Friday

We are in complete agreement: Manny and I are opposed on all points.

In England:
87% White British, 2% Indian, 0.5% Bangladeshi, 2.2% Black (1.1% -Caribbean, 0.9% African, 0.2% other). 70% Christian, 14.6% No religion, 7.7% Mind your own business, 3.1% Muslim, 1.1% Hindu, 0.7% Sikh, 0.7% Jedi, 0.5% Jewish, 0.3% Buddhist, 2.3% 'Other'. Story of our lives. 50.7% adults are married, 30% no qualifications, 25% women 30 or younger now will never have children.

Proportion of us who actually voted for the Labour government?
22%

This morning Lord Falconer gave the reason for us not getting the referendum on electoral reform they were "committed to" in their '97 manifesto as "no groundswell of support for change".
Anyone fancy making one?
Proportional Representation: you need it for all the reasons they don't want you to have it.

Thursday

Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.

I read a good book recently. It was called 'State of Fear', by Michael Crichton. If you look it up on the net you'll find a lot of people ranting and raving because in it characters use scientific evidence to suggest global warming isn't the problem it's made out to be. They think this means Michael Crichton thinks environmentalism is a waste of time. They are understandably cross about this. But then again, these are probably the same people who think 'Jurassic Park' is about dinosaurs. 'State of Fear' is about (see if you can guess, clue's in the question)... fear.

Ecce extract:

"“There was a major shift in the fall of 1989. Before that time, the media did not make excessive use of terms such as crisis, catastrophe, cat­aclysm, plague, or disaster. For example, during the 1 980s, the word crisis appeared in news reports about as often as the word budget. In addition, prior to 1989, adjectives such as dire, unprecedented, dreaded were not common in television reports or newspaper headlines. But then it all changed.”"
"“In what way?”"
"“These terms started to become more and more common. The word catastrophe was used five times more often in 1995 than it was in 1985. Its use doubled again by the year 2000. And the stories changed, too. There was a heightened emphasis on fear, worry, danger, uncertainty, panic.”"
"“Why should it have changed in 1989?”"
"“Ah. A good question. Critical question. In most respects 1989 seemed like a normal year: a Soviet sub sank in Norway; Tiananmen Square in China; the Exxon Valdez; Salmon Rushdie sentenced to death; Jane Fonda, Mike Tyson, and Bruce Springsteen all got divorced; the Episcopal Church hired a female bishop; Poland allowed striking unions; Voyager went to Neptune; a San Francisco earthquake flattened high­ways; and Russia, the US, France, and England all conducted nuclear tests. A year like any other. But in fact the rise in the use of the term cri­sis can be located with some precision in the autumn of 1989. And it seemed suspicious that it should coincide so closely with the fall of the Berlin Wall. Which happened on November ninth of that year.”"

