Tuesday 30 November 2010

Give Milk Room a Miss

Spent five and a half years getting my tits out. That's not pole dancing either. So I know a bit about breastfeeding and the answer is - don't bother.

With the special milk rooms for mums that is. With a babe latched on, work goes west. Fact. I've got them out everywhere from Athens to Zagreb and it's been easy-peasy. The only bit of bother was on a train to Newcastle when some perv couldn't take his eyes off my jumper, getting well worked up at what was going on underneath. The little mite was suffocating up there, but the good stuff was on tap and she wasn't complaining.

Nobody ever complained about the fabulous figure that came with the job either. Old workmates were especially appreciative, having known me in my former, flatter, state. Not sure they would have been quite so keen had I got them out in the office though. It's one thing at the Christmas do, another entirely on a Tuesday lunchtime. Why would you waltz into work with a tiny baby anyway? Why not stay at home for six months to give them a good start?

I think myself lucky to have been able to keep at it. This idea of a room at work for feeding mums is a nonsense because babes love it, it takes forever and the best place for it is in front of daytime TV. That's speaking as one who knows.

Saturday 27 November 2010

Bugs, What Bugs?

About to buy a penthouse. Well, it's a top floor flat, but think big. The solicitor sent "congratulations you've exchanged - now check for bugs." Bugs! Are the Soviets skulking in Suffolk? Do we have Taleban in the tractor sheds? Terrorists in the pig pens?

We do have a lot of pigs. Stand them snout to tail and they would reach Uranus and back. So, the bugs. Are they livestock? Has the dream residence become a house of horrors since we went for the second viewing? If so I'm out of there because I draw the line at biters. They get a smack on the wrist in this house.

No, I think not. Our lawyer simply means we should check that all is as we left it. A ceiling hasn't fallen in or a tramp taken up residence. Not unheard of in these parts. So we will pop back next week and turf them out, bugs and all, and get a new home for Christmas.

Thursday 25 November 2010

For The Man Who Has Everything

It's the must-have present for the man in your life - a shirt that won't show sweat patches. Hold back the hoardes, this will be massive, Buzz Lghtyear eat your heart out, you are so on the scrapheap now!

Who could resist? All the girls will be buying at least two for their guys. How thrilling on Christmas morning: "Tristram, those dreadful pit patches will be a banished from your life!" How terribly touching, must wipe away a tear.

Will she give him a cute little tongue scraper as well for the dog breath, or cream for the irritating piles? Everything to fulfil his wildest fantasies. How fascinating to think of labs where they are beavering away on such wonders of invention as no-sweat shirts. Can't fault the science, must have been a wonderful eureka moment for somebody. A Nobel prize is but a moment away.

Just thought a can of anti-perspirant would be cheaper. That should stop the sweat. Otherwise, where does it all go? Downward drip? Could we be looking at wet boxer tops here? Don't go there.

Tuesday 23 November 2010

Bet that Bum's Worth a Bit

Old roue Peter Stringfellow sounds perplexed. Prof Stephen Hawking turned up at his club one night and Peter was delighted. Rushed up to ask him if he wanted to talk science or look at naked ladies. Stephen said science.

Course he didn't! He would have yelled ladies if he could. He robot-spoke it instead. Peter's reaction:" It's complicated." In what way, on which planet, is it complicated? Nature of the universe? That's complicated. Can mush your mind, easy.

But a bloke wanting to look at naked ladies? Even a clever, disabled man like Stephen Hawking? In what way does that not add up? Every man coming into Peter's club knows what he's there for. He wants sexy dancing from a lady who really does look good naked.

Guys pay a girl up to £1,000 and go home without so much as a tickle. True. They have the most stringent no-touch rules there. Men with more money than sense are happy to splash out a small fortune, just to see a pretty bum wiggle. Not complicated, just daft.

Sunday 21 November 2010

Second-Hand love Token Anyone?

Not said a word about the happy couple. Not a blip. But like a nasty zit, something's got to come out. So here it is - WHY did he give her that ring? We know the royals are tight-wads. Anyone invited to Balmoral knows to pack the long johns because the heating's iffy at best. The staff are paid a pittance because they do it for the love.

Let's hope, this time, he does love her. Not like his dad, just back from honeymoon and chatting to his pal Gladys. Plenty been said about Diana, but she did have it tough.

That ring though. Why didn't he buy her a shiney new one? Apparently he wanted to bring his mother into the celebrations and saw this as the way. Nobody asked me..... but if they had I'd say save it for the first daughter, the little girl Diana always wanted but never had

A wedding, especially a royal wedding, is no place for second-hand engagement rings, especially one supposed to symbolise great love which turned out far too soon to be nothing but a sham.

Tuesday 16 November 2010

Liam's trainer or Depp"s Scarf

There's a mad old bat stalking Hampstead Heath. She's after shoes, and daft - or terrified - people are handing them over. Walking home in their socks. In this weather. Some marbles missing here?
Actually Angela Humphrey, 80, is not bonkers. She only approaches the famous and then auctions their footwear for a children's charity called Small steps. All fine and dandy, so that's a relief.

