Brechtian Docu-shite.

As I begin,I'm still shaking with half stomach mincing horror and half stomach mincing excitement,its happened again,m inspired to write.
This does'nt happen very often,partly because I spend alot of my spare time drunk,wishing I had more spare time but mainly because inspiration only comes to me when a subject has had a profound positive or negative effect on me,and if you've been one of the few doomed souls bored or charitible enough to have read previous eruptions,you will of course have noticed my tendancy to veer towards the latter.
Many people acuse me of being incredibly negative..obviously these people havn't witnessed my inane and overexcitable glee towards an offer of a trip to the zoo or the maniacle enthusiasm towards making mexican food or listening to a song I like.
I explain my actions by introducing the word passion.

–noun
1.
any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate.

You may be sat there,asking your computer,why on earth some ginger bint feels it nessesary to induct a word as easlily recognized and understood as this?.Well i have to admit i feel that although its understood it isn't practiced much anymore, in terrified anticipation that somebody might be offended and dissagree.To put it blankly I think most inhabitants of this miserably magnolia new world are sat so furtively on the fence they've got splinters causing gangreen in their colons.
BUT be passionate about what, I hear you cry?(as you scramble madly for the preperation h)
well...
One thing I passionately like is science,everything about it,I like the things it enables us to do,the things it explains without the use of a big floaty beardy man in the sky,I like reading about it, thirstily drinking it in and Im passionately inspired, humbled and in total awe of those that know about it....

One thing I passionately dislike is Steven Berkoff

Imagine my suprise when I turn on the BBC to see the two combined.

