Us Two

Wherever I am, there's always Pooh,

There's always Pooh and Me.

Whatever I do, he wants to do,

"Where are you going today?" says Pooh:

"Well that's very odd 'cos I was too.

Let's go together," says Pooh, says he.

"Let's go together," says Pooh.

'What's twice eleven?' I said to Pooh,

('Twice what?' said Pooh to Me)

'I think it ought to be twenty-two.'

'Just what I think my self,' said Pooh.

'It wasn't an easy sum to do,

But that's what it is,' said Pooh, said he.

'That's what it is,' said Pooh.

'Let's look for dragons,' I said to Pooh.

'Yes, let's,' said Pooh to Me

We crossed the river and found a few--

'Yes, these are dragons all right,' said Pooh.

'As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.

That's what they are,' said Pooh, said he.

'That's what they are,' said Pooh.

"Let's frighten the dragons," I said to Pooh.

"That's right," said Pooh to Me.

"I'm not afraid," I said to Pooh,

And I held his paw and I shouted "shoo!

Silly old dragon!" - and off they flew.

"I wasn't afraid," said Pooh, said he,

"I'm never afraid," with you."

So wherever I am, there's always Pooh,

There's always Pooh and Me.

'What would I do?' I said to Pooh,

'If it wasn't for you,' and Pooh said: 'True,

it isn't much fun for One, but Two

Can stick together,'; says Pooh, says he.

'That's how it is,' says Pooh.

-- A. A. Milne.

I had almost forgotten this poem, when Fergus reminded me of it the other day. I looked it up and found that I could almost recite it word for word. It's amazing - children's minds really are like sponges.

Dancing With An Ant

This video is a work of art. Seriously. If you don't believe me, I suggest you keep watching it until you do. There we go, that wasn't so difficult, was it?

Quite obviously off their tits on Calpol at the time, Jagger's mouth has mystical qualities that can only be described as cavernous, whilst Bowie does some sort of jig which seems to suggest he needs a wee. He bought his shoes from Foot Locker.

What I love about this video is not the homo eroticism, oh no... well, I do love that, but that's not the best thing. The thing I like is that their clothes are far too big for them. This leads me to deduce that:

• they had £0 budget for this video
• they had a budget, but spent it all on Calpol and lube
• they have been shrunk with the lazer from 'Honey, I Shrunk The Kids'

God I hope it's the last one. This means they can use Barbie clothes, with are marginally less expensive than human-sized clothes, but considerably more expensive than a giant shrinking lazer. The massive ant is constantly out of shot, pincers at the ready, threatening to nip at any time should they stop dancing like deformed Russian prostitutes. They have the cheekbones to be Russian prostitutes. I'm just saying. Jagger bears his teeth at every opportunity, like a cat defending his territory.

Speaking of territory: was this, or was this not filmed in a public toilet? They've got the dirty brickwork going, the gay men hanging out, the Russian prostitutes, Bowie needs a wee... the evidence is incontrovertible. What has clearly happened here, after several minutes of considerable thought, is the following:

Bowie and Jagger were all set for a night on the game, and decided to have a drink before hand to deal with their looming sense of guilt and self-hatred. Jagger also had a tickly cough, brought on from too much air in his oesophagus. Unfortunately, what they had forgotten was that they had been shrunk by a lazer earlier that day, and they couldn't drink as much as they usually could. So, after half a shandy each and a bottle of Calpol between them, they prance off to the nearest public toilet, because Bowie needs a wee.

His brand new luminous shoes from Foot Locker attract the attention of a giant ant, which happens to be waiting in the toilets for some prostitutes. Being the respectable and devoted musicians that they are, they decide to persuade the ant, in song, to spare their lives. At the end of the song, the ant remains unconvinced. This footage was edited out of the video.

Dear Prudence

Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play?
Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day
The sun is up, the sky is blue
It's beautiful and so are you
Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play?

Dear Prudence, open up your eyes
Dear Prudence, see the sunny skies
The wind is low, the birds will sing
That you are part of everything
Dear Prudence, won't you open up your eyes?

