over here</a>.</strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/20/telly-belly-7420097/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>telly-bellythe-argushttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/20/telly-belly-7420097/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/18/wltm-7407868/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-11-18:/2009/11/18/wltm-7407868/Wed, 18 Nov 2009 16:08:17 +0100 <p><strong>Colonel Gaddafi seems to have decided that Islam needs an <a href="http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/europe/article6918541.ece">injection of PR</a>. He recently and rather sensationally invited 500 women to meet with him at a villa in Italy, reportedly to prove that being a female Muslim didn’t mean signing up for a life time of inequality and oppression. </p> <p>This might have cut a little more mustard if he hadn’t demanded the women who attend be recruited from a hostess agency, at least 1.7 metres high, attractive, elegant and dressed to please. In the conservative sense.</p> <p>In short then, Islam is good to tall lovelies in knee-length skirts. The rest of you girls can sod right off. Try Kabbalah, they’ll have anybody.<br> </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/18/wltm-7407868/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>hostess-with-the-mostestcolonel-gaddafihttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/18/wltm-7407868/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/18/woo-and-hoo-7407717/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-11-18:/2009/11/18/woo-and-hoo-7407717/Wed, 18 Nov 2009 15:43:35 +0100 <p><strong>A very happy event – the editor of the Argus e-mailed me this morning to ask if I’d like to write a 500 word ‘love her or loathe her’ piece on Jordan, to be published in tomorrow’s paper. She asked me because she knows I love that sort of thing. And boy, do I love that sort of thing. </p> <p>Naturally, I chose the loathe option, and had it all off my chest by lunchtime, which is when she wanted it by. If my ears weren’t so horribly blocked from last night’s reluctant swimming session (I hate exercise almost as much as I hate Jordan) there would be steam coming out of them. It was mighty cleansing, in a way that shouting at her on the telly has never quite managed to be.</p> <p>I knew buying New magazine every Tuesday would eventually pay off. I just didn’t know that I knew it.<br> </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/18/woo-and-hoo-7407717/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>the-argusthe-lovely-katie-pricehttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/18/woo-and-hoo-7407717/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/16/yeah-baby-7386271/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-11-16:/2009/11/16/yeah-baby-7386271/Mon, 16 Nov 2009 17:05:27 +0100 <p><strong>There have been a few times in life so far when I can congratulate myself on being a good girlfriend. I’m pleased to report that today is one of those days.</p> <p>I have two tickets to the launch of - ahem - Platinum Lace, which is apparently the ‘upgraded and enhanced’ version of old faithful, Spearmint Rhino, in Brighton. These tickets are so I can write a review. I don’t really know how to apply lipstick, so there’s no chance I’m going to become a lesbian of that, or indeed any other variety. Not really my bag.</p> <p>Of course I’m going to look, but in a ‘checking other women out to see how they compare to you in a sports centre changing room’ kinda way. And I’m hoping for some comedy nipple themed canapés. And to keep my poorly developed feminist principles at bay, at least until I have a keyboard in front of me and several drinks down the hatch.</p> <p>And I’m giving the other ticket to Olly. Who’s a lucky boy then? Well, we’ll see, but on paper it sounds like a interesting offer, and the kind of thing you normally have to exchange an awful lot of washing up duty and massage sessions for. For him is free. Because for me, is free. Not the point, obviously. That’s around here somewhere too...<br> </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/16/yeah-baby-7386271/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/16/yeah-baby-7386271/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/13/it-s-your-dolmio-day-7366317/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-11-13:/2009/11/13/it-s-your-dolmio-day-7366317/Fri, 13 Nov 2009 13:38:16 +0100 <p><strong>Fans of the five finger discount should definitely be considering a trip to Jamie’s Italian in Brighton. If you enjoy the crafty acquisition of ‘souvenirs’ from the scene of every good time, then forget the food, tasty though it is, and concentrate on the loot. </p> <p>In order to recreate a suitably rustic Italian scene, the easy to reach shelves that run around the dining area are crammed with expensive cans of vine tomatoes and heavy bottles of olive oil.</p> <p>Given that they are attempting to sell olive oil at some rather interesting prices, you’d be forgiven for helping yourself to a free bottle.</p> <p>The antipasti plank is placed triumphantly atop two of those tins of tomatoes when it is brought to the table, and what self-respecting waiter has time to notice those disappearing? Indeed, what self-respecting customer would choose to leave them there?</p> <p>There’s also a rustic bread board full of enormous loaves of ciabatta, which the staff frequently leave unattended, and meat strung from anything that looks like it could take the weight. Easily plucked down and made off with during a busy period. Or help yourself to a serious lump of the decorative cheese that grace every counter.</p> <p>Best of all, the napkins on each table are available to purchase at £12 each, so provided you don’t get clumsy with your spaghetti, you can easily sneak away with a pristine set.</p> <p>No booking required, just big pockets.<br> </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/13/it-s-your-dolmio-day-7366317/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>jamies-italianbrightonklepto-heavenhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/13/it-s-your-dolmio-day-7366317/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/09/public-self-service-announcement-7338382/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-11-09:/2009/11/09/public-self-service-announcement-7338382/Mon, 09 Nov 2009 17:15:28 +0100 <p><strong>I'm helping <a href="http://www.thehussy.co.uk/">The Hussy</a> to compile a weekly newsletter. I'll forgive you for thinking such things are usually the stuff of parishes. Church socials and that sort of thing. </p> <p>Hopefully our efforts will be slightly more compelling, each week we base the contents round a theme and then charge ahead and big up or slag off whatever happens to be going on, and fits in with that theme. Last week's was pyromania (that was tough one to compile) because of Bonfire Night, this week's is trash because the bin men are on strike. You see? Topical.</p> <p>If you'd like to subscribe (and if you ain't local, then I completely understand why you wouldn't) then you can go <a href="www.tinyurl.com/hussysubscribe">here</a>. There is also a modest amount of free stuff to be won every week, which you can always dangle in front of enthusiastic E-Bay bidders if you can't find use for it yourself.</p> <p>I thank you. </p> <p></strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/09/public-self-service-announcement-7338382/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>reviewsnewsletterthe-hussybrightonhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/09/public-self-service-announcement-7338382/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/05/how-to-make-an-entrance-7313205/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-11-05:/2009/11/05/how-to-make-an-entrance-7313205/Thu, 05 Nov 2009 16:36:28 +0100 <p><strong>I'm sure most of us have indulged in a brief fantasy about our own funeral. It'd be nice to know how it went down. Would there be scenes at the church reminiscent of the first day of the January sales, as devastated masses flocked to say their farewells? Or would the vicar have the whole thing wrapped up in ten minutes? Would you warrant a eulogy, or just a brief amen? Might there be fireworks? Or sausage rolls?