NEW BLOG ALERT

Sadly, my plan to update Dreams of Pavement on a more regular basis didn't materialize. I know, I'm shit. Instead, I have moved over to a new blog at:

(shit) hot off the press
http://shithotoffthepress.blogspot.co.uk

It is going to be a collection of extraordinary, strange, or hilarious articles I have come across in the Press. Nothing overly topical or serious, just light-hearted stuff really.

Hopefully this will be updated a little more regularly, but no promises. In the meantime, this blog will remain here but mostly inactive, unless I have something to wax lyrical and rant about.

Thank you for reading and hope you jump ship to my new blog as it'll be marginally less crap.

M x

Dear Aunty M

Dear superinjunction footballer man who cannot be named but everyone knows your identity,

After wasting a reported £50,000 on a superinjunction, you must be pretty peeved that your name has been leaked allover Twitter huh? Everyone and their pet dog/cat/tortoise now knows you've been fooling around with some girl from Big Brother (who I didn't know existed til now) to the ignorance of your poor wife.

Surely your wife and kids must've heard the rumours by now? I mean, I am suspecting they don't live in some cave with no internet access and avoid speaking to anyone who doesn't also live in a cave. And I assume your kids don't go to school deep in a jungle where the pupils are also oblivious to the rumours.

So maybe threatening Twitter and the hundreds of people who have tweeted your name isn't the best way to save money. The horse has bolted.

And by 'eck, that money you are spending on legal action is probably best spent on going towards the countless bunches of flowers, expensive handbags, designer shoes and other wallet-emptying gifts that your poor wife will now have to be won over with.

Don't thank me for the advice given - you're welcome. Though a man with as much money to throw away as you have demonstrated, I certainly wouldn't argue should a nice cheque pop through my letterbox to reward me for my wisdom!

Yours sincerely,
Aunty M

Return of Dreams of Pavement blog, 2011

It's been a while all zero readers out there! Hows it going? We must catch up soon!

My absence on this blog is about to change (I hope). The reason for this two year gap is that I was accepted onto a Masters course at Teesside University and promptly entered deadline hell. Inbetween shorthand lessons, law lectures and trying to understand the concept of discourse analysis (I still don't know what it means), I have found it difficult to keep this up to date with anything worth saying that isn't "zzzz".

Upon many lessons about how to write effectively, I was horrified to read back some of the entries in here to find they were weak. Therefore I have deleted the majority of them, bar a few that I felt were my witty best. Which isn't saying much but a girl has to try now and again.

Now the bulk of uni-stress has passed, I will make an attempt at providing a commentary on current affairs and issues. If we're all honest here, a fashion blog is what gets the readers these days but for the girl who only wears black, one should really stick to news. I am nearly a qualified trainee reporter afterall. Sort of.

the 'aren't children adorable/stupid' entry (delete as applicable)

I get some rather strange stories when I log on to Hotmail to check my emails, today was no different. I was intriged by this headline:

"Flush puppy survives toilet scare
A puppy who was accidentally flushed down the toilet has been plucked to safety. "

It turns out this poor one-week old cocker spaniel was flushed down the toilet when the owner's four-year old son put him in the toilet and flushed the chain to 'wash' him after playing in the garden. The ordeal lasted for nearly four hours before a drainage worker managed to rescue him after the fire brigade and RSPCA failed to do so.

Without meaning to sound harsh (I really don't like children, sorry parents but they are overrated), but which nursery does this child go to?! I'm pretty sure that by the age of two, I realised washing things in a place where people relieve themselves of poo, wee, and vomit was the worst idea ever.

Either that, or this child took the Andrex adverts far too literally...

Susan Boyle: a new rock'n'roll star?

In the past few weeks I have been absent from the blogging world, two things have been staple front page new stories, both utterly bewildering as one another. Rather than talking about story number one, the MP expense row (too much information for me to process right now, but The Telegraph will no doubt milk this story for a while, so get your updates there), I'm going to sneak down the murky path that is Britain's Got Talent.

I appear to be the only person in the UK who hasn't been following the programme because, well, it's embarassing (and Piers Morgan doesn't deserve any of my viewing time) so I was astonished with the hysteria surrounding Susan Boyle, the overnight singing sensation it seems.

It has transpired today that Susan Boyle has been admitted into The Priory, probably due to the stress of having sudden media attention focused on her.
I was impressed; does this make her more rock'n'roll than Amy Winehouse? It took Winehouse a few years before she got to rehab level, it took Susan Boyle about two weeks!

I think these rock stars should watch their backs, Boyle has set quite a record for the fastest time getting into The Priory, even they would find this difficult to conquer.

oh no, not again...