And so it is. Be afraid, they tell you.
In the good old days, before the fall of the Berlin wall, before the Cold War came to an end the one way nobody expected (that is relatively peacefully with the only offensive weapon dispatched by America being David Hasslehoff), there was a stable background level of fear. Fear the Communists, about whom we know so little, fear what they may be up to behind the iron curtain, fear the current numpty in the Whitehouse might accidentally put his coffee cup down on THE button and end the world. Fear Them, conveniently all in one place, staying put, easy to point at, easy to see they're not like us. Slow news day? Flip a coin and run "We beat the Communists at...." or "Intelligence sources fear...."
Now not only is that enemy all but gone, but it didn't take a big dramatic showdown to do it. "If it carries on this way", say those who want to be able to push our buttons and make us react predictably,"next time we tell them to be afraid of something, they might not believe us. If they don't believe they need to be scared, they wont believe they need our Wonderful New Solution (TM) to save them. Then we wont be able to control them." Et apres that, the deluge.
You're going to get HIV from being looked at by a member of the gay mafia who are running everything, the ice caps will melt, East Anglia will be under water, everywhere else will be either permadrought or insect ridden swamp. The flies will spread diseases, and you'll get full blown AIDS. You'll find that out when you go to the hospital to be treated for the skin cancer caused by the hole in the ozone layer and the lung cancer caused by pollution and passive smoking. On the way back from the hospital you'll get a phone call from your boss telling you he's given your job to an immigrant, then you'll get mugged for your mobile phone by a ten year old on drugs with a gun and a rotweiller. He'll knock you down in the street and you'll get bounced into the next county by the bull bars on the front of the car the drunk driver that hits you is driving. You'll wait three hours for an ambulance that will get stuck in traffic on the way to the hospital, six hours in a corridor in A&E, then when they finally find you a bed in the Double Oncology with AIDS and Fractures ward, they'll feed you beef offal and eggs and let the CJD fight it out with the salmonella to see which kills you first, unless it takes too long, in which case you'll be thrown out to free up the bed and get blown up by the IRA trying to take the tube home.
And that just takes you up to the mid 90s. The facts often don't correspond. The earth may be getting hotter, or colder, or just going through cycles or small fluctuations in temperature. We should not pollute so we don't have to live in a polluted world. Britain is not having an AIDS epidemic. (Africa is, but we hear about it about once a month, two thirds of the way down the news, in passing when there's something else to report. We don't fear catching HIV from people we'll never meet, let alone sleep with or get bled on by, so there's really no mileage in it for them) But we should behave sensibly with regards our sexual health in general. Violent crime is not out of control. The behavior of the young is worsening, but find a point in history when it wasn't. You are unlikely to be affected by gun crime unless you're part of the drugs/crime/gang culture yourself. Nevertheless, it's best not to take shortcuts down dark alleys in parts of town where there is a crime blackspot. We do not need to fear these things as long as we are aware of them, and do our best not to be very very stupid. Even BSE was dealt with without causing a recession or a major public health issue, which would have been all we deserved for our farming methods.
Do not believe you should fear just because Murdoch or the Daily Mail say you should. Do not act out of fear. People acting out of fear do desperate, foolish things. Like vote Tory.
Now they want you to fear 'Muslim fundamentalists', as if Islam has managed to come up with a way of being utterly foul that every other religion in history failed to come up with. They tell you to fear the 'Islamisisation' of Europe, because if there was a majority of Muslims in France, we'd suddenly be parked next to a nation of headscarf wearing, woman oppressing, democracy opposing lunatics who'd want to take our country next and swamp us with terrorists. Oh be afraid, be afraid.
There are some foul old countries ruled by Muslims. No mistaking it. Countries who don't let women vote (1928), countries who torture (1917/1984) or execute people (1969), sometimes for the people they associate with (1808), execute people for stealing (1861), countries where it's a crime to belong to certain religions (1951). For anyone unclear what the numbers in brackets are, that's when Britain stopped being one of those countries. The 1917/1984 one is the Catholic church outlawed torture in 1917. Britain finally passed a law on it in 1984. But we're oh so fucking smug, we're so brilliant, cos whatever we are, we're us and us is always better than them. All those things were right when we were doing them. Never mind that each country has always changed at a different pace to every other country.
My point is not that we should turn a blind eye to human rights abuses in other countries. My point is not that we're hypocritical to comment. My point is countries and regimes have always done these things. They are absolutely not a Muslim thing, or an Arab thing, or even a non-democratic country thing. They're an arsehole thing. We've taken hundreds of years to become a non torturing, killing, invading, empire building, human rights abusing, religiously persecuting and feudally ruled country. Funnily enough we're still not perfect now. We still debate whether insulting or persecuting people because of some religions not on the list yet should become illegal! You may not discriminate against someone because they are Jewish. You may discriminate against them for being a Pagan.
