Wednesday, January 16, 2008

 

Utterly fucking useless

Toblerone bars are horrible. They cheat you, by looking like decent milk chocolate, then after you have a mouthful, all the nasty, little, hard, chewy, papery, shitty bits appear and ruin the taste. The worst thing about a toblerone is that the ratio of nasty chewy bits to OK chocolate is very small, whereas other bars I hate, like bounty (coconut - vile) or Fry's Turkish delight (Turkish delight, in chocolate, yuck) have the greater proportion of the bar being the gopping bit - so the chewy bits of a toblerone must be like the poison on the back of a frog - you only need a small amount to kill the experience.

What absolutely makes a toblerone bar worse than a bounty, or a turkish delight, is the weaselling, sneaky nature of the bits - if they were nut-sized, one could pick them out and eat the chocolate, if they were massive - the horror of the bar would be revealed immediately and one could say: "Oh not for me, thank you, I have an ulcer" or some other excuse. I once thought about sucking a piece of toblerone until all the chocolate was gone and I would be left with a mouthful of gritty stuff to spit out - but it wouldn't work. Why? Because of the fucking stupid shape - a great big triangle - far to large to stuff in the gob in one go, and made of chocolate - so when you try and break the triangles in half the chocolate starts to melt and go everywhere and leave little pustules of gritty nougat all over everything.

I was in Heathrow Terminal 1 last week, buying magazines and sweets in the WH Smiths there, and the man behind the counter said to me: "You have spent more than five pounds - would you like a free toblerone?". "No, I would not" I said. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, it is just I absolutely hate them." "Me too", says the feller. "I don't see what the fuss is about - great big pyramid of a thing, with bits stuck in it". "I know," I said "And what about the name: Toblerone! I expect it is some horrible town in Switzerland where they eat dogs, at least I hope it is, as who would make up a name like that - it sounds like a cross between table and trombone". "You are right" says the man in the WH Smiths "And I am glad to meet a fellow toblerone hater". "Now a flake" I says "A flake is something else entirely - I would do a lot of bad things for a flake". At this point, the assertive thirty- something looking woman behind, with expensively dyed hair, wearing clothes that are too young for her, butts in: "Would you hurry it up there please, I've a plane to catch". Stupid cow - That line is ridiculous in the departure lounge, isn't it? "I've a plane to catch." If you aren't wearing a uniform, or at the very least an airside pass - you are also, clearly going to catch a plane as well. I fucking hate people who come out with that self important shit. I bet she likes toblerone, the miserable, fat cow.
Noreen

Monday, January 14, 2008

 

The Tao of my arse

I am not much of a reader. I like celebrity magazines, lads mags (but not Nuts or Zoo - those are for utter braindonors) and the magazines with "real life" stories, where people at the lower end of the social scale, get paid for airing their dirty linen and bad judgement with nosey old whores like me. As for books - I can't fucking stand chick lit - all focused on falling in love with a fairly boring man after getting the ride off a wild one. No, the truth is, I hate novels altogether - they are usually about women who are piano teachers having a small crisis in their life and Dealing With It. I mean -I don't need a book to tell me that shite - in fact, as I have said before, that type of information normally comes to find me. I sit still for ten minutes, and there will be some poor soul, telling me their mediocre life story, and all the moderate hardships they have ever endured. It's my face - a magnet for people disclosing.

But the absolutely worst kind of books of all, are those pseudo intellectual ones, the layman's anthropology numbers called stuff like: "This is my tribe" or "Jawohl! Explaining Why Germans Are So Very Direct". God, they make me want to shit. And then there are the ones which poach a bit of eastern philosophy to try and make their tedious subject matter sound exotic "The Tao of Applied Mathematics" or "Zen Cladding". Fuckety fuck off.
Noreen

Sunday, January 06, 2008

 

No it is not.

If I had a pound for every time someone said "spying is the second oldest profession in the world" I would have about twelve pounds. That's quite a lot of times to hear something, but not as many as the number of times I have heard people say things like "I'm not being funny, but" or "Oh my god", which is literally millions and millions of times already in my lifetime and I am 35. When people come up with that spying comment - occasionally it is in the context of an intelligence related conversation, but most often it is a way of leading up to the "oldest profession in the world" - prostitution, so they can talk about whores.

