Suga, suga, how you get so fly?

My heart is heavy. The world is a dark and miserable place. People are basically shits, and there is no hope for future generations.  My children will grow up in as demoralisingly shallow, superficial and cut-throat a world as any poor sod before them. And Lord Sugar is an evil little man with bad designer stubble and a god complex.

Yes, Junior Apprentice is on the TV.

One of the candidates looks so doped up I’m not sure she’s even aware of being in the room. I strongly suspect she imagines she’s lying in the arms of Justin Bieber on a beach in Thailand.  There’s a curly-haired English Rose cherub, who looks very much like he plays the cello and/or flute and spends long periods at school with his head wedged in the pristinely clean bowl of an Eton bog.  Then there’s the obligatory Scottish lass who carries the appearance – and haircut – of someone plucked (against all odds) from Sighthill estate. She turns out to be disappointingly shrewish, as expected.  Perhaps she didn’t make the cut for The Scheme.  There are more ‘children’. I need not elaborate.

So will my kids grow up thinking this is normal; for parents to encourage their offspring onto such depressingly unpleasant programs?  Will they believe that if they fail to measure up to Sugar’s exacting standards that it’s OK; mummy and daddy can always punt them in the direction of ‘Britain’s Got Talent’, or ‘Junior Ice Skating Business Child of the X-Factor Generation’?  Will they ever learn to play chess, or think it’s a song to sing at auditions of the latest ‘talent’ extravaganza (perhaps ‘A Search for Jerry’ on ITV7)?

Alan Sugar has just referred to one of the kid’s CVs as a ‘res-you-may’.  Ummm…if he’s the echelon of all that is holy in the business world, please let our children become beach bums, professional footballers and/or burlesque dancers. At least John Terry’s got a cheeky grin and Dita Von Tees some kudos. Sugar’s one saving grace is….er…let’s see now….it’s…a….um…nope.  Nothing.  Not one singleeffingthing. The man is a complete and utter swine and now he’s gunning for our teenagers.  About which he apparently knows bugger-all; he’s just said “You are a very special person” to a twelve-year old, on national TV..!  That boy will never be able to show his face in the playground again.  He’ll be caught in an Inbetweeners hell of “Ooooh…special!  You’re so special!” every time his teacher leaves the classroom unattended to fetch a dumbbell.  If this poor child thought when he got his Junior Apprentice call-up that he’d seen the inside of his last toilet bowl, he was sadly deluded. God help the poor, rosy-cheeked, little fag (no-one else can now).

I might just allow my children absolute, free rein if they will only promise never, ever to set foot near a reality TV show set.

Rosy-cheeks just got fired, by the way.  Not that special, then…

7 Facts? I’m Sparticus! Erm…no, actually I’m not. I like porridge, though. Will that do?

Eek! I’ve been tagged and given an award (really???). Something to do with the ability to incorporate macrame in my text (I feel such a fake; I could only really do those owls on safety pins). But, MrsW, if you will forgive me that artistic license, I will thank you profusely and rack my brains for 7 interesting things to dredge up about myself.  What’s that you say? They don’t have to be interesting? Well, thank heaven for small mercies.  But, there are rules. And these rules apparently are:

  1. Copy the award to my blog
  2. Insert a link to the person who nominated me
  3. Tell you seven things about myself that I haven’t told you before
  4. Nominate seven other bloggers for the award
  5. Link to their blogs
  6. Tell the nominees about their award

Capisce? OK. Here goes:

1.  I once shimmied up a flagpole in the Royal Mile – erected for the King of Norway’s visit – in an insubstantial dress and bare feet.  I got to the top and touched the flag, rendering me instantly both sparklingly brilliant and monumentally stupid.  Alcohol was involved but I can’t confirm the year as a search on ‘King of Norway’ and ‘Edinburgh’ yields only an ‘And Finally’ tale about Nils Olav , the King Penguin at Edinburgh zoo given a knighthood by King Harald V of Norway.  I won’t post a picture as believe it or not I did penguin pics quite recently.
But I digress.

