Spoon Rage

And now for a matter of massive significance that will make you question how you see the world and everything in it. The economy? The war in Iraq? No, I'm talking about the free spoons you get from Marks and Spencer's foodhall.

As a central London dwelling deskbitch I often get my lunch from what my dear Mum called 'Marks and Sparks', and this usually involves some spoonable item. We do have kitchens at work so I could plausibly pick up a spoon on my way back in, but this would involve at least a three minute detour, which takes away from precious gorgeing time, and frankly, I get the rage when someone obstructs my path down Carnaby Street to try and flog me a charity subscription or ask where Oxford Street is, let alone any greater hinderance to face/sandwich interface. God knows how people go to the gym or shop on their lunchbreaks...

Well anyway, this terrible unrepentant greed coupled with the fact that I love a freebee, even if it is a small, black and made of plastic, means I inevitably end up picking up a M&S spoon.

So what's the beef? WELL. For some reason, these little spoons have been designed so they are slim and disproportionately deep for such a narrow spoonhead. What this means is that unless one is blessed with Angelina Jolie type lips, (and let's face it, my mouth is more like a letterbox made of flesh) you can't get all the stuff off the food with one mouthful.
This results in having to turn the spoon over to lick it, which can look inappropriately sensual if eating chocolate mousse, and disproportionately retarded if eating pomegranite (as it requires more of a flipping motion).

Usually I have the latter, which comes as no great surprise to my workmates, used as they are to see me doing things like falling off my chair or lying on the floor with my arse in the air taking photographs of tiny bottles of shampoo for powerpoint presentations.
Today, I had the mousse, and honestly, I think I might have to steal spoons from Pret a Manger on the way back in future as I turned into some terrible Nigella Lawson/Winnie the Pooh hibrid, 50% sexy, 50% a bear of little brain, 100% wrong.

I saw this clever little item, which got me thinking about how much you can do with a single lump of plastic, if you have half a brain. This is a toothbrush which has a dented back, so once you have brushed you can flip it over and redirect the tap waterflow so it becomes an easily drinkable fountain. It's not earth shattering, but it's simple, it's clever and it works. That's two points up on the M&S spoon anyway..

Colindale - A Photo Essay.

As Oriental City is closing it's doors for good on 1st June 2008, R, the Bruv and I decided to make one last pilgimage to the citadel of all that is cheap and tacky and Chinese. Unfortunately due to a mix up we didn't have a car, so had to journey on public transport. This neccesitated a short walk through Colindale, a place so bleak I was moved to take a lot of photos on my phone, then faff around town for ages today trying to find a cable so I could share them all with you, dear reader.
The waiting room for the local cab office...

In fact, alfresco seating is very much derigur in Colindale it would seem.

This house has ideas above it's station. Colindalia? Nope, sorry love, you still live in an area which sounds like something you wash peas in.

Still, they have their pride in these parts. Don't want no foreign bins coming over here, nicking our rubbish... (kudos to the Bruv for that one)

The window of a long closed Bookies. I like how there is a bit of the base relief missing, like once someone lost a load of money and punched the wall in sheer RAGE. Colindale is kind of emotionless these days.

Yet another example of al fresco seating, this time outside Dixy Chicken. It's hard to show the true surrealist nature of this bench, but it was built either by someone with a Dali fixation or a spirit level that was out by about 45 degrees.

The sad fact is that when Oriental City closes, this will be Colindale's claim to fame. The Bruv was sent here after he trod on a dog in Thailand ('It was a black dog sleeping in the middle of a dark road. Really he was asking for it') It's proximity to Dixy Chicken is a bit worrying.

R.I.P Lucozade Clock

Ever one with my finger on the pulse, I only realised this weekend that the Lucozade Clock, that wonderful glittering sign that you were entering London, is no more.

It used to stand near where the M4 motorway became the A4 (I think) and for me it indicated not only the time, but the fact that my doubtlessly boring as hell journey was almost over as we had officially entered London (although residents of Brentford may disagree)

It made Lucozade look almost like a glamourous sexy drink to be enjoyed with your friends...in the Odeon Bar*, not the neon orange sticky liquid in the plastic bottle enjoyed by fat people and MEN who like to define themselves by their fizzy pop, that it actually is.

Well yes, as of 2004 it was no more.. I personally think it is a conspiracy, as even though it was 50 odd years old it completely overshadowed all the big posh skyscrapers that surrounded it with it's tinkling bulbs and time/date function. But then I think everything is a conspiracy, from when the London Lite seller doesn't offer me a paper to when I graze my finger opening a tub of houmous with one of those tricky plastic breakable tabs on the lid.

*and if you get THAT little reference then give yourself a kudos

Chris Moyles, the Curse of the Lazy

So some sort of poll or other is in and the Chris Moyles Show on Radio 1 gets more listeners than ever. And, it has to be shamefully admitted, the Biche is one of them.

