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Going crackers in Blackers

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Was served in Primark by a midget and a stood in line for the cash machine behind a man in full drag earlier this week.  Yup.  Welcome to Blackpool MoFos!

Wasn’t feeling up for it to be honest despite having booked it months ago, but once we got there I rallied a bit.  Ended up with 3rd degree wind burn & a tomato face by the end of the day.  God knows what I’d have looked like if I hadn’t had some sunscreen in my tinted moisturizer!

Thought high winds might’ve put the kybosh on it, but youngest childerbeast finally got to ride The Big One.  Wasn’t tall enough the first time we went a couple of years ago.  Last year she was, but she bottled out.  This year she went on without me and went on Infusion and Revolution.  Before I know it they’ll be off on adventurous days out like this without their auld Mum.



Convinced I saw the actor/comedian John Thompson in the line for the Ghost Train but it could just have been his doppleganger.  After all, I’ve been mistaken for Maxine Peake before now.


He wasn’t dressed like this…



It’s not me


There’s something very therapeutic about committing yourself to the mercy of a teenage ride operator running a rollercoaster, which was built in the 1930s out of matchwood and duct tape.  Just don’t look too closely at the structure as you fly round and for the love of god keep your hands inside the damn cart!
The Grand National is my favourite by a mile, followed closely by the Wild Mouse.  Pretty sure the Final Destination franchise missed a trick there by not using that ride for their coaster catastrophe scene.  Go on it and I defy you not to shriek.  A tiny bit of wee came out when I was on it.  It’s quite tricky to squeeze in those pelvic floor muscles when your arse is actually airborne from your seat and you’re trying to hold onto your daughter!

Tena times. Good times.



It’s not wee, honest.


Italian for Bin Raker is Bin Rastrellamento – apparently

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Movie Quote of the Day:   “Sometimes we don’t do the things we want to do, because we don’t want others to know that we want to do them.” – The Village

Name that Tune:  “Before you know it you’ll be down on your knees” – Easy Lover, Phil Collins

Just to substantiate my long held belief that I’m a bit crap and generally more of a scruffy bugger than most, on Saturday I ended up on my knees infront of a group of men (and not in a fun party time type way).

Let me illuminate you.

On the train on way to Chester and realised I couldn’t find my rail passes.  I’d had them in my hand not 3 minutes beforehand when I’d showed them to the guard before I boarded.  Cue much frantic emptying of pockets, looking under the seats with the childerbeast and emptying out the entire contents of my bag!
Then, the horror realisation that when we had chosen our seats on the train I had picked up a load of rubbish and stuffed it in the bin further up the carriage.  Had I, in a blonde moment, with my passes still in my hand, dropped them in the trash also?

Only one way to find out.

Naturally, as is the law of the sod, the bin was situated between the seats occupied by a group of rather handsome men.  Could it be worse?  Yes. They were also Italian.
  So there I was, on my knees, with my arm in the trash-can up to my shoulder; raking around among the empty coffee cups, crisp bags and half eaten sandwiches, trying to look cool and casual and not at all mortified as they watched me with a mixture of curiosity and disgust as I triumphantly and somewhat sheepishly retrieved my passes from the very bowels of the bin.
  Lucky that Italian is one of the most beautiful languages on earth, so even the words ‘filthy English fat baglady, bin-raking mental case and tramp’ sound far more enticing in le Bella Italiano.

Actually, I just bablefished those very words and even in Italian it’s pretty obvious:-

“Sporco grasso Inglese borsa da donna, bin-rastrellamento mentale caso e tramp”

F F S! *

Thank goodness it got better.

Seeing the Fam. Lots of fun bonding with baby niece who is now almost a year old! Drinking wine with my mum & Easter Egg hunt in the garden on Sunday.  Pleasant walk into the village to the park with a refresher at the Ringo’s on the way home.  Brunch at Hickory’s on Monday before meeting old mates for late lunch at Sergios.  Good times!
I was a tad subdued Monday but only because of day 3 of being the fattest giant in town at The Moss.  Surrounded by paper-thin Fam in beautiful surroundings that I could never hope to aspire to, does not give one the best of appetites.  Did have a laugh though, rather at the expense of the one-armed chef in the open kitchen.  Not that we ridiculed his disability (TBH I didn’t even notice it).  Rather the course of discussion went along the lines of whether or not he was still able to chop things safely and was he not tempted to customise his “withered nubbin” (not my words) with various interchangeable kitchen utensils:- stick blender, ladle, potato masher, can opener etc.

One of my friends said she’s “seen me on the TV again last night in ‘The Village'” – referring to her conviction that I look like Maxine Peake.

I didn’t watch it but have seen a clip.  To be fair, she has a point.  I think it’s the indecipherable hair colour, windblown and unkempt… the dodgy blouse and knitwear are also a giveaway, as is the grim facial expression.

Yup. I can see it.

Yup. I can see it.

I’d prefer it if she meant the more glamorous look she has in ‘Silk’:-


At least she has lippy on here

Just to cap that off.  On the train on the way home, some young girls were clearly talking about me and switching seats on the train to get a better look.  I caught the words “off the telly” so can only hope that they were also watching ‘The Village’ and not ‘Eastenders’:-

Maxine I can take but not Big Mo Harris!

Maxine I can take, but not Big Mo Harris!

* Which sounds way more pleasant in Italian:-    “Per scopate amore

PS:  Don’t blame me for some of the hyperlinked shit on here.  WordPress sometimes randomly assigns ads to words and I don’t know how to take them off.  Click on them if you like.  Maybe you’ll win some shit. (Or maybe you’ll inadvertently download a virus to your laptop!)  It’s your call! 


F F S! Indeed

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I don’t need Erin Brockovitch to investigate why there’s been an outbreak of Tourettes & sudden onset hysteria around me this week (namely yesterday!)

Train derailments? Oil spill?  Nope.  No mystery here peeps.  Let’s just call it ‘Project 6’

If they make my Tourette story into a movie I’ll be played by Kathy Burke or Maxine Peake please!