2. I have kissed Graham Norton.  Why, indeed?

3. My front tooth is missing and the neighbour is a stump.  During the period in which the bridge was being crafted, I took great delight in whipping out the plate and fake tooth with abandon and often at inopportune moments, startling bystanders with the large gap.  This was not a good look:

Admittedly the tiara and goo-goo goggles provided little in the way of improvement…

4. When the moon is bright, the tide is high and the wolves howl at your door, I get one hairy nipple.  There! I’ve said it!  One hair, one nipple, one week of the month, one side (left).  And the weird thing?  Both my female cousins get the same thing…only on their left one!  Da-da-da-da, da-da-da-da (that was the Twighlight Zone theme in case you were wondering).
No pic. Really. No.

5.  My Mum used to go out with Stephen Rea, star of…well…The Crying Game, anyway. Also he was cut in half in Interview with a Vampire. Actually, he did quite a few films by the look of things and has been Oscar-nominated, which is very topical and ties in nicely with MrsW’s original post, ‘It’s Oscar Night, How Apt‘. He was called Graham in school and mum dumped him in the Autumn because she didn’t want to buy him a Christmas present.  You go girl. 

6. I am terribly, terribly shy. I just happen to be a smidgeon more angry.

7. I resigned today. I am now, officially, a housewife.  Aside from the two years maternity for each child I have never, ever not worked.  I am both petrified and elated.  So, to end as I started…eek!!!

Now, very difficult as I’m such a newbie to blogging that I really don’t have many friends (see 6. and say ‘aaaw’). 

However, I’d like to tag…
1.‘Dad who writes because he calls his lady Supermum therefore must be a wise man.  Also, he’s talked both about horse riding and climbing, meaning he’s clearly a good ‘un.

2. Alias Mother, who hasn’t a clue who I am but whose blog I love. And, she’s in a tremendous place just now, having recently given birth to her baby boy. I anticipate, however, that she has better things to do…

3. Exmoor Jane is a huge favourite of mine. Again, I can only hope she has time to respond but you must read her post on bags.

4. Mummy Limited is a new blog to me but how I love her; she also resigned this week, as detailed on her guest post at Got Your Hands Full

5. You’ve Got Your Hands Full because my friend has twins and works in publishing. Ideal site for her and great advice for any budding writers out there.  She put me off in seconds…  😉

6. Mummy Madness and Mayhem for being the first person in Blogland to encourage me.

7. And I rather think Karen at If I Could Escape could come up with 7 crackers, if she by any chance has time…

Ben 10 Alien Force: a theme tune like The News

Having hitherto been a little dismayed by B’s lack of artistic curiosity, we’re now experiencing an explosion in penmanship.  The associated paper use threatens to pump our carbon footprint up to the size of a small dinosaur’s; there’s a bulging blue recycling bag and a weekly bill from Staples that the meagre housekeeping allowance I could soon be on may not accommodate*.  I love his artwork – don’t get me wrong – and can coo at a few slashes of Crayola in the corner of a piece of A4 with the best of mums, but we simply haven’t the wall space to cope so some selective (and secretive) disposal is unavoidable.

His latest project is a rendition of what we thought was every Ben 10 character ever dreamed up, although a quick Google hints at many more obscure alter-egos yet to be encountered and rendered in felt pen.  These pics are currently being compiled into a small booklet which I plan to number and scan so they can be emailed to various uncles, cousins and family friends to play ‘Guess the alien’.

In fact, here’s a trial run of ‘Guess the alien’. Not that anyone’s reading this:

NB: There’s nothing strikes more fear into your heart than having images like the above held up towards you as a small voice floats round from behind the paper saying, “Do you know who that is, mummy?”.  Well, do you?  Answers in a comment if you think you do…!

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*On the subject of housekeeping allowances, if you followed my posts on trying to get part-time, compressed hours, you may be interested to hear that my line manager appears to have lost all the documentation we completed in January and which he should have submitted to HR immediately following our meeting.  I only know this because HR are now sending me letters asking where I am and whether I’m coming back (“Hello? Hello? Do you still want to work here??”).  I wonder did he leave said meeting clutching my forms and head directly to the gents only to find there was no paper in his cubicle ( “Aha!”, thinks he…).  Sigh.