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“Is that all she’s getting?”

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So let’s discuss the Louis Theroux show ‘Altered States’ from last night’s TV.  


Polygamous relationships?  Yay or Nay? (In or Out!) Seems a tad unfair when some people can’t even get one partner never mind a queue of them.

The idea has its pros and cons for me, obviously dependent on who the protagonists were – Ready Player 1? Let’s go.  Tom Hardy?  Channing Tatum? Theo James? Come on down!

Rita Sue and Bob though? I’m oot! 


….We’re having a ball

Someone else around the house so I would have to do even less housework than I already do, does have its merits. Double the income. I’d have no more money worries. But what if both blokes snored? One either side of you putting murderous thoughts into your head at 4am when you can no longer stand the sound. Suddenly it’s not such a grand idea, although if one of them was Theo, Channing or Tom, I’m sure you’d cut them some slack for a bit of snoring.

If it was Bman with extra ‘wives’ however, that would also be dependent on who they were? Would I be allowed to pick for him?  Kylie? Yolandi Visser? Billie Piper? Jennifer Aniston (Just threw those names out there, I have not given this any thought at all…)  What if they snored too?

I’m IN!

We met one ‘throuple’ on the show (all IT geeks – just saying) who all spooned together at night with their own little blankets. Beardyman, who fessed up to not being able to ‘last as long’ as Bob was the owner of a dinosaur blankie – go figure.  Beardyman often waits downstairs for Bob ‘to finish’ with his missus. This can take some time apparently (not always a good thing ladies – am I right?)  How depressing is that for poor Beardyman?
Bob did not look like the kind of guy where that would have been your first thought about him… It goes to show that you can’t judge a book by its cover.  Bob also looked about 17 and smug as fuck.


I thought I were great…


TBH I am not sure that some of the people involved in this documentary were as on board with the situation as they were making out – when they assured Louis how ‘fine’ they were with it – the eyes said otherwise. 


This is Jerry.  Jerry is not really OK


The Jerry/Joe/Heidi arrangement was clearly even odder than the fact that they had all their clothes on racks and rails all over the house like some kind of jumble sale.  Get a wardrobe FFS never mind a 4K TV (I don’t even know what that is).


What did I say Jerry? / You said we could have a 3way with Joe/ I DID NOT say that Jerry!

Jerry was so up for a threeway with Joe. (Jerry wanted IN on Joe for shizzle!) but greedy Heidi was having none of it, despite Louis best efforts at trying to set that up.

Louis’ foray into the world of the ‘sensual dinner’ wasn’t quite as promising for me as the idea of a spare man around the house.
9 & half weeks with Mickey ‘melt face’ Rourke and Kim Bassinger it was not!  It was just a roomful of oversexed hippies in kimonos rubbing brie into each other’s faces and groaning in ecstasy because there was a flaming hot Monster Munch circling their ringpiece. (I may have made that last part up).


Do not spill that on the duvet Roy!

I was put more in mind of Bruce Bogtrotter from Matilda or Ron Weasley in Harry Potter.

Strawberries, chocolate and all that, is all very well in the privacy of your own home but not in a lounge full of sweaty free-lovers spooning hummus into one another.


The Twittersphere, of course, went into overdrive about it all.  I can’t wait to see what the man investigates next Sunday.


Don’t know what to call this post so I shall just name it Dave. Everyone knows a Dave right?

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At the weekend the Childerbeast and I went to an open day at Leeds Music College. Just for a look around, so the girls could get an idea of what courses are out there and get a glimpse at what Uni might be like.  Obviously, we only saw the good stuff. The music rooms, the academic bits. Not the aftermath of Freshers Week or a ‘left to the last minute’ dissertation, a month’s worth of washing etc. 

Not that I would know anything about those things of course. Not having ever been to Uni because I’m too daft.  Closest I got was doing my HLTA at Leeds Trinity a few years ago and that wasn’t even on campus and it only took 10 weeks.  

Eldest child doesn’t want to go to college in Leeds of course. She wants to put some distance between her and her embarrassing parents. And why shouldn’t she?
Youngest says she does want to stay in Leeds and live at home, but give her a couple more years and I bet she’ll change her mind.

The best part of the day out for me was finally visiting a Vietnamese Street Food place on Leeds Market. It’s run by a couple I know from school, who now send their children to my swim classes.  Can highly recommend it. Check it out Banh & Mee it’s called.

The downside of the day out was that it served to make me feel like I’ve wasted my life. That I am too thick to ever have gone to Uni. That my children are about to leave me, yet it doesn’t seem two minutes since I was changing their (eco-friendly) nappies and blending veggies for their lunch.  My best bet now at accomplishing anything of any use is to make sure they do go to Uni and escape, even if it means I am left alone with Bman and just Netflix for company.  I came over all melancholy on the bus journey home, looking in through people’s windows wondering what their lives were like. Did they feel that their lives had been successful? Did they have enough money for Christmas? What if all of this was a total nothing? What if we were all like those people who live in the head of a dandelion seed or whatever it is in ‘Horton Hears a Who’?


We’re on there somewhere

Or those tiny dudes who live in a locker at the train station on ‘Men in Black’ worshipping a watch


All hail K!

I know that in the grand scheme of things everything is bollocks, but what if it actually really is utter, total meaningless bollocks and we’re all just plodding along on the head of a cosmic dandelion seed waiting for death and that everything we have ever done and will ever do, is completely pointless?


Meanwhile, while people frequent food banks and girls miss school due to not being able to afford sanitary products, the skies this weekend are ablast with fireworks ‘celebrating’ the fact that over 400 years ago a bunch of dudes tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament.  Crikey, if we celebrated every time there had been a failed attempt at a terrorist attack at the heart of society, we’d be lighting fireworks 4 times a bloody week!