</p> <p>Well, there is one sure-fire way to find out, for anybody who really, really needs to know, and isn't all that bothered about putting their nearest and dearest through the wringer. Have yourself presumed dead, allow your next of kin to wrongly identify your body, watch them snap into action and organise the ceremony, then simply show up and do a quick head count. <a href="http://uk.news.yahoo.com/5/20091105/tod-back-from-the-dead-man-attends-own-f-870a197.html">Like this guy.</a></p> <p>Which to be fair, isn't exactly what happened. But I suspect that the temptation to rock up and see how his family had chosen to mark his passing was just to great an opportunity to ruin with a phone call - 'Hi, I'm not dead, let's call the whole thing off.' I know I'd have to go and have a look. And if it did turn out to be a ten minute, ashes in a jam jar affair, well, start a new life, make some new friends and hope that they will care enough to turn up for your next funeral. </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/05/how-to-make-an-entrance-7313205/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>fun-at-the-funeralademir-jorge-goncalveshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/11/05/how-to-make-an-entrance-7313205/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/27/the-original-meme-7254127/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-10-27:/2009/10/27/the-original-meme-7254127/Tue, 27 Oct 2009 16:25:36 +0100 <p><strong>I keep every e-mail ever sent to me. I didn't know why until now. It turns out that I was subconsciously saving them for a time when I would decide to trawl through them all in lieu of anything better to do, in lieu of a CRB check which would allow me to actually start doing this job they are paying me quite well to...not do. </p> <p>Anyway, back in 2004, those misty archaic days before Facebook, when MySpace was just hatching out and catching on, prior to blogging becoming a popular sport - when it just wasn't all that easy to witter incessantly about yourself to a virtual and in some cases imaginary audience - this was the kind of thing you'd have to resort to. The mass mail out. I found the one below this morning. I read it with escalating joy. </p> <p>I've no idea what happened to this man, or why I was on his mailing list, as to the best of my knowledge, I have never met him. I was living in London in 2004, maybe he was just e-mailing the entire population of the city?</p> <p>Anyway, what follows is an aspirational tale that's just too good not to share:</p> <p><em>"Hi guys,</p> <p>As per normal, the usual excuses for not writing to you all individually,<br> I'll get around to it one day (yeah right!). Anyway, since my last email<br> I've had an amazing summer, and now I seem to be settled in with a good job. So here I am to fill you in and make you all jealous.</p> <p>As always there are loads of pics on my website at <a href="http://www.konitzer.co.uk">http://www.konitzer.co.uk</a></p> <p>Graduation might be a laugh <a href="http://www.konitzer.co.uk/graduation">http://www.konitzer.co.uk/graduation</a></p> <p>But go through the site as I've added loads and can't list them all here.<br> Continually updating it with a back catalog as well as new pics.</p> <p>I seem to remember I left off the last email with a description of our Uni lake party, that as 'Mad Bill', I masterminded. Well I went home for a couple of weeks and relaxed and started the search for a job. However, that didn't last long as the Gents of St. John's at Cambridge had their yearly garden party. An event I attended with relish as I was able to catch up with a lot of old faces and meet a lot of new ones. The day after this I went down to Joss bay in Kent for the one and only Joss Bay 2004. What can I say, this party was amazing. Organised by Mental, it was a 24-hour mash up on a beach. Matt B & I provided the sound and electricity to kick start the party. Had a huge fire, beach games, dancing, a barbecue, and I even managed to drag some old faces along from London at the last minute. I particularly remember playing beach football the next day and getting badly burnt. On the way home we were rushing to watch the England vs France game, but unfortunately the car broke down. So you can imagine us by the side of the road, getting various cars to toot as they went by, all in support of England. Eventually the cops turned up to give us some grief, but just then<br> the RAC man arrived, so all was good.</p> <p>Next up it was Monday and off to Garter day at Windsor, another opportunity to catch up with some old friends and sit out on the grass eating strawberries and cream as the Queen paraded by.</p> <p>A few days after this was Tim D's birthday, so you can imagine the craziness there. Actually, it was fairly contained as the next day we had graduation. So off I went to lunch with my family followed by the ceremony in Guildford Cathedral. After this we had the graduation ball, which consisted of a fair-ground, followed by dancing until the next morning. I guess it's a shame that a lot of people I might not see again. That was my 4 years at Guildford, gone just like that (well almost as you'll see!). Hats off to Emily for telling me that she "can't stand it when I'm nice" When am I ever not nice?</p> <p>Grad Ball was followed rapidly by an after party at Matt B's House and then straight on to Glastonbury.</p> <p>Well what can I say, Glastonbury - amazing. If you have never been, so have no idea what you've been missing out on. I met old faces, new faces and had a brilliant time. Special shout out must go to Mills, Simon and their crew. I saw all the best bands - Chemical Bros, Scissor Sisters, Paul McCartney, and Orbital but to name a few. However, my favourite must be 'A Man called Adam' who provided the opening Thursday with some great music and who I've been friends with ever since.</p> <p>So highlights (cause otherwise I'll be here forever):</p> <p>Watching our gazebo get destroyed in the gales</p> <p>Doing crazy competitions at the dating tent</p> <p>Seeing the 60000+ people watching an England match in a field (I've never<br> seen so many people)</p> <p>Watching dawn come up at the stone circle</p> <p>Going to 'Lost Vagueness'</p> <p>Seeing all the bands</p> <p>Dancing with Nat and friends into the early hours</p> <p>Watching Crazy Si go nuts.</p> <p>Meeting up with Nicola who I hadn't seen in ages.</p> <p>Watching the ENO perform</p> <p>But best of all, making a whole load of new mates</p> <p>Glasto ended on a high with my having to rush to Guildford to go on a<br> chamber choir tour. I wasn't really in a fit state, but off I went anyway. So I went to Freiburg. If you have never been, I can say its amazing (as seems to be everywhere I go these days). A town where every 60% of the population are students (I think that's right), but it's a lot.so you can imagine the shenanigans I got up to. Did a lot of wonderful singing in amazing churches, showed Germans how to drink flaming B52s properly and also went to some bizarre underground club and the spa baths.</p> <p>Got back and went for an assessment day at Llloyds TSB, but didn't get the job. Hats off to those of you who did. Funish day looking back!