Listen hard to the way the media describes what's going on, and how they describe the countries they're talking about. You might not get any useful information about that country, about how it's ruled, about the political makeup of the population, about the proportion of people who are not fundamentalists of whatever religion or political stance is prevalent in that country. You will not hear about resistance movements, organisations for democratic change or constitutional reform. You wont hear what the proportion of the population are not that bothered either way and would just like to get on with the weekly shop in peace. The reporter wont have even looked it up. But you can be damn sure you'll hear "Muslim country", "Communist country". They associate words very carefully so that when you hear "fundamentalist" or "Muslim" your mind's eye will see a Bin Laden looking nutter with a big gun in one hand, beating his six wives with the other. Why do they want this? Because fairy stories about the bogeyman are easier to write and more sensational to present than the distress of moderate Muslim men about the way they're portrayed. Because if you're fearing the enemy, you probably wont be looking to closely at what 'we' are doing wrong. Because if they can get you to fear 'them', the evildoers, and they're the ones who exposed 'them' as the horrors they are, you'll probably trust them to sort 'them' out. And once you're trusting them, the world's their oyster and they've slipped some domestic cock up past without anyone noticeing.
I remember when the stereotype of Muslims was a gaggle of Muslim women walking from Harrods to the already bag laden taxi to drop off their purchases before moving on to further punish their husband's plastic in Harvey Nics. Oh poor downtrodden designer clad little lambs. The people you have any reason to fear, you should not fear because they are Muslims. To call them Muslims is an insult to true Muslims, who will point out as soon as anyone gives them thirty seconds to get a word in edgewise between the bouts of slagging and fear mongering that terrorist violence is against their religion, as is mistreating women. There is nothing about just being a Muslim that makes a person dangerous or unpleasant. Neither are all fundamentalists terrorists. A Nun is a Catholic fundamentalist.
The people you should fear, you should fear because they are arseholes. Violent arseholes hiding behind religion so that they can do what they enjoy most: hurting people who can't fight back, just like their Irish counterparts and every other bunch of issue hijacking nutjobs in history. And you should fear them as much as you fear getting hit by lightening twice, as the chances of dying in a terrorist attack are about the same: 1 in 9million. As a Brit you have more chance of getting killed by ETA in Spain than by Al Quaeda here. There have always been these people. The only things that change are the colours of the flags they're hiding behind and the target they're shooting at.
Even from those regimes run by violent oppressive arseholes, we have little to fear. They cannot invade. They wouldn't even joke about it. We have plenty weapons and plenty allies. They will not throw nuclear bombs at us. The USSR was humungously bigger than all the countries we're meant to be afraid of put together, and they never did. Virtually all the countries in the world know they could never win a war against us, never get anywhere near our borders by air or sea. They all know that if they throw one nuke, we and our American friends will make of them a large glowing crater. They are not coming. They might want to hurt us, or America, might, but they can't.
"But what about September 11th? They hurt us then. So many lives were lost! It was a disaster!" Very sad, the action of arseholes, but hardly a disaster. The Tsunami, that was a disaster. Two thousand people? More people die in landslides and floods and famines or of diseases every day. September 11th was the most they could manage, and no one's gonna get caught like that again. An earthquake killing thirty thousand is a disaster. AIDS in Africa is a catastrophe. A few thousand people dying in a terrorist attack is a sad waste of life. It's unfortunate, which is how the British army categorize collateral damage.
And you know what? If France did become a majority Muslim country with the laws they have there, religion and politics must remain separate. With the scrutiny of the EU no one could ever take the vote away from women in a European country. With the scrutiny of the EU and the UN no one could ever bring in laws or scrap laws to allow discrimination against women or non Muslims. You will never be beaten by police in France for being a woman in sunglasses. It will never and could never happen.
As for Britain, we'll be lucky if we ever get to the position where we're not ruled by the head of the church of England, where it's no longer regarded that it's 'normal' to be Christian as opposed to an atheist, agnostic or member or another religion, where dressing in non-western clothes doesn't make you suspect, and where it's no longer ok to slag off peoples religions just because you don't understand them. 1951? That's when Witchcraft ceased to be a crime. That recently people believed Witches were in league with the devil, and therefore it should be against the law for them to practice their religion, make herbal remedies for instance, meditate with candles and collect crystals, or just generally believe what they believe. That's a good few years after we'd finished fighting the Nazis for persecuting Jewish people.
But by all means fear Muslims, fear disease, fear violence. Believe that violent crime is out of control, that anyone male and under thirty in a hooded top is going to attack and rob you. Believe there's still a threat of nuclear war, believe you're a target for terrorists, believe virtually every food you see in the supermarket is bad for you. Believe you're too fat and no one will love you, believe everyone in a country whose government you don't approve of supports that government and wouldn't want to change their regime, and couldn't if they wanted to. Believe American corporations will buy the world, believe your government is conspiring against you, believe every organisation that stands for anything good is a lame duck. Believe no one can be trusted, and no good can come of anything.
Then buy this car, eat at this fast food chain, watch this romantic comedy on DVD, buy this washing powder, take this flu remedy, and above all, don't y'all forget to have a nice day now.

