Friday, 4 April 2014


DO YOU KNOW YOU CAN FIND ME ON FACEBOOK? Of course you do. It’s probably how you ended up here.
You - yes, you! Say something
And on Twitter – you can find me there, twittering away with my chums; and now on Insta-that, too.
Oh, and of course, Pinterest, with my *famed ‘Woops, There Go My Panties’ Beard Porn Board, providing late-night entertainment for Ladies the world over, apparently (and Men. That’s implicit). Look me up, I post all sorts of pretty things. And Beards. Lots of Beards.
I have a website; it isn’t especially good, but…  

WEBSITE ... you can look, if you like


TWITTER @MurielLavender          INSTAGRAM @muriellavender

… but really, this is where the fun happens.  Why not follow my blog, while you’re here?

I’M GOOD AT SOCIAL MEDIA. Insofar as there is a proper way to use it, I use it in the properest way. That is, I keep it light and sparkling1, I interact with people all over the world, and I don’t post pictures of my fucking dinner.  Or of rainbows, either.  I know they’re nice, but for fuck’s sake, the entire world doesn’t need to join me in running outside to point at the pretty thing.
because there's never a bad time to look at my legs
Being an International Superstar (as I most certainly am, what with being the current World #2 Whiskerina, and also Pope, so there’s that) naturally I meet the most interesting people. Some of them are are so remarkable that I just fall in love with them right there. Others are plain peculiar.  Some of them don’t exist (staggeringly beautiful 19-year-old transsexual living in my hometown? No, I think I’d have met you by now *ignores friend request*); whilst others really seem to admire my shoes to an unholy degree. I’m absolutely ok with that. Some of them – most, I must say, actually, there’s no ‘some’ about it – are tremendously witty and intellectually stimulating. But then, I move in the social circles, the celebrity squares, and the Dairylea triangles of Poetry, Burlesque, Steampunk and Competitive Bearding.  Wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful.

I want to introduce you to a fellow blogger, with whom I have enjoyed many a half-hour of amusing and/or challenging conversation. Sometimes we talk about Beards, or dreams, or snow; sometimes religion or sex or politics; sometimes we just do Monty Python sketches or sing silly songs. One night we chatted about Poetry. I admit now, Dorkbeard, you worried me at that point. Anyone who says ‘I used to write poetry.’ is as wont to unleash a storm of self-pitying dribble as they are to unleash the literary equivalent of cock-shots. So I played it down a little. Ok, a very little: I replied that my poetical output was really just a series of minge jokes. But a few minutes later DB sent me a poem full of such bliss that I have, in fact, performed at it two shows now (introducing it as the work of my good friend, just as I ought) – and congratulations have poured in. The audiences loved it. And, as it is indeed itself a thoroughly good minge joke, here it is:

A woman once said that a rose is a rose is a rose

But I'm afraid that I'm inclined to disagree

For each and every flower is uniquely distinct

When properly observed upon bended knee

Some have pink petals like satin and silk

So tightly closed their inner mystery they hide

Other still appear more like sun-bleached, chewed leather

And are open enough to fall inside

Some blossoms are set within manicured gardens

Some alone or with a neat shrub upon the porch

Yet others seem lost within deep, tangled jungles

So dark one may need to bring a torch

The sweetest of blooms smell sweetly and pure

It's a pleasure to behold their bouquet

Yet there are those left alone and not tended with care

Those smell more like low tide near the bay

Dear ladies please heed these small words of advice

And tend well to the roses that you keep

For then any true gentleman will gladly bend his head low

And ensure that his appreciation runs deep


5 March 2014

Delicious. See what I mean?  My acquaintance via the internets, they set the bar pretty high. I love their company and I am grateful4.

Incidentally, when it comes to Facebook, I have only ever blocked about a dozen people or so, and every single one of them was either a) racist or b) unimaginative. One bright spark managed to claim the entire intersection of that particular Venn diagram for himself by referring to someone as a 'curry-eater'. You really couldn't make it up, could you?

Get to know Dorkbeard here

1Don’t start. I’m also aware that social media is an invaluable tool for spreading knowledge, politics and global issues, unadulterated by news agencies or governmental bias. But so is telly and it doesn’t stop them broadcasting Hollyoaks2 and I’m A Third-Rate Celebrity and all the other lowest-common-denominator brain-rot.  As I said, I mostly do minge jokes. If you want serious political debate, go and see Russell Brand3.

2Is that even on, anymore? I’m well out of touch with the televisual device, me.

Is this yours?

3Russell Brand. I so would. I can’t help it. 

4Yes, I’m also fond of those who post when they get their hands stuck in the Pringles tube, but that is for very different reasons.

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