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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does PO stand for 'piss off' rather than 'post office'?!

The other night, I was reminded of my hatred of the main Post Office in town. Since it has been privatised, commercialism has started to creep in and when you want to post a parcel or buy a stamp, you are bombarded with cheap umbrellas at inflated prices, tacky CDs and DVDS that nooone would want to buy anyway, and party poppers. This is annoying.

I go to the Post Office a fair bit, sometimes every week, just to send bits and bobs or pay bills. I used to go to the one outside my street but these cosy little affairs have been closed down in favour of huge corporate selling machines, which means I have to travel into town and face the grotesque main one.
The one useful thing that used to be on the shop floor was this little stamp machine that gave you single stamps when you put your small change in. Typical they should get rid of this and replace it with a stamp machine that sells only books of twelve. I just do not need twelve second class stamps, one will do!!

Therefore, then you have to go queue for twenty minutes at least to get this bloody second class stamp. On fifty percent of the times I have visited my town's main Post Office, there has been a drunk man there at 4pm, singing, talking and complaining loudly. From what the ladies working there were saying, I assumed he came in every week, would queue for half an hour to send something or other, then promptly leave because it cost too much. Every week. Six months and he still hasn't sent this letter to his poor mother.

By the time YOU get to the front of the queue and get the stamp, you then have to dodge past questions like:
"Is the item you're sending of any value?"
"Would you like to insure the item?"
"Would you like to insure the item gets there by tommorow?"
"Would you like to insure your home?"
"Would you like to insure your face?"
"Is there anything else, on your person or not on your person, absolutely anything at all, which you feel may need insuring?"

By this point, you're losing the will to live. Maybe the drunken man has got the right idea afterall... I'm not sure you could go to the Post Office stone cold sober. You'd have a nervous breakdown.