Tuesday

Scurrle- The World In Briefs

Two truths of the universe:
1) Bitching Burns Calories
2) Pack 4 Chocolate Muffins 2 for £1.50 in Tescos

Thus to redress the balance I hereby take you all through today's B Plan Exercise Session. Lo as the road to hell is paved with good intentions, I am she who lays hardcore, gravel and sand on the way before you.

Sharon Stone has adopted a child she has named Laird Vonne Stone. When I get a cat I shall name it Baroness Mc Bendall in tribute to her inflated stupidity. That's right up there with Prince Michael 2.

Philip Green didn't give his son a Bar Mitzvah present except.... Beyonce! On the other hand he did invite Michael Winner to the party. What better way to teach your son about being a man? "Well, son, I have some good news and some bad news about adult life....."

Ant & Dec The Movie. This is the worst news I've heard all year. Watch out for inevitable "He cannae see!" reference.

Kelly Osbourne is having singing lessons because she wants to be in Hairspray on Broadway. Even her dad thinks she ought to give up singing, is it really a good idea to let her think she's any good at it?

What Do You Expect Us To Say Quote of the week: Chris Martin "Fame isn't all it is cracked up to be." Altogether now 1,2,3- Neither are Coldplay.

Celebrity Love Island: Lee Sharpe, Paul Danan, Calum Best, Du'aine Ladejo, Fran Cosgrove, Michael Greco, Jayne Middlemiss, Rebecca Loos, Abi Titmuss, Isabella Hervy, Liz mcCarnon, Judith Shekoni. Almost 'nuff said. Best chance for 'action': Loos & Titmuss. In fact it's practically inevitable.

Michael Jackson has sold Neverland Ranch. ISTBO predict the buyer will turn out to be Eminem, that he's bought it out of spite and to cause controversy by having helped fund Jackson's defence by buying it. ISTBO predict an Eminem video will have been filmed there by the end of the year whoever bought it.

Tom Cruise & Katie Holmes are definitely faking it.

Now that we're nicely warmed up, we move on to the Permacaption part of the session. Permacaption is a phenomenon affecting certain celebrities, taking the form of a phrase so tied to them that their image alone could stand for it as a pictogram. It is what you always think/feel when their face hoves into view on page or screen.

Paris Hilton- Oh Put It Away
Renee Zellweger- Desperate
Michael Jackson- Eeurrghch!
Nicolette Sheridan- Man.
Pamela Anderson- You'll do your back in standing like that.
Anna Nicole Smith- Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ~cover face with hands~
Jessica Simpson- Whap! ~backhand fly swatting motion~
Teri Hatcher- ~Somewhere between cringing and the sensation of something crawling up your leg ten minutes after you saw a really big spider you can't see now~
Katie Holmes- Slap Me
Kirstie Alley- The Less Of Me There Is, The Better.
Goldie Hawn- Out To Pasture
Elton John- The Artist Your Mute Button Was Made For
Tori Spelling- It's Over, Go Home.
Denise Richards- Duckface
Lindsay Lohan- Nasty
Tara Reid- I'd Have Gotten Away With It If It Wasn't For These Pesky Tits
Britney Spears- Romford, Kentucky
Tom Cruise- Run

Feel the burn!
It is important now not to just stop all of a sudden. As with all exercise you must warm down gently. Thus we move to Eastenders to finish our workout; a few gentle streatches of the prediction muscle to round things off.

Cat returns and Little Mo doesn't want to tell her straight away about Alfie so Cat thinks she has a chance at a reunion, behaves utterly and increasingly embarassingly, then catches them at it and leaves again. Expect this to drag on tediously for 4-8 weeks.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Tina killed Ruby's mum and sister.

Dot will run over either Jim's foot (leading to him malingering long after the injury has healed etc etc) or Betty.

Zoe will be leaving soon.

Phil is coming. Soon.

