The Un-Working Girl

RIP Amy Winehouse

2011-08-15T10:33:00.000+01:00

I haven't written on here for a while so it seems poignant that the last thing I posted was my concern about Amy Winehouse, in light of the recent news of her tragic death.
I think it's important to state that the cause of her death has not yet been established and her family certainly seem to believe that she was happy and healthy at the time of her passing away.
In spite of the helpless sense of inevitability, it was still a shock to hear the news because like many people I always hoped that Amy would find her way again and get better. I sincerely hope that in the coming weeks it transpires that this was the case and that whilst it's not the happy ending I was thinking of, it was at least a dignified one.

Back to Crack (or Booze, or Something)*

2011-06-19T19:52:00.000+01:00

* Allegedly.

Oh dear. I was really saddened today to read about Amy Winehouse's shambolic performance in Belgrade on the first night of her European Tour.

I am a massive fan of hers and a few years ago went to see her at The Eden Project in Cornwall. Her performance on that night also caused a media stir and seemed to mark the start of her very public route to self destruction.

At the time I remember being slightly perplexed when she forgot the words to her own songs and the names of her backing singers, but it wasn't until the end of the show when she was desperately banging the microphone against her forehead, slurring her words and running off stage in tears mid-song that we realised this might be more than just a bad case of nerves.

Leaving the gig, I felt guilty for having witnessed it in the name of entertainment and was also disappointed at having paid for a ticket to watch someone who should never have been allowed on stage.

Shortly afterwards we all watched with horror as Wino and HerBlakeIncarcerated were splashed all over the papers appearing, against all odds, to defy death (and rehab) on a daily basis. Images such as her storming the streets of London covered in blood after a fight; wild eyed, putting the bins out in her bra at 3 in the morning; or covered in cuts on her arms from apparent self-harm. Perhaps equally shocking was the fact that someone so rich seemed to spend every day walking around in the same pair of filthy ballet pumps - or maybe I was the only one bothered by that.

And just when we all thought it couldn't get any worse for her... She started hanging around with Pete Doherty.

However, for the past 12 months or so things went all quiet on the Wino front and I hoped that she might be getting her life back on track. Occasional reports of upcoming gigs and new album material seemed to confirm that this might be the case....

I guess we should have seen the cracks appearing when it was reported that she was going back to rehab ahead of this new tour, and was pictured stopping in an offy en route to down a miniature bottle of vodka.

So I don't suppose any of us are really surprised that Amy has fallen off the wagon again, but I wasn't expecting to be as shocked as I was watching the below footage (FYI it does not make for pleasant viewing).

In fact I found it so upsetting that I started to cry. Seeing this fragile, tiny girl stumbling around on stage like a lost child just made me wonder who on earth is looking after her. Why anyone would allow someone in such a state to make a public appearance is beyond me, and it looked as though her poor band (yes the very same ones who have been putting up with it since The Eden Sessions) were having the same thoughts at one point. Whether she realises she has a problem or not, I'm astounded that there appears to have been no intervention from the people around her.
Whatever her demons, and regardless of who is to blame, it is heartbreaking to see another human being
in such a mess and I truly hope that this story surprises everyone and has a happy ending.

This Shhhhh is Bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S

2011-06-08T16:14:00.000+01:00

Just reporting back from a potential near-death experience in a value supermarket chain that rhymes with "Piddle".

When I say "potential" what I actually mean is, on a sliding scale of probability the chances of me actually dying could have ranked anywhere from "totally impossible" to "a dead cert", if you'll pardon the pun. But far be it for me to exaggerate. Here's what happened:

On my way home from work I stopped in to pick up a few essential ingredients for the pasties I'm about to make and got distracted by the fruit (see earlier post about Big Fat Baby G for rationale).

Shortly after having a good old burrow around inside a box of bananas, I overheard a rather frantic conversation taking place between a customer and the security guard* involving the following words "those bananas", "spiders web" and "deadly exotic spider". As I discreetly edged closer to the unfolding scene, I watched the security guard call over the manager and then rather flamboyantly wrap the exact box I had just been rummaging around in with a load of plastic before very tentatively removing it from the store.