Dear Prudence, let me see you smile
Dear Prudence, like a little child
The clouds will be a daisy chain
So let me see you smile again
Dear Prudence, won't you let me see you smile?

Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play?
Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day
The sun is up, the sky is blue
It's beautiful and so are you
Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play?



I would call my daughter Prudence if I didn't think she'd get the piss taken out of her.

These Days

Sound of Silence

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence

-- Simon & Garfunkel

Now tell me that's not poetry.

Shallow

Alvy Singer: Here, you look like a very happy couple, um, are you?
Female street stranger: Yeah.
Alvy Singer: Yeah? So, so, how do you account for it?
Female street stranger: Uh, I'm very shallow and empty and I have no ideas and nothing interesting to say.
Male street stranger: And I'm exactly the same way.

10 Songs For The Queen To Sing

By popular request of the popular Miss Emily Mews, here are my top 10 songs that I want the Queen to sing.

1. Killer Queen - Queen



Of course. Murderous rampage music video optional, but preferred.

2. Don’t Bo Breaking My Heart - Elton John & Kiki Dee



A duet with Prince Phillip, of course. Tartan suit and dungarees not optional.

3. Love game - Lady Gaga



Hearing the Queen say the words 'disco stick' would, I believe, make my life complete.

4. Dancing Queen - Abba



"One can dance, one can jive."

5. Smack My Bitch Up



I just think it would be hilarious.

6. Victoria - The Kinks



Big up ya nan!

7. Dickhead - Kate Nash



Sung to David Cameron, possibly?

8. Half In Love With Elizabeth - Mystery Jets



She's already in the music video, so she obviously likes the song.

9. God Save The Queen - The Sex Pistols



It had to be on here.

10. I Will Survive - Gloria Gaynor



She can sing this to Charles on each one of her many birthdays, whilst he sobs into Camilla's bouffant.

Guess Hans

Four Questions To Ask When Playing 'Guess Who' Drunk

1. Does he have ginger pubes?
2. Does he like crisps?
3. Is he German?
4. Did he steal my pint?

Overheard #30

Bloke #1: Look at the state of you! Did your mother dress you this morning?
Bloke #2: No... yours did.

Pop

Just the most hilarious baby ever.

Glarses

I wear glasses... when I absolutely have to. I don't like being anti-glasses, because I'm not when it comes to other people. I just don't like wearing them myself. That is, I don't like the thought of being someone who wears glasses, and I don't know why.

Think of all the famous people you know that wear glasses. Name five. How many of them were male? All of them? Yes, Dame Edna counts as male.

The only famous female I can think of that wears glasses is Diane Keaton, and even that is on and off, and also she's famously androgynous. Sally Jesse Raphael is neither feminine, nor attractive. Glasses do not, it seems, make the wearer more attractive. They alter appearance to produce an artificial image of wisdom, and that's certainly not the image women should be portraying: serious and wise, heavens no, we like our women as stupid as possible. I associate glasses with trustworthiness. I love you, Woody Allen, you dirty old man, but I don't want to look like you.

Also, why is it that the only glasses I could wear without feeling like a librarian from the 90s are the ones that I will wear and feel like a trendy indie librarian wannabe? I've seen some John Lennon glasses that look pretty nice, but they probably won't suit me, because I'm not an arrogant 30-something male musician. Oh, sorry, did you think I could write a post without mentioning The Beatles? A foolish assumption. Basically, I like glasses, I just don't think they suit me. Whether or not this is because I'm female or not cool enough to pull off the nauseatingly over-baked wayfarer look is another matter...

Overheard #29

Bloke: I'd pretty much shag anyone.
Girl: Stevie Wonder?
Bloke: Yeah, blatantly, because he wouldn't know who was doing it.

Cheers

For those of us working in bars and pubs, we have a way of measuring how many dickheads are in the building at any given time. This highly scientific method can determine with a 97.8% accuracy the level of twats that you have in your establishment. The way to test this? Smash a glass.