And Relax.

Monday

Stupid Kite

"As the temperature drops on the drunks down in Clapham
I turn on the box and it's like punk never happened
The community's fired up and the West End's alight

And it's Noel fucking Edmonds on a Saturday night."

Carter USM- Alternative Alf Garnett Live in Zagreb, mid-90s


Today I made a very big mistake. I'm on a temp assignment, doing reception for a very nice company who, as I am a temp, have only lumbered me with the post-distributing and phone answering duties rather than (as some people do) every dirty little bit of brainless admin that's been lurking around the office as the usual receptionist would tell them where to 'file' it. Thursday I thanked 'em kindly for this, and set about clearing a months worth of chuff from my inbox, catching up with the news of the very excellent Ariel-X, reading a month of Snoopy strips and reading missed blogs by Meg and all those she links to.

Friday I looked up a few things that have been bugging me for a while on the internet, posted a hugely long blog, looked up my old Greek teacher (he taught Greek, not he was Greek) on the request of a friend who was not so much bored as procrastinating over revision, found an email address for him, emailed him, then read through the general ruck going on on Leo's comments section. Now no offence, mate, but this was when I realized how bored I was. This is not to say that Leo or any of his posters are in any way dull in and of themselves, but these rucks are sometimes hundreds of pages long, and you can only really get into it if you care about the thing they're fighting about. Which on this occasion I probably would have if I'd known enough about it, but didn't. By six o'clock (I hate late finishes) I was chewing my elbows with boredom.

Today I'd run out of stuff to do by about half past ten. After looking up the names of the actors that played the twins in The Matrix Revolutions to see if the 'TV handyman' on celebrity wrestling was one of the 'Handy Hunks' and thus cheating like a bitch, trying to find translations of some Beau Soleil lyrics (which have a nasty habit of being in Cajun French) and failing, and looking at numerous cow websites (Bad news, I can't have a dairy herd because you have to keep breeding the cows to make them produce milk, which means you have to have something to do with all the baby cows, and I wouldn't sell them for meat, and people only want a few bulls, so I'd be stuck. So I'll just have to have a pet cow instead.) , I ran out of stuff to do. I couldn't even think of anything to blog about.

This is when I made my mistake. I thought, 'Oh well, only three hours to go, I'll check what's on TV tonight. That might cheer me up.'
Seems obvious, looking back, that this was really really stupid. And unlike me, as I'm not prone to attacks of optimism. However, it did give me something to blog about, that being my rage at having paid my license fee in good faith ONLY TO BE SERVED UP THIS CHUFF. Here's the cream of tonight's viewing from 7pm, when I'll get in: 7.00- Five news/ Storm Adventure- Into the Tornado - When weather goes bad.

8.00- Eastenders - Which would be fine except:
Pauline is upset when Derek refuses to mediate between her and Martin, but finds later that the pair have conspired to force her into making a difficult decision. Alfie and Little Mo's plans for a romantic evening in come to nothing, while Pat gives Johnny some excellent advice about communicating with Ruby Doesn't sound exceptionally promising. When do we find out Tina set fire to Ruby's Mum?

8.30- Fifth Gear - It's been a long time since I've been able to watch Paxman without wanting to batter his smug face in, other than that it's Bailffs, half of something I'll have missed the first half of due to Benders, or Corrie, down to which I shall never sink. So cars it is. Don't have one, don't want one, but at least watching this means the husband can't slip a really daft car purchase by me due to my not knowing what a TVR is.

9.00- New Tricks - Not that good last week, but it's that, Channel Five treat unfortunate as freakshow, a program about the 80s (can't we just pretend the whole decade never happened?), some wanker on art, or Celebrity Love Island. I watched Celebrity (?) Wrestling at the weekend, and I really don't think I can take watching humanity sink any lower. New Tricks is an ironic title, as it appears that is precisely what you can't teach BBC scriptwriters.

10.00- ER -Not so bad I hear you cry? Except I've not been watching it, so I'm totally at a loss as to what's going on. Again this is what's left once you discount further channel Five exploitation of the medically imperfect and previously famous respectively, news, news, football related programming and Vic and Bob who, I'm sorry, never have been funny and probably never will be. To me at least.