Now it's not like me to over-react to these situations. I mean, worst case scenario, some lesser-spotted yellow-backed widow might very well have been hibernating snugly inside a bunch of bananas and been disturbed by my rummaging, but that does not necessarily mean that it crawled onto my cardigan without me noticing, scurried away into my bag where it will hide for a while before biting me on the hand next time I'm digging around for my wallet, sending me into anaphylactic shock and resulting in my death. No. I'm sure it's fine...Which is why I am sat writing this in my underwear with my entire outfit including shoes in the washing machine and the contents of my bag scattered all around me. Come to think about it, I am starting to feel a bit itchy...

* Incidentally, why does Lidl have security guards? If I was ever tempted to shoplift, I would at least do it in Marks and Spencers or Waitrose where a) there are no visible security guards and b) I'd be able to make off with something a bit more exciting than a 24 pack of recycled toilet rolls and a carton of Orangensaft.

Britain's Got Talent... I Got Bored.

2011-06-06T13:44:00.000+01:00

Well... What a rubbish investment of my time it was watching Britain's Got Talent.
Every night last week I watched it, thinking something good was going to happen. But it didn't.

I spent a significant amount of time studying Simon Cowell's ever changing appearance and incredulously interrogating Mr G with questions such as "What has he done?!" and "Can you see those bruises by his eyes?", as well as realising that I don't think I actually like him any more. But apart from getting sucked into the Cowell Panto, I found myself getting a little bit bored and irritated.

Well done to our local boy Michael Collings for getting through to the finals and coming across as a thoroughly likeable, cheerful bloke. Sadly, going up against a 12-year old, a Scottish guy and The Jackson 5, he didn't stand a chance in the public vote, but I still hope he has a big future ahead of him - he's got such a great voice.

What is THIS?!

2011-06-06T13:19:00.000+01:00

Saw this display over the Co-Op this morning. Where did these come from!?

Calm down, it's only 170 calories so I thought it wouldn't hurt. And I followed it with a banana so that must have cancelled it out...

Anyway, much like the Flake Dipped (you can read my thoughts on those here) it's essentially one stick of a Twirl so by all means get one to try and to admire the lovely packaging, but you won't be tasting anything new - or anything you can't get twice the amount of in the form of a Twirl. Sorry Cadburys. I still love you but you can do better than this!

Big Mother

2011-06-06T13:08:00.000+01:00

Sorry the blog posts are so sporadic - I'm still fighting the pregnancy hormones like some kind of Bi-Polar warrior and don't see the point in dragging everyone else down with me!

The latest news probably won't come as a massive shock to anyone (Certainly not judging by the number of people who keep asking me, very seriously, if I'm sure I'm not expecting twins. My answer: fairly certain, thanks), but I'm growing a BIG FAT BABY.. According to my midwife I am measuring 3 weeks bigger than I should be, and no amount of suggestion from me was going to convince her to put this down to a medical reason. The truth is, I've been feeding my unborn child loads of sugar and have turned it into a little fatty. Oh dear.

In all seriousness, I am now trying to eat a bit more sensibly because this thing has still got to to come out somehow...and obviously there's my post-birth bikini modelling figure to think about.

In the meantime me and Mr G are being simultaneously amazed and freaked out by the sight of my stomach moving. It's like when someone has a really gory injury and it makes you feel a little bit sick but you still can't resist having a good old look anyway. Weird.

The baby has obviously inherited my nervous energy because it will not keep still and seems to be constantly on the go but at least it's got a sense of humour - I've been playing it music to see if it has any preferences and have discovered if I play "Rolling in The Deep" by Adele it will do somersaults... Every single time.

I already can't wait to meet the little rascal but I've still got another 10 weeks to wait... Zzzzzzzzz

And The Winner is....

2011-05-17T21:47:00.001+01:00

Who watched Eurovision on Saturday night then?
Ever since I was a little girl it's been one of my favourite TV nights of the year. Ever year, me and my sisters were allowed to stay up to watch it and every year without fail, I would fall asleep just as the voting started. Actually, in many ways, this is not dissimilar to my TV viewing routine nowadays. Me and Mr G will settle down to a good murder mystery, I'll doze off about three quarters of the way through and then wake up just as the credits start rolling, mumbling "who was the murderer?"