BBC 2's Horizon this week was entitled 'To infinity and beyond' and as I sat down beer in hand,ready to be baffled and delighted and challenged on the difficult subject of the maths and physics of infinity,I was suddenly aware that something wasnt right...at first i thought id clicked onto the wrong channel and had stumbled apon an ameteur production of Kafkas Metamorphosis,complete with avant guard lighting,unnessesary dramatic pause,re-dubbed voiceovers and an overall aroma of berets, unusual scarves and self appreciation.Alas I was not mistaken,it was indeed the serious factual science programme I had been looking forward to except without any facts or real science and instead jaunty angles,in black and white of an old bald,slightly nonse-like man quoting the bible through a vocoder....
I was entranced..I believe at one point I even turned to my dad and exclaimed "WHAT? WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS THIS CUNT DOING ON 'ERE?"
All of us im sure have skeletons in the closet,but im afraid mine has a jacobean ruffle round its neck and a copy of fame under its arm.I regret to inform you I studied drama and for a considerable amount of time,well enough time to realise that collating information on 19th century dramatists wasnt getting me nearer to landing my own scetch show. Out of the seven year long shower of shit I was subjected too,out of all the badly assembled productions of the Vagina Monologues and Jim Cartwright plays,out of all the hours spent in a semi-suspended coma where my body was affixed to an uncomfortable chair in a lecture theatre forced to listen to a small man with a speech impediment explaining why we should all get down on our knees and raise our arses in the air as an offering to the supreme deity of Shakespeare and his weirdly worded boring stories about things that dont apply to us anymore, there is still nothing that encites fear or dread into me than the utterance of Steven Berkoffs name.SOOOO many days,so many weeks so much of my valuable adoloesance,that should have been spent experimenting with drugs or narrowly avoiding pregnancys was taken up by this utter utter prick.He was like a semi-imaginary abusive uncle,he'd creep in,just as i was having a good week,whisper some disjointed soliloquay into my ears,leaving me feeling like I needed to call childline but too scared to do so in case he made me read the caucasion chalk circle or practiced 'physical theatre' on me'..so like many victims of abuse I kept quiet and cryed when I got home from college hoping to God I would be shot of him after I graduated..but tonight he turned up again.The absolute bastard.
The thing that has really pissed me off is that my usual reaction apon turning on the telly and finding Berkoff staring back at me with his RADA trained facial expressions from the comfort of his upside down chair in his monochrome living room,would be to change the channel immediately and try not to think about how pretentious the camera angles were,try to block out the swinging lightbulb he'd so cleverly begun swithing on and off for dramatic effect,but i was really interested in the content..I was thirsty for knowledge and so I let uncle Berkoff back another time....
I have now returned from a much needed fag break to realise that my intention of writing a wry yet light hearted critique about a programme that slightly annoyed me has become somewhat difficult to acheive, due a fictional dark memory I have used as an analogy to describe my distaste of the presenter,so I will without haste change direction and get back to the matter in hand.
The entire 'documentary' was based around shots of Berkoff's immodest face in a dark room or walking up some stairs or as I mentioned earlyer,looped soundbites of him quoting genesis,all the time looking perplexingly into the camera and raising his narssisistic eyebrows everytime a question was posed.I mean it was bad enough that the scientists they used when asked "how is that possible?" replyed "how is it not possible?" whilst smiling like a dog pleased with the smell of its own farts and the continual sequences of a monkey sat at a typewriter displaying perhaps the worlds most cliched analogy,but to have all this whilst the king of 'total theatre',whatever the fuck that means,is staring down the screen at you trying desperately to display the importance of semiotics??
why on earth has the guy that played the bad bad guy in Beverly Hills cop been given the task of illuminating the inner most secrets of the cosmos?,what does he even know about science?the BBC are letting a man present a complicated scientific philosophy,that beleives 'sodomised electrons' are falling out of powerlines like 'invisible lead soup' and demonstrating this by smashing toy cows with a hammer? (see this link to another brilliant example of chris morris's genius-http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJCxJWwkHdQ)What next?,Colleen Rooney on Question Time unveiling the floors within the education sector?,Peter Andre giving the next Dimbleby lecture?,proffesor Robert Winston highlighting this years forthcoming dubstep floorfillers on channel U?
I say nay
Stop all this fact/fiction, genre busting, open to all- bullshit,just like Marina Hyde so thankfully demonstrated in last weeks Newswipe,celebrities are clouding the media,taking up valuable space from academics,from the people who actualy know what they're talking about.Its going to get to the point where we go into our local GUM clinic for advice on family planning and are horrified to be greeted by John and Edward handing out condoms and reading out chlamydia test results dressed as fucking Ghostbusters.Is that the future you want?,do you want to go in to see your bank manager for an important loan only to find that guy Howard of the adverts is ACTUALLY working there and wont give it because hes too busy building a giant blue x out of lego???? no? well put down that copy of heat you lazy ignorant twat and next time take a copy of 'A Breif History of Time' to the shitter...

xx

A rant about rants.....