After this there is a good film, which I therefore have on DVD and have seen 50 times, FAQ U, which I calculate has a 1 in twenty million chance of being funny, Joey which just isn't, and other chuff either aforementioned or too stupid even to mention. Therefore I feel worse than before I looked.

IT'S MONDAY NIGHT. Even people who haven't had a bad day want to slob out in front of the box and have their brains gently guided through a safe channel of lightly amusing and diverting programming. We need to be cosseted and spoiled on Mondays. This feels like punishment for having a weekend. Sure, it's a break from house programs, programs about foul brats, fat people, People Who Don't Need It Have Surgery and Top 100 Things You Don't Care About In The Wrong Order Anyway, but I'm beginning to think maybe that's less of a good thing than I'd have thought it would be. It seems that's all we get because that's all they can do even halfway successfully.
To think I thought Saturday was bad! At least Who Wants To Be £32000 Richer And Slightly Red Faced? has interactive potential. And at least Strictly Dance Fever sparks interesting conversations about how girls who dance that much can still be that chubby, and how that poor lad can possibly lift her, and how they could be so cruel as to make that tiny boy wear that bolero jacket with no shirt. At least Celebrity (?) Wrestling affords the opportunity to see Annabel Croft get elbowed in the face (russum russum darn Treasure Hunt ruining tennis bimbo russum russum). Ok, so Saturday night is Ecce! Homo! night, with channels piling on presenters as camp as a row of Village People. But the new National Lottery game is hardly vintage Clary, and Graham Norton rigidly on script is less annoying than I usually find him but utterly unfunny. They have taken these two very usable slightly off colour presenters and reduced them to typical squeaky plastic ubiquitous gameshow host Daily Mail acceptable cheesemongers, like Tarbuck and Barrymore and Winton before them. Norton is everywhere with none of what got him there on show. And thus it's pretty much, as a wise man once said, "Noel fucking Edmonds on a Sunday as well".