I'm a terrible person to have either of those conversations with, for my interest in the intelligence services is faily small - I like all the torturing and rendition stuff, but when it comes to the collection of information in order to form policy - I just want a tiny lie- down. I do like talking about whoring - but I can't put up with that great fat lie about "the oldest profession in the world". What shit - it can't be. I would imagine the oldest profession in the world is hunting, and the second oldest profession in the world would be midwifery as we need to eat and deliver kids in order to keep the human race going. As hairy cavemen - I can't imagine there was much call for hookers - there was very little to do in one's spare time other than shag, and as a fan of the hairy alpha- male - I reckon the cro magnons and neanderthals probably got their hole fairly often and didn't have much time in between hunting bison, to go off whoring. And they couldn't have had role play in those days - there would have been no "you be the pilot and I'll be the air hostess", if you wanted to take your woman up the arse you just got on and did it without asking, so really there would not be anything you couldn't do with your wife, that you would have to sneak off and pay for.

I had an argument with a man about the definition of profession in this context. He argued, that hunting, or farming, or delivering babies would not have been a profession - merely a form of survival, and that probably the first profession would have been prostitution as it would be being rewarded, for a service. Bollocks, I said - that is also survival, as there would be nothing to reward the woman with other than food, which, therefore would count as survival in the same way. And anyway what about cave painters? - there is no need whatsoever for interior design at any stage of evolution of society - it is entirely a luxury - , and yet these primitive people had their own mincing nancy going around drawing animals and people hunting, on everyone's walls - so at the very least, the cave-whore would have had competition in the "providing a service" stakes. No - the survival argument results in the oldest profession, by definition, being banking and the invention of currency, which then creates the means to pay for your nookie, or pay your spies or the man painting the cave.

More than anything, saying: "the oldest profession" is a really irritating cliche - I hugely dislike the smug way that it avoids saying what it is - paying people to fuck them - and yet hints that the speaker is a little bit risque, alluding to the seamier side of life. Fuck off, you people who say that. The oldest profession in the world is either hunting or banking. That is all.
Noreen

Friday, January 04, 2008

 

Achilles cunt no.2

A while ago I went to the family planning clinic, and I was asking the woman there about the really dumb types of contraception which I am sure no one uses, like the sponge (doesn't work, is v hard to put in, man can feel it) and the diaphragm (you have to fart around with gross spermicide cream, it's murder to get it if it hasn't pinged halfway across the room first, makes your minge taste of chemicals and the man can feel it). Anyway there she was, this family planning practitioner, explaining how marvellous this diaphragm contraption is but with one caveat: "If you lose or gain more than half a stone (that's seven pounds, yanks) you must come back and be fitted for a new one." "Why?" I asked, "How does gaining or losing weight affect the diameter of your vagina" "If you lose weight" says the nurse, "you also lose it from inside your box and so you will need a bigger diaphragm. If you gain weight, your clout will get fat, just like your arse and waist and all the rest of it - so you'll need the smaller size."

Jesus, Mary and Joseph - I had no idea that fatness or thinness affected my vagina. As if women do not have enough pressure on them from the media to be a size nought, or rather to worry about the ratio between their waist size and hips, or the thought that you could be thin on the outside but have your organs swathed in rolls of lard within and be choking each life-giving cog in the human machine to death with your fatty innards, or that if you are a size zero, your face will look like an old piece of chamois leather. Now we have a new neurosis - forget the "a lady must choose between her face and her arse" mantra when taking exercise, the choice we are making each time we scoff or refuse a cake,is about the square footage of our minges.

But then again, this could be a nice little bonus for the chubbier lady. Like - your average man is usually after tits on a stick - we all know that, but if a lardy girl were to want to get the edge on all those skinny minnies - it's easy. Fat arse = twat like a mouse's ear, and at the end of the day, all men are vag men. It's all very well having the face of an angel, but if your twat is a great, big, dry bucket, you won't get that many encores.