well its happened, a subject that has agitated me enough to write a quite probably ill-advised and strong willed rant about,has reared its vermin head...
I'm a celebratory get me out of here,whether you're like me and wouldn't wipe your arse on the laughably unfamiliar cast list,or are sadly lacking enough social skills or sensibility to avoid it,some of you MUST have had the plain amusement to read the related news article that i did today,concerning a rather grey and whiskery moral issue.(please see link)http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/8398734.stm
Now whether you re a carnivore,vegevore,omnivore or ignno-vore,there is usually always a good argument to be started with regards to the treatment,devouring or even in some cases wooing of animals and in most cases,having been a vegetarian animal cuddling hypocrite for a good 16 years of my life(until recently)i would be inclined to writhe back in horror,open the righteousness floodgates and pummel any perpetrator of animal cruelty with the strength of a tofu based rant hurricane.This however has (excuse the deliberate and badly thought pun) BATTED MY RAT
it may prove useful to those who don't know me well to explain my military vegetarian past first.
I grew up on a small,sort-of,farm in north Yorkshire,playing idly in the fields with the goats,spending hazy summers and crisp winters outside in my strange childhood imaginary paddy fields and river based,porcelain rewarded treasure hunts,with little t no company other than whatever family or friends i had invented out of dolls or sticks or shadows, the welcome break i gained from the warm squawk of one of the geese or a gentle,no doubt worm infested lick from one of the many mentally unstable rescue dogs my mum insisted on hauling in was about the strongest,most comforting interaction i had, so naturally my bond with animals was strong.I had unfortunately had to watch several of my goats tragically, and characteristically stupidly hang themselves from hay sacks and jump off bridges,and had received the news with the classic childhood naivety that death wasn't a real thing,that it was a sort of ethereal fable,told to frighten or warn us into avoiding all the dangers we naturally sought out.I think my mind changed direction because of two events in my childhood, firstly the death of my brother,bringing home the reality and the devastation and the loss and secondly,perhaps slightly more anecdotaly amusing was the presentation of my pet goat,to me,on a bed of mash and gravy.
"what is this?" i asked genuinely perplexed
"its Cassie" i was informed
"the goat?,but i don't understand"
"she was killed and used for her meat,that's why we called her Cassie, short for casserole."
"where did she get meat from?"
"she IS meat,goat meat,just like chickens give us chicken and pigs make bacon sarnies..."
"WHAT????,CHICKEN NUGGETS ARE MADE OUT OF HENRIETTA???,BUT I LIKED HENRIETTA????"
"chicken is made from chickens but Henrietta is here to give us eggs, look she still out in the yard..."
But no amount of pleading could be done, i,as a 7 year old child had made up my mind, there was no way i was having Sydney for Christmas dinner.....
Growing up as a vegetarian was incredibly difficult,regimented meat throwing was a standard part of school dinners and the general consensus with regards to a substitute for me to eat at restaurants,friends houses and incredibly allot of the time in my own home was "I'll rustle you up an omelet"...but nothing in my mind could reason that eating meat wasn't anything but wrong,and so with that pinned to my forehead like 'kick me' sticker i trudged through to a time where vegetarianism was not only more acceptable,but perhaps even fashionable.The past couple of years has been a moral tangle for me in general,I've done things,that although I'm not proud of i never thought i would do, and in doing so have gained more of an understanding towards the doings of others and the plethora of moral standpoints this world has to throw into an enormous,already bubbling pot of debate. naturally with all my conflicting opinions i have been lead to believe that most people are billowing,bloated,self-assured hypocrites,seeping disdain and ignorance and what they believe to be moral superiority, the third Reich of recycling,the pol pots of non-organic produce and the steaming,freshly squeezed shit heaps of preposterousness.with this newly gained and typically cynical burden of unconscientiousness i started to question why i was a veggie at all..and with this in mind a well placed fry-up started the ball of carnivora well and truly rolling.
i think you may well be aware that with this,quite possibly over told story in mind that my opinions are generally on this subject well-thought educated and with experience of both opinions,so now with that in mind can somebody please tell me what THE FUCKING HELL THESE ALL SINGING ALL CUSTARD PIEING, FUCKING CLOWNS ARE ON ABOUT TAKING TWO PEOPLE TO COUR FOR KILLING A FUCKING RAT!!!!!!??????
what next,life sentences for butchers? anyone caught with a mousetrap,custodial sentence,man 26 from Winchester 6 monthes suspended community service for swatting a fly?????
just about the only people left unincarcerated would be fucking Tibetan Buddhists and even then I'm sure there will be few left of them if the power happy Chinese carry on....speaking of which,how with problems such as the ones in Tibet still prominent, how on sweet bearded jesus' glorious earth can ANYONE have the gaul to concentrate their venom on the ill-treatment of one single jungle rodent, in fact with that view, why the fuck does anyone care about a group of out of work children's presenters,local reality stars and general nothing to say of the world,15 minutes of mundane,attention junkies???doesn't this just about some up the hypocrisy Ive been able to see for a while now,millions of little people with millions of little fucking opinions,bombarding millions of other people with their little minds and little viewpoints and little boring pointless protests and little tiny weeny phalluses roaming around telling everybody else, that they re re bad people because they don't recycle or eat cheap meat or make any decisions of their own.cheating on their partners and not really paying an interest to the suffering of those close to them and drinking and taking substances that ruin their own precious sanctity of life,but resting assured that because they put the green bins out and made a lentil bake that they solely have the right to distinguish others faults and imply heavily about how said wastrel might make a better human of themselves.Ive even started to loath myself for having an opinion on other people having opinions and because of that i choose now to end my word prolapse.please feel free to form your own opinions.