The amount of dickheads can be worked out from the amount of cheers multiplied by the volume of the cheers. Voila! If you ever hear a glass smash, yes, I know, it’s very fun to cheer in a moronic way and be horrendously happy that a glass has been obliterated. Everyone is very happy. Well done for you. That glass had it coming.

People hear glass smashing, they cheer. That’s what goes through their heads. What they don’t think about is the person behind the bar who has potentially cut their arm or face up. Or now won’t be able to work for a while, because some idiotic customer who wasn’t looking where they’re going has walked or fallen onto them carrying a stack of glasses which has scratched up their faces, arms and smashed all over their bloody feet. Yes, let’s all cheer. Hooray! Blood and possible septicaemia!

If you must cheer, find something worth cheering over. I suggest when the barstaff hand you your drink, you get out all your cheering then and there. This will make them happy as well, so everybody wins! Hooray!

Black Hole

My eyes are so bleary
I guess I'm young but I feel so weary
I've tried to express it
But I think its all a bore
Its at the heart of me,
A very part of me

Speak slowly, I can't hear you
My mind keeps spinning closer and closer to the rain on the roof,
And the rain in my head, and the things that you said
People take it further ahead
And it just gets so foggy
It's nowhere in here
And its everywhere else that I don't wanna be,
But I'm stuck here getting misty over you
I'm alone on a bicycle for two.

Smiling

Most of the time the regulars in my pub talk shit to me. I don’t mind: their minds have been eroded by years of alcoholism, along with their faces, manners, and sense of smell.

This shit talk is either funny, annoying, or perplexing depending on my mood and how incoherent they are. But the other day, I was having a bit of a stressful morning when I heard one of the old men singing to himself. He was singing, “When you’re smiling, when you’re smiling, the whole world smiles with you…” and it made me laugh nervously and walk away from him, of course. But - I couldn’t get the song out of my head all day.

So I kept singing it, and smiling. Then I got other people at the pub singing it – and they were all smiling. The day got a lot better after that, we had some jaffa cakes and a cup of tea, and I scraped the salmonella gunk out off the bar, whilst singing “when you’re smiling, when you’re smiling, the whole world smiles with you…”

Paul McCartney's Greatest Moments

I know he's a dickhead, but hey, at least he's not John Lennon. Let's put it this way:

John = arrogant wife beater
Paul = arrogant womaniser
George = arrogant ugly womaniser
Ringo = the best drummer ever

So anyway, even if you don't like him, you have to admit the man is one talented biscuit.

1. Maybe I'm Amazed



Don't even get me started on how much I love this song. I have no words.

2. Oh! Darling



I like that he sounds like he's been chomping on brillo pads. Winner of the 'Sophie's favourite song to sing whilst washing up' award 2010.

3. She Came In Through The Bathroom Window



I have absolutely no idea why I love this song so much, so don't bother asking. This is not the Abbey Road version, I couldn't find it on youtube, this version is slower, but really interesting.

4. For No One



Seriously. This is fucking genius. Listen to that fucking melody. JUST LISTEN TO IT!! I KNOW, RIGHT? It's just the most heartbreaking song, with the loveliest french horn arrangement and it's near perfection really. I wish I could think of an appropriately immature 'french horn' joke.

5. Say Say Say



Hilarious, yet awesome.

6. Blackbird



I will play this to my babies when they can't sleep. Everything is good in the world when this song is playing.

7. Here, There, and Everywhere



"To lead a better life, I need my love to be here" kills me everytime.

8. Hello Goodbye



This video was directed by Paul. You so wanted to know that. Also, Ringo's drum bit in this is just adorable, and his hair is fucking magnificent.

9. Get Back



I'm not entirely sure whether I'm a bigger fan of the song or the beard. Also, I know I should be talking about Paul, but this song is all about Ringo's spot-on timing, and the video is all about his hair. Get Back Loretta!