Jonathan Ross is under fire again after a comment on his radio show where he suggested you should disown your son if he bought a Hannah Montana mp3 player. It was perceived as homophobic and prompted some complaints to the BBC.

I don't know like, I think I would disown my child if he/she bought anything to do with Hannah Montana. It's not homophobic, I just really can't stand Miley Cyrus and would prefer my house to be Hannah Montana free.

Remember, this is the girl who has been accused of mocking asian people. I can see why people wouldn't want any memorabilia of her, in the same way Andrew Sachs wouldn't buy his 'lovely' granddaughter a Jonathan Ross duvet cover.

pressing matters dealt with, part one

Chris Moyles, questioning Stephen Fry on Chris Moyles' Quiz Night:

"Have you always been really clever?"

Oh Moyles, spare me your wonderfully profound interviewing technique!!

"you're the father of my child.. sorry, what's your name?"

I'm not one to bang on about 'broken Britain' like a tabloid on it's high horse, although even a fairly unshockable young person like myself was shocked by this post I got shown by a mate that he saw on a festival messageboard:

"I don't want to sound ****ty, but everyone know's that when you're at a festival, there is nothing better than sex. Everyone's done it.
I don't know who he was, I think he was staying in the yellow camp. But I am six months pregnant and I think the father should know. It was on Saturday, he was tall and had dark hair. please help."


Wow.
Firstly I would like to point out, 'everyone's done it', eh? Actually, I have never had unprotected sex in a tent after many days of no showers with a person I don't know the name of. Call me a party pooper if you will (though I am not), but unprotected sex with strangers is a big no no in my book.

I mean, I don't begrudge a bit of fun. Fun is good... within reason. But where the line has to be drawn is where you are likely to become a single mother because your stupid head didn't listen to the many alarm bells ringing, just because you wanted a quick, dirty fumble.

I honestly do wish this girl luck because being a parent with no idea of the father's name, just a memory of him being tall with dark hair (which describes at least a third of most males), isn't going to be easy. She has now learnt the lesson of acting without thought, only to face dire consequences later.

However, among the supportive and somewhat less supportive replies, one really tickled my mate and I:

"If anyone wants to have sex with me at Reading (festival) it's ok...I have had the snip! No tadpoles here!"

Quote of the week, no less. And it's only Monday!

pointless observations, part one

It's all got a bit serious of late. I've turned into some angry ranting creature which is of my nature, however, seriousness is not. So when this happens, I'm going to pull out a few pointless observations. Things I've read or seen somewhere that have tickled me. Nothing important or impressive at all, but I am easily amused and am hoping someone out there is easily amused too.

* * * * *

Last week on Yahoo news, this story popped up:
"A convicted murderer is on the run after he fled a secure mental hospital, police said."
Obviously it wasn't that secure then?!

* * * * *

Embarassingly, I buy the News of the World on Sundays occasionally (mock me if you will, though I never believe anything they say. I basically buy it for no reason, then point out the innacuracies).
In their 'lifestyle' supplement, which is cringingly called Fabulous (it is less cringeworthy than Sarah Jessica Parker calling her perfume Lovely, mind you), there was a section about how everyday life is making you put on weight.

No, it isn't because you sit on your arse most the day watching terrible TV and stuffing your face with burgers, it's because you enter your house through the kitchen apparently. Though my favourite was this suggestion:

"Fat factor - That New York street scene? The antique Bovril ad? Whatever you've got hanging on your walls, it's probably doing nothing for your waistline.
Slimming solution - Invest in pictures of healthy food, likes bowls of fruit and veggies."

Shit, those photos of burgers I have on my wall MUST come down! Oh, and that one of New York because, my God, looking at New York makes me want to eat a WHOLE American city in one gulp!

I think a trip to Argos is needed, so I can buy a nice new camera and take photos of broccoli and carrots to stick in a frame on my wall. I'd rather eat the frame mind, but it's better than nothing. I'm going to Argos via car of course, because walking makes me want to eat pavements and concrete.

* * * * *

In a similarly awful paper, Piers Morgan slagged off Jonathan Ross for 'crawling up his guests' arses'.
Well Piers dear, it's an improvement on crawling up your own arse, which you are the undisputed king of!

* * * * *

It was announced Bruce Springsteen was one of the headliners at Glastonbury Festival. On a messageboard, users pondered whether his E Street Band were also playing, as it wasn't listed. To which one person remarked: "There has been a huge communication breakdown, i know from my sources its neither of the above, the actual headliner is Bruce Forsythe & the Sesame Street Band."

Now, that would be amazing. Brucy coming onstage with Big Bird on bass guitar, welding nothing but his prehistoric, yet charming gags. It would be nice to see him, to see him nice (being one of his jokes).

oh, the irony of sunday tabloid papers...

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