Skip to main content


Words from a Bird.  Day 5.

So, first day back at Binland today.  Wonderful to be amongst the skips and wheelie bins again.  Obviously talking (about) rubbish all over Christmas isn't quite the same. 

Younger son very happy to see me go this morning, as this gave him five hours of laying in bed surrounded by empty chocolate wrappers, watching Jeremy Kyle and the feral underbelly of British civilisation.  It makes him feel normal apparently....

Talking about Jeremy Kyle, I have long had a theory about the people that appear on the show.  I think that the interview process probably goes along these lines...

Q1  Do you, or have you, ever slept with/stolen from/fathered a child with/shared drugs with an inappropriate family member?
Q2  Do you only wear clothes borrowed from a much thinner friend?
Q3  Is your vocabulary limited, with four letters and one syllable being your limit?
Q4  Do you tend to slouch with your legs at a 90 degree angle? (Mostly applicable to males, but females get bonus points for answering yes)
Q5  Do you have a set of teeth that resembles a London street in 1941?

If you can answer 'yes' to at least three of these, then you're through to the next round.

I think that this final question is:


Of course, if you can only provide a 'yes' to Q5, this gives you an automatic pass straight through to the show.

So yes, I can see why my son feels 'normal'.......


Popular posts from this blog

Say goodbye...

Here's a question for you.  Why is it that when we are dieting, we say that we have 'lost weight'.  To me this implies that at some time in the not so distant future, we're going to find it again.  I like to imagine a 28lb blob of yellow fat in a three piece suit, winking lasciviously at me and saying, 'Oi skinny.  I've missed you.  Fancy letting me ride shotgun around those hips again?'
So instead of 'losing weight' I am getting rid of it.  Throwing it away.  Killing it.   Banishing it, never to be seen again.  Previous experience tells me that I will probably have old Blobby hanging back around my middle in a couple of years, once I've tired of leaves and crispbreads, but I am trying to do things slightly different this time.  Slowing down the stampeding rate I eat (I blame hurried school lunches for this), speeding up the walking, and being more aware of what I am doing and why I am doing it.
Someone once told me that if I ever felt like pickin…

Cold wind blows...

I don't know how cold it is with you at the moment, but I spent yesterday morning snapping the two furballs off various trees and posts as we attempted a walk before I went to work.  I had made the schoolgirl error of asking myself, 'Just how cold can it be?' before putting one extra sweater on beneath my walking coat.  I also had my Olga from the Volga fur hat, a scarf and gloves (to be fair, I've been wearing all of these since the middle of October).  Unfortunately, what I hadn't taken into consideration was the above the knee dress I was wearing to work yesterday.  I imagined that the extra warmth up top would somehow work its way to my knees.  
I was wrong.
Getting back indoors after forty five minutes of combat with The Beast from the East, I looked down at my legs.  Even with the black 100 denier tights I was wearing, I could see that my legs had taken on a slightly different hue to normal.  They were looking like two red pillar boxes, and it took ten minutes …

A man could go quite mad...

I have started to realise that there are many things about me which drive the husband mad.  When you first get together, those small faults are cute and a little bit quirky.  However, fast forward a couple of decades and they become a fairly acceptable excuse for manslaughter.  
I started thinking about this after the contretemps with the cutlery drawer a couple of weeks ago.  If you remember, the husband informed that that I was messing with his feng shui by putting the boiled egg spoons in with the dessert forks.  He only seemed to notice that I did this after I bought a new cutlery tray for the drawer, so I'm blaming Groupon for grassing me up.
The other thing is my snoring.  When we first met, this was described as 'endearing', and he told me that as he lay next to me at night, he used to smile to himself and listen to me.  This swiftly moved on to comparisons with a nasally challenged warthog, and more recently to a Boeing 747 with a noisy exhaust.  I'm considerate …