This year's Eurovision did not disappoint. Not only did we have the usual campness, crazy outfits (thank you Moldova) and hilarious commentary from Graham Norton, but we were also treated to not one, but two acts to get behind; Blue (representing the UK) and Jedward (representing Ireland).

So I've never been a massive Blue fan but in spite of Philip Schofield's protestations their song was alright and since they once had a large following in Europe there was a chance they might be able to win it this year. Oh no, hang on, that would depend on other countries voting for us and in order to do that they would have to like us, which they don't. So they didn't. Never mind, we couldn't have afforded to host Eurovision and the Olympics in the same year anyway.

Nonetheless, the Blue boys did put on a good performance. I couldn't help but think that it would have been spectacularly improved, however, by that vein in Lee Ryan's neck finally exploding during the key change - hey that might have even scored us a couple of douze points but alas, it didn't happen.

Realistically, we could enter Take That into Eurovision and we probably still wouldn't win it, so it was helpful to have another act to champion on the night. That act came in the form of my old X Factor favourites, Jedward. I honestly can't understand why people still give them a hard time, I think they're hilarious. If you're not convinced, check them out on Celebrity Juice or follow them on Twitter. They are mental (in a completely harmless/hyperactive way)
They spent the week running up to the contest buttering up potential European voters with such insightful Tweets as "Je suis John, et je suis Edward, et ensemble nous sommes Jedward". What's not to love?

Soon, Jedmania was sweeping across Europe and by the time they performed their Britney-esque entry "Lipstick" on Saturday night they had won over sufficient people to gain several top scores and, for a brief moment, threaten to win the contest. Let me tell you, had that happened it would have ranked up there in the top ten moments of my entire life. Oh don't judge me!

Sadly, the crown was eventually stolen by Azerbaijan and their depression-inducing floaty duet, but with the news that Lipstick is currently number one in Sweden and Austria, and riding high elsewhere across Europe, and with plans for a major European tour it's clear that former X Factor losers Jedward were the real winners of Eurovision.

Plymouth's Got Talent

2011-04-20T17:51:00.000+01:00

I watched, for the first time, an entire episode of Britain's Got Talent on Saturday. I must confess this was primarily because I love new judge Michael McIntyre and was expecting him to be entertaining. What I wasn't expecting was this:
(You'll have to click on the link for the video because YouTube won't let me post it here)

As a proud Plymouthian I was amused to see Michael Collings rock up in his tracksuit, as if he had just been passing the train station that morning and thought "sod it, I'm going to Cardiff to audition for Britain's Got Talent. I'll get some muffins in the Spar to tide us over and we'll be back by teatime".

People have had a bit of a giggle at his relaxed attire, his "posh caravan site" home, and his Buffet City proposal to his fiance but do you know what? I love that this is who is representing our city, and not just because of his interesting, soulful, soothing voice.

Looking past the "sherbet leisurewear" I see a warm, funny and humble guy, representative of so many people who live in Plymouth, people I sit next to on the bus every morning, people I queue behind in the Co-Op and people who I watch fireworks with 'op the 'Oe every summer. According to his interview in The Herald, Michael says he might smarten up his look to a pair of jeans if he wins the show and performs in front of the Queen at the "what's it called again?" Royal Variety Show. I don't even know if I want him to do this, I vote he embraces his inner Plymouthian and goes onstage with his top off, hanging off the waistband of his joggers.

There's been a lot of talk about Michael being favourite to win the show - I doubt there are many people left in the country who have not seen the audition - but it's early days yet (remember early press for both Gamu and Danyl of X Factor fame) so I call for Plymouth to get behind our act and keep the support going strong!

GEDDON MIKE-O, YOU CAN DO IT!

VERY Important Update

2011-04-20T16:08:00.000+01:00

Cadburys workers today breathed a collective sigh of relief at the news that their biggest client is successfully reintroducing chocolate into her diet following a period of abstention that lasted 4 months.

The future of the confectionery brand was plunged into uncertainty when their number one customer, who has been known to eat as many of six bars of their chocolate a day, unexpectedly went off sweet foods during the first few months of her pregnancy, causing company profits to plummet.

The mystery chocoholic, who wished only to be known as "The Un-Working Girl", said in a statement "I'm very relieved that I can once again enjoy my favourite treats and am proud to be doing my bit for the UK economy during such difficult times".

