I should just warn you, when I say teenage girls in this post, I mean 14-15 years old who think they're grown up.
My next door neighbours are having a birthday party for one of their teenage girls.
Family and friends have been invited, in order to celebrate her turning 14.
I think
I only think this since I do not care nor like them, due to the fact that I'm woken randomly at night, by the sounds of shouting and screaming from the girls. Or the baby who loves crying.
I hate them.
This party wouldn't have bothered me as, I understand teenage girls etc
But this afternoon I forgot about this party, so hung out my washing to dry on the line, not later knowing the horror I was to endure upon retrieving my clean clothes.
I chose my moment, when they sang the 'Happy Birthday' song (I could hear it through the walls...) I would run out and take them down. Meaning the clothes, not take down the girls.
How was I to know they were singing it in a pitch black garden, watching me take down my underpants off the line.
I got half-way down and they stopped singing. immediately I heard the shrill voices of teenage girls addressing me. They broke into a chorus of 'Hiya Johnny!' so I turned to face them, to wave and feigned a smile.
As I turned my back the birthday girl shouted to me 'I can see your underwear Johnny!'
No shit Sherlock. We're neighbours with a low fence....
Tuesday 23 August 2011
Monday 22 August 2011
The Lesbian, Cometh
Earlier this year I attended an Open Day trip with college to Manchester Metropolitan University.
I personally didn't like the University and so, I very politely kept it to myself... This is a lie, I told everyone.
So here are two pictures of me and my new best friend, Carol Ann Duffy, the poet laureate.
 |
| Carol and I, looking fabulous. |
 |
| Carol (she sin't drunk) and me, doing my best to look happy |
The poet laureate means the poet who officially writes poems for a Royal occasion i.e. Will's and Kate's wedding, she penned a poem entitled Rings.
Here The Guardian covers the poem as part of a Wedding article. I think the poem is beautiful.
She can come and have a night out with me anytime.... This is not a lie.
Thursday 11 August 2011
Heavy Metal Lover?
With the riots sweeping through the country like underage drinking, I thought it was just the right time to have a literary riot. (Hopefully sounding more logical than this seemingly pointless chaos)
Enjoy.
(Demand, not a request)
The Blackpool Metro service. A local and cost-efficient, depending on your income bracket, way of getting around Blackpool.
While I'm not one to kick up a fuss...
*Insert retort here*
...I have noticed over the last few years that their drivers seem to be a tad on the bleak side.
I mean, who wouldn't smile when they see this hurtling
round the corner...
...Unless you're driving.
Puns aside, the drivers tend to look homicidal. (A fact which may dissuade a potential passenger)
You may think this is understandable, since they deal with the general populace of our quaint *tourist resort.
*Tourist: In Blackpudlian, tourist stands for somebody engaging in a debauched activity, namely ridiculous alcohol consumption just before a wedding. Presumably stotgun.
Then, add the *tourists to the local tribes of Chavs, who have the gait of a gate, rigid and violent, while charging around with the name 'Henleys' etched into everything they wear.
...A *tourist may think that they are all indeed called Henley, since their intellect in questionable, since they have chosen to holiday in Blackpool...
So there are 2 perfectly viable reasons for the bus drivers to be depressed. But, is it a perfectly viable reason to treat the locals, who do not stand like they are facing a firing squad, with the discontent deriving from their misery?
No.
More often than not, I have received a multitude of accusative looks, based on what I can only assume, due to the correlation, is because I am a teen (and this was BEFORE the recent looting) On another instance I have been christened 'deaf and dumb' by one driver, as I could not understand a word he spoke and implored him to speak clearly. Ironically the insult was the only thing he said with clarity.
They also get paid to provide a public service. Note the word public does not differentiate between anyone, whether they wear Henleys or a suit by Guccci.
(If they are wearing a suit by Gucci, I ask why are they using a bus?)
We, as the public, are the Metro's blood. And yet, they treat us all like malcontents?
I will gladly acknowledge the fact that some of their staff are a delight to see. They are neither rude or mean, but rather polite and kind.
In fact one member of staff in particular, I do not know their name and they may not wish to have attention drawn to them, is the nicest person I have ever met. There is always a smile upon their face, they act like all the evil atrocities in this world don't exist.
I wonder, why can't all the staff be this way?
It says on their website that they're all supposed
to be "professional" which should at least imply
a smile.
Shouldn't it?
Enjoy.
(Demand, not a request)
The Blackpool Metro service. A local and cost-efficient, depending on your income bracket, way of getting around Blackpool.
While I'm not one to kick up a fuss...
*Insert retort here*
...I have noticed over the last few years that their drivers seem to be a tad on the bleak side.
round the corner...
...Unless you're driving.
Puns aside, the drivers tend to look homicidal. (A fact which may dissuade a potential passenger)
You may think this is understandable, since they deal with the general populace of our quaint *tourist resort.
*Tourist: In Blackpudlian, tourist stands for somebody engaging in a debauched activity, namely ridiculous alcohol consumption just before a wedding. Presumably stotgun.
Then, add the *tourists to the local tribes of Chavs, who have the gait of a gate, rigid and violent, while charging around with the name 'Henleys' etched into everything they wear.
...A *tourist may think that they are all indeed called Henley, since their intellect in questionable, since they have chosen to holiday in Blackpool...
So there are 2 perfectly viable reasons for the bus drivers to be depressed. But, is it a perfectly viable reason to treat the locals, who do not stand like they are facing a firing squad, with the discontent deriving from their misery?
No.
More often than not, I have received a multitude of accusative looks, based on what I can only assume, due to the correlation, is because I am a teen (and this was BEFORE the recent looting) On another instance I have been christened 'deaf and dumb' by one driver, as I could not understand a word he spoke and implored him to speak clearly. Ironically the insult was the only thing he said with clarity.
They also get paid to provide a public service. Note the word public does not differentiate between anyone, whether they wear Henleys or a suit by Guccci.
(If they are wearing a suit by Gucci, I ask why are they using a bus?)
We, as the public, are the Metro's blood. And yet, they treat us all like malcontents?
I will gladly acknowledge the fact that some of their staff are a delight to see. They are neither rude or mean, but rather polite and kind.
In fact one member of staff in particular, I do not know their name and they may not wish to have attention drawn to them, is the nicest person I have ever met. There is always a smile upon their face, they act like all the evil atrocities in this world don't exist.
I wonder, why can't all the staff be this way?
It says on their website that they're all supposed
to be "professional" which should at least imply
a smile.
Shouldn't it?
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