</p> <p>The return from Germany consisted of a few days off before embarking on the Ibiza experience 2004. What can I say - probably the best holiday of my life. Apart from having my luggage misplaced on the way over for a few days, it was all plain sailing. Amazing beaches, gorgeous women, fun parties, the best clubs in the world.Cream at Amnesia was by far the best night we hit. Tiesto followed by Paul Van Dyke, combine this with an fantastic crowd, an excellent venue and good mates, and you know the night is something you'll never forget. I also made a whole bunch of good friends out there. The hotel was a bit minging, but hell, it was supposed to be a cheap holiday. I think without a doubt the fav hangout, apart from the beach, was the bar "Plastic Fantastic" - it played good music and the vibe was right. The strip was a place to avoid (and don't go to play 2). Guys remember me waking you up with the crazy worker people at 7am?..ha.</p> <p>Anyway with Ibiza quickly fading into the distance for another year, I got offered a position as Head of Technical facilities in the Dept. of Language and Comm Science at City Uni. However, I ended up taking a job with Data Connection.</p> <p>August was a month of sorting out stuff at home. A Warp Records Boat party (and you know that's good), followed by a crazy weekend at V fest. Sadly I don't think it was a good as Glasto, but I haven't laughed so hard in ages - the girls we were camping with took the living piss out of my friend Simon.It was immensely funny and he was very good humoured about it considering. I can't really remember much about V, apart from helping Roger and Si to get into the campsite and the festival for free, and then spending a lot of time in the StrongBow Tent, and the Red Light District Tent. I did get to bump into "A Man called Adam" again, oh and I can recommend not trying to drive to Tesco's on the first day of the festival as the roads are crammed.</p> <p>I started a job at Data Connection at the beginning of Sep, working for the interoperability group in their MetaSwtich devision. In a nutshell I test phones to make sure they will work with the telephone exchange equipment we make. I still do recording as a freelance thing and hopefully we'll transfer CAGL to London. Plans are afoot for an amazing night to take London by storm.</p> <p>D.C. is a good company to work for and their bizarrely seem to be quite a<br> few singers in it that I know already, so it's obviously a place to suit me.</p> <p>However, I'm currently liing in Enfield and that's not so good. The local<br> knows me far too well as there doesn't seem to be much else to do. Actually what happened was the company had a lot of starter and leaving drinks around the time I joined, so the manager became convinced I was going to live down there. I have yet to return and that was two weeks ago. If the truth be known, I was slightly taken with the bar maid.</p> <p>Catherine Backhouse, must get a mention for throwing a gathering down Vibe Bar and then dragging a whole bunch of fun people I hadn't seen in ages. Always the same catching up. Keep it up guys.</p> <p>I guess that brings us to the final story. I did a recording of Xmas carolsand ended up singing in it, just blagging my way as I seem to be apt to. This was followed by a massif night out with Will V at the Ministry, followed by a trip to the church, from whence I went (with a load of random Kiwi's) back to Guildford for Fresher's Sunday (or Fresher's funday as I call it - read between the lines). Great to meet up with some old faces(even people like Karen, who I think would prefer me to be far, far away). Gawd knows what happened to the random Kiwi's though. They got kicked out of everywhere. Lots of old faces, hell, even the half the Ibiza crew was there, and the Joss Bay lot. Steph and Em must get a special mention for being the most interesting Freshers.though Matt C.you are a bad boy. Crazy goings on, running around campus singing Ronan and Green day, getting kicked out of 2<br> kitchens, breaking into a few more.but hell it's not like my day as everyone was in bed by 1am - even HOUSE 45. What was going on? Dunc gave me a couch to crash on and I ended kicking around for the whole of Monday. Joined the "Cereal Appreciation Society", which consists of going down the pub and eating cereal and drinking beer.amazing.what a great idea for a society. Completely pointless just like student socs should be. Went to visit the old haunts (which still smell just as bad) and having one of the best nights out ever down the union (oh sorry, Rubiks as it's now called). Those dancing girls were amazing. Wow, if it carries on like that I'll be down every week.</p> <p>There is the usual crazy story afterwards too. Ahh what memories, however, I can tell you getting the 5am train and then working was not such a good thing.</p> <p>Well, that's a very brief outline. There are a lot of gaps, but you can<br> probably fill in most of them yourself if you know me well enough). That<br> means reading between the lines everywhere possible :-) ). If not give me a buzz, email or come round one night. Hopefully I'm moving to central London within a month, so yes, everyone must let me know what you're up to and come and meet up. I've got so much juicy gossip & stories to tell that I can't fir in an email (I'll get done!f). However, maybe I should whack it all down in a novel. Light reading at its most lighthearted.</p> <p>Till the next one.</p> <p>Love Will xx</p> <p>P.S. Sorry it's all a bit messy and random but I had limited net time."</em></p> <p>Hey there if you've managed to join me here at the bottom. Quite a ride wasn't it? That Will. What a guy! What a summer! Wonder if he ever wrote that novel? </p> <p> </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/27/the-original-meme-7254127/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>konitzer-konitzer-konitzerhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/27/the-original-meme-7254127/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/the-ominous-damp-patch-7221745/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-10-22:/2009/10/22/the-ominous-damp-patch-7221745/Thu, 22 Oct 2009 11:04:39 +0200 <p><strong>My vegetarian sensibilities took something of a knock this morning. I was on the train, headphones screaming, when I noticed the unmistakeable tang of reasonably fresh urine (when you work in social care, you quickly become able to identify just how long that damp patch has been there according to smell, it's a bit like swirling and sniffing an elusive glass of wine). </strong></p> <p><strong>There was nobody sat next to me to blame, which was my first thought, given that I've had people sitting next to me on trains doing pretty much everything else, including pleasuring themselves under their hastily arranged anorak. So I laid the blame firmly with the train itself and ignored it. Again, something you quickly learn to do when you work in social care.</strong></p> <p><strong>But when I got off the train, and into work, to find that the smell had followed me, I started getting a bit paranoid. Had somebody taken a leak on me on the way in without my noticing? Stranger things have happened (see above). </strong></p> <p><strong>I reached into my bag for my diary. It was damp. As was my hairbrush. My keys. The bag itself was damp. On closer inspection, it carried the unmistakable tang of reasonably fresh urine....and that's when I realised that the cat next door, the under-nourished toothless old man cat that I've been letting in at night out of pity and mashing up sardines for, had given me the moggy equivalent of the middle finger by pissing in my bag. I feel violated. And a bit daft.