Friday

ISTBO GuruSpot- Have An Easy Life

In the light of the shocking statistics from our US correspondent on the horrific shoe induced injuries inflicted on men by women I have decided as a public service to try to teach my genderfellows The Way (TM). It is true indeed that we women love our shoes, although for varying different reasons. Some women regard shoes as objects of beauty, some as an integral part of controlling their image, some as a thing to spend money on to dare their partners to question them about. Some, like me, have horrendous trouble finding shoes that fit and simultaneously do not ming, and thus when such a thing is found, love and adore them as the true rarities they are. But one way or another, we love our shoes. Even if it's only because we've purposely bought one pair of stubbornly unfashionable shoes a year as a statement of not being a typical shoe obsessed woman.
I, for example, have a pair of white cowboy boots, and they are perfect. They are beautiful, they go with pretty much everything except the red velvet ballgown I bought at the Samhain Convention (and thinking about it I'd even get away with that if I was in New Orleans at Mardi Gras and I accessorised correctly), and this has the added advantage of meaning I don't need to go through the personally difficult and hated process of shopping for any more shoes. They are comfortable, too, with non towering heels and zips up the sides to ensure a snug fit. They also stand as a warning, although they are commonly mistaken as a fashion statement, that allowing me to chose the next CD to go on may result in both Country and Western, and thus would be an essential part of my image even if Emmylou hadn't already eulogised the joys of white shoes. I LOVE my cowboy boots. The only disadvantage to them is that they occasionally make me buy outfits for them (it's green gingham vintage, and they'd just given me £45 for an old frock I didn't wear and just wanted rid of, what was I meant to do?).
Now, to make me risk damaging my beautiful beautiful boots on my husbands provenly solid skull, he'd have to fuck my sister AT LEAST. And why waste time lobbing shoes if you're gonna kill a man anyway? My concern is, then, that so many women are getting so angry with their men as to chuck their Choo's about. What can be going on? Women are more intelligent, less quick tempered, and more responsible. As a woman you should be in control of the situation. Allowing a man to wind you up to the point where you bounce your bhlaniks off his bonce can only be viewed as a personal failure. I began to formulate a theory long ago as to why this happens to other people and not to me, whilst watching an old flatmate wonder why her boyfriend didn't do exactly what she wanted him to all the time when you'd think he'd know better, given what a bitch she was about it all. Then I saw a program on TV that made the answer crystal clear. And that program was?
Supernanny.
Now obviously it's not exactly the same thing. If we could (or hey, if you can, go sister!) pick our sweethearts bodily up and stick them on the naughty spot for twenty two minutes while we watch 'What not to wear' in peace, we would, but we can't. No, the answer lay in Supernanny's secret: Go down to their level and explain it clearly and firmly, and don't expect adult logic from a five year old. In the same way you must instead of ranting at your man, try for a moment to think like him (how hard do you really think that can be?), then either explain it in a way he'll understand or give him an option he won't want to dispute. This, now I think about it, is what I've been doing. Let me give you a few examples.
Computer games. There can be many problems with these, ranging from time spent on them to noise made by them. Firstly, don't make unnecessary problems. If he's on the PC playing a game for hours, there's nothing wrong with this unless he's supposed to be doing something else, or you want his undivided attention for something. Some women seem to be under the impression that they should stop men doing this just because. Don't be stupid. If he asked you to stop doing something for no good reason, you wouldn't. Now, if you do need him to do something, some housework for example, wander past him saying, in a non-nagging, easy-going tone of voice "Ok, so when you've cleaned the bathroom I'm going to have a shower, and then I'll sort out dinner." Man hears: No Clean, No Food. This is a concept he can deal with, thus the bathroom gets cleaned. He's not likely to make life difficult for himself by questioning why you need to have a shower before you cook, as worse case scenario, you might further interrupt Quake by telling him. You don't actually have to have a shower, because the one thing you're always allowed to do is change your mind, and he's not going to object to Food Sooner. You must not negotiate. You must state clearly that not doing what you want results inevitably in a consequence he likes less.
This is how you get him off a Playstation attached to the only TV, too. He's using the TV, so you can't be watching it. The solution is to have the phone in the same room, and when you're sick of hearing Grand Theft Auto, take the phone, a copy of The National Enquirer, sit down next to him and call a friend in order to bitch ceaselessly about every scrap of gossip therein. He'll be off within two pages. If you don't like noisy games, buy him a quiet one . No toy is better to a man than a new toy, and he's only going to love you more for buying him that sort of present, be it for a birthday or just so he wont notice you hiding the disc for Midnight Club Racing in the Bridget Jones' Diary DVD case. If you simply want his undivided attention, take your top off. It really is that simple.
You will find that cracking the computer games issue has positive knock on effects for the rest of you life. Men are by nature lazy creatures, not prone to venturing outside their pits unless there's something in it for them or you've told them not to. If you're not going to whinge about the computer games, which if you follow the above instructions you wont be doing, he'll just sit in playing them. Or rather, they'll think that's what they'll be doing, not having noticed your sly ways of capping gametime. If it actually doesn't bother you if Saturday daytime is boy in boxers in front of the screen time, let it be. If you've not mentioned it from 11am to 5pm, come 5pm he's going to have a hard time denying you whatever it is you want to do or watch after that point, if it even occurs to him to dare trying. This works for watching sports too. If he gets two hours of football, can he really say anything if you want to watch Romi & Michelle's Highschool Reunion that evening? And risk you complaining about the Grand prix the next day? They may be uncomplicated, but they're not stupid. Mostly.
Now say you do want him to stop playing or watching whatever it is. This one works every time. Repeat after me "Oh, ok, if you're watching that I might just head out and do some shopping. There's a sale on at Schuh." Translation: Supervise me or reap the consequences. You know you want those pink converse trainers at twenty quid. He's picturing £100 down from £200 Fuck Me boots and getting pre-emptive feelings of violence towards other men who may see you wearing them, including the shop assistants serving you when you buy them. Or "Oh is it the football tonight? That's useful, ***** (insert name of least approved of lunatic hard drinking liability friend here) said she fancied popping to the Irish pub for Happy Hour, I'll give her a call." You'll be eating loaded potato skins and drinking gin in a compromise pub with him within the hour.
Now, what about him going out all night and coming back plastered? Mine actually does this bout twice a year tops, so it's not such a problem. Plus he's a very cute drunk, all giggly! But if he is on his way out and you don't want him to come back insensible, be naked and on your way to the shower or actually in the bath when he goes out. Have your smallest nightie lying around nearby. Suggest you'll be spending the evening painting you toenails and de-fluffing, and make it plain that good boys who come home sober enough will reap the benefits. If he's damn fool enough to ignore that, he loses. Really other than not waking you up when he comes in if you need the sleep desperately for some reason, that would be the reason you'd want him to come in half sober anyway. It also concentrates his mind wonderfully on how damn sexy you are before he goes anywhere there might be little tarts waving their arses at him.
And so it goes on, basic rules applicable to almost anything.
So to recap:
Don't start pointless arguments, it makes you look weak and makes him less inclined to behave all round.
To get him to do something, state that it must be done for the next thing he wants to be possible.
To get him not to do something, demonstrate that there are worse things for him than not doing whatever it is.
If all else fails, appeal to their baser instincts.
Trust that when he gets used to these tactics, he will learn to just not when he shouldn't without even realizing it.
This results in a happy, un-nagged, satisfied man who does not perceive you as someone who tries to stop him doing what he wants, and a happy, non-nagging, Satisfied you, who hardly ever has to stop him doing anything. These are not ways of conning your man into buying you lots of stuff, or getting your own way all the time or control him. If you're trying to do that, as the Dixie Chicks say, there's your trouble. You're a bitch, and the poor simple lad probably deserves an easier life.
The men amongst you may notice that you can use these rules to get that easy life you dream of. If you want to watch the Six Nations, check the paper for movies or programs she loves that evening, and suggest a takeaway and said movie that night. Snoozing through it wont kill you. If you don't want her to buy that dress, tell her either a) you're too gorgeous to need that! That's for women who need help getting attention or b) what about this one, I've always loved you in this colour. Don't want to go to the pub with her harpy mate? Suggest you come too and bring the friend she doesn't like, or how about you two go somewhere and meet up with them later when you're sufficient pints in to cope with it. And don't do really stupid things like forgetting your anniversary or sniping all the way through her favorite show about how terrible the acting/script/plot is. Unless of course you're a gifted sexy perfect genius like my husband, who is capable of restricting your bile to well timed hilarities about how on earth that south African bird on Ten Years Younger can possibly talk about fashion in those glasses, and how fucking stupid it is to have plastic surgery unless you're disfigured in an accident or something. Ahhhh! See? That's how you get to keep us till we're old and wrinkly and enjoy every minute of it!