Too early?

Not one to shy away from making people feel uncomfortable, I have chosen in my next word prolapse to discuss something that not only happened recently but involves violence and my 56 year old mother.
Now I could sit here and belittle women suffering from the bain of menopause,I could reach new depthes and go on to suggest that their hormonal actions make them appear mentaly ill,rationaly incapable slightly incontinent sociopaths,but of course i wont, because in the case of my mother those words are too light and too complimentary to sum the crazy bitch up adequately.
Now just to put some background to the story,the reason I'm at home (and quite possibly bored and bitter enough to be here writing this) is due to a rather unsavory affair with regards to a drunk dog,long story in itself,but because of said drunk dog, im unfortunately and completely against my will left to the mercy of my parents and the eerie silent snobbery of Wennington.If it wasnt enough that im extremely unhappy about this, it has appeared recently that my mother is even less impressed.
Although in a family as volitile and scottish as my own,purile rumours are rife, evidence of my mums dissaproval of my presence reared its head only prominantly, to me, last week, when she quite inexplicably decided to 'remind' (and when i say remind i actualy mean shout at..) me not to leave the grill door open.Now these trivial ramblings may have past unoticed had it not been for that fact that the actual grill itself was,as adivised turned off completely and this was at 5am.
I decided to shrug it off,in the manner i do when the mental old hound starts talking to me about the ghost in her room or the healing power of crystals or whatever semi-secular religion shes decided to join recently, which is currently, to my knowledge tao-cunt-ism.
Deciding to make the best of my rather dull situation, i have of late, busyed myself with debt-repaying and regular trips away to somewhere without a parish council,and as I was preparing for another one of my regular re-visits to civisation,mother-dear springs a new 'reminder' to my list of things 'not to do before mum gets the hrt'.
Apparently Moses had idoly and rather uncharactristicly missed off one of the commandments..Thou shalt not hang hosiery or similar leg related underwear in a visible place around the house,thus making it look (and i quote)"like a fucking crack den"..Moses may well have missed this off, in hindsight with regards to the amount of breath needed to exult.
Shocked by my current victimisation i quitely removed my tights and began hairdrying them in time for my escape.I remember at the time how much the hairdryers baffling monotonous waves reminded me of my mother,especialy when i caught some hair in it and it caught fire a little..however much i was comparing my mother to a robotic demon,could not of prepared me for the bout of irrationality and brutal scottish violence that was to come.
Freshers week is never the easyest week to work when you are a reluctant barmaid and I was attempting as much sleep I could grasp, it was,however proving rather difficult due to my mothers early morning equine rambling at my father for not sweeping under the toaster or some shit,progressively I was becoming what anyone who has witnessed me with slight sleep deprivation will agree is an advanced form of 'ratty',it certainly was not helping that she was also trying to insinuate at any given oppertunity that I was the sole reason for her unhappyness,wether it was the towel I left in the laundry,the beer I was sneaking my dad when she was away, or most prominantly just my presence.At one point after everyone else had stopped listening to her,she cajouled the milklady into sitting for a brew whislt she regailed her of my slobbish antics and the inabilty I was causing her to access a set of drawers because "The lazy slob doesnt get up till midday Carol"
Carol i suspect whilst quietly chewing a stale hobnob had by this point already developed mild and irreversable depression.
After Carol made her notidely quick escape, mother decided to merely air her thoughts aloud,very aloud and it was at this point my 'rattyness' kicked me up the arse, out of bed and forced me to 'remind' mum that i would sort myself out with a nice spot outside boots if she so desperately craved a pair of deck shoes from the wardrobe in my room, this was replyed with "help yourself to the boxes in the garage you spoilt little bitch"
Completely sensible for a mother to suggest her daughter be a socially outcast transient,making house in the piss splayed slabs outside cashpoints in order to gain full uninterupted early morning access to her 'winter socks'.
By this point I knew that i would be unable to shrug off anymore requests for me to file my socks or dust the ridges in my cords and when she woke me once more to tell me my sister was on the phone and i was not to come upstairs in trainers i politely told her, not nessasarily in these words that she could pro-create respectively on her own.
"dont you dare you cheeky little bitch"
"oh do be quiet woman you dont intimidate me"
"Oh really?,well i should"
"why what you gonna do mum? hit me?"