</strong></p> <p><strong>That's it. The RSPCA aren't going to squeeze another drop out of me. When those terrible adverts featuring kittens left in bins appear on TV, I won't mute them and blink back the tears as usual, I shall turn them up and laugh heartily. HEARTILY. And if old man cat shows up tonight, I'm calling security. And I might buy a bumper pack of ham on my way home tonight. </strong></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/the-ominous-damp-patch-7221745/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>old-man-catrspcaurinehttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/the-ominous-damp-patch-7221745/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/19/lessons-from-the-big-screen-7200621/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-10-19:/2009/10/19/lessons-from-the-big-screen-7200621/Mon, 19 Oct 2009 14:29:09 +0200 <p><strong>Felt a bit heart sick for my native land last night, so in lieu of anything else that might help, bar downloading a tourist information video, I settled for The Edge of Love. Filmed in Newquay and Lampeter, two hot Welsh spots I spent a significant amount of my formative years tramping around. </p> <p>Real life is rarely pretty enough for the screen, so of course they had to sex it all up and amongst other rather aesthtically obvious choices, have Caitlin, Dylan Thomas' wife portrayed by blonde skinny minny Sienna Miller. Who looks nothing like her. Caitlin in fact look an <em>awful</em> lot like her husband. </p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/you_drink_you_drank_you_drunk/4019282" title="You drink, you drank, you drunk."><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/282/4019282_84ca8a6a2c_s.jpg" alt="You drink, you drank, you drunk."></a></p> <p>See?</p> <p>Anyhoo, it certainly cured me of my homesickness. Watching those three, living on a cliff in two over-sized beach huts, being bullied by the elements and playing about with their mutually fragile mental health makes a bloody good case for living in suburbia. It's just too damned lonely for anybody who doesn't function well in isolation. As my grandad used to say 'there's a lovely view out of that window...but you can't talk to a view'.</strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/19/lessons-from-the-big-screen-7200621/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>dylan-thomasthe-edge-of-lovewest-walesgoing-locohttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/19/lessons-from-the-big-screen-7200621/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/16/national-novel-writing-month-7181104/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-10-16:/2009/10/16/national-novel-writing-month-7181104/Fri, 16 Oct 2009 13:39:14 +0200 <p><strong>I just signed up for <a href="http://nanowrimo.org">this</a>. They advise telling everybody you can think of that you're planning to write a novel in November, as if nothing else, it's the fear of personal humiliation that will spur you on to finish that bastard.</p> <p>Yer, I'm actually an old hand at personal humiliation so that doesn't really sound like much of a threat. Nevertheless, here it is, my public announcement. *insert trumpets here*</p> <p>Anybody else fancy giving it a crack? You might want to take up smoking first.</strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/16/national-novel-writing-month-7181104/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/16/national-novel-writing-month-7181104/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/13/his-name-actually-was-brian-7161074/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-10-13:/2009/10/13/his-name-actually-was-brian-7161074/Tue, 13 Oct 2009 15:58:05 +0200 <p><strong>Yesterday, I met Brian on Brighton beach. Brian was a small and pointless dog of the very highest order. An 8 week old Chihuahua whose skull would split easier than a lightly boiled egg. His ickle legs weren’t much sturdier than an anorexic pigeon. In fact, his overall appearance was similar to an anorexic pigeon. If you took Brian for a walk, he’d be suffering from palpitations by the time you reached the front door. He’d struggle to drag a feather back to his master. </p> <p>Brian oozed charm like a chocolate fountain oozes calories, and proved just as difficult to resist. He trotted up and down the beach, tripping over pebbles, choking on shards of driftwood and using his protruding puppy dog eyes to con a sixteen stone man into giving him a cuddle. He was the reason ‘aaaaaw’ was invented. And I’ve never wanted to stuff something into a carrier bag and run for the hills so much since my unemployment days, when Tampax was a luxury purchase.</p> <p>This is not the kind of dog you can tramp across the heather with. It would get thorns in it’s paws and mud in it’s fur, and end up sodden, shivering and surprisingly heavy. Olly wants the kind of dog that only stops fetching sticks when it’s heart gives out, and can fit a toddler’s head in it’s placid mouth. A man’s dog, for the man of the house, the kind you accessorise with a hunting knife and a hip flask.</p> <p>So, a dilemma presents itself. There is no way I am going to persuade him that a small and pointless dog is what has always, always been missing in our lives. Even less chance that he’ll allow me to dress it up and drag it around in a shopping cart. And small dogs have a point to prove, and they yip and yap and snarl and start fights they can’t finish, and are generally a pain in the neck for anybody without misguided maternal urges.</p> <p>But I need Brian. And I sense that he needs me. And if that means resorting to bribery, blackmail or bawling my eyes out, then so be it.<br> </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/13/his-name-actually-was-brian-7161074/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>chihuahuabrightonbrian-the-lionhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/13/his-name-actually-was-brian-7161074/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/12/last-night-i-watched-simon-amstell-offer-up-the-existential-7151314/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-10-12:/2009/10/12/last-night-i-watched-simon-amstell-offer-up-the-existential-7151314/Mon, 12 Oct 2009 10:01:33 +0200 <p><strong>Last night I went to see Simon Amstell offer up the existential crisis he appears to be in the throes of, for the scrutiny and amusement of a Brighton audience. </p> <p>A fairly easy crowd to please with this sort of material. Most of the residents of Brighton are suffering from, have just pulled through or are fast approaching an existential crisis. It's the kind of place that brings one on. It's full of hair hoppers and name droppers - people in their mid to late twenties and sometimes beyond, who are struggling to balance the twin demands of style and substance. Ethical fashion, meaningful employment, responsibly sourced drugs, organic beer, charity shop chic, good times and bad politics. </p> <p>It's a lot to have to fit in, to fit in.</p> <p>I'm sure that sometimes the people of Brighton secretly wish that they could stay in on a Tuesday night and watch Eastenders with a multi-pack of Monster Munch, but they can't. They have to be out there, doing it, seeing it, living it, loving it. And making sure everybody knows about it. Exhausting.</p> <p>Simon is also struggling with the demands of having it all. Having it all and learning to overcome the anxiety that such a tenuous position brings with it. So that, you know, you can actually have fun, not just seek solace in congratulating yourself on creating a series of impressive memories, to be filed for future use should it all go wrong. Which of course it will. </p> <p>I think this is why the show sat so well with this particular audience. They knew just what he was on about. They had the hairstyles and hangovers to prove it. They were drinking on a Sunday night. Simon readily informed them that this automatically meant they were miserable.