Controversy! Lovely, artificial, manufactured controversy! Movie Week was quite a week.
‘You’re a presenter, Dermot! I’m a judge!’ Louis wailed at one point, in a show which saw him capitalise on his role as agent provocateur – a position he willingly took on the moment Miss Frank left the show, leaving him with only John & Edward. When an agent’s only got boys like those on his books, all talk of talent has to be discarded in favour of novelty and idiocy. And the little Irishman is doing alright on those fronts.
To tie in with the theme, the gang were sent off to the premiere of A Christmas Carol, midweek – a movie which seems to be out remarkably early – and it was lucky they did as the experience gave them all something to talk about in the filler clips before their performances. That they all said exactly the same thing: ‘This week we went to a premiere… I couldn’t believe it… it was amazing’ is neither here nor there. The Black Eyed Peas weren’t available to act as mentors for the week, so it had to be the premiere footage. BEPs can’t even be trusted to remember their shoes, so placing the responsibility for providing useless, wishy-washy feedback would have been too much for their delicate little brains.
The judges came to the stage to the tones of the Indiana Jones soundtrack, and as they proceeded through the sliding doors it was hard to suppress a gentle yearning for that enormous, rolling boulder from Raiders of the Lost Ark making an appearance, flattening each of the judges and calling a halt to the show in the first twenty minutes.
But the boulder never arrived and the judges took their seats.
Taking the tune which was given new life by Tarantino’s canny use of it in Pulp Fiction, Stacey confessed that this week was the first time she’d seen Quentin’s biggest and most acclaimed movie. ‘I’m more of a Toy Story girl, m’self’ she chuckled absently. Is there a Teletubbies movie? Seems more her level. Toy Story’s quite advanced…
Stacey’s reading of Son Of a Preacherman wasn’t perfect and she seemed flat throughout much of the routine. Vocally.
Feedback
Simon: ‘It was like eating Chinese food – you don’t really feel anything afterwards’
Olly wanted to make Twist n’ Shout – one of the Beatles’ most loved, enduring and infectious hits – ‘more contemporary’. Which is a bit like saying you want to give the Mona Lisa a bit of a makeover – stick some lippy on her and tart her up. In actual fact, he somehow made the tune sound even older. There was no Lennon-esque rasping the way Johnny L used to cut his throat to ribbons howling the verses. Olly sounded even more bland than Jamie Cullum which, for those not familiar with Cullum’s oeuvre, must have been hard work to pull off – with Cullum being national role model for the bland.
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Louis: ‘I wasn’t crazy about the silly dancing’
The introduction gave you a taste of where this was going, but nothing could prepare for the full horror of what was to come. Lloyd, the boychild with the flatulent voicebox parped a rendition of Stand By Me, disappointingly not dressed up as Cory Feldman from the same movie. Or covered in leeches or almost killed by a train. An R&B breakout moment after the first verse consigned the attempt to the fail-bin after only a minute or so. Does anyone truly believe this shit would sell?
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Simon: ‘You’re out of your depth’
And for part one of the controversy two-parter, Jamie took
the stage and sang ‘Crying’ – and I immediately presumed they meant the version from Mulholland Drive from the sublime Silencio segment. But it couldn’t have been, as that version was sung in Spanish. Afterwards, Louis took all of his toys, chucked them out of the pram and started moaning how he’d never even heard of ‘Gumbo’, meaning ‘Gummo’, a film I’ve seen a couple of times but had forgotten featured a cross-dressing boy who sang the Roy Orbison classic, out of tune, at a couple of points throughout what’s actually a quite brilliant and disturbing film. It was weird seeing this movie – which features a dwarf wrestling trailer trash and a boy weighing up whether or not sleeping with a prostitute with Downs Syndrome is a good idea – even mentioned on this, the most mainstream of shows, and by the end of Jamie’s segment, both higher and lower brow audiences would surely have been entertained. To top the weirdness off, Cheryl Cole then shat on the original choice they were going to go with – Simon Cowell’s beloved Unchained Melody.
