THE BRITISH BEARD AND MOUSTACHE CHAMPIONSHIPS 2014

Darlings, I'm sorry. This still isn't the post I want to do. I will get there. But my mother's away and she hasn't seen the pictures yet, so this is for her sake.  In haste, I have harvested these from my Facebook wall. I will credit them appropriately as soon as I can. But she's in a different time zone and - well, just have a look. it was the best day. Here you are, Mamma.

 THE BRITISH BEARD AND MOUSTACHE CHAMPIONSHIPS 

SEPTEMBER 13, 2014 - BATH PAVILION

with thanks to THE WESSEX BEARDSMEN

THE BRITISH BEARD CLUB

hosts: MICHAEL 'ATTERS' ATTREE and MURIEL LAVENDER

in aid of DEPRESSION ALLIANCE

and DOROTHY HOUSE HOSPICE CARE

Your Opinion Matters. Wait - No It Doesn't. And Neither Does Mine

I was going to blog about this week: a lot has happened. But I’ll tell you all of that next time, because the following exchanges occurred this morning before I’d even got out of bed.

Yes. I'm in this.

I say ‘exchanges’; they weren’t. I told you last time, I don’t do social media spats. But, but, but. This is beginning in the middle. Let’s wind back a little bit.  Earlier this week, issue 242 of Skin Deep Tattoo Magazine went on sale. I admit I haven’t had cause to get all that excited about SDTM in the past, but now I have reason to be – and not just because I’m in it. Yes, I had a small tattoo somewhere private* as a result of youthful folly, but I never, ever dreamed I’d get another one, or that it would be huge, or that it would raise £2000 for charity, or that it would – oh, here it comes – end up as a five-page reader profile in a magazine. 

See? Told you

 I won’t say anything about the article – bloody go and buy a copy. It’s well worth the money and there’s a nice picture of my bum in it. Besides, you know, all the other cool tattoos and much-prettier girls. But – exposure… it has a circulation of fifty-odd thousand or something, so you never know what will come of it. Then, this morning, something did. One thing, definitely: I don’t know about the other two. It’s possible. I ended up with the feedback classic, the Shit Sandwich.

Layer one: Nice Gentleman, sent this. Charming words AND he liked some of my poems. What a lovely thing to say! Earns a deep curtsey from me, not to say a flutter of my fan. My actual fan. Seriously, Shup, people.

Layer two: hardly a Gentlemanly response to the image on the right, but if all opinions are valid, his is too**. As you know, I don’t respond to this kind of thing, but I did share it – quite objectively, I hope; with a hint of sarcasm, I admit.  A flood of comments followed – again, not a wave of support but plenty of feelings on both sides of the argument. Privately someone suggested I take a look at his profile and rip him to pieces. No. I just wouldn’t. It doesn’t matter. Again, as has happened before, I’ve reached a place in my life where this kind of thing doesn’t hurt. I wonder, though – does that actually make me a Condescending Witch? Oh, the irony…

And finally, Layer three: layer three is just delicious. Layer three is not a slice of Hovis 50/50. It’s not even a complex handmade Seeded Batch. It’s a delicate, melting Brioche, lightly warmed between the thighs of a –

Well. Read it yourself. It was a private message, from a woman. Her permission to share it has been sought and obtained.

Have you read this far? Well done, you. Seriously, I'm impressed. Thank you. I check my blog stats: no fucker reads it. Ever. The only time they even glance at it is when there are pictures of tits and arse in it, and then the chances of them actually looking at the words are almost nil. So yes, I will continue to voice my opinion, safe in the knowledge that no-one will ever, ever know what it is.

Not really my opinion. Lighten up.

• Damien Hirst can't fucking paint. 
• Some people are beautiful, both inside and out. 
• Others, though, are just c*nts. 

Ignore this. My opinions are no more valid than the next fool's. See below.

Then kiss me, Motherfucker.

*I say ‘private’ – didn’t stop me getting it out at the the Great British Tattoo Show when a random individual asked to see it. Can’t believe I did that. Well… there’s a lot of nudity at these events. You stop worrying about it after a while. Still – tut, tut

**All opinions are NOT valid. Ever read ‘Have Your Say’ on the BBC website? For fuck’s sake.

Ghosts and the Periodic Table

It all started with this.

We were walking home from the Post Office and I was asking The Boy about his day. Then he suddenly said something that made me ask him to get off his scooter and carry it so I wouldn’t miss a single word. ‘Say that again, Babe?’

‘I said, in school today I learnt that I can’t have a discussion with a Christian without getting really angry!’

The argument boiled down to this, and it would make Professor Brian Cox himself proud. 

Thanks, Geoff. We know this to be true

The Boy was arguing that ghosts couldn’t possibly exist because there is no substance in the Periodic Table which can pass through solid walls, therefore there’s nothing they could be made of that would allow them to do so (yes, I am aware that his argument is somewhat flawed, but a) he’s ten years old and using the Periodic Table to to support his statements and b) um, Ghosts? The whole thing’s flawed from the start). Then his friend had retorted that angels could pass through walls because they could turn themselves into fog. ‘But,’ Boy continued, with violent gesticulation, ‘fog doesn’t pass through walls either! And he wasn’t having it!’

‘And did you point out that angels must be insects, on account of the six limb thing?’

‘No, he wasn’t listening to the first bit, never mind anything else…’

I won’t relate the rest of the conversation. Or the stopping in the street to hold his tiny shoulders and tell him I ache with pride that he has learnt something that many people never do, in their whole ignorant lives.  But following another revelation from The Girl, I took to social media in sheer delight at their miniature self-awareness.

Then something lovely happened. And if this comes across as me preaching about How One Should Use Social Media – FINE. I’m the f**king Pope.  And I’m really good at it. Here’s why:

I posted this – which, some might say, is somewhat inflammatory.  I think you’d have to be fairly web-toed to think so, but as the late Bill Hicks said, there are indeed some serious pockets of humanity out there. Of course it wasn’t long before my friends started chiming in, on both sides of the argument. 

Play Nice, you Beauties

That is, not too far down one side of the argument – they are my friends, after all. The thread began with some banter and a marvellous use of the word ‘Bellend’, which always pleases me immensely; then somewhat of a discussion ensued, between Christians and Atheists on both sides of the Atlantic. I have lots of Christian friends on Facebook, and lots of Atheist friends, and anyone who reads my blog may know my views on religious matters. I state my feelings openly on my blog, and if anyone wishes to be offended, I politely invite them to discontinue reading it. I hope, however, I have the good manners not to invade others’ privacy, their feelings, or their social media walls, with my opinions. I was pleased, and warmed, to see people bonding over shared views, whether equal or opposite to mine.  I was pleased above all that those same people chose to contribute without becoming accusatory – even when the banter was quite provocative.  I’d have been sorry to see it blow up – after all, my wall, no-one has to read it – and as I’d already made my point in the original post, I purposely kept quiet myself.  

Facebook spats are so unseemly. This Be The Word Of Mu.

Yes, Lily. Yes. Yes, I will.