BY THE GARMENTS HE HATH ON

ANTI-BULLYING WEEK

17-21 NOVEMBER 2014

Let me get this bit over with.

IF YOU EVER HEAR ME UTTER THE WORD 'KARDASHIAN', TURN AWAY - I MAY HAVE SNEEZED.

That is not bullying. I merely illustrate the point that I am not here to discuss Kim's rear end: ironically, I can't be arsed. Thank you.

For a few days now, I've been brewing one up over this Shirt business. Just when I thought the battle was all in vain, and I was going to have to lay aside my spoon and spew forth bile and outrage whilst exhorting the Keyboard Warriors to Just Be Fucking Nice For A Change, It Doesn't Cost A Fucking Penny, You Irretrievably Myopic Slack-Jawed Learn-Nothing Want-Wits (breathe, Mu - that's the girl), Colin gave me a better idea. That is, it's still his idea. I'm just running away with it.

BULLYING FUCKING SUCKS.
Nothing else need be said. There is no excuse for bullying, ever. Never. Don't sit behind your computer and act like a c**t. If you wouldn't say it to someone's face, don't type it; and if you would say it to their face, then possibly you're a git. Do you want to be a git? No? Then be nice. Or shut the fuck up.

THE IMPORTANT BIT

Ok - smile! Here's Colin's idea.  It's his birthday tomorrow, Wednesday 19 November. He said this (see pic). He's a top bloke.

So to take part, all you have to do is post a pic of yourself in a crazy, colourful, gaudy or plain badass shirt on WED 19 NOVEMBER. I recommend posting it on the Facebook page  '10k for Dr Taylor'  with the following hashtags:
#Rosetta
#10kLikesForDrTaylor
#AntiBullying
#HappyBirthdayColin 
...I'm going to throw that last one in for good measure. You can add a link to this blog, too, if you like.


Don't forget Twitter and Instagram, and if you are able to make a charitable donation, please do so.
If anyone cares to give money in the name of anti-bullying, here are some links to anti-bullying charities.
www.bullying.co.uk
www.bulliesout.com
www.anti-bullyingalliance.org.uk
In the US: http://livedifferent.com

There are plenty of others. I am not endorsing these ones. Choose another if you like. I donated to one that supports families of LGBT victims of bullying earlier this year.

Now. Here is a photo of Dr Matt Taylor, and a link to the real story he's been involved in, actually, bollocks to that, go to his wiki page instead, he's amazing. But it doesn't stop there, does it? I now find myself obliged to agree with everyone's favourite bumbling moptop Boris Fucking Johnson, who apparently said:
"There must be room in our world for eccentricity, even if it offends the prudes, and room for the vague other-worldliness that often goes with genius." 
Fuck's sake.

Finally, here is how I think his apology should have gone. And you know how I feel about opinions; I should be grateful that all of twenty-five people agreed with it. 
Presumably, everyone else thinks it's balls.

Now... Hand me a new spoon, Butler, for I must bite through it with vigour.

PINTERFACE-TWITTAGRAM And Why I Love It. Dot Mu.

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…  

FACEBOOK  https://www.facebook.com/MurielLavenderPoetrix

WEBSITE ... you can look, if you like www.muriel-lavender.com

PINTEREST*  http://www.pinterest.com/muriellavender/

BLOG  http://muriel-lavender.blogspot.com/

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.

FINALLY GETS TO THE POINT

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

Dorkbeard

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 http://dorkbeard.wordpress.com/

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.

 

MURIEL LAVENDER FOR POPE

It All Started On Twitter...

Actually, that's only half true. It started in November 2012 when the General Synod voted against the ordination of Women Bishops. I was very, very angry about that. Partly, I should add, because it turned me into the kind of person who tweets into news programmes - that is, it made me feel very strongly about an issue which has absolutely nothing to do with me and yet I was determined to use social media to voice my ill-informed opinion about it. Thanks, General Synod.  Perhaps you'd like to join me on Jeremy Kyle some time soon. As a vent for my wrath, I turned, as any rational adult should, to Playmobil.

You see? Isn't she lovely? Oh yes, I blogged about it too. 

As I'm not a Guardian columnist*, I shall not spend the rest of this blog entry telling you why I am still rather put out about the 'No' vote. You may as well ask why I don't feed Findus lasagne to my children: if you need answers to either of those questions, may I politely refer you back to Mr Kyle, where you may feel more at home. But thanks to the 'sudden' 'shock' resignation of Pope Benedict XVI, a new calling has opened up for me. I no longer wish to be Bish. No, it's now

MURIEL LAVENDER FOR POPE

 

 © steeljam.co.uk and Muriel Lavender

It began with a single nomination by a Twitter friend. Before long, the campaign had gathered momentum and no fewer than four people had tweeted the hashtag #muriellavenderforpope.  Soon the tag went viral, trending in at least one person's Twitter feed. My number of Twitter followers rocketed by 0.4% to 275! The time had come to start publishing my Manifesto:

Having been informed by my Discworld Mummy (see, I embrace a multi-faith society) that  "[Sorry Mu, but] the Pope Elect must stand on a glass pavement and three Bishops must take a look to see that 'he' is a 'he'; if all the 'bits' are in place he is crowned Pope", I can assure all my followers that that'll be the first thing to go. Standing on a glass floor showing Bishops my Holy C? I don't think so. I hereby announce the very first of my Papal Edicts:

"All future Papacies will be decided by means of a selection process which shall hereafter be known as the Vatican-can: Papal candidates will perform a Burlesque-style striptease routine in which they start off dressed as Julie Andrews in The Sound Of Music and finish up dressed as Julie Andrews in S.O.B.***"

And do you know what? Men need not apply. Let's have it this way for two thousand years, then if you like, we'll swap back.  

Pardon?  

Tough. You should have let me be a Bishop when you had the chance**. Go in peace. And Stockings.

*Can you imagine? 'Why I'm Still Angry About 'No' Vote on Women Bishops', by Muriel Lavender. Followed up by 'Why I Think Breathing Is A Really Good Idea'. Oh, fuck off, for goodness' sake, do

**Yes, I know the General Synod is the Church of England, and the Pope is, blah, blah, blah. Yawn. Do you know who's on top of my Christmas Tree?  Charles Darwin, that's who.

***That is an hilarious Julie Andrews joke, by the way. No, it is.