Thursday

Schmelection

Hi honeys, I'm home!
Due to stupidly completing the task given to me at my previous assignment, I found myself out of work and therefore out of range of a computer for the entire election campaign. I thought this would bother me, I thought I'd be given a huge shiny pile of things to rant at and have no outlet for them, but the further along we got, the less rage it inspired in me.
The Tories talked themselves nicely out of any chance they may have had in the first place, Labour tried to scare us into thinking the Tories still had a chance and spoke supposedly soothing words of how everything would stay nice and comfy and familiar if we kept them, and the Liberal Democrats got about 30 seconds at the end of each ten minute news item to tell us how Sarah and little Donald are doing, then quickly switched off if they mentioned any policies rather than criticizing Labour or the Tories. And it's Graham fucking Norton on a Saturday night.
Then to the ballot boxes ahoy, with a feeling of blessed relief that soon there would be no more election coverage and the news could go back to trying to scare us with international news rather than trying to bore any of us still intending to vote out of doing so.
And then......?
Everything carries on exactly the way it did before.
And that's how it is. New pope? Won't change anything. Slightly reduced Labour majority? Won't change anything. New Tory leader? Won't change anything. Gordon Brown as PM? Won't change anything. New Dr. Who? Still not watching it if Billie Piper's still in it. About the only change that's happened recently that makes the damnedest bit of difference to me is Brad and Angelina, a couple I can believe in, rather than Brad and 'Jen' who was never exactly in his league credibility and class wise.
And it's Graham fucking Norton on a Sunday as well. Friends, Romans, Country Fans, if you're happy and you know it you can clap your hands.....