10. Let It Be



This song might be higher up the list if I thought that Paul McCartney was 100% drug free in this performance. I'm not completely convinced. Either way, the lovely, if not slightly sweaty song gets 10th place.

Russell Tea

Green tea is like the Jane Russell of the tea world. Not as tasty as Marilyn Monroe (breakfast tea), but still lovely in her own special way...



...and a nice alternative if you're lactose intolerant.

Telecommunicational Ceiling

New rule for life: if you invite someone somewhere, or accept an invitation from someone to go somewhere – don’t be on your phone the whole time. I thought that this was already a rule, but apparently it needs clarifying.

Technology is stopping people from learning social skills, and in half a generation we can see the effects this is having already. If I go out in a group for a night out, I do not expect half of the group to be calling or texting other people, or on facebook. Well, actually, sadly I do expect them to, but why should I?

I’m sorry you’re so dreadfully popular, but the people who are physically sat in front of you would appreciate your presence. Mental, social presence. Physical presence is easy. Corpses can manage that, and when was the last time you saw a corpse on facebook? Exactly – that’s why no one talks smack about them. If you’re not willing to be mentally present for a certain amount of time, then you don’t deserve people that want to spend time with you.

I’m sure you’ve got hundreds of people on facebook that are waiting for your status updates. I’m sure that when you’re on your deathbed you’ll regret not updating your facebook status more often instead of talking to those pesky friends. “Damn friends getting in the way of my social networking!” Exactly. You’re real-life social networking! …which used to be called socialising before technology pissed all over it. You apparently need to be in contact with everyone you know at all times. The main problem with this is that everyone knows friends are about quality, not quantity. I don’t give a shit if you’ve got 1000 friends – when are all their birthdays? Exactly.

If you’re on the phone when you’re out with me for a significant amount of time, then you better be either:

• Calling a taxi
• Calling an the emergency services
• Checking up on a very ill relative

That’s it. Even the last one, you should excuse yourself before calling.

It's not important. Sometimes mystery is a valuable thing. I find it hard to trust the incredibly rude person who's not fully engaged in conversation with me. It's not that I want a lot of attention, it's just that if you're offering it, then put some fucking effort in. Don't tell me you're going to paint me the Sistine Chapel and instead doodle on my ceiling. It's insulting, and I'd rather you didn't bother at all quite frankly. I don't need the Sistine Chapel, and if you're incapable of providing it then don't offer it. It's really not a massive loss, my ceiling is fine as it is.

Shiny Apathy

So - it's my birthday soon... as you well know.

My mum told me to think of something permanent that I can get for my birthday. By this, she means: "choose something from Tiffany". She said I couldn't spend more than $2k (AUD), so naturally, I chose things for around $3k, and my absolute favourite thing was actually this ring.

I shan't disclose how much it is. I feel like a bad person just for considering it. I think this is why my mum deals with all their finances - my dad is blissfully ignorant as to just how much my mum can spend in one go, it's really quite terrifying.

Ok, so it's a beautiful ring, as are the several other pieces I have voiced a liking for. I'm very lucky to have a family who will do this for me, and I appreciate that... so why do I feel like a bad person?

Possibly because when I think about it in those sad Oxfam charity adverts I could save 20 shaved bears from prostitution or something. I'd much rather look after them myself. Send the shaved bears round mine, I'll get them on the straight and narrow.

But then again - you could donate the money you'd normally spend on the bus and walk. You don't need to go to the pub tonight, you could donate that to charity. It's all relative.

You won't, because that's not how we roll in the west. We do the bare minimum and we look out for #1. We're horrible, selfish people, and we're not about to change, because nobody else is either. It's not that we don't care, it's that we don't want to care, and people are incredibly good at ignoring the truth when it's staring us in the face - particularly en masse. So anyway, fuck off, it's shiny and it's my birthday.

George Harrison's Greatest Moments

I feel like I'm pretty mean to George Harrison sometimes. I just mean that as Beatles go, he's the shittest, but that's like saying which one of your kids is shittest. I don't like that analogy... how about that's like saying which is my least favourite of Jon Snow's ties. They're all great, but I will admit I'm not great at this analogy lark.

