As I Wrestle With My Better Judgement…

Musicals make me cringe with embarrassment. On the odd occasion I have been forced into a theatre to watch one, I’m literally climbing the walls after 15 minutes.

It’s a phobia. I just can’t bear the forced exuberance and endless supplies of ballet-trained women trooping their turned-out duck feet across the stage.

To add to this cornucopia of wretchedness, I have also been known to cry quite freely at sad bits. I’m already on the edge emotionally, then fricking Billy Elliot starts dancing for his dead Mam and The German has to escort me from the dress circle.

So it was with this in mind, that I spotted a poster for the new Brief Encounter musical on an underground poster this morning.

I love that film. Black and white magic, it is. But do I dare ruin it all by going to see the musical? It’s advertised as buy-one-get-one-free tickets… will the inner gypo win out?

posted by Ms Hush-Hush 22 Aug, 2008 @ 3:53 am | 0 Comments

Daft Racialist

David Bowie’s 1983 hit China Girl is one of my favourites.

But what on earth does he think he’s doing 1.13 minutes into the video?

posted by Ms Hush-Hush 21 Aug, 2008 @ 3:48 am | 0 Comments

Naked Freefall

Following on from yesterday’s post, who the fuck would have thought terminal velocity would invert the human mammary?

Not I and yet the evidence is plain to see.

Enjoy.

posted by Ms Hush-Hush 5 Aug, 2008 @ 6:44 am | 5 Comments

You’ve Come A Long Way, Baby

Do you ever wonder where the people you went to school with ended up?

Thanks to Facebook and its evil ilk, much of the mystery has been smash-and-grabbed into oblivion with hourly updates such as, “Lily has just given birth to twins and is not sure the surgeon ’stitched her up like a virgin’ as requested.”

However, there are some sensible souls (and I am ashamed I cannot count myself as one of their number) who never signed themselves up for social networking in the first place. And thus, they remain an untapped source of, ‘Oh my God, she was always so shy at school!’ influenced shock/awe/disgust.

So imagine my glee when I stumbled across the life path of one such former classmate.

Guess what she does? She’s only office bitch for a Page 3 girl agency in the heart of London’s Soho. Given that I know where she comes from, this career path certainly indicates a fall from grace.

Mummy must be sobbing into her cashmere pillow.

posted by Ms Shambles 2 Apr, 2008 @ 3:14 pm | 4 Comments

Self Control

Why is it that when I’m a bit peckish, I can’t just eat one chocolate digestive?

Why instead, do I stuff down seven and then spend the next half an hour imagining my thighs are growing exponentially?

I do not understand where this greed and lack of temperance comes from.

It’s the same with:

Wine
Always completely unable to recognise when the party is over. Everyone’s going home completely lambasted on port and I’m sat there nonchalantly smoking a fag, declaring, “I’m hardly pissed at all, where the fuck are you losers going?”

Shoes
Blown the wages on a new pair? Might as well go the whole hog and buy another then. Yes, and live on 2-4-1 Asda bargains and disgusting cheap wine for the rest of the month. (But at least my feet look bloody fantastic.)

Sleep
I can’t just have the normal eight hours. Ho no. I get right narky if I haven’t been able to horizontally laze around for at least an hour either side of the actual sleeping. As a result, I operate at low-level pissed off the majority of the time and despise those smug twats who hop out of bed all cheerful in the morning, and then who drop off to sleep the moment their heads hit the pillow. They can all go fuck themselves.

So to conclude: I lack discipline in every sense.

If I hadn’t spend all my cash on parties and shoes, and missed countless working hours (and therefore extra dollars) because I was hunkered down eating zzzzzzzz’s, I’d send myself off to a very expensive bootcamp for some serious whipping into shape.

As this is not an option, I shall simply patiently wait for my mid-thirties and pray the passage of time instills some self-control.

posted by Ms Shambles 19 Mar, 2008 @ 6:33 pm | 3 Comments

‘Til A Tart Do Us Part

So, some news reports suggest that Cheryl Cole may well be taking back errant husband, Ashley.

On a personal level I couldn’t give a shit. I don’t spend a great deal of time fretting about the dirty washing of others (except when the neighbours start throwing stuff at each other - then I’m glued to a glass against the wall). But in the grand scheme of things, when adultery threatens a marriage there are definitely a variety of options to choose from, each boasting equally persuasive arguments.

We always hear old people banging on about how young people don’t stick at marriages these days. It’s all too easy to get your solicitor on speed dial after therapy fails to tell you why he can’t fuck you right, why the children divorced you both before you got to divorce each other, why she got fat, why he spends all his time in the shed, ad infinitum.

By the same token, no one is going to expect you to stay with a man who after 20 years of marriage, comes screaming out of the closet, equipped with feather boa and 19-year old boyfriend.

I think in this instance, the old fashioned adage of sticking together is perhaps somewhat out-moded.

However (and it is a BIG however), when His Nibs falls accidentally-on-purpose on top of the nearest fame-hungry harlot, it’s an entirely different kettle of fish.

Do you stand by your man and honour your wedding vows? Since he clearly forgot all about those promises when he stuck his old chap into some cheap slag who wants a boob job and her acrylic nail fill-ins doing, it either takes great bravery or stupidity - I’m not sure which.

Or do you tell the cheating toerag to sling his hook, have a bloody good cry and stoically piece your life back together?

When I’m wearing my Benevolent Hat, I admire the women who go for the first option. I think if you can make it work after adultery threatens to topple your whole world over Pisa-style, then fair fucks. I salute you.

But when I’m wearing all of my other Hats (and there are many including Blind Rage, Ranting and Just A Bit Narky), I am definitely of the ‘Sling Your Hook You Waste-Of-Skin, Useless Twat Of A Husband’ school of thought.

So, I guess The German knows where he stands if there’s ever an indiscretion in our house…

But really, the bottom line for me on this stance is thus: once a cheat, always a cheat. You let that genie out of the bottle and you’re setting yourself up for a lifetime of heartache from a man who doesn’t deserve you.

So good luck to Cheryl if the news is true. But I reckon she’ll be rinsing that rat through the divorce courts before she turns 30.

posted by Ms Shambles 6 Mar, 2008 @ 11:39 am | 6 Comments

Pitch

Am I alone in thinking Kylie Minogue sounds like a chipmunk sucking up the helium?

Especially live.

posted by Ms Shambles 11 Feb, 2008 @ 5:22 pm | 0 Comments

Happy NY & A Pertinent Question

Well, it’s 2008. I haven’t allowed a cig, a drink or anything remotely naughty to pass my lips for about three days now. I feel pure. And slightly bored.

The Nell McAndrew vid is glaring at me reproachfully from the coffee table. I’m going to give it a try this weekend. By all accounts it involves a lot of jumping around, which is going to right piss off the neighbours downstairs, but quite frankly, they’ve had it coming to them for months now. It might teach them to be a little more thoughtful next time they invite half the pub back to theirs until 6am/slam the doors/do monkey shagging at top volume.

Now, on to my first burning question of the new year. Concerned as I am with health issues and global politics, I was perusing the BBC site for a bit of mind-fodder and came across this little gem of a story.

Answer me this, blog bunnies. How will the US of A maintain its status as the most powerful nation in the whole wide world, when they’re all such fat fucks?

Discuss.

posted by Ms Shambles 4 Jan, 2008 @ 4:25 pm | 4 Comments