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Jamie: ‘It’s also in Mulholland Drive’
In her lead-in footage she was seen wafting around the premiere like a half-remembered ghost, leaving little trace or memory of what went before. She’s not exactly superstar material, Lucie and her performance was far short of mind-blowing. Apparently the tune was from a film called Camp Rock – and it occurs to me that a lot more has probably written about Gummo than that particular teen flick. This was more Miley / Avril / By The Numbers Disney crap, essentially.
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Cheryl: ‘You’ve found your niche’
Apparently Danyl went to a premiere… by now this was getting tiresome. More exciting was Cheryl Cole in the opening reels accurately predicting ‘I’m sure he’s gonna do a big, long note at the end and I’m kind of over it’. Danyl is pretty boring. His stock in trade is taking overblown ballads and continuing to inflate them until they’re so turgid they burst. When the opening chords of Purple Rain kicked in, it was clear the song was going to be too big for him in the same way I couldn’t consider the Eiffel Tower as a fitted hat. He should really have been made to sing it dressed in full, sequinned, purple military garb with a towering jet perm. Simon, predictably, offered a solo standing ovation at the end – now a weekly Danyl tradition.
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Cheryl: ‘Yer not the broken man we seen last week’
And here were the act the public’s apparently going mad for – or more accurately that the tabloids are pasting over front covers and idiots like me are endlessly tweeting about. Jedward took the stage to Ray Parker Jr’s Ghostbusters. So far the most recognisable song from a massive movie, Jedward’s version involved heaps of fancy dress, some ludicrous dancing, a scary demon Zool-possessed Sigourney and a miniature Stay Puft marshmallow man who, disappointingly, didn’t explode. It was – and I say this despite myself – thoroughly entertaining.
Feedback
Dannii: ‘I’ve got no idea…’
Circle of Life. Horrible. Let’s just try and forget he exists.
Feedback
Simon: ‘Louis – you’ve insulted the Prime Minister, you’ve insulted the public… I think you should apologise’
And so we move on to the results show, and non-performances from Black Eyed Peas and a bug-eyed Leona. No doubt what happened afterwards is still rattling water-coolers in offices up and down the country as dullards speak of robbery and jokes, forgetting that the whole X Factor enterprise is exactly those two things.
You probably realise by now that the final two acts were Lucie against John & Edward – and that the final vote went to Simon, who threw it to deadlock, making it a public vote. And that public vote went to the Jedward machine. Now – if you check out Twitter and a number of respected blogs, you’ll see people misunderstanding the machinery of both this, the shady end of the music industry and also the point of Saturday night television. Their argument is that Lucie can sing, that this is a talent contest, and that John & Edward should’ve gone.
But the obvious counter to this argument is that – yes, the show is a joke. Always has been. But on Saturday it became a particularly funny joke, and one in which the Emperor admitted that he realised he wasn’t wearing any clothes, had known that from the start, and proceeded to wander around the town completely starkers, proud of the fact he had full reign to exhibit his nadgers to all and sundry with no objection.
Simon Cowell, the sinister puppet master, realised that the audience would like to see him knot his own strings rather than put on a vanilla, tedious show. So he discarded the straightforward option in favour of giving the audience what they want. It’s the first time I’ve ever found any respect in my soul for the weird, moobed trouser-hitcher. And in addition to that, I voted for Jedward, because I want the leaping, cavorting little twats to win the bloody thing. I urge you to do the same.
Bonus highlight from The Xtra Factor:
Holly Willoughby [to Jedward]: Do you fear a backlash?
One of Jedward: What’s backlash?
115 Comments
This article crawled out of me.
I thought Twist ‘n’ Shout was an Isley Brothers song? Wasn’t the Beatles one a cover?
It may have crawled, but your use of simile was fantastic. It made snort into my soup, and a noodle escape out of my nose. Thanks
Also, I am not sure why Loius had to apologise to El Gordo?
The overblown disgust at Simon’s decision on twitter and elsewhere was arguably more entertaining than the show itself. If everyone felt that strongly, perhaps they should have voted for Lucie in the first place. I’m behind Jedward, though not in a Louis Walsh kind of way.
Nappers – you could well be right. But I’m not going to edit it because I can’t be bothered… sorry about that.