Except who would want Liam Gallagher's sweaty trainer ? Nice guy and all that, but shoes? There must be other stuff. The heath being a happy hunting ground for all types there's a fair bit of hastily dumped kit about. Some of it celebrity, bound to be. Not all worth hard cash though

Still, if it needs to be in pristine condition I'd say go for a scarf. Think about it. it would still SMELL of the famous neck. Expensive aftershave or perfume. How sexy is that? I'd happily fork out a fortune for either Clooney or Depp's. Even Pattinson's, though that"s a bit cougarish. Anyway, you could wear it or just sniff it. Know what I'd do - but I wouldn't be doing it to Liam's trainers.

Monday 15 November 2010

Palin at the Thought of Sarah

Starting to have a sneaky admiration for Sarah Palin - what chutzpah! Massive cheek on a grand scale. A girl who could put God in his place. Palin knows it all and that's that. Such confidence from someone with no experience of note and who jacked in her job as Governor of Alaska without even finishing one term. What a gal!

She's written 1,600 words of advice - Oh God! - to new politicians telling them how they should do the job. Just like the bossy mum getting everyone involved in the new reading scheme because it's so good for them. That and the school coffee morning. Tedious and deeply boring.

Yet there is no stopping Sarah. While we all slag her off for her brazen, totally unfounded, self-belief, her unstoppable ego takes on a life of it's own and before long we are asking:" How did that happen?" Seen the future and it's scary.

Sunday 14 November 2010

Fluff and Fancy Free

Pube alert! Rare and in danger of disappearing altogether. Should we be worried? You bet. Sign of our times that women have to be hair-free. Everywhere, like a porn star. Since when did we decide we have to look like that?

Can't really blame the sex business. It's always been about displaying the goods in the shop window for all to view. Total transparency on a need to know basis. There's a place for that. But us real girls should rebel, not only on the basis that fluff is a swine to get shot of.

Come the summer we will all be at it. Nobody wants overspill. Fine. But the rest of the time? Do we have to look like little girls with our kit off? Seems odd to me that fuzz-free has found such a happy home in the male psyche. Bit like those old paintings - some men actually thought women looked like that and got a shock. Some still do.

Time the girls took a stand for what is real and brought back a bit of cover. May add to the mystery. Something has to change or else - where will it all end?

Friday 12 November 2010

All Aboard the Stinky Booze Cruise

Ever fancied cruising? On a ship that is, not Clapham Common. Both seem to require an ability to cope with the unexpected. I'm not fond of surprises. The high seas seem fraught with horrors, ice bergs and storms, not to mention sicky viruses and breakdowns.

The trick seems to be to stuff yourself silly on endless food then catch a vomit virus to pass the time till you get back. Or watch heaving water or passengers all day, take your pick. Not for me. So I do sympathise with the holidaymakers aboard the cruise ship Carnival Spendour arriving in San Diego after three days without electricity. That's no flushing toilets to you and me. Or showers. Needless to say, they stink.

"The whole bottom deck smells like rotten milk. There's faeces everywhere. It's disgusting, " said bride Stacey Noriega after a memorable honeymoon. Not much splendour there then. No amount of free booze will make up for that.

Thursday 11 November 2010

Sex Crazies Haunt Facebook

My husband is being pestered for sex - and not by me! Don't know whether to be offended or flattered. it's got so bad that he is thinking of shutting down his Facebook account so that the ladies will have to seek love elsewhere.

Are there so many out there starved of affection that they have to send their pics to anyone, regardless of status? Having seen our family efforts with the site I got so bored by the toe-numbing trivia and decided I'd rather not, thanks.

I can have more fun scraping dry skin off my feet and it's a lot more intimate. Husband reckons they are more interested in his Barclaycard than his body. No disloyalty intended, but they are bound to be disappointed on both counts. He only opened the site to keep in touch with his biker mates. Must be weird to have sex-starved crazies hungering after you. Could turn a man's head.

Wednesday 10 November 2010

Gordon Ramsay Shares His Pain

How we love our celebs! It's so wonderful when they open their hearts to us. revealing their deepest emotions and bitter tears. We long to share their pain. Gordon Ramsay is hurting now and he's so so sad he wants the world to know.

Hence his letter printed in a newspaper to his Mum-in-law. It's sincerely heartfelt. Not sure it's winning her over though. Saying his wife Tana's dad is a "manipulating, controlling dictator," is hardly lovey-dovey. Sacking the man didn't help.

Getting a private detective to follow dad around and saying that his "away days were rarely what I thought they were," seems a bit sneaky. What was the old boy up to? Surely not something on the side Gordon? We clamour to know.

Shove all this stuff in our faces and well, it's bound to come back and kick you up the assiette. Never going to end well. Ramsay writing : "You've been a fantastic mum, please don't stop, " will have the woman bringing up her breakfast. Can't wait for the next installment.

Tuesday 9 November 2010

Great Mates on a Risky Mission

Rats! Is that a shudder? Must be the tails that do it, all naked and pink, with the odd stiff hair. Hardly cute and cuddly.

We spotted them here, so down went the poison. Shoved it into their holes. It makes them a bit drunk and they loved it. Got all sloshed and strolled about. That's when you think:"Aah, look at those lovely, shiny black eyes!" Have to admit a bit of a pang there.

