Not suitable for people with irony deficiency and
cannot guarantee nut-free

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Fifty Socks of Grey by E L Blighty


"Holy Crap!" gasped Anastasia, "That's just enormous....huge...!!!"
"And all for you Anastasia, " growled Christian Blighty, charismatic, damaged and dangerous - the sort of Top Executive parliamentary draftsman that knew his way round semi-colons...a guy who put syncopation in his punctuation.

Anastasia's Inner Goddess did an exotic pole dance, before putting her back out and having to be helped to her seat.

Yes, it was truly the biggest pile of unsorted socks Anastasia had ever seen.

"And now", said Christian Blighty, "I am going to take you to the White Room of  Pain..."
"Oh no, not the utility room," groaned AnagoshthisnameislongcanIjustcallherNasty?, her Inner Goddess breaking wind gently and lighting up a fag.

"Yes," was Christian's masterful reply.  "And there you will do something you have never done before..  you will sort the socks into pairs and put them away in your drawers... yes, there you have it, it's my tremendous Sox Appeal.."

Yep, dahlings, almost everyone I know has read or is reading Those Books*.  Except me.  I am resisting, out of sheer contrariness...I just enjoy reading reviews of them and listening to other mothers discussing them:

"I was up to 3am reading it."
"Some of those things are just not physically possible."
"I told my husband I was off to bed to read it - when he joined me ever hopeful, I was fast asleep with my reading glasses on."
"Mrs Blighty, sorry but you can't stand here with us, you have to go stand over there with the other people who have not read it; yes, Mr Pinkerton, the retired headmaster, oh, wait a minute, he's read it now too.."

 A friend even updated her Facebook page with"It's all coming to an end with Mr Grey."

And when I looked at Grain de Musc the perfume blog of Denyse Beaulieu, I found that she is currently working on the French translation of 50 Shades's everywhere I turn!

I suspect my refusal to join the Greyfest is largely motivated by jealousy - I wish I had penned a bestseller like this.  Although any mommy porn I author is going to be less erotic and more idiotic. ...

"I want you now, here, in the escalator," demanded Christian urgently.
"Are you sure? "
"Yes, there is just something about escalators."
"No, I mean, don't you mean "elevator" not "escalator"?" queried Anaethesia, breathlessly; "We don't want to get anything caught in the moving parts and the other shoppers might not like it.."
"You damn bourgeois fool you," blazed Christian, as they arrived at Home Furnishings.

* 50 Socks Of Grey
Paddington Bear At Large
Grey Underpants In My Sink

Tuesday, 10 July 2012

New species spotted at Blighty HQ?

Email to:

Dear Wildlife Trust,

I would like your help in identifying a strange new creature which I spotted emerging from our bathroom this morning. I  am pretty sure it is a mammal, though it does has some reptilian features, in particular its ability not to blink when asked if it has cleaned its teeth.

It may be a member of the porcupine family, or possibly hedgehog.  It seems to have some sort of spikes.

It has been making a couple of interesting noises: yesterday it emitted sounds along the lines of "muuuuuuumcannaIhavsomehairgel" a strange, unnerving refrain.  Today when approached it let out a harsh cry:"DONTOUCHDAHAIR!"

The creature also seems to be leaving a sticky trail ....which can be traced back to a pot labelled "Beachy Surf  Dude".

I attach a visual.

I eagerly await your reply, as do not know whether to feed this creature as it lies on the sofa or chase it outside for a good run around the garden.

Mrs Blighty

Email to:

Dear Mrs Blighty,

From your description and the photo it seems what you are dealing with is homo sapiens pre teenagius : Pre Teen Boy.  This subspecies is fairly common in the British Isles.  Eventually a fully fledged teenager will take its place, turn day into night and leave half eaten bowls of cereal under its bed.

In the meantime, to ensure your PTB thrives, try to limit the amount of commerical TV it watches - these complex creatures are highly susceptible to ads for hairgel, bodyspray and other grrooming products.  Make sure its drainpipe jeans do not cut off its circulation.  Never under any circumstances ask if it needs a wee.

Finally, if the hairgel situation gets out of control, warn your PTB that he looks like he is evolving into a dangerous mutation: the justinus bieberus.  That usually does the trick.

Bill Bored