Jamie – but surely voting on the thing just means that it will continue as ‘the nation’s favorurite weekend television’ for much longer than it really should, being paid for handsomely by the voting public?
Fiona – I can’t remember. Think he compared Cowell to Brown saying they’re both out of touch with what the public think.
Or something.
you did good swineshead. i get the jedward backlash which is in fact the support they’re receiving but surely any contribution to the malarkey that is xfactor is morally illegal, regardless of whether you think you’re subverting its dominant paradigm.
i never vote on these things, i just have firm opinions about them. i’m also running a 39.3 temperature today so am feeling Very Odd.
ARGH.
soz.
Oh, I see. I am not really sure that is news even to Gordon Brown, is it?
Your dedication to your reading public knows no bounds, Mr Head.
S’alright, Swineshead. I’ll get you back by trapping you in a three day hell of recording nonsense later this week.
Imagine if Jedward turned round one week, pulled down their pants and started pumping turds at the judges. They’d still stay in, I reckon.
I agreed Edward and Mrs Simpson should win.
THEN next year (gawd ‘elp us) no one will enter save for misshapen talentless wannabees.
Just had macaroni cheese followed bu apple crumble and custard. Winter has arrived!
Arternoon…
Oof, get better soon Breeks. Are you having really odd dreams?
Birds or home made, Nick?
I should make it clear I’ve never voted on any reality show – I’m from Yorkshire for God’s sake and no southern softie’s going to get 10p of my money, especially devil incarnate Cowell. However from a purely entertainment point of view, I was more pleased that Jedward stayed than the rather bland Lucie.
Don’t you just thing “Holly Willoughby” is the bestest name for a human being ever? Holly Willoughby, Holly Willoughby, Holly Willoughby. It’s like music.
Whereas “Philip Schofield” sounds like a pigeon hitting a plate glass window.
kind of, when i can manage to sleep. i am mostly concerned with looking at my tonsils with my mini-mag and marvelling at their yellowness.
delish.
Bree – you assume, with your argument, that I am a man of morals. Throwing 30p at a multi-millionaire doesn’t really rupture my base principles I’m afraid.
Canteen custard Mel.
Interesting first 2 paragraphs….http://www.billboard.biz/bbbiz/content_display/industry/e3ia59bfc00cf09b10bb061f955b2fc614b?utm_source=BillboardRetail&utm_medium=twitter
The Thick of it was good saturday…
I haven’t seen latest Thick yet. Still chortling at “You’ve got a face like Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle” from the week before.
I’d vote if they had someone worth voting for. Say if after-dinner raconteur Peter Ustinov came back from the dead and appeared on the show to talk to the audience about the time he, Peter Sellars, David Niven and Sasha Distelle went yachting together. I’d vote for that, like all loads.
Thought it was the best Thick of It so far this week – ruddy hilarious.
you forget i’ve met you, swineshead, and that i know your carefully cultivated interweb persona is faux.
priest.
I, too, have met Swineshead on at least two separate occasions. I’d say he’s pretty similar to his internet persona, only with a more trumpet-like structure for a nose than he’s admitting to having online.
Frankly, if you’ve got a huge 70’s afro, and a copy af the Gummo soundtrack, and you don’t go with ‘Dragonaut’*, then you should be thrown out of the stoner’s union.
*Absu would have been good too: kilt-clad black metal from Texas-now THAT’s rock n’ roll!
PS-Jamie -I’m also in the novel in a month boat! what’s yours about?
*prepares to steal ideas…*
Never seen Gummo, and I never, ever will. As for Mullholland Drive, I watched ten minutes of that before throwing the DVD in the bin in disgust.
Afternoonz all.
I’ve officially abandoned X Factor now.
Interceptor – it’s an existential tale about a man who finds a corpse with a salmon in his mouth, and finds himself implicated in the man’s death. It’s very very bad as you can imagine from that brief synopsis.
Interceptor – I abandoned my Nazi / shark / dinosaur / zombie / knockers adventure novel in favour of a Victorian / knockers / country house / idiot aristocracy / pork pie conspiracy / detective novel with an actual crime in it that actually gets properly solved, like in those books about detectives. By all means feel free to steal my Nazi / shark / dinosaur / zombie / knockers idea if you like.