Now the latest is they are saving lives sniffing out explosives. "Detection is the most difficult, dangerous and expensive part of mine action," says Bart Weetjens of the Belgian aid organisation Apopo. " Rats are much more difficult to train than dogs but so far they have helped re-open two million square miles of Mozambique." The rodents get a bit of food as a reward for finding TNT.

Granted these are giant pouched rats, so well up for it, but two million square miles! Respect.

Monday 8 November 2010

Sam or Vivienne at the Brits?

So they plan to slick up the Brits! What a shame, it just won't be the same. Remember when Sam Fox and Mick Fleetwood made such a shambles of it in 1989? Still reckon that was my top telly disaster. It was all just so, so wrong. Everything.

They forgot the names, ignored the cues, said all the wrong things and it was BRILLIANT. Sam was never better. Forget page three, this was her finest hour. She said afterwards that there was a daft bint in the crowd shouting abuse at her the whole time and she had to step off stage to throttle her. Go girl!

We missed that bit - but the rest more than made up for it. Now they want to make it all polished and professional, with a Vivienne Westwood designed award and class acts. Big mistake. It's boring when the smoothies get it right - it's when the stuff hits the fan that we prick up our ears. We love train-crash telly! So don't spoil it.

Saturday 6 November 2010

That's Telling Her!

Good with words is Germaine Greer. Like her style. She once said that Pamela Stephenson Connolly had, "made a little talent go a long way." Ooh does that hit the spot? I think so.

The Strictly hopeful is trying to find her lighter side. She'll have to dig deep. Since turning psychotherapist she's been a bit, well, odd. Talking of entering a " very existential phase." Sounds painful pet, better have a lie down.

Can't help but be a bit hard on Pamela after she accused me of upsetting Billy's first wife. Which I never did. This may be hard to fathom but perhaps she was the problem there. Sometimes these therapists are so busy analysing the rest of us that they are a total mystery to themselves.

Like her reasons for having Botox. "Everyone thought I was frowning at them." Not if you're smiling Pamela! Relax, it's fine to admit it - you're as vain as the rest of us headcases.

Friday 5 November 2010

Blunt but Sharp

Better whisper this - I actually like James Blunt. Phew that hurt, but hey, it's done, it's out there and I'm not going to take it back. Now I think about it, he's in my Top Ten. Gets easier all the time.

Fact is, the guy is funny. Did you see him on Have I Got News For You? Forgive the weird nylon/faux leather jacket, probably worth a packet but did zero for you James, and the rather red, stuck down hair and the guy was good. Witty. And that scores.

He's got a nice smile, but is not a classic looker. His voice - I've yet to decide, but can't fault anyone who sings You're Beautiful at me. Tend to lap that up, even if, sad to say, it's not personal. Obviously. He makes me laugh. He was great on Top Gear too and he can drive, really, really well. Is that sexy? Reckon so.

Something else. Doesn't seem to take himself too seriously. Right, that's enough of that, where's my invitation to the Palace James?

Wednesday 3 November 2010

No Dear, Not Like That!

Would you ever try to play a flute with your bottom? No, me neither, though I still struggle the more conventional way. Only ask because expert musicians have spent months making copies of instruments shown in a 16th century painting, hoping they would play.

Disaster! Though they look lovely the consensus is they're useless:"The racket that comes out is horrible. The trumpet has been coiled so many times it wouldn't play and the harp's strings do not give an octave, says the expert in charge, Andy Lamb. The hurdy-gurdy design is fundamentally flawed with a half-hearted buzzing noise and the lute can't be tuned without collapsing.

The experts at Oxford University were using Bosch's picture The Garden of Earthly Delights as their starting point. It shows hellish cruelty and depravity, which might have been a clue. The flute, which took weeks to make, is stuck into a sinner's bottom. "I can tell you that you can't play a flute like that, " reveals Mr Lamb, but he added " We are pushing the boundaries of music education an inch at a time." Absolutely, but not in that direction.

Tuesday 2 November 2010

Does it Do it For You?

Do you wanna be in their gang? Celebs are getting tribal, wearing the right bangle to belong. It shows they can afford £29.99 for a piece of tat that is meant to make them feel great. The money would do it for me. Send me the thirty quid and I'll feel pretty good for you. And you would be helping a poor Billy No Mates into the bargain, so what's not to like?

The ridiculous ways the rich and famous find to squander their dosh never ceases to amaze. This is the latest craze, a rubber wrist band called the Power Balance. Supposed to "resonate and respond to the natural energy flow of the body," improving " balance, strength and flexibility." I tell you now. It doesn't work. Sue me if I'm wrong.

Yet David Beckham, Cristiano Ronaldo and Kate Middleton are among the more money-than-sense-celebs who are flocking to Harrods and JJB Sports to buy one. It's apparently all about frequencies incorporated into a hologram, low-emitting electro-magnetic stuff. A word beginning with b and ending in s springs to mind.

Spend your money on what you like. Wear what you like. But don't expect the rest of us to think you've made a rational decision because frankly, you're away with the fairies.