MURIEL MAKES AN ACTUAL COMMENT ABOUT SOMETHING (and only says 'fuck' once)

My Bottom. I've learnt to love it.

YES, OKAY - THAT IS MY DERRIÈRE at the top of the page. I'm a little surprised at it myself, considering my age - but goodness me, how long does a woman have to wait before she gains a bit of body-confidence?

VANILLA ICE? DEAR, HOW AMUSING

That said, this article interested me: I love Annie Lennox and I think she makes a very good point here. I'm not getting messages of body-confidence from Miley Cyrus or Rihanna (78 million Facebook 'likes'. That's a lot of teenagers to influence); rather, a very confusing and dangerous one. As I'm not writing for the Daily Fucking Mail, I'm not going to start speculating on what goes on inside the head of a 20-year-old, born to a famous dad, who has herself been famous for half her life. But I do think back to when Madonna was at the height of her 'Erotica' phase, when she first invented Sex (thanks Madge, don't know what we'd have done without you) and performed in titillating videos which were banned from our TV screens. Banned! Ha! Ha! The difference between Miley and Madonna? Madonna was thirty-four.*

NOT GETTING IT

One of the things I love about Burlesque is that it is often performed by slightly older women, for slightly older women. It's the same with my poetry - if they're too young, they may not get it. Of course, I'm very happy when they

Annie Lennox: a real role model

do, and I have met a great many bright, educated, gorgeous younger girls/women at various gigs. But crikey, when one starts going through the fancying-Melvyn-Bragg stage, there are aspects of one's work, inevitably, that take one to a place where the teens-and-twenties may not wish to follow. What am I trying to say? Maybe that you don't have to be 18 and perfect to wiggle your rear-end in public, and if you are, maybe you want to just give it a few years. Or at the very least, just be absolutely sure who it is you're trying to please.

LARGE BOTTOM

I spend a lot of time surrounded by scintillating, confident, sexy women of all ages, shapes and sizes. I am filled with love and admiration for them. I don't recall ever - ever - seeing any thrusting or groping of fannies on a Burlesque stage. Burlesque seems to me to be more delicate than that. You want strong, positive, independent female role models? I'll introduce you to a hundred.

Or you could try Annie Lennox. She's really good.

*STOP PRESS: I've just read that Cher's weighed in to the debate.  Now, when Cher says things have gone a little far, you know, isn't it time to start listening?  I'm now waiting for Lady Gaga to tweet 'Ooh, that's a bit much'...

MURIEL'S PAPAL EDICT - ooh, where are we up to now? - #4, I THINK

In the last few minutes POPE MURIEL I has released the following statement:

© Sioux How, Sunrise Festival

"I would like to thank everyone for their kind messages of support following the apparent election of Pope Francis Bailando por un Sueño of Argentina.
I would not, however, be the first Pope to adopt the simple expedient of absolutely refusing to acknowledge the facts, despite the irrefutable evidence before my own eyes.
Therefore, my loyal and devoted followers, all dozen or so of you, I remain HER ROYAL POPELYNESS MURIEL I, POETRIX REGINA. Especial blessings and Papal Glitteryness be upon them for their messages today, at a time when doubt assailed me. Thou hast kept it real, and so shalt thou receive thy just rewards, being that which is a far greater prize than eternal life since thou canst have it on Earth, thou needst not wait til thou hast popped thy clogs. Verily shalt thou have a packet of Maltesers next time I see thee. Go in Peace. And Stockings."

Yesterday's Lenten Offerings: Papal Edict #2

MURIEL'S PAPAL EDICT #2

Seeing as how I'm now Pope and everything, I am allowed to do what Popes traditionally do at this time of year, which is to make up new reasons to get round their own theologically-imposed dietary restrictions, and then endow them with doctrinal significance. My favourites are:
     1. Reclassifying all water-mammals and waterfowl as 'fish' rather than 'meat', thus making it ok to eat otters and such on Fridays
     2. Granting Sundays as exceptions to the abstinences of Lent, as Jesus spent only 40 days in the wilderness, and there are more than forty days between Ash Wednesday and Good Friday.

"We Like Seafood, Mama" - because there's never a bad time to sing songs about oral sex

 So, here we are, two days into Lent - and I hereby deliver my second Papal Edict:
1. Popcorn was not on my list of banned substances this Lent, so it is perfectly ok for me to have scoffed a buttload of it at the cinema this afternoon. Popcorn forms part of the entertainment at the cinema, and therefore does not count as an indulgent snack.
2. The same applies to the champagne I am about to fill my glass with. I never *actually* said I would *definitely* give up fizzy plonk this year anyway, even if I thought it might be a good idea, and anyway, see rule 1 - it's Valentine's Day and therefore Champagne counts as part of the entertainment.

Go in Peace. And Stockings.

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. 

To quote Billy Connolly: "What C**t Said Och Aye The Noo?"

Oh Go On, Let Me Be A Bishop, Please, I'd Be A ******* Good One

© 2012 Muriel Lavender - Play-Mu-Bish

Dearly Beloved, today's sermon is taken from the Fifteenth Book of Christmas, chapter 12, verses 1-24. I wrote it myself. Isn't that the custom? I am a Bishop. 