Afternoon, Clarry. Even though you’re a woman, have you abandoned the X-Factor to look at wimmin’s knockers on the internet instead?
well, I’ve tried to fit as many knockers a spossible in to my sensationalist peado-ring murder tale but have been struggling to find a resolution -Nazi Sharks it is!
Dammit, I’m nicking Napoleon’s idea instead
*deletes 3,400 words already written*
Mulholland Drive? Is that the one with Naomi Watts in a sex scene with another woman?
Great film.
Interceptor and Jamie – My way makes writing a book easy. Don’t bother with a plot, simply list about eight things you want to see in your book, and then throw it all together, clumsily. Thus, if you like ’70s tits, nude girls, Nazis, suspicious death, aliens and combine harvesters, you simply combine the lot and arrive at The ’70s Tits Hot Eighteen Year Old Sex Kitten Nazi Combine Harvester Murders From Outer Space. The story then writes itself.
I should do seminars, me.
Napoleon – Does 70s tits mean tits from the 1970s or tits on 70 year old ladies?
It’s alright…needed more sharks though…and Richard Burton…
I think it depends-I mean, someone who had lovely tits in the 70’s could be in their 70’s now right? I think it’s a double-action label!
Femmie is right- you missed some cracking nudity in Mullholland Drive, Nappers. Good film too, but probably a bit beyond you.
Mullholland Drive hurt my head the first time I watched it. That could be cos i was fast-forwarding through the talkie bits to the lesbian scenes though.
Ha!! Ive just been checking the French Lady Chatterley from Saturday night! Oo la la!!
When I say checking….
If your eighteen year old naked girls are lesbians getting murdered off of a Nazi combine harvester from outer space, I see no reason why they can’t be lesbians in relationships with seventy year old wimmin with monstrously floppy old boobies. Indeed, these old lesbians could be the key to the eighteen year old naked girls’ survival. They fought the Nazis once as a crack unit of fighting lesbians in World War II, now they’re fighting them again in combine harvester form. From space.
Told you these buggers write ‘emselves.
Femmie is right- you missed some cracking nudity in Mullholland Drive, Nappers. Good film too, but probably a bit beyond you.
You overweight, patronising arse. Beyond me, indeed. SNOB.
Thanks for the nudity tip, mind. The beauty of the internet means I can watch the dirty scenes without suffering through the rest of the drivel. Lovely.
Naps-any chance you can provide the Lesbian/Combine Harvester plot points and I can supply West-Country/Posh Lesbian-accented dialogue and 4-page long descriptions of guns and harvesting technology? We’d sell a million!
Ooh I’m novel-writing month (refuse to cuten it to NaNoWriMo *ugh*) too! It’s bloody hard, innit? I’m trying to do it right now. Strange, in the bit I just wrote, one of the characters has just undressed and she has 70 TITS.
Afternoon all. Thanks for the article again, SH, and any of you lot who were twittering about X Factor, hearty applause. Quite made my horrible weekend at work, that did.
Certainly, Interceptor. I’m happy to provide you budding novelists with anything you need. Consider my brain as an ideas teat, with you, the writer, suckling upon my cranial imagination mammary gland, drinking deep of my mind milk to … actually, I’ll stop there.
jrme – it is indeed bloody difficult. I’m on course for the word count so far, but only if November lasts just over 100 days.
Oh, Jamie. Ditto. Ditto, a thousand times. Thank God I’m not alone. I don’t want to go into those forums on the website because everyone on there has millions of good ideas, and my novel is just about what would happen if a fictional version of me met a male fictional version of me and nothing interesting happened for 300 pages.
Napoleon – thank you, you’ve just given me an idea for a rather depraved and disgusting sex scene. *ctrl-C ctrl-Vs Napoleon’s comment word for word*
It’s not difficult! All you do is make some stuff up and stick it all together!
Look:
Portsmouth reached into the mysterious depths of Miss Flappersham’s surgical-support knickers. Pushing his way past the dessicated pubic forest, he found his dry and crusty prize.