</p> <p>It's not exactly the stuff of belly laughs, but it was unexpectedly both entertaining <em>and</em> comforting to know that a man possessed with such searingly evil wit, who gave Jamelia a hernia and drove Preston to storming off set before he'd even got started on that glittery cardigan, is just as lost and confused and lonely as the mediocre pop stars he ridicules so masterfully. The people whose music we've probably purchased or at least danced drunkenly to in some wind-swept hopeless night spot, in an effort to overcome our own loneliness. </p> <p>We're all in this together you know. </p> <p>You, me, Simon and Anthony Costa off Blue. </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/12/last-night-i-watched-simon-amstell-offer-up-the-existential-7151314/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>simon-amstelldo-nothingbrightonthe-brighton-domeexistential-crisisbrighton-comedy-festivalhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/12/last-night-i-watched-simon-amstell-offer-up-the-existential-7151314/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/havin-a-billboard-time-7110670/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-10-06:/2009/10/06/havin-a-billboard-time-7110670/Tue, 06 Oct 2009 14:21:00 +0200 <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/you_wha/3973476" title="You wha??"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/476/3973476_cd62f82257_s.jpg" alt="You wha??"></a></p> <p><strong>The best picture of Amy Winehouse I have seen in quite some time. </p> <p>Such an elusive expression. </p> <p>Is she about to give somebody a gobful of abuse? Is she about to be sick? Did she bite a piece out of the microphone and accidentally swallow it, rather than spit it at the audience like she'd planned? Is she at a Tory Party conference?</p> <p></strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/havin-a-billboard-time-7110670/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>face-acheamy-winehousehttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/havin-a-billboard-time-7110670/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/perfumed-ponce-7109762/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-10-06:/2009/10/06/perfumed-ponce-7109762/Tue, 06 Oct 2009 12:24:08 +0200 <p><strong>Yesterday, what I was convinced was a rapidly advancing and chronic case of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Botulism">botulism</a> turned out to be a anxiety attack. It's a fairly easy mistake to make, honest.</p> <p>Every time I do something out of my exceedingly small comfort zone, this tends to happen. So, in the spirit of not letting the panic demon bastards grind me down even further, instead of finishing work last night and heading directly to my happy place (currently a small dark space beneath the duvet), I went to meet the editor of a fledgling magazine at a private exhibition in town. This is just as poncy as it sounds. Poncy and terrifying, given I have the social skills of a developmentally delayed toddler.</p> <p>Anyhoo, the complimentary glass of warm white wine on an empty stomach did most of the talking. Great success! And then we had a lovely time correcting all the spelling mistakes in the paintings on display. I don't know how else to react to modern art other than giggle and point at it. Is that a side effect of botulism?</strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/perfumed-ponce-7109762/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>botulismpanic-manic-schmanichttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/perfumed-ponce-7109762/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/05/i-feel-itchy-on-the-inside-the-metaphorical-inside-the-7102764/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-10-05:/2009/10/05/i-feel-itchy-on-the-inside-the-metaphorical-inside-the-7102764/Mon, 05 Oct 2009 12:41:29 +0200 <p><strong>I feel itchy on the inside. The metaphorical inside, the place you imagine when people talk about feelings and emotions and 'stuff'. I know these things are produced by the brain, but they seem to resonate in the chest, or thereabouts. I think my soul is coming out in a nasty rash. </p> <p>And all because the lady loves to chop and change and is 4 days into an induction for yet another new job, which is currently proving more tedious that being trapped in a lift. In a multi-storey car park. Without a watch. Pan pipe music on a loop. Gasping for a cigarette. </p> <p>That kind of tedium would be preferable right now, because at least I wouldn't have to keep up this continual smiling and nodding which is the standard response of the freshly baked employee. </p> <p>It's lunchtime. It's raining. I'm still on page one of the induction folder. Taxi!<br> </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/05/i-feel-itchy-on-the-inside-the-metaphorical-inside-the-7102764/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>itchy-soulhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/05/i-feel-itchy-on-the-inside-the-metaphorical-inside-the-7102764/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/01/jumping-the-gun-7078181/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-10-01:/2009/10/01/jumping-the-gun-7078181/Thu, 01 Oct 2009 16:06:04 +0200 <p><strong>I <em>think</em> technically, if <a href="http://uk.news.yahoo.com/5/20090927/tuk-face-of-tesco-is-an-illegal-immigran-45dbed5.html">this woman</a> is still going through the appeals process, she is allowed to stay in the UK until that process has been exhausted. </p> <p>Not quite an illegal just yet then, lower your pitchforks gentlemen. </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/01/jumping-the-gun-7078181/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>fatou-chamface-of-tescohttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/01/jumping-the-gun-7078181/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/01/the-one-stop-adoption-shop-7076178/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-10-01:/2009/10/01/the-one-stop-adoption-shop-7076178/Thu, 01 Oct 2009 10:05:04 +0200 <p><strong>The most frustrating part of any charitable act (beyond y’know, actually having to cough up to prove you care) is that all too frequently, these acts go unnoticed. Your conscience may thank you for them, but nobody else does. So you’re forgoing the price of a modest round of drinks each month and sending it overseas, or you’ve spent a working holiday chucking crayons at under-privileged children. Facebook is full of people like you, all uploading the evidence to prove just how well-rounded and socially conscious they are. </p> <p>If you’re truly serious about making both a difference and a big deal out of it, then adopting an orphan from overseas is a flip decision well worth making. Not only will a foreign babe spice up any nuclear family, but you’ll have a living, breathing, permanent example of your benevolence and earn yourself enough kudos to ensure the rest of your life is spent in a guilt-free oasis of self-satisfaction. </p> <p>Here’s our concise 5 step guide to international adoption which should arm any prospective parent with the necessary chutzpah to swoop down and sweep off with the urchin of their discerning choice. </p> <p>1) Pick a country, any country - current war zones are the obvious exception, but watching a few episodes of the news should give you a fair idea of where the needy reside. Africa and Asia are the obvious choices, but you also might want to consider Eastern Europe, which is also a great place to pick up a cut-price nanny. </p> <p>2) Gather your funds - some countries have fairly unreasonable adoption laws, such as applicants being under the age of 65, or requiring some sort of lengthy assessment and in some instances, actual extended residency. Don’t worry though, these can be easily overcome with a little persistence and an awful lot of ready money.