On that note, I’ll leave you so I can ponder how the hell I can afford to pay for Christmas – another celebration – this time of the birth of a man who may or may not have existed at all.

Don’t overthink things y’all. That shit will keep you up at night. I blame the thin veil at this time of year – don’t let the demons in man.



Big fish in a small pond

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When you work in a pool but you feel like Daryl Hannah in Splash or one of those dolphins at Zoo & MarineLand in Scarborough in 1979 in an inadequately sized tank.

Could do with being out of my depth and spreading out a bit.  Might have to venture to Pudsey Baths in half term which has a 3m deep end (but I’d also quite like to steer clear of chlorine for a week).

Just a regular Sunday being normal

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My friend wanted “a nice change to do something normal” so we drove to Manchester and paid £5 to sit in a shipping container in the pitch black whilst wearing headphones and listening to a stranger whispering at us. This was part of an immersive theatre experience called Seance .

We weren’t sure what to expect but did joke on the journey there that we might end up being shipped off to Madagascar by mistake with a giraffe, a lion, a hippo and a zebra.  This could have been an elaborate project by our respective husbands to get rid of us.  Lure them in with cheap tickets to get locked in a box in the middle of the street.


It was quite entertaining but would have been more effective had there been more people present. There were only 3 people in the box at our ‘sitting’ and that took the edge off a bit for me.  Possibly because it was a Sunday or possibly because most normal people have no desire to sit in the dark with a bunch of strangers apropos of a having their minds fucked with.


I think possibly we’ve spent too much time lurking about in dark basements and satanic mills by torchlight to get too affected by it, but I did enjoy it nonetheless.  Give it a whirl if you’re in Manchester St Anne’s Square.


How tall are you?

We then had a pleasant lunch at the Cathedral Cafe before going on a mission to Hadfield on the way home. A local village for local people. And I swear I am not making this up, as we drove into the village I saw a woman crossing the road carrying a life-size fibreglass dog under her arm, like one of those ones you see outside the post office and you put money into its head for the spastics.  (Can you say spastic these days?  Probably not considering you can’t compliment anyone in this day and age in case you get YewTreed or Weinsteined 25 years down the line – fuck me you can’t even clap in case somebody somewhere is sensitive to noise. Jazz hands you have to do now to show appreciation – jazz hands FFS!).


Not a supergeek fan or anything


When Ian Botham was in the Rebel Alliance

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Actual conversation this morning in Casa Brew:-

Me: It was just total boffins big Brew (I forget what I was referring to)

Bman: Boffins? what like as in “Many Boffins died to bring us this information”

Me:  They weren’t boffins, they were Bothans

Bman: Yeah boffins.

Me: No Both with a Thhhhh not Boff like with a Ffff

Bman: Like B o g g i n s

Me:  That’s boggins honey with a G, that’s not a word

Bman: B o t h a m s ?  Wait no that’s like as in Ian?

Me: Bothans were the Star Wars ones. Boffins are science bods. Botham was a cricketer

Bman: Sure it wasn’t boffins?  Surely the Bothans must have been boffins too then?

Me:  (starts googling jpegs of Bothans and Boffins)



Me:  Anyway, I meant bobbins not boffins, Bothans or Bothams.  Bobbins. It was bobbins*!


This is why we should be on Gogglebox… or not!

We then took Alan Lickman on a planned visit to the vets for a check up on his special eye and for them to have a gander at the swollen lump on his neck which started to form yesterday. On the way up to the vets though,  I detected a rank smell in the car and we thought he might have done a shit in his cat box.  But no… the lump had burst!  

D I S G U S T I N G!

They’ve cleaned him up and he seems a bit more on form although he looks even more like General Woundwort than he did before with his special eye and his ragged face.


How much did I chuckle though when I asked Bman if he’d fed him since they came back and (referring to the liquid cat food we have to give him) he said he’d given him “two soups”

I think we all know what I was picturing in my head.



Hopefully he is still covered by his pet insurance and hasn’t maxed himself out yet.  I will be on the blower to them tomorrow to clarify. I want to know whether or not we are having Christmas or not this year, or we’re all eating cat soups and sleeping in the same bed with our coats on to keep warm because we can’t put the heating on.

Later MoFos Xx

*bobbins = utter rubbish, worthless

Not that manic a Monday

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It’s a tough life not working Mondays anymore.  Sunday night I stayed up late watching episodes of ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ on Netflix, then slept on the sofa as I was too disturbed to go upstairs in the dark.  I stayed where I was with a blanket for protection against invading spectral entities, ensuring none of my body parts was exposed to the air.

This morning I have mostly been planning this weeks swim lessons, texting parents about swim hats and getting sucked into watching clips of Bob Mortimer’s tall tales and unbelievable truths on
‘Would I lie to You?’ after seeing a clip on Twitter about him breaking an egg into his bath after advice from Chris Rea (as you do).

With encouragement from Bman I then had a go at breaking an apple in half with my bare hands.  With my jar & bottle opening skills, I thought it might be a given.  However, sadly not. I only succeeded in breaking a chunk off and spraying mushed apple bits and juice all over the living room rug.  Perhaps I need more practice or a bigger apple.


I also perhaps need to think about working more hours or taking up an active hobby.  

My current project is trying to prove that our technology is listening to us.  So me and the Childerbeast are seeing how soon we start to see adverts pop up on Spotify, eBay or FB for anything to do with badminton if we keep mentioning the word in general conversation.


I’ll let you know how that pans out.


Ciao Ciao Xx