“Why, Miss Flappersham,” he burped, “that’s unexpectedly cavernous for a childless woman.”
“Indeed, Lord Portsmouth. I had a particularly girthsome encounter with a nabob stretcher-bearer back in ‘53, and the bugger’s never been the same since.”
See?
jrme – I started writing without a plot – that was my first mistake. No actually my second mistake – the first was signing up to the bloody thing!
I think the dog in my book may be about to start talking *jumps the shark after only 3000 words*
*round of applause for Napoleon*
Nap – No, I haven’t abandoned it in favour of ‘research’ into knockers. Just totally bored of it all.
Wow. I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or something else. I may do all of it at once.
Should I ever get married, can I nick that for my wedding vows?
I was considering writing a romantic novel, JRME. Something along the lines of ‘La Space Hopper D’Amor’, where the hero tries doing his missus up the council while the two bounce up and down on a space hopper half way up the Eiffel Tower.
I started a new novel last week. Nothing to do with this month of novel-writing. I just wanted another unfinished novel to add to my stack of probably-been-done-before unfinished novel piles.
Maybe I could not finish this new never-finish-it novel for national unfinished novel month?
Jamie – donnae fash yersel’, ken! A dog talking after 3000 words? You’ve no worries! I had a bloody mobile phone expressing opinions within the first paragraph. Have you got to the stage yet where you just write down whatever you dreamt last night in massive detail preceeded by one of your characters saying “God, I had a really weird dream last night”?
No, no. Nor have I. Ahem.
Clarry – Well that’s a shame. Any fool’ll tell you that staring glassy-eyed at a vast collection of identikit wimmin’s boobies is preferable to watching wazzocks warbling on the goggle-box. You should give it a go.
I always skip the dreams in books. Never read ‘em, dream sequences. Made reading Iain Banks’s The Bridge a doddle.
I am not writing a novel. Do I need to start in order to be a joiner in?
I am not sure that I have a novel in me, to be honest
Not done dreams yet jrme but to increase my word count I’m thinking of writing the following:
Doug sat down in front of the computer and read from the website in front of him. It was Watch with Mothers. It said: “Controversy! Lovely, artificial, manufactured controversy! Movie Week was quite a week….
Then I would copy and paste the whole WWM article. Do that a few times and I’d soon be up to the 50,000 target.
Would that be okay Swineshead?
Sounds like a good idea, Swines. You could set up a website called NaUnNoMo where you passively-aggressively list how many novels you haven’t finished and coo patronisingly at people who haven’t not finished as many novels as you.
Oh, that was just mean. Sorry, NaNoWriMo. I’m just angry cos I’m rubbish.
Napoleon: You are clearly some sort of romantic genius. May I name my first child in your honour?
I’ve just had a look at this writing a book in a month business. A month? Who takes that long to write a book? Six days, tops - BANG! Never mind the quality or the fact it’s got no plot, technically, feel the girth, squire. BOSH!
I reckon I could bring in a novel for under £80. Indeed, if there’s a publisher reading this, I can do you a buy one, get one half price in nine days flat. £120 to you, and no questions asked.
I reckon i coujld just about manage to pitch for the title an a basic plot premise. Will that do?
That’s good value, Napoleon – but any publisher would probably want to put Cheryl Cole’s name on it. Could you live with that?
Mel: it is actually quite a good concept. You’re meant to just write for November, whatever comes into your head, never editing or deleting anything, up to an arbitrary limit of 50,000 and then if it’s crap which it will be, you don’t ever have to show it to anyone. You can just say you’ve written a book. For most of you creative bastards, it’d be a doddle, and probably not crap as well. I would say it’s fun, but today I’ve probably written several thousand words into this comment box and very few into my novel.
Jamie: yup. My character is currently sitting at his computer, commenting on a website called “View With Mummies”
JRME – You can is you like.
You do realise my real name’s Testiculanthrax Bumsucker, don’t you?
We never liked one another from day one, my mother and I …
If they throw in two kilos of beef mince, Pilchard, they can put anyone’s name they like on my books.