That said, it could be an evolutionary tactic to make sure that skinny girls are rewarded for their self control by getting to ride the men with really big wangers, whereas the peewee hung men are left with the fat girls - who are satisfied with a smaller helping at the gential end, than the portions they are used to consuming at the table. If you've got a small cock - you need to go large on the lady, everyone is catered for and you don't get people left on the shelf because they have midget cocks or are rotund females. But what I want to know is if a woman's weight affects her genitals does the same thing happen to men? Do your bollocks swell up after a particularly hefty Christmas dinner? Do they shrivel into tiny dried peas if you spend too long down the gym and avoiding carbs? I need to know this.

Noreen

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

 

and the beat goes on

When Oonagh-Marie's father was a young man, he was hit over the head with a shovel. He recovered, in the sense that he was able to hold a fairly simple conversation, but in the grand scheme of things he was fairly fucked. At this point the family did their utmost to hold together as a unit- there were dreadful aunts who had something to say about how Oonagh-Marie's mother could cope with the children, how money would come into the household, whether the two youngest daughters would be better placed elsewhere.

Being hit over the head with a shovel, although amusing as an isolated act, is entirely different a prospect if the head hit, is that of someone who ought to be earning your bread.
That is all
Noreen























Alright! I am entirely fucking with you - but at this time of year, people are gagging themlseves sick for a sad and poignant story, with a moral to it. Here's your moral, you fuckers - don't be hitting people over the head with shovels.

Noreen

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

 

Two definite articles is excessive. One will do, thank you

Lingo is alright - I fully understand that people will create a slang term for something and like mushrooms, it will grow and spread and creep and propogate itself in darkness until everyone has caught on and starts using the expression. When I was at university, everyone said "village" to mean crap, because one bloke started saying village this and village that and within a month it was all over cambridge, because students are particularly sheep like and desperate to be part of the gang and one way to achieve that is to speak the same language as the other members of the tribe you wish to join. and then "village" went global and there were people in Burma saying "this regime is entirely village" and there were pygmies with not a stitch of clothing on their backs running through long grass saying "you're fucking village at archery, you are". I blame the Chinese, Australians and Germans for the spread to other countries as they are always on the fucking move that lot. When I went to Australia I met a lot of Germans and Chinese but I never met a single Australian, and I was there for three weeks. And yes - I have been watching the discovery channel - I am on a journey of self improvement and you fuckers will reap the benefits in my new, more highbrow posts.
But I am veering off the point here - the fast spread of neologisms is one way in which language evolves, and with the extraordinary techniques of communication that we, the human beings on the planet have perfected, we can now get a new phrase out there and in common parlance within a couple of days. But dear lord would you please, please fucking stop saying "the tinternet, and the tinterweb". I have watched Coronation Street on the telly so I know that in that area of england people cannot say "the" they just say t'. For example "I am going to the shops" in Coronation Street language would translate as "I am going to t' (pronounced tut), shops, the t apostrophe neatly stepping in for the definite article there. Although it sounds desperately common and I would not be up for saying it personally, the t apostrophe performs a perfectly decent and low-born grammatical purpose and that is fine. This fucking word "tinternet" hails from the same lowly stable and is a corruption of the Queen's english "The Internet" into "tinternet" - which although rustic and rude as a form of speech it is still english. Saying "The tinternet", you legions of thick squaddies and cockney builders and idiot yuppies trying to be arch, is effectively saying "The the internet", which you would never say unless you were actively trying to be a cunt and make sure that everyone knew you were one. It's just wrong. And it has this horrible inverted snobby, playing dumb connutation of "ooh the internet - ooh I'm simple folk I am". Bollocks - the internet is for porn and shopping, but even if you were concerned that other people might think you were going off to learn Sanskrit, join in on the economist forum or read David Milliband's blog, using a double article just isn't going to make you look more down to earth, it is simply going to make you look like an almighty chopper. And don't get me started on David Milliband - he's a fucking anus. Anybody even thinking of looking at his blog should be shot through the hole.
Noreen

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