Here are, what I think, are George Harrison's greatest moments.

1. I'm Happy Just To Dance With You



2. Got My Mind Set On You



3. Whatever this is



Ok, that's pretty much it. I tried.

And his worst moment? Shagging Ringo's wife. ...I'd just like to say that I'd never do that to you Ringo... just so you know.

Top 9 'Madchester'

I was listening to What's the Story (Morning Glory) the other day... what? It's a good album! Anyway, and I remembered that actually, Oasis are a bunch of wankers, but the whole Madchester thing made a lot of damn good music about 10 good songs. So, here are some of my favourites they are. Mad fer it.

1. The Stone Roses - Fools Gold



2. Inspiral Carpets - Saturn 5



3. The Mock Turtles - Can You Dig It?



4. EMF - Unbelievable



5. James - Sit Down



6. The Charlatans - The Only One I Know



8. Oasis - Whatever



9. James - She's A Star



Oh! And Fuck you EMI for not letting me put any Blur on here! Even though they're not technically Madchester, they're Britpop but you know, it would have been nice! I hope you're happy! That's why it stops at 9 by the way.

Blackbird

You might think I'm a bit of a nob for talking about The Beatles so much. You'd be right, but I realised one of the many reasons that I love them so much today.

I've had a pretty shit couple of days, and today in the library some old woman assumed I was stealing a book because it set off the beepers, so she had a massive go at me. Suffice to say, I was not impressed. It's not my fault they can't scan the books properly. Morons. Don't you have to have a degree to be a librarian?

Anyway, so I was walking home feeling a bit shit, not in the best of moods which is odd because I'm generally a happy person. Then this song came on my ipod:



...and all was well in the world again. Don't ask me how or why, but I did discover that specifically Paul McCartney's voice has the ability to calm me down or cheer me up, or restore me to normality. Even if he is a bit of a dickhead, he sings a nice song.

Jammy

Stop dreaming of the quiet life 'cause it's the one we'll never know.

The Astronaut's Wife

I have just learnt once and for all that good actors do not a good film make. I learnt this the hard way.

'The Astronaut's Wife', to be fair, sounds like a shit film - and it is. Johnny Depp and Charlize Theron involved in space related hi-jinx in which an astronaut returns to earth and impregnates his wife with an evil alien baby. Everyone kills themselves or each other. Aliens rule the world. The End. Based on a true story.

To be fair, I can't knock the acting, that was absolutely fine considering the shite script and plot. I swear to god if I see another close up of Charlize Theron's lips I'll cut them off with a pair of rusty scissors. I'm sorry Charlize. You deserved that Oscar... just not for this film.

How it managed to be both predictable and confusing, I'll never know. Basically I would not advise you to watch 'The Astronaut's Wife' unless it was as an alternative to polishing David Cameron's face.

Two Views Of A Cadaver Room

(1)

The day she visited the dissecting room
They had four men laid out, black as burnt turkey,
Already half unstrung. A vinegary fume
Of the death vats clung to them;
The white-smocked boys started working.
The head of his cadaver had caved in,
And she could scarcely make out anything
In that rubble of skull plates and old leather.
A sallow piece of string held it together.

In their jars the snail-nosed babies moon and glow.
He hands her the cut-out heart like a cracked heirloom.

(2)

In Brueghel’s panorama of smoke and slaughter
Two people only are blind to the carrion army:
He, afloat in the sea of her blue satin
Skirts, sings in the direction
Of her bare shoulder, while she bends,
Finger a leaflet of music, over him,
Both of them deaf to the fiddle in the hands
Of the death’s-head shadowing their song.
These Flemish lovers flourish; not for long.

Yet desolation, stalled in paint, spares the little country
Foolish, delicate, in the lower right hand corner.

-- Sylvia Plath

Wooooo

I just realised I hadn't mentioned Ringo Starr for about a week.

