Archive for the 'Women' Category

Gary Elsewhere (and other stuff)

Over at Soccerlens, on the Ashley Stestanovich hoo-hah.

There’s plenty of the long, rambling, whimsical and not-at-all informative posts floating around my head. They’ll have to wait, due to.

1. Me being dog tired from an excellent night out on an old uni course reunion. Amazingly, we found a bar in Covent Garden that was neither hideously priced, pretentious, or any other adjective you’d associate with bars in that area. It’s rare that you get a diverse crowd uniformly praise a bar. I must remember to buy a drink for the person who recommended it, which provides an excellent excuse to go back there.

I also had two women in my bed last night.

I slept on the sofa.

[Before you ask, they’re old friends from uni and I’d already told them they could have my room last night. I just wanted to, for 15 seconds, create an illusion that would instantly fade the moment you met me].

2. Having not checked my netvibes for nearly three days, it’s taken me the best part of two hours to trawl through the posts. God help me if I ever decide to take a proper holiday.

3. I’ve still not managed to do my fucking ironing. It’s on the to do list for tomorrow, when I have another day off (taken in expectation of a hideous hangover from yesterday that, oddly, failed to ever materialise.

Just to keep up the rock and roll appearance, I might go food shopping and cook a macaroni cheese for lunch.

Ask a stupid question

The following was asked of me earlier.

Them: “Happy Valentine’s Day. Have you got anything planned tonight?”

Me: “I thought I’d cook myself a nice meal before wanking myself stupid over old Kim Wilde VHS tapes.”

Them: “Oh. [Pregnant Pause]. Really?”

Me: “No. I was a bit too young to appreciate Kim Wilde. Sonya from Echobelly on the other hand…”

And people wonder why I’m single.

Just why?

To all those people (and there are more than reasonable) who’ve found this blog searching for a combination of the words Jade, Goody, and naked, you are wrong. Sick and wrong. Sick and wrong and in need of help.

For the best example of the female form, there’s Maggie Gyllenhaal.

This is in no way an excuse to put up gratuitous pictures of Maggie Gyllenhaal. It’s a worthwhile addition to a post about the decline of society. Or something.

Education, of the sexual variety

Oddly enough, the topic of conversation with colleagues over lunch yesterday was pretty much the title of Marine Hyde’s quite good piece in the Guardian today: Porn is screwing up young men’s expectations of sex. Although, as it was lunch and at least some of the company was reasonably polite, we didn’t discuss the baser aspects to appear in Marina’s article, like gang-banging and Manchester United.

But it was largely agreed on one of the points Marina makes today – with porn so readily available, there’s going to be so many expectations from male teenagers, and even pre-teens, about what the girl will do and how to do it.

The solution I put forward was to improve sex education. But showing a true-to-life poor and pathetic sex video.

Picture the scene: the biology teacher announces they’ll be doing sex education, where they can learn what sex will be really like. It starts off with the male clumsily fiddling with the woman’s bra before she gets utterly frustrated and takes it off herself.

The sex that follows will then, in every way, be the most terrible, unsexy, and disappointing it can be – and one where most people can speak from experience. The bloke losing it midway through, and having to wander off for a quick bit of stimulation as the girl nearly falls asleep. It’ll be a quick three minute job, where the bloke half nods off at the end before the girl fakes a very unconvincing orgasm, before pushing the bloke away when he tries to be a bit more creative. There’ll definitely be lots of ‘can you move to the left a bit, you’re crushing my thigh,’ and ‘sorry, that’s just not doing it for me. Shall we go to sleep now?’ The post-coital cuddle will be quickly abandoned because the bed is just that little bit side of too small, and neither can find a comfortable position, so both end up turning their backs on each other, while at least one will spend ages trying to get to sleep before eventually moving downstairs to the sofa. Conversation the next morning will be silted and awkward.

That, more than anything else, will teach teenage boys about the harsh world of bedroom antics out there, and hopefully set them up with suitably lowered expectations, so anything that actually goes smoothly, let alone be any good, is a bonus.

There was a three year old general at Waterloo and Idi Amin had a slobbering aunt

The Devil has a pop at 17-year-old Emily Benn, a prospective Parliamentary candidate in the next election, whenever that may be.

Quite aside from the question of whether we need another Benn in Parliament, or whether she’s got a little too enthusiastic with her political past, the Devil raise a good point about age but is, I feel, a tad disingenuous to her on that front.

“What the fuck? Look, at the age of 30, I am pretty sure that I know what I believe in, but I have undergone a substantial change in the last few years. I was hardly ignorant, but I have learned an awful lot about politics, economics and history which has expanded my understanding; I have picked up figures and the best places to find others. I have raged and I have been corrected; I have entered debate and been educated.