</p> <p> 3) Take a tour and your time - be aware that much like a trip to the supermarket, there will be a huge range on display. It’s difficult to narrow down your options after just a brief glance, tempting as it is to grab the first product that appeals to you. Those adorable identical twins might seem like the ideal choice, but do you have the storage space? </p> <p>4) Do your research – it’d be beyond embarrassing to choose your child, file the papers, stock up at Baby Gap and then find out that said orphan has several living relatives, all of whom have come crawling out of nowhere for a piece of the action. You’re almost certain to end up with egg on your saving face. Background checks are a must. </p> <p>5) Arrange for an escort – you’ve probably taken some very valuable time off work to get all this sorted out, and you’re going to need to get back to the helm before anything too important occurs in your absence. So it’s best all round to arrange for somebody else to hang around and wait for the baby to be ready for dispatch. Again, some countries insist that new parents bring children home themselves, so you may want to set aside some of that ready money should this crop up. </p> <p>And there you have it. Your very own rainbow family, pre-packed and ready made. Aren’t they marvellous? </p> <p>And more importantly, aren’t you?<br> </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/01/the-one-stop-adoption-shop-7076178/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>chutzpahadopting-an-ickle-foreignerhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/10/01/the-one-stop-adoption-shop-7076178/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/24/hormone-in-the-wild-7034352/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-09-24:/2009/09/24/hormone-in-the-wild-7034352/Thu, 24 Sep 2009 22:12:07 +0200 <p><strong>Is anybody else watching Alone in the Wild? Ed has just spent almost the entire episode sat in a forest, under a piece of tarpaulin, crying. For the few brief moments he manages to dry up, he shudders with joyless, hysterical laughter.</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/oh_the_hokey_cokey/3933378" title="Oh the hokey cokey"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/378/3933378_53b3949876_m.jpg" alt="Oh the hokey cokey"></a></p> <p>I'm in the Wales, packing up and helping my mum to move house, and she's been acting like this all week. I'm thinking she could do something similar. There's plenty of wilderness round here. In fact, there's a forest behind the new house. Channel 4 should give her a shot. Anybody got a number for them?</strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/24/hormone-in-the-wild-7034352/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>alone-in-the-wildhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/24/hormone-in-the-wild-7034352/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/12/the-real-housewives-of-new-jersey-6947355/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-09-12:/2009/09/12/the-real-housewives-of-new-jersey-6947355/Sat, 12 Sep 2009 11:02:32 +0200 <p><strong>Nothing is real about these women, teeth, tits, tans all bought and paid for with some other sucker's money. Of course <a href="http://www.theargus.co.uk/blogs/blogs/4584930.The_Real_Housewives_of_New_Jersey/">this</a> is a family friendly site, so I can't say 'tits', I have to say 'boobs'. </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/12/the-real-housewives-of-new-jersey-6947355/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>telly-bellyreal-housewives-of-new-jerseythe-argushttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/12/the-real-housewives-of-new-jersey-6947355/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/10/electric-feel-6939332/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-09-10:/2009/09/10/electric-feel-6939332/Thu, 10 Sep 2009 23:23:22 +0200 <p><strong>I'm going to walk down the aisle to this song some day. Either that or be carried down the aisle in my little wooden box to it. At least one of these options is a certainty. </p> <p>It's mainly because I want to see my dad try to stay in time with it, but also because it <em>does </em>things to me, y'know?</p> <p></strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/10/electric-feel-6939332/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>electric-feelmgmthttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/10/electric-feel-6939332/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/10/the-squat-wash-6939197/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-09-10:/2009/09/10/the-squat-wash-6939197/Thu, 10 Sep 2009 22:50:48 +0200 <p><strong>Been doing my bit for the environment lately. Not through choice. If I had a choice, I'd be climbing into a vicious power shower so hot you could steam clean your very soul with it. But the shower is broken you see, and it wasn't all that powerful beforehand. In fact, I'd regularly thump the tiles in frustration at the pitiful dribble it produced. How wrong I was to criticise it. Now it's lost all it's confidence and given up completely, and I'm having to resort to the squat wash. </p> <p>The squat wash is how I imagine folk used to get fresh in the days before hygiene became so commercial.</p> <p>I've modernised the concept slightly with the introduction of an electric kettle and a galvanised steel saucepan from IKEA, but the basic idea remains the same.</p> <p>* You fill the saucepan with boiling water.</p> <p>* You place the saucepan in the bath.</p> <p>* You squat over the saucepan and fill a jug half way with the boiling water, make it user-friendly with a splash of cold. </p> <p>* You tip the jug of water over your shivering naked body and for a few fleeting seconds, pretend you're in the shower. You do not stand. Standing will ensure that most of the water bounces off your shoulders and cleverly avoids the rest of you.</p> <p>* You have the briefest scrub possible, rinse with the meagre remains of the saucepan, and get the hell out of there.</p> <p>It's all a bit too medieval for my liking.</p> <p></strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/10/the-squat-wash-6939197/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>the-squat-washhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/10/the-squat-wash-6939197/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/08/trivialising-history-6924190/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-09-08:/2009/09/08/trivialising-history-6924190/Tue, 08 Sep 2009 18:12:10 +0200 <p><strong>Did you ever stop and think about how many of the Roman Emperors have modern-day look-a-likes? No? Then what on earth have you been stopping and thinking about? Fish? Buttons? Current affairs?</p> <p>Well stop that and come and look at this. Who does Tiberius remind you of?</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/notitle/3874991" title=""><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/991/3874991_17beec43ba_s.png" alt=""></a></p> <p>Yes, that's right, it's the X-Factor judge and Father Ted extra <a href="http://www.nowmagazine.co.uk/imageBank/cache/l/Louis-Walsh.jpg">Louis Walsh</a>.</p> <p>Gordian III?</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/notitle/3874992" title=""><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/992/3874992_ae2dfc9e47_s.jpg" alt=""></a></p> <p>No, missing link <a href="http://waynerooneyhq.com/images/wayne-rooney-front.jpg">Wayne Rooney</a>.</p> <p>Claudius?</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/notitle/3874993" title=""><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/993/3874993_a083f37cf7_s.jpg" alt=""></a></p> <p>Why it's that there <a href="http://www.channel4.com/bigbrother/select/david/image/latest/image-gallery.c4?decorator-index=35">David</a> from that there Big Brother. </p> <p>Justinian I?</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/notitle/3874994" title=""><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/994/3874994_fc7fa75cb4_s.jpg" alt=""></a></p> <p>Victoria Beckham, pre-make up of course.</p> <p>Right, now I'm off to compile a list of cats that look like fascist dictators through the ages.