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Whereas I disagree,,so called Ghettoish areas have the strongest community spirit, A feeling of unison to better themselves,,How low does one person have to be .before they kick back and refuse to be known as scum..and ironically its the so called ” scum” that are better parents,and better human beings.
Council house sales should NEVER have happened..another GREAT idea from fekkin Thatcher.to gain votes and win awards in the Divide and Conquer party.As a woman of 47.and with a daughter that waited 2 years for a house ,,im damm annoyed as the better houses have been bought up,usually by greedy Peers to make a buck on their Mothers houses..We have pensioners in 4 bedroom houses..of a community that was bult post war to house the working classes and remove so called ” ghettos” .
Once we had 3 main classes working .middle and upper.I have noticed a great split even in the class system.it seemns to be those that bought their council house,work in factories etc..are now calling themself Middle class ! and in sociology a New class was invented..by that of the Underclass !
If succesive councils have no budgets to build..they dont..yet everywhere i see are the multi story flats knocked down in every part of UK.I see mass bulding here in Dundee..of en suite flats for the student population.The west end is full of lovely accomodation.
I live in..as whats known as a “decent” council area.its quiet and its proud.Yet in other areas where “ghettos” are encouraged.usually single parents all shoved into the same block of H block maisonettes! But their clean and tidy..and above all they have pride!
IF I was Tory Blair..ho hum id have blocked the sell off of council houses..and built more..but heck im not..and i feel cheated somehow..
Im selfishly happy,,but i worry about gnerations to come.who have not been born yet !A Pair of Brown Eyes
By Shane MacGowan (1985)
One summer evening drunk to hell
I stood there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
Where the water lilies grow
And on the jukebox Johnny sang
About a thing called love
And it’s how are you kid and what’s your name
And how would you bloody know?
In blood and death ‘neath a screaming sky
I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back, labeled parts one to three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for meAnd a rovin’ a rovin’ a rovin’ I’ll go
For a pair of brown eyesI looked at him he looked at me
All I could do was hate him
While Ray and Philomena sang
Of my elusive dream
I saw the streams, the rolling hills
Where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago
From the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the trees
Where the wind was gently laughingAnd a rovin’ a rovin’ a rovin’ I’ll go
For a pair of brown eyesloving ‘er !
^^^ thats true actually..its not like some stranger came along and made an announcement ..ok, an error in life..as i say before Andrea WIll find this amusing..so cant it all be wiped?
and for the giggles NONE of us knew..erm..Requiaseat et pace..
im sure its an error..
ps Andrea yer owe me a tenner for the flowers :)
Im sorry to dissapoint ! and it seems wrong that folks are finding humour..Ok I assume ye meant Andrea.and she was one of a few persons that actually appreciated me. Im glad its not her and bless the strange person it is..
Dont make the messanger appear foolish..and now i know its NOT Andrea.i will be the first to tell ya all..she would find this funny:)We met when we were in school
Never took no shit from no one, we werent fools
The teacher says were dumb
Were only having fun
We piss on everyone
In the classroomWhen we got thrown out I left without much fuss
An weekends wed go dancing
Down streatham on the bus
You always made me laughGot me in bad fights
Play me pool all night
Smokin mentholI practised daily in my room
You were down the crown planning your next move
Go on a nicking spree
Hit the wrong guy
Each of you get three
Years in brixtonI did my very best to write
How was butlins?
Were the screws too tight?
When you lot get out
Were gonna hit the town
Well burn it fuckin down
To a cinderCos years have passed and things have changed
And I move anyway I wanna go
Ill never forget the feeling I got
When I heard that youd got home
An Ill never forget the smile on my face
cos I knew where you would be
An if youre in the crown tonight
Have a drink on me
But go easy…step lightly…stay freeblinking heck made me jump !
Grace Dent’s Blog..spot on as ever gracie :)
(posted Monday 4 June)
Oh, my days, I am loving Big Brother 8 so far.
Loving it. My addiction is back with a vengeance. On Saturday, while the majority of sane Britain was out enjoying the sunshine, I was watching the live feed on E4. Savouring Lesley’s dry Stephen Fry-ish asides. Staring in horror at the 18-year-old twins as they gurgled through their “twinny song”.