One worker at Cadbury's confessed, "it was touch and go for a minute there but we're all hopeful that the business will recover now that she's back in the zone".

The Un-Working Girl said she could "neither confirm nor deny" that the baby's favourite chocolate bar appears to be a Boost.

The Plymouth Eye

2011-04-20T15:47:00.000+01:00

News must have finally tricked down to the Westcountry from the capital about the installation of the London Eye, because last week a giant wheel appeared on Plymouth Hoe.
Has anyone been on it? More importantly, does anyone know what it's in aid of?

More Royal Wedding Fever

2011-04-15T16:36:00.000+01:00

Ha! One of my friends has just posted a link to this on their Facebook page.

I'm sure we'll all be sick of it within days and I'm almost certain the God Squad will have something to say about it, but here's the latest offering from T-Mobile, makers of some of my favourite ever TV adverts:

Gone Gaga

2011-04-15T12:20:00.001+01:00

I am in such a bad mood today. Here's a little sad face to prove it :-(

Let's all put it down to my hormones and just keep out of each others way until it passes, shall we?

Being pregnant is really cool but I have been struggling with my anxiety levels the past couple of weeks. So much so that last night I got in such a stress I went into the bathroom for a little cry over nothing.

After. I. Managed. To. Calm myself down, I went back into the living room snivelling and still feeling a bit sorry for myself. Suddenly I got a text message from my husband, who was sat in the same room. Suspicious, I opened it, and the photo that appeared was both so funny and so horrendous that I started to laugh and cry at the same time (has anyone else ever done this? I do it a LOT) ... Some of you may remember that when we first got our iPhones we used to take sneaky photos of each other without the other person knowing and then text them to each other...Well whilst I was having my little meltdown in the bathroom, Mr G had very kindly crept out and taken a truly hideous photo of me trying to get ready for bed, grumpily wrestling the dog off the crotch of my pyjama bottoms.

In spite of constantly embarrassing myself on here, I would like to maintain a small shred of dignity (at least until I have to give birth) so I won't post the photo, however much it cheered me up. Hmmm... I could possibly be persuaded.

Meanwhile, let's make do with a little video of Lady bloody Gaga falling off a piano live on stage. HA!

Win Win Win!

2011-04-15T12:20:00.000+01:00

Time for another little competition. Lets all get into the Royal Wedding spirit with a spot of reading over the forthcoming bonus bank holiday weekend!

Now we all know Wills N Kate are MFEO, but the course of true love hasn't always run smoothly for members of the royal family. Rebecca Dean's new book, The Golden Prince, is a "skillful mix of fact and fiction" telling the tale of what might have shaped the future for a young Edward VIII, who supposedly fell in love with a non-royal, but was forbidden from marrying her.

Published by Harper, this royal romance was nominated for Romantic Novel of the Year and Historical Fiction Novel of the Year 2011, and I have a copy signed by the author to give away!

If it sounds like your cup of tea, then email me at unworkinggirl@googlemail.com, by Wednesday 20th April and the winner will be drawn at random. Good luck!

Anyone Want to Know what Britney Had for Dinner?

2011-03-10T20:09:00.000Z

Click here. Don't say I didn't warn you.

All credit to Britney - she looks amazing. I'm just not sure any of us need to see that much of her general vaginal area. Thank God she didn't throw those clippers away.

Count yourselves lucky that I can't get my leg up in the air like that (yes, I did try) because that's one photo recreation nobody wants to see.

We Don't Need Your Money, Money, Money...

2011-03-10T19:50:00.001Z

Actually Jessie J, if you don't want the money, money, money please could I have it? Because I've just worked out I have £17.50 to last me until payday which is over 2 weeks away.

And whilst I've got you here Jess... yes I can do it like a brother, do it like a dude, grab my crotch, wear my pants low like you, but why would I want to? I'll give it a miss if it's all the same with you?

Ladies and gents, last week it finally hit me that I'm getting old when I found myself scoffing patronisingly at ground-breaking new artist, Jessie J, on Radio One and realising that I now belong firmly in the Radio Two listener demographic.

I don't like to be mean about people, I don't even dislike Jessie J. She seems like an alright girl with a great voice and lovely shiny hair. Her songs are irritatingly catchy and at least she's not singing