Nappers, you forgot with a rider, you can also get them to throw in some ample bosoms and a can of Top Deck lager shandy as well. Might as well get what you can out of the deal, eh?
S’all right, Naps. My surname is Isatwaht, so the poor little fella’s pretty buggered anyway.
Hmm! I think I feel a new character brewing.
Is that the Hampshire Isatwahts? Lovely people. (Not the Wiltshite Isatwahts – they’re twats.)
Now I think about it, Mel, I’m tempted to just tell ‘em to pay me in meat. A book written in six days must be worth at least 2 kilos of beef mince, a dozen chicken breasts, three lamb shanks and a pound of best back bacon, surely?
SH, I take my hat off to you. I just tubed ‘Jedward’ doing Ghostbusters and nearly ripped off my nuts. I think I made 30 seconds.
For a start, and I don’t mean to repeat myself but they CAN’T SING. Is this too much to ask? At least with boy/girl bands the hired meat can at, the very least so help me god, string a tune together. How bad can they be when I’m actually reduced to defending the fucking talents of ‘normal boy/girl bands?
But it’s even worse than that. They can’t even not-sing at all in their own fucking accents. Instead they have resorted to using the sorts of accents pre-teen boys employ when playing 24 in the playground.
It’s a complete and utter disgrace.
I haven’t smoked for a week, so am in a very bad mood, so without reading the comments to see if anyone else has mentioned it, can I point out that Twist and Shout isn’t a Beatles song, but was first recorded by the Top Notes or someone, then famously by the Isley Brothers and THEN by the Beatles. And then by the Mamas and the Papas I think. And indeed Chaka Demus and Pliers.
I know its not important.
GAH.
*stands outside office near where the London Lite vendors wait before their shift, sniffing the nicotine tinged air*
PS – I thought Jedward were brilliant at Ghostbusters. I am glad that boring Welsh girl went, and I agree totally about SC and the Emperors New Clothes point, I wish the rest of the twattersphere would get it.
I wish my name was ‘Pliers’
Roszszszs – I’ve an excellent way of getting through the difficult first weeks of giving up smoking, and that’s smoking. Worked wonders for me.
Cough cough …
Napoleon, I know, I know… I fucking LOVE smoking.
Then have a fag, Roszzsssz.
Go on …
*offers pack*
GO ON …
I’d like to give Holly Willoughby a backlash.
Hello everyone! I’m still in forn parts and about to have some wine by a swimming pool. Cheerio!
Nappers – payment in meat is a great idea. Sadly it has massive potential for being misunderstood in the den of iniquity in which i currently reside. I will have to stick to asking for cases of Top Deck Laager Shandy, with 0.025% ABV.
Hullo Roszsers, we can all start calling you Pliers, if you like?
A French chef i knew a few years back tried to give up smoking with nicotine gum. Due to stupidity, he thought he could have as much as he liked and consumed about 200 cigs worth of nicotine in about 3 hours. He sat on a step quivering for a while, then had to go to hospital.
*Yes, Laager – ducth for piss weak beer. What of it?
Fanks Napoleon.
*sucks forlornly on cigarette*
Can I have a lighter too?
Ex! Bloody hell. How do you chew that much gum? He must have had big jaws.
I am rockin’ the microtabs. They dissolve under your tongue and make it burn like fire.
Mel – I would like that, yes.
Pliers.
Now that’s a thought, Mel …
*thinks about being paid in ‘meat’*
I once became addicted to the gum AND fags. When I wasn’t smoking, I was chewing, which effectively meant I was smoking every waking second of the day. I packed it in when the gangrene and double vision got to be a real problem.
An ear infection helped me to quit, felt to shit to drink for about 3 months. It’s the demon drink wot makes it hard, dissolves the willpower.
Perhaps you should consider shoving a knitting needle into your ear?
Pliers, do those microtabs give you nightmares? Mr Mayhem gave up smoking a few years back, which was relatively easy on me, because he had patches. However, one night he awoke screaming because he forgot to take the patch off, and it gave him the night terrors.