I used to listen to Chris when he did the afternoon show. In retrospect I can't quite remember why, as these days getting home from work (or school as it was then) means practically falling straight into the fridge with arms and mouth wide open before even taking my coat off, followed by a long sit on the sofa in front of various Hollyoaks on various varieties of channel 4. Oh yes, it is a life of hedionism indeed.

But anyway, I digress. The Chris Moyles show used to be quite funny. IT DID! Never laugh out loud, but it might make you do that thing where you snuff a little air our your nose, such as you might get when you see a dog dressed up as a robot.

Now? It seems to soully exist of Chris playing sound effects again and again while his team of sycophants laugh their heads off. Dear god! It is the aural equivalent of banging your head against a wall! Or rather listening to someone banging their head against a wall while being cheered on by morons. What irks the most is that you know that Chris gets money every time he plays the stupid bloody jingle, as he owns the jingle company*

But for all the hideous annoyance of hearing an unneccesarily long jingle five times in a row, I time dragging my corpse out of bed by the 8am news, even though it is talked over by Chris and always with an unneccesarily long sport news section.

And I reckon this is the crux of the problem. Who can be arsed to retune their radio at 8am? It's one of those groundhog day stresses like 'oh GOD I need to buy some more forks' or 'FUCK, no showergel'

Every day you will curse yourself as you eat pasta with a spoon, abuse your eardrums and smell of Pantene from head to toe, but once that hideous little episode is over it will flee your brain so rapidly that even when you stand still and think 'now what was it I needed to do?' half an hour later, you will not remember.

So basically, I can't really insult Chris and co for being lazy, unimaginative and incredibly repetitive. I am all three too...between the hours of 7pm and 8am at least, or midnight and about 11am if the pub intervenes.

*or something like that. Something scandalous that no one seems to care about and I can't be fagged to find a link to prove.

"Hands off my cadaver, bitch"

I'm thinking this is possibly a subtle reference to a biblical painting of Mary as she holds a post-crucifixtion Jesus, replicated three times to symbolise the holy trinity. The denim and leather symbolising that the work of a woman is never done, the red lipstick denoting the passion and power of the female sex and ummm... the bad roots representing that one can never hide one's true character from sprouting mousily out of one's head.

Or it is simply a terribly misguided necrophilic attempt at a 'sexay' album cover.

Richard Littlejohn - He writes for the People

The second in an occasional series of amusing amazon.co.uk book reviews. This week:

Littlejohn's Britain: 'a themed collection of pieces that fires broadside at Blair's Britain and the absurdity of petty bureaucracy' - The cover

'the racist xenophobic witterings of a fool' - The Biche
finally someone gets it, 10 May 2007
By
pablo dombrowski "wewillcomebackasfire" (london) - See all my reviewsat last, a man with the visionary skills to realise how dangerous the London Eye is. So many people don't realise that this is an evil eye. Look at the patterns... it's clearly the eye that the freemasons use to signify control. They're laughing at us people, laughing. They're in league with the communists that make up the so-called labour party, and have ACTUEALLY erected this monument to their control, and we like sheep, actually RIDE IN IT. oh, i could weep for the stupidity of humanity. Buy this book AND LEARN THE TURTH before they get you.

the intellect of this man hath no bounds, 12 May 2007
By
Mr. B. B. N. Farrant "natural history fan" (uk) - See all my reviews One is reminded of Orwell, who once said "Every book is a failure." Well Orwell was clearly a fool and had not stumbled upon 'Littlejon's Britain' whilst browsing on Amazon, for no educated man could dare claim this seminal piece of literature a failure. If, as H.G. Wells assures us, that "Good books are the warehouses of ideas" then this book is a vast chasm of a warehouse, overflowing with such a smorgasbord of enlightened ideas that may liberate us from the shackles of contemporary liberal Britain. Oh how i feel complete having read this book, now i truly understand the meaning of Bernard Shaw's musing, "Only in books has mankind known perfect truth, love and beauty." LittleJohn i am indebted to you. hurrah



A new world dawns at the turn of a page., 12 May 2007
By
Mizake - See all my reviewsWith this insightful, visionary, and - I am not ashamed to say - celestially inspirational commentary on modern life, Richard Littlejohn has rendered the entire canon of Western literature, philosophy and ethical discourse entirely moot. On finishing the book - in one sitting, I might add, its compelling majesty renders one utterly incapable of laying it down - I had no choice but to burn each and every one of the other books I own. Such trinkets are simply unnecessary in the face of such brilliance, in this new and glorious era of "Anno Littlejohn". Yes, I cry, cast Hamlet and Macbeth into the fire! Render the Iliad and the Kalevala into dust! Drive away the librarians and book sellers! No other works are necessary; all knowledge and truth is contained herein. Praise you, Sir Richard, and long may your wisdom guide us all.