^"1And it came to pass that Joseph of Nazareth did speak unto his wife a third time, saying, O most holy Mother, the cock hath crew thrice already and His Lordship hath not yet arisen from his pit. ²And Mary did consider and reply, Do not forget, Husband, that the Lord is a growing boy and He needeth His sleep. ³And mind thy grammar. ⁴That may be so, Wife, said Joseph unto Mary, but it changeth not the fact that thou art suffering Him to lie about in bed today of all days. ⁵Whereupon Mary did flick Joseph about the tunic with a teatowel, saying, Thou wert no doubt the same when thou wert that age. ⁶Unto this Joseph could make no reply, for he saw that the most Holy Virgin Mother did verily speak the truth. When he could no more endure the waiting, Joseph did again go to Mary and implore of her, Canst thou do nothing to wake Him? ⁷The hour at which we break our fast approacheth, and my stomach doth begin to believe that, like the sacrificial lamb, my throat hath been cut. ⁸At this Mary did roll of her eyes unto Heaven and say, ⁹Sooth, thou shalt not die of hunger, thou great wet blanket, why dost thou not make thyself useful and bring forth the Hoover? ¹⁰The Hoover? quoth Joseph. ¹¹Yea, the Hoover, quoth Mary, and verily at that moment did a brilliant light  shine upon the head of Joseph, and the angels did sing in holy harmony. Ah, uttered he, ¹²I get thy drift. ¹³And thus it came to pass that Joseph did extract the Hoover from where it lay in a small utility cave, the existence of which was unto him hitherto unknown. And in his joy, Joseph was moved to exclaim, ¹⁴Righteously with this Hoover shall I cause the Lord to stir even from his pit, that we may at last gladly and with thanks feast upon our festive victuals and open our presents. ¹⁵Well done, Husband, Mary did reply unto him in such a virtuous whisper that he might not hear, ¹⁶Art thou not clever. ¹⁷And at that moment by the pressing of the button which beareth the Mighty Word, ‘ON’, did Joseph cause the air to be rent by a fearful noise. ¹⁸And the fearful noise did continue until the door unto the Lord’s chamber did open, whereupon the Lord Himself did appear, in His pants. At this Joseph did rejoice in his small victory, and enquired of the Lord, ¹⁹Jesus, what time dost thou call this? ²⁰And the Lord was most displeased, and He did gnash of His teeth and speak in tongues about it being well unfair, it’s like My birthday and everything. ²¹And with that did He shuffle into the bathroom, from whence did issue sounds which, though alarming, did fill of His parents’ hearts with hope that the Lord may yet appear a second time before noon.  ²²And Mary did turn unto Joseph, saying, there you are Husband, ²³the Lord doth move in mysterious ways. And Joseph did reply, ²⁴Yea, dear Wife, that He doth."

Here endeth the lesson.

© Muriel Lavender

November 2011

 

The Turtle Moves. But Discworld Fans move mountains.

My Grandmother - 'Head Grandma', as she is known, being the Lavender family Matriarch - is 96 and sharp as a tack. She plays Scrabble with her friends once a week. She has travelled the world and made lifelong friends everywhere she has been. These days she's a little bit frail; but if I can be half the woman she is when I am in my Lavender Bag years, I will consider that an achievement. 

Keeping one's brain active and stimulated is believed to be something of a safeguard against Alzheimer's. It's by no means infallible, but it's a reminder that one should, maybe, I don't know, write more poetry and spend less time arsing about on Facebook.  

*and these awesome boots #lovethemsomuch

To the point: I'm sitting here on my sofa, dressed in pyjama top, fishnets and a pair of Deadly is the Female's finest* (click there to see some really nice pants). It's been a crazy weekend - I've given several poetry performances this weekend as part of the 10th anniversary celebrations of the twinning of Ankh-Morpork, the greatest city on the Discworld, with Wincanton in Somerset - home, naturally, of the Discworld Emporium and the finest Hogswatch celebrations you'll see anywhere. It's an overwhelming thing to have been part of - the love, warmth and passion of all those Discworld devotees, who brought together all those other warm and passionate Discworld devotees from around the globe. 

Here are some photos; the key points to note are as follows. In summary, People Are Amazing, and Donate To RICE Here.  

That's it.

1. My friendship with a remarkable young artist, Captain Purky initially brought me to Wincanton and the Discworld folk. You can find out more about the Captain and his work here. Much love, Harry. xxxxx
2. I believe Sir Terry Pratchett himself describes his most dedicated Discworld followers as 'Bloody Loonies'. It's clear that his regard for these Loonies is both warm and mutual. I was privileged to be part of all this inspired lunacy this weekend.
3. Speaking of Sir Terry, he came in during my performance and took a seat. That was a very special moment for me.
4. The generosity (and, it must be said, devoted fandom) of the Discworldians who attended the auction, raised over £2900 for The Research Institute for the Care of Older People.
5. As if giving a poetry performance in front of Terry Pratchett were not enough, I did something else - two other things - that felt pretty special. I donated one of my Edinburgh Fringe posters to the auction, which sold for at least four times more than I thought it would, and the buyer asked if I would sign it. I won't lie: that was a lovely moment. And I got to use a Sharpie pen. The second thing was, a teacher asked me to record a video message for a struggling student of hers who was making some bad decisions and falling in with the wrong people. So somewhere in the UK, I'm going to appear on a whiteboard this week, earnestly advising an unknown young person that yes, poetry is fantastic, but Poetrix Doth Not Live By Verse Alone.   
6. Incidentally, Reaper Man is my favourite. And today, I found a spoon*.

Crowd gathers to watch live video feed from the Town Hall

The original Cohen the Barbarian

C.M.O.T. Dibbler with Elizabeth

Cheery Littlebottom and a female Wizard (obviously - she's wearing trousers)

My Discworld Mummy

The Corset Inspector. Or that's what his badge said.  Hang on...

A very fine couple

The Unseen University Cheerleading Squad

Fion Kelda and Madam Rosie Palm

It's ok, she's wearing the black ribbon. I'm safe

*If you get that, please drop me a line. I'd be really touched.