Fiona – I believe that only the patches do that, as they feed nicotine into you while you sleep giving you very vivid dreams. The microtabs just give you an intense nicotiney hit ™, which wears off about as quickly as a fag does.
Overheard on Saturday while watching fireworks: “You never see BLACK fireworks, do you”
Racist fireworks makers.
Ex – I think illness is the way forward.
*rubs self on measles-ridden children*
I used patches the last time. Those twenty four hour jobs. Don’t know if they gave me vivid dreams, as I’m always blind drunk when I go to bed.
Well, pliers, there is also the added benefit of being able to brag about how many microtabs you can take at a time.
PS, I think getting a pox will force you to give up other things, not smerks.
You could try getting that The AIDS, Rozszszzs. I’ve heard it’s not half as bad as ’80s The AIDS – just makes you ill enough to give up the tabs. Then, when you’re off ‘em, you take a couple of Aspirin and the The AIDS clears up.
I think that’s right.
“Hello everyone! I’m still in forn parts and about to have some wine by a swimming pool. Cheerio!”
Hi 4*. A few of my friends and mam’s work colleagues use the phrase “some wine” in place of “and we accidentally had sex”. E.g I went to Mark’s house last night for “some wine”.
That way you can blame the wine for the fact that you went to said boy’s house wearing your velcro suit.
P.S I gived up cold turkey – 3 years and 3 months ago.
AND I BLOODY LOVED SMOKING, I DID.
Remember those machines you used to get on the walls of shops that dispensed either overly minty, golf ball shaped bubble gum, multi-coloured gobstoppers or plastic eggs with a ‘toy’ inside? Who else used up their last ten pee to go for the egg, only to find it was another fucking plastic engagement ring? You looked through the window and there appeared to be an entire James Bond playset including gun, car and tuxedo in an egg, and yet every time you tried to get your hands on such a marvel of miniaturisation, you ended up with that bastard engagement ring again.
*gurgle*
‘Remember those machines you used to get on the walls of shops that dispensed either overly minty, golf ball shaped bubble gum, multi-coloured gobstoppers or plastic eggs with a ‘toy’ inside?’
No.
Illness always worked for me the few times I gave up as well. Back on ‘em now though: but not enough to qualify for those very harsh space-out drugs that help you stop smoking by sending your mind spinning out of its gourd, so you can’t even coordinate end of fag with lighter flame. Shame.
Romance novels? Engagement rings? Something on your mind, Napoleon?
Piqued – Coming from Yorkshire (your dirty little secret), you most definitely DO remember those machines. I bet you used ‘em loads. In your flared trousers, bowl haircut, NHS glasses and Wombles pullover on your Raleigh Chopper in the old days.
JRME – Not fucking likely!
(If the missus is reading this – it’s on the list, love)
What else is on your list, Nap?
Loads of stuff, Clarry. Scraping out the smegma from under my cock flange, eating my own toenails, finally getting round to wiping my arse from last week, having my yearly bath … fancy having an affair?
*belches up mashed egg*
Hmmmm … she seems to have disappeared …
clarry’s a delicate soul, nappers, she’s probably horrified you didn’t have a bath in summer.
A bath, Breeks? In the summer? Ridiculous! You don’t need a bath in summer – baths are for Christmas. It’s nice to have a relatively clean cock and balls as you celebrate the birth of Our Saviour.
i guess so nappers although does it really matter if something no-one sees or is interested in is clean or not?
Thanks Clarry. I think.
I see what you did there, Breeks.
yeah good, am pleased cause, you know, i wondered if it was really working and thought maybe i’d need to rework but then decided to just, you know, like, go with my first edit.
Cleverly done, I thought. And original too. Well done.
awwww. hugs to you, you lovely big thing.
*comes in late*
With an offer like that on the table Naps, it’s hard to resist!
P.S - 4* I was suggesting that in going to have “some wine” by the pool that really meant that you were going to either have accidental se(x) with the pool or by it. I know the code, see?
*knows*
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If you are hooked to the X Factor I have just found out that you can book this year’s finalist for live shows and events with Industry Music Group by following the link: http://industrymusicgroup.co.uk/book-the-x-factor-2009-live
Christ! Cyberattack!