What makes this little shit think that, at 17, she knows fucking anything at all? I didn’t. What bunch of lunatics selected her? She hasn’t even been to university, or held down a proper job. She has no idea what tax is, or what living on your own is like. In short, she doesn’t have a fucking clue what life is like.”

On the politics front, there’s a decent point. My politics have changed a fair bit since I was in my late teens and there’s a lot you can pick up that’ll inform your world view. I’ve no doubt my politics will change in the next ten years, and the ten years after that as I’m sure most of the rest of us will find.

Actually, I’m always a bit concerned when I meet people whose politics haven’t changed one iota in ten years. Holding onto your core beliefs is admirable but not taking in the world around you probably means you’re not the best-adjusted individual.

It’s true Emily Benn lacks a bit of life experience. I’m sure there’d be a slight change, in addition to a look of horror, when her first Council Tax bill arrives.

However, I still don’t begrudge her the chance to run for Parliament. Football fans are fond of saying, if you’re old enough, you’re good enough. When Ashley Cole was a mere whip-snapper, and before turning into an irritating, whining little diving prat, he managed to keep Silviniho, then a Brazil international, out of the side. And why nobody could deny Gareth Bale lacks experience, he’s also a darn site better than a large proportion of left-backs in the UK.

By the same token, Emily Benn could probably do a better job than a fair few politicians already in the House. Charles Clarke and Geoff Hoon spring to mind, for fairly obvious reasons. Whether she actually merits a place in Parliament is another matter altogether but she’s just as much right as myself, an 80-year-old or another teenager to run.

There’s also the possibility that she might actually be able to engage younger voters into getting interested in politics. I’ll qualify that with a *might*, as I’m pretty skeptical on that front. But what I have noticed is all the politicians I’ve met who’re closer to my age, I find it easier to relate to. Ok, so that’s using a very flawed inductive reasoning method, and I’m sure I’ll meet one who barely even comes from this planet. But if it gets a few more teenagers at least interested in politics, that’s got to be a good thing. Well, possibly.

[Insert Catherine Tate non-joke/pun here]

Am I the only person not particular angry or even concerned about Catherine Tate’s forthcoming reappearance on Dr. Who?

Granted, her TV sketch show raises approximately half a smile an episode, and she’s somewhat screechy and irritating, but I quite enjoyed the last Dr. Who Christmas special. I’m not sure how high my tolerance will be over the new series, but if they can tone down her screechy irritatingness I don’t think it’ll be anywhere near as bad as everybody’s making out.

Even Ben Affleck’s been in some good films…

At the end of the day, Ron…

Jade Goody: Nasty piece of work. Quite possibly doesn’t like non-Caucasians.

Emily Parr: Posh upper-class moron who probably has no concept of the history of slavery, and quite possibly thinks she the female version of Ali G. She’s certainly funnier, although that’s probably unintentional.

It’s hard not to feel a bit sorry for her, even if she is unbelievably irritating and still highly punchable. For once comment is free actually has some sensible comments, including this one:

Seems like a social faux pas in which a person tries to ingratiate herself with a cooler crowd but makes an elementary mistake that lands her in hot water. More David Brent than David Irving.

Although my personal favourite:

Any posh rich white kid who uses that word in order to ingratiate herself with black people should be killed and eaten. Not because she’s necessarily racist, just to save society from any more excruciating embarrassment.

Oh, and she should be killed and eaten too, on principle.

Remember, this is a woman who thought indie was a new type of music. Grasping reality outside of drama school is probably a little bit beyond her. Still, at least it saves me from having to look at her face for another God-knows-how-long-they’ll-drag-this-one-on-for weeks. They really do know how to find them, don’t they. I bet as soon as she announced she voted Conservative, Cameron’s people were on the phone trying to persuade her parents to get her to vote UKIP instead.

The ironic thing is its just a teeny bit less racist than Celebrity Big Brother, although it does make for a rather stormy teacup with Keith Vaz making a cameo as the sugar. At the end of the day, she’s an idiot. Not a particularly nasty or malicious idiot, but an idiot all the same. That’s something we could have worked out for ourselves.

I think it’s worth finishing with a quote from Mr. Brent himself:

David Brent: This is Sanj, this guy does the best Ali G impersonation, Aiiieee. I can’t do it, go on, do it
Sanj: I don’t, must be someone else
David Brent: Oh, sorry, it’s the other one…
Sanj: The other what… Paki?
David Brent: Ah, that’s racist.

(Also, this is rather good. A blog that uses Big Brother as a starting point for philosophical discussion.)


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Yes, this is my name. And my email. Use it wisely or you're not getting a biscuit with your tea: garyllewellynandrews [at] gmail [dot] com