Thought provoking stuff!, 12 May 2007
By
Mangina Reilly-Hurtz (Misogyny) - See all my reviewsI read this while awaiting clearance in a terminal at London's Heathrow. By the time I turned over the last page I realised Britain was not for me. Thank you Mr Littlejohn. You have saved me from a squalid life living in a small studio flat above yet another Indian Takeaway or Pizza Delivery service. As for the neighbours I would have had according to you. Well it is not worth thinking about. So I asked for the Immigration Service to return me on the earliest flight back to where I came from. I just wouldn't want to live in a country that produced Littlejohn. Plain and simple

Brilliantly exposes the bonkers values of socialist Britain:, 1 Jun 2007
By
Brian Ginnity (Colchester) - See all my reviews
This book exposes the way we are now governed, which is why a lot of socialists can only respond with mockery and insult. It hits home and they can't handle it. It's the old "we're right (by definition) so anybody who doesn't agree with us must mad, bad or both. That's how the old USSR was able to justify locking up it's political opponents in mental hospitals. The book was a funny and merciless description of the self-serving, hypocrital antics of the likes of Prescott, Blair (Mr and Mrs), police chiefs who refuse to fight crime, councils who refuse to collect rubbish and all the other useless so-and-sos who have got us to where we are now.



Oh wait, that last one could be serious... well anyway, you can find all the reviews here

Pity 4 Mutya

Why North London is Nice - Clarsey Art

I joke, this is the WORST PAINTING EVAH, yet for some reason has pride of place by the bar in the Princess Alex. (cameraphone slightly fails to capture complete awfulness, but you can get the idea)

I can only assume that a local heavy thinks of himself as a bit of an artiste

More North American Scum

Aah, nothing like a nice right-wing american cartoon to fire the blood up on a Sunday afternoon, just a mere two days after convincing yourself that idiots like Big Boy Mark were one-off fuckwits who were in no way representative of the Leaders of the Free World (c)

note: Free World = US and the UK, everyone else is enslaved either to an false prophet or to their sisters who they spend all their time fucking, whilst eating garlic cheese, smoking funny little cigarettes and avoiding war outside bistros of EVIL

It may take a few seconds to work out this cartoon, I certainly stared at it with the kind of confused anger usually shown on the face of someone who has just come home to find their husband boffing their pet dog (I imagine)

I think my dear friend Acrobat put it most simply:

"cos school shooting s are EXACTLY THE SAME as abortions"

At the end of the day it's hard to get too angry however... I mean, these people who believe in critisizing murdered teenagers, bombing abortion clinics and hating arabs are on the whole the same people who believe in hell. Therefore even if I am wrong and our conciousnesses do not die with our physical bodies, it means they won't be in for a big suprise.

kudos to Acrobat for the cartoon (pointing out of, not drawing of, I hasten to add)

Why North London is Nice - SAVE ORIENTAL CITY!

Oriental City (or Ori tal C ty as I think the sign currently reads) is in Colindale and is basically an Oriental supermarket with the most mental food court ever and a row of Hello Kitty and Oriental Crockery shops on the side. The Segapark is a games arcade which is pretty shit, except there is a mini bowling alley, and the casino is a room of slot machines.

THAT SAID

It is amazing.

The food court is a massive patchwork quilt of lurid photos of different dishes, from China, Japan, Vientnam and Thailand (Korea is shunted around the corner for some reason) and they give you portions so massive and delicious you either feel bad about leaving so much or you throw up on the side of the north circular on the way home (true!)

I doubt there are many other places in London where you can find a whole row of shelves devoted purely to different brands of soy sauce, and there is great fun to be had in pootling around buying random stuff with fun packaging and only working out in the car home what it actually is you are eating (jellies shaped as fruits, slimming tea, fermented soybeans and these little coloured balls made of sweet rice btw)

I was also veh impressed to see a white lanky Postman Pat lookalike barking orders to the shelf stackers in fluent Mandarin.


Anyway, THE MAN (a.k.a Brent Council) want to shut down Oriental City and this would be a terrible shame, not only to all the bratty North London types like I who like Dim Sum and collecting Maneki Neko and other bits of tat, but to the large East Asian Communities that live in the area who see it as a cultural centre and vital resource.

So yes, go sign the petition HERE and stop it being turned into a load of swanky flats. I think they should save it, then petition again to get it done up; not just buy new letters E, N and I for the sign, but actually put more shops in there because frankly there is a lot of wasted space and I was not satisfied with the range of Maneki Neko available.

Make a difference yo...

Bollocks! - An Interruption to Services

My rather fabulous neighbours, unwitting suppliers of my internet connection and generally nice people (ok, only met them once, at 8am when we were both in dressing gowns, but from their myspaces they seem cool) have buggered off to Miami for the winter dance music convention thing, AND TURNED OFF THEIR WIRELESS ROUTER!

This means I have the weakest connection ever and it takes years to do so much as load Google, so I may be a bit infrequent with the blogs.

I will instead stand at the window and pine for their return, which I think is second week of April. Boo!