Monday, 19 May 2014

I'm Not Political, But...

TWO THINGS made me really annoyed today. 

Photo © Kevin Mitchell
The second of the two things is that a couple of boys from school have told my son - well, never mind what they've told him. I don't make my children's business your business. I will simply say that after we talked about it together, I am both humbled and warmed by his attitude. 

It's taken me years to work out who I am, and I'd be sorry if my children had to wait as long as I did. And I'm certain that I'd rather be Embarrassing Mummy than Boring Mummy. Cracking little bloke that he is.  He impressed me tonight; so, OK - it wasn't all bad. 

Source: Social Media
The first thing that made me angry - or, not so much angry as just utterly incredulous - is another example of the ignorant encouraging a dislike of people who are different: Nigel Farage. Apparently (apparently) he said this. I didn't hear the programme, so I don't know, but if anyone wishes to confirm/ clarify/ disprove the content, I shall be happy to hear from them. But as the World #2 Whiskerina, - a title I won in Europe, at a warm, friendly, happy event attended by 300 competitors from over twenty Nations - I am clearly the wrong fucking audience. Bother it, see? I'd love to express myself eloquently on the matter, but the words springing to my mind tend to be appropriately Anglo-Saxon. Just fancy.
Instead, here is the poem I performed this evening at Frome's Garden Cafe Open-Mic night. I've shared it before, and yes, I see that I am picking on the least important aspect of the sentiment expressed by the Gurning Weasel-faced Bellend*; but I choose to mock one kind of prejudice in order to highlight the idiocy of another kind of prejudice.

My point? Aside from the obvious one? My point, as I told my son this evening, is that the dull will continue to be dull: it's more fun to be friends with people who are ever so slightly batshit. I'm infused with a happy, inclusive, mad love for my fellow beings and I don't need religion or politics to tell me I have it wrong.  
I just never, ever thought Eurovision would be showing us the way.

I'm wearing a Sari. And a Beard. Oh, I bet that Mister Farrage hates me

*This is my third use of 'Gurning Weasel-faced Bellend' to describe Farage today. I'm really hoping that when people type it into Google, his picture comes up. At the moment, all you get is my arse, which isn't great for me. Help me out here, people


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