I was marvelling at Carole as she padded about examining her beard in the mirror and ranting about Iraq. Normally, Carole’s the sort of woman you’d meet in a yurt in Dorset at a “Discovering your ladygarden” workshop, doing complex yoga wearing a mirror on a stick attached to a headband while The Best of Clannad plays in the background.
However this summer, Carole is housemum. She’s trying to keep things on an even keel. That’s not easy when you’re cooped up with the hideous, insecure monster that is Charley. Or Charley’s nemesis, the posh, abrupt, equally arrogant Emily.
“See skinny jeans, yeah? I had them three and a half years ago,” says Emily. “Yeah, well, you know going out on Sunday not Saturday – I started that!” says Charley.
“Yeah, well, see that big fiery yellow thing that rises in the sky each morning? The sun? Yeah? Well, I arrange for that to happen!” says Emily. “Yeah, well, see that ‘moving your legs and arms about to music’ craze?” says Charley, “Dancing? Yeah? Well, I invented that. Everyone was looking at me and thinking, ‘What is she doing?’ then the next week everyone in the world copied me!”
(OK, they didn’t say those last bits. But I wish they had.)
I think one of the best things about Big Brother 8 right now is that it feels quite back to basics. The contestants seriously don’t seem to know what’s going on, or if there’s another house, or when or if boys are arriving, or how long they’re staying, or who each other are, at all.
When “hunky man injection” Ziggy arrived on Friday, believing it was launch night, only to find a bunch of jaded ladies who’d been there for days, his disorientation was quite magical to watch. He brought no messages from the outside world and no-one knew him from Chinawhites. He’s as confused as we all are. And that’s brilliant.
Of course, Charley set her sights on Ziggy the moment he appeared. I don’t think there’s hope there. Charley doesn’t seen to have made many friends anywhere, although Walthamstow Dog Track have “phoned to see if they can hire her wig to make the greyhounds in the 3:15 run faster”.
Charley is like one of those awesome, mind-bogglingly horrible women you see on MTV’s Flavor of Love reality-TV love competition, who arrive with the singular intention of bedding vertically challenged panto-rapper Flavor Flav.
On Flavor of Love the women tend to spend the first half of the programme standing about in diamond-encrusted thongs comparing implants and weaves, then the other half dragging each other by the ears backwards through the kitchen shouting “I’ll kill you, you m*********ing bitch, I’ll cut your f***ing ears off!” It really is a lovely, heart-warming show.
Charley acts a lot like this in desperation to remain on the show by being a “big character”.
I’ve never seen anyone as desperate to stay on Big Brother as Charley. She cries, or pretends to, at the mere mention of her suitcase. Charley redefines the term “desperate wannabe”. She’s actually rather upsetting to watch. There’s more to life than “being looked at”, Charley, you tragic little thing.
“I’m a party girl! I’m out Monday to whenever. I’m an It Girl! A south-London It Girl. Everyone knows me and I know everyone. Get me? I know everyone and everyone looks at me and they copy my outfits and I’m always out at football parties and in the players’ lounge and, and…”
Charley rabbits on and on and on breathlessly. She’s said it all so many times, she believes it herself.
Well, if Charley’s such a party girl, she’s going to be very, very let down this summer. Same for Tracey the raver, who spends all weekend “in the stack, off it, buzzing”. Because Big Brother is as far removed from “blazing it up in the stack” as you can get.
Big Brother, in fact, is a bit like a nine-hour flight stopover at a remote Scandinavian airport, where the gift shop is closed and the vending machine is broken and you’ve got nothing to read and the seats are uncomfortable and it’s too far from anywhere to go sightseeing and all you can do is stare into space and feel homesick and ponder the events that have brought you to this state of abject tedium and loneliness. Oh, except instead of nine hours, it’s for 13 weeks. So, good luck with that.
Lesley is bored rigid already. I hope they give her a team-leader-type Brown Owl task soon to make her stay. I love her little posh, batty asides that mostly whoosh over everyone’s heads
Lesley is bored rigid already. I hope they give her a team-leader-type Brown Owl task soon to make her stay. I love her little posh, batty asides that mostly whoosh over everyone’s heads.