Shame on me.



He doesn't seem to bothered about it though.

Oat or Rice

Would you rather be an oat or a grain of rice? One of those idle questions you often ask yourself or other people, just to know what the response will be. Just out of interest, but it's not even the answer that's important - it's how you reach the answer.

I've decided that a grain of rice is my best bet. I know, as a great Scot I should say oat, but hear me out. What if it rains? Those oats are going to get well and truly buggered... and when I say buggered, I mean mooshy. Mooshy is not a good thing to be, mostly because oats can't revert back into their non-mooshy state. It's probably the oat equivilent of getting a tattoo on your face that says 'MOOSH!' I mean why would you do that? That's a stupid fucking thing to do. It's not even a real word. But then, you're not even a real person, are you? You're an oat.

Anyway, the reason I'd rather be a grain of rice is that they can go in the rain for a short amount of time and not need wellies or a mac, and they will come out relatively unscathed.

This is the only plus side I can think of to being a grain of rice rather than an oat. Well, fitting in small spaces would certainly be a bonus. I probably wouldn't have to pay for a bus ticket either way. Do they do a 'Young Oat's Railcard'? It's worth researching, I tell you.

Oat or Rice, and why?

Through With Love

Which version is better?



That dress is just scandalousness in a baguette!



Please promise me you'll never ever sing again, Woody Allen.

Bus Wankers

No one care about you as much as you think they do. No one, except for possibly, possibly a parent will ever care about you unconditionally. It’s alright – don’t stress about it. It’s how the world’s been since forever, and these are modern times and everyone’s a bastard. But geez Louise, cry me a river, build me a retractable ladder and climb over your gargantuan ego, would you?

If I don’t know someone, I’ll care whether or not he or she walks in front of a bus, of course… but don’t get all fucking ‘oh my life’s so valuable’ about it. It's not about you, it's about my sense of responsibility. You know it’s a stupid thing to do. Don’t do it. I'm not talking about deliberately trying to kill yourself, that's another pot of tea altogether. I mean people that are happier to walk around with a blindfold on because the world's less scary that way. I tell you what is scary - that fucking bus behind you. Walk in front of a bus once, shame on you. Walk in front of a bus twice, shame on me for interfering with natural selection.

After grabbing the 500th bus-dodger, let’s be honest, I’m going to stop caring. I care, but if you don’t care that I care, then apathy can be arranged. It makes very little difference to me. I’m a busy person; I’ve got shit to write.

Yes. That’s exactly why no one cares about you. Because they care about themselves a whole lot more. This is not a bad thing - everyone does it. It’s like when you’re on a plane and they say to put your oxygen mask on before you help other people, it just makes sense. But then if you’re too much of a proud idiot to let me help you put on an oxygen mask, then fuck you, I tried.

Tragic Mentality

“Sylvia Plath—interesting poetess whose tragic suicide was misinterpreted as romantic by the college-girl mentality.”

-- Woody Allen

What you're trying to say is: you encourage ill-informed misogynist stereotypes.

As You're Told

Totally forgot about The White Stripes.

Maybe

Since I'm an English student, I think it is my duty to teach other people how to properly use the English language.

If someone asks you if you're going to do something with them, here is a flow chart to show how your actions will be regarded:



I think that from this, we can see that it's never worth saying 'yes' if there is even the slightest chance that you will not be able to go. This rule applies especially if you know you won't be able to go, but are trying not to hurt people's feelings. Don't do it.

'Maybe', I would argue is worse than 'no', but really it's about the same. Basically, say what you mean when it comes to this type of thing. Otherwise you're a dick, and no one wants a dick to come to their party anyway. The show will go on.

You Go Girl

"I shall remind my enlightened country-women that they are not the mere appendages of domestic life, but the partners, the equal associates of man: and, where they excel in intellectual powers, they are no less capable of all that prejudice and custom have united in attributing, exclusively, to the thinking faculties of man."

-- Mary Darby Robinson, 1799