</p> <p></strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/08/trivialising-history-6924190/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>roman-emperorsthat-there-davidvictoria-beckhamlouis-walshwayne-rooneyhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/09/08/trivialising-history-6924190/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/25/the-future-s-slight-6821211/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-08-25:/2009/08/25/the-future-s-slight-6821211/Tue, 25 Aug 2009 20:32:49 +0200 <p><strong>My mum told me the other night that if Olly and I are to have a future (which is by no means a certainty, but we've been getting on a lot better of late) then she predicts it will be in a disused mobile library. Which we will park up in one of the fields adjoining her house and attempt to live in. Olly will sit outside all day in a stripy jumper made of something scratchy, teasing our numerous dogs and poking at the woodbrush fire. I will be out attempting to fill a wicker basket with enough hedge-side fodder to feed us and the dogs, and the pack of stray cats we've attracted. She'd seen an episode of Jam and Jerusalem in which the very same thing happened, apparently.</p> <p>I thought this over for a while and concluded that, depressing as some people may well find this picture, it's very, very preferable to where I might have ended up with any of the other long-term boyfriends I've made an icky-sticky mess with and filed under 'disaster'. </p> <p>Numero A: My first proper boyfriend. Understandably serious - we were young, riddled with hormones, needed a distraction from our homework and took far too much notice of Dawson's Creek. We've kept in some sort of touch in the years since we called it all off for the final time and I can conclude that, had we persevered, we'd own a Volvo, matching Arun jumpers, be frequently and ruthlessly cheating on each other and indulging in the same sweet misery we used to find so pallatable and consuming at 16. He'd hate me, I'd HATE him, we'd be one of those couples you daren't invite to dinner parties because one of them will end up throwing your speciality fish pie at the wall over a careless remark the other had made. </p> <p>Numero B: Whom I left Numero A for, given that we were at opposite ends of the country, he'd cheated on me three times and I was growing tired of being the cut-price Cathy to his half-arsed Heathcliff. Numero B seemed kind and sensible, and he was training to be an architect, and he could drive and...and, well, my head was inexplicably turned, ok? Had <em>we</em> persevered, he would have a 'Sunday outfit' - lemon yellow cable knit jumper and beige polyester trousers which I would deeply resent having to iron on Saturday nights.</p> <p>Numero C: Whom edged himself in very shortly after I realised that Numero B and I were incompatible, due to his inability to withstand a single crumb on his pristine carpet, and my ability to spread them wall to wall. I regarded Numero C as some sort of genius. He read and understood the Guardian. He composed songs. He used long and complicated words that I pretended to understand, and frantically Googled when I got home. He also told me I dressed like a teenager, expressed disgust at any desire I might have had for using fake tan, cutting my hair, wearing contact lenses, watching soaps, using swear words, taking paracetomol. All of which I stopped doing or decided against thanks to him. Had <em>we</em> persevered, I would have had all of the personality squeezed from me, stamped flat and carved out afresh in his likeness. Which isn't really what I wanted then, or now, or ever. </p> <p>Numero D: Post Olly. A lovely boy. I can't fault him. It just wasn't the right time. Cliche's exist for a reason you know, not only so you have something to offer up to the person who you're trying to edge out of a relationship with. </p> <p>There have been a few inbetween, but nothing that looked like it might turn into something I'd have to duck out of or mess up. So what does the future hold? Is it a field? Is it a burrow? Is it all a mistake? We'll be right back after these messages (and this third glass).</strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/25/the-future-s-slight-6821211/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>personal-doomhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/25/the-future-s-slight-6821211/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/23/no-no-no-6804111/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-08-23:/2009/08/23/no-no-no-6804111/Sun, 23 Aug 2009 22:39:29 +0200 <p><strong>Is this what Channel 4 thinks everybody looks like at festivals? Slipping their sinewy limbs into pristine pink wellies, making tea with their blindingly shiny kettle? Managing the navigate the dodgems without throwing up? I’ve never been to V, do they have somewhere for you to plug your travel iron in?</p> <p>Whoever made this advert has obviously been to a festival. They’ve got the basics right. There’s usually somebody handing out free hugs. The toilets make your nostrils sting. Expressing yourself through the medium of glo-sticks always seems like the right idea. </p> <p>But the catwalk aura this advert projects sets my well-worn teeth even further on edge. People don’t parade about looking like this lot. Not unless they have an incredibly selective set of genes, a disposable wardrobe, and the confidence that both of these blessings bring with them. I have been to a fair few festivals, and I’ve normally ended up surviving on bread rolls and fizzy sweets for 4 days, tucking cans of cider into my knickers and creeping furtively past security, lying in my sticky tent listening to the people around me coughing up last night’s excesses. If I wear lipstick, it normally ends up round my eyebrows. </p> <p>Most of us fashion waterproof gear out of bin-liners, dance like trolls at an underground rave and smear Nachos down our fronts. Not turn our irritatingly radiant faces up to the heavens and watch in wonder as a paper lantern seems to symobilise our rapid ascent into bliss. Our vision is normally far too hazy and unreliable by that point.<br> </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/23/no-no-no-6804111/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>channel-4dancing-like-a-chimpv-festivalhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/23/no-no-no-6804111/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/20/i-ve-always-loved-helen-fielding-i-first-read-bridget-6768877/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-08-20:/2009/08/20/i-ve-always-loved-helen-fielding-i-first-read-bridget-6768877/Thu, 20 Aug 2009 20:57:54 +0200 <p><strong>I've always loved Helen Fielding. I first read Bridget Jones's Diary aged 15. I enjoyed it, but I didn't really get it. I read it again aged 25. I started to get it. I read it again recently, aged 28, single and consumed by thoughts of premature ageing. Yeah, this time I <em>really</em> got it.</p> <p>I also read Cause Celeb and loved that. Didn't really identify with it, which is a shame, given that it's about a young glamour puss giving up the London scene to run an aid camp in Africa, and find big burly love in the process. But I avoided 'Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination' because I hate all that spy malarkey, even when it's clearly a parody of all that spy malarkey. Until recently, when, bereft of anything else by any of my other favourites to read, I bought it for a train journey. And found this paragraph, which made me want to run up and down the aisles, clipping men on back of the head with my copy and shouting 'Look! See! This is why! We're not jealous! We just KNOW WHAT THEY'RE UP TO!'