“I’d like to design a clothing range,” says Lesley, watching the twins play dressing-up again, “Y’know, I think there’s a market for stylish clothes for people who are still vaguely continent.” No-one understands her joke. In fact, no-one knows there is a joke as she delivers it in the same dry, punchline-free tone.
At the house meeting to discuss housework chores Lesley announces, “OK, I’ll do mangling…and postmodern irony.” Blank faces all round. Thank God for Lesley. She’s maddening and stroppy, but I do like her.
Important things need to be discussed at the house meeting, like bed linen and laundry and sleeping arrangements. All of these matters being rather urgent for whoever has to share one of those long pillows with Shabnam, who was on Channel 4’s Embarrassing Illnesses show just recently complaining of her turbo dandruff. Whoever is sleeping next to her must wake up in the morning feeling like they copped off with the Singing Detective.
Saying that, that’s the least of their worries. Shabnam, eh? She’s a really “big character”, isn’t she? A real “eccentric”. Such a lively “train of thought”. Shabnam’s default personality setting seems to be “woman who has recently eaten a wheelbarrow of MDMA powder”.
“Oh my god, I love you! You’re amazing!” she hoots, interspersed with high kicks and swivel-eyed gurning, “We’ve got a connection! We just click. I can feel it, yeah? Like synergy? Like we knew each other in a different life? Yeah?”
This is probably quite sweet if you met her at Glastonbury in the green field at 5am, not so good if you’ve just woken up and are standing by the toaster making your first cuppa.
The house meeting also dealt, in an indirect way, with Charley’s accusation that Lesley has been peeing in the shower.
“Oh, my god, that’s disgusting! I can’t go in there! Oh, my god!” all the girls scream in horror. They’ve clearly not shared many houses before. Wait till the boys arrive, they’ll be thankful it’s just urine.
So into this hilarious sorority comes Ziggy. Now who is Ziggy, we wonder, aside from “a real tasty dish”? Well, supposed to be. I’m not so struck myself. He says he’s 26. He must have had a paper round on Ben Nevis, as he’s not looking so fresh.
Ziggy seems like quite a nice guy, I suppose. According to his VT Ziggy “gets up in the morning, hits the gym, takes his dog for a walk and then in the evening there’s a lot of places locally to take a lovely lady”.
Whoa, hang on there, Ziggy. You’ve missed the nine-to-five part! The bit where people go to work and gainfully toil for cash and spiritual nourishment! Work? Heard of it? Actually, don’t worry about it. You’ve probably got a whopping inheritance and a trust fund to look forward to.
Chanelle thinks she’s in with Ziggy because Ziggy paid her a compliment. He pays everyone compliments. He knows exactly how to make women like him. He’s very good at it. I like him. He’s sweet, handsome and charming. Of course, he’ll probably only have a fling with Chanelle, then it will be onto something more serious, deep and life-altering with Nicky.
While Chanelle runs around Ziggy in a T-shirt with her bum cheeks hanging out, Nicky is calm and clever and dignified. She’s a good listener. She’s not putting it on a plate. She’s heartbroken and down on men. She’s gorgeous, with long spidery eyelashes and a slightly sad expression. She’s a bit of a challenge. That will make Ziggy like her much, much more.
Never mind, Chanelle, if you don’t get a high-profile relationship in the house, you can always get yourself a “little career like a columnist”, as you were saying. Something easy! Ha, easy. It’s certainly going to be easy finding stuff to say about you.
Did Lesley urinate in the shower? Mail me on [email protected]
**
My thoughts to her much loved children x
oh so have I darling..but thats for adult forums :)
I think charley is for the chop with ziggys vote next friday.but i just read on forums she is gonna turn over a new leaf and be nice to folks.after a heart to heart with nicky,,grrrrr..be good to see them grovelling to the alpha male.this week.
and i was soo glad it was carole that showed him round and welcomed him BEFORE they all knew he had the decider..she is lovely..!
*cant call her monkey lass no more..might get race relations at me door *