Now i can say with complete absolution i was in no way shape or form prepared for what happened next,if you were a fortune teller (and by all means a very talented fortune teller,and in another dimension where i would A.beleive anything remotely to do with the occult or mystism and B. be prepared to pay to witness it) and you told me up to this point,then preceded to tell me what actually happened next,I would require a full refund and would have told you in no uncertain terms that you were "a charleton",if however you had told me Dave Benson Philips had broken through the front room window with a bible and started preaching extracts from genesis,in limerick form,naked,covered in hand etched tatooes of the various past teatchers and parents he had 'gunked' on Get Yer own Back,smiling maniacly and claiming he was the god of all childrens games shows,i would have been less inclined to disbeleive you...

SHE HIT ME

suprisingly hard in the stomach,then as I laughed at her, continued the onslaught to the point where I was forced to lash out in defense,unluckily this resulted in a chop to the eyes,which only proved to make my now clinically insane 56 year old mother more clinacally insane,by this point she'd got me in a hold,arms behind my back and life long pacefist Father joggin madly down the stares crying out "noooo oh no please dont fight", i chose this moment to free myself from a hormonaly unstable, baron and unforgiving ball of rage by gently kicking her in the fanny (a low move you might suggest,but I adhere not to the marquis for advise on real fighting, if you have a mad scottish gypsy attacking you from behind,the etiquette of a gentleman proves wholly useless).She grasped me by the hair and twisted my neck round to push me to the ground in what she later reffered to as a nessasary retraint.My father seeing this tryed to detatch us and in the process got a punch in the face and kick to the nads, and anyone who has had the honour of meeting daddly Lea knows full well that man deserves nothing but awards and cheers...this scrappling and shouting and general chav style confrontation continued for some ten more minute before the barmy bag of piss decided to walk on what I hope was a long cold walk to my sisters in Lancaster.
Me and my father left bleeding and in shock, feeling somewhat akin to apollo creed after balboa had left the ring.
Had this actualy happened?
Had I actualy just partaken in a proper fist fight with my own mother?
Has she really ultimatumned my own dad into its a her or me situation?

I sadly have to report that this is not a fabrication and I indeed did enter the ring with my own spawner....and she has indeed refused to come back to the house until dad has nothing to do with me.
Now i can,as i write this,start to feel there may be some of you also in shock right now possibly asking yourselves similar questions to the above

Has she really just blogged a very serious personal story?
Has she actually just revealed something to us all that it takes many people to merely hint at their phsycologists?
Has she really done all this in such a jovial and lighthearted fashion?

Well...yes I have because I find humour in the strangest of places...and I certainly thought getting twatted by my aged mum was worth a cheap laugh.
If youre prepared to laugh at practically any joke, then youre laughing directly or in directly at somebody elses suffering, so go on,feel good, ive offered mine up for free off my own back.
if nothing else truly orignal comedy.

over and out (with a sore head and slight whiplash)

Ginge
xx

forced and predictably of very little value to anyone

Well here I am
and I feel I have absolutely nothing to say
The woman with a million rants has been stunted like a 12 year old malboro addict.
If at any point I feel like I have anything mildly entertaining to share or ridiculously judge-mental and ignorant to spill out of my mouth-hole, I'll be sure to let you know, not that I have the vaguest of confidence in positivity to believe any of you would be even softly interested in it.
I'd like to just introduce the word twat to you now as I think it will be a regular guest in these worded excretions i intend to someday arouse enough effort and thought into producing.
Twat
a rounded and rotund aural treat
and the perfect way to some myself up in one word.