</p> <p><em>"You could divide women into two types: those who were on the Girls' Team, and Undercover Bitches. If a woman was on the Girls' Team, she could be as beautiful, intelligent, rich, famous, sexy, successful and as popular as fuck, and you'd still like her. Women on the Girls' Team had solidarity. They were conspiriatorial and brought all their fuck-ups to the table for eveyone to enjoy. Undercover Bitches were competitive: they showed off, tried to put others down to make themselves look good, lacked humour and a sense of their own ridiculousness, said things that sounded OK on the surface but were actually designed to make you feel really bad, couldn't bear it when they weren't getting enough attention, and they flicked their hair. Men didn't get all this. They thought that women took against each other because they were jealous."</em></p> <p></strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/20/i-ve-always-loved-helen-fielding-i-first-read-bridget-6768877/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>the-girls-teamhelen-fieldingolivia-jouleshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/20/i-ve-always-loved-helen-fielding-i-first-read-bridget-6768877/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/16/a-few-days-ago-i-supervised-a-family-cotact-at-6739982/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-08-16:/2009/08/16/a-few-days-ago-i-supervised-a-family-cotact-at-6739982/Sun, 16 Aug 2009 22:47:23 +0200 <p><strong>A few days ago I supervised a family contact at the National Library. This made a very, very nice change from the family centre, which is where these things usually take place. The family centre rooms are tiny, and there is no way of hiding that you are scrutinising the parents, because they are less than 2 foot away from you. You can read the small print on their socks. Plus, it's difficult to summon up a fresh round of enthusiasm every time the child pulls a new brick from the Lego box, but it's important to be encouraging, and that's about all there is to do there.</p> <p>So the library was a sporting choice of venue for all concerned. I get to hang back and observe from a less pressing distance. Kids and parents get to spend time together and pretend I'm not there. And everybody can't help but learn something in such a bibliographic atmosphere. Even if it's just where the toilets are.</p> <p>Anyway, I saw this collection of photos, taken by a man called Geoff Charles in 1951, of a gypsy family living in Swansea. My mind grew heavy with questions. 8 children?! 8 children in that teeny tiny caravan! In the days before Valium was readily available. You've got to hand it to them. Some people can't even manage one, and that's with CBeebies and Calpol at their disposal.</p> <p><img src="http://" alt="null" title="null"><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/we_re_all_going_on_a_summer_holiday/3794308" title="We"><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/308/3794308_21268c54ce_s.jpg" alt="We"></a></p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/the_west_wing/3794309" title="The west wing"><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/309/3794309_2ecff9c872_s.jpg" alt="The west wing"></a></p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/anyone_seen_my_chanel/3794310" title="Anyone seen my Chanel?"><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/310/3794310_1b82151f7e_s.jpg" alt="Anyone seen my Chanel?"></a></strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/16/a-few-days-ago-i-supervised-a-family-cotact-at-6739982/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>the-national-librarygeoff-charlesromanyhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/16/a-few-days-ago-i-supervised-a-family-cotact-at-6739982/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/13/who-danan-baby-6718776/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-08-13:/2009/08/13/who-danan-baby-6718776/Thu, 13 Aug 2009 21:39:26 +0200 <p><strong>Hello. This breeze block is still lodged firmly in my cranium. What with that and having to go out to work and stuff now (I forgot how time-consuming that is, geez, don't employers realise that my navel needs almost constant gazing or it'll implode) - urm, where was I? Ah, yes, I have not an awful lot to say. Except you must watch this. Because it's a beautifully cheap and easy laugh. </p> <p>The Paul Danan facebook page backlash is gathering speed, members are incensed that they took 30 seconds out of their day to click on a link, yet I'm not prepared to ruin any chance I have of ever being taken seriously again by changing my name to that of a male 'actor' who will be fondly remembered as that nutter off Love Island. What a cocking cheek hey? Who does she think she is?</p> <p>Oh, and if you'd like, I managed to churn out an <a href="http://www.theargus.co.uk/blogs/blogs/emma_cave/4545248.Monk/">Argus blog</a> this week, which you are more than welcome to read, skim read, pretend to read, or ignore. Just don't start another backlash.</strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/13/who-danan-baby-6718776/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>the-arguspaul-effin-dananhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/13/who-danan-baby-6718776/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/10/what-the-eff-6695433/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-08-10:/2009/08/10/what-the-eff-6695433/Mon, 10 Aug 2009 23:11:10 +0200 <p><strong>"Hi Emma (or should I say Paul Danan!)</p> <p>I’m not sure if you watched, but BBLB today had Paul Danan on as a guest and featured your Facebook group which said you would change your name to Paul Danan if 1000 people joined the group.</p> <p>We would love to chat to you about this and possibly make it happen for you by putting you in touch with the person who changed the housemates names at the beginning of this series of Big Brother.</p> <p>I would be really grateful if you could reply and provide a contact number.</p> <p>Best wishes</p> <p>Geri"<br> </strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/10/what-the-eff-6695433/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>paul-effin-dananhttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/10/what-the-eff-6695433/#commentshttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/10/the-sun-always-shines-on-tv-6693105/tag:emsbabee.blog.co.uk,2009-08-10:/2009/08/10/the-sun-always-shines-on-tv-6693105/Mon, 10 Aug 2009 17:56:38 +0200 <p><strong>I don't generally open letters addressed to me, unless there is the promise of something sparkly and exciting inside. If NatWest really want me to consider their wide range of insurance, they should write to me in glitter glue. </p> <p>I almost never open bank statements, because lately, they have become nothing more than an obituary for my finances, and prior to that, when I had a regular salary - well, I wasn't keen to find out if somebody had been attempting to live it up on the 8 debit cards I've known and lost. They wouldn't get much further than a round at Wetherspoons in any case.</p> <p>But this morning I decided to feign responsibility and open my post, including last month's statement. Whereupon I discovered that not only had I forgotten to cancel the TV license for my Brighton address when I moved in <em>October</em>, but I've also been paying <em>for 2 of the bastard things!</em> <em>Since November 2007!</em></p> <p>But wait! I can get refunds for both the Brighton license and the extraneous one. </p> <p>So the TV licensing people have effectively been putting aside £20 a month for the past two years on my behalf. Because I'd never be sensible enough to do that myself. And, had I taken any notice of what comes through the letterbox, I may well have got round to putting a stop to. </p> <p>In theory, and hopefully, through a not too painful process, I can claim it all back. So what should the moral of this little story be? a) Grow up and open your post or b) Live life on a whim, it seems to be working so far?</strong> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/10/the-sun-always-shines-on-tv-6693105/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tv-licencegrow-uphttp://Emsbabee.blog.co.uk/2009/08/10/the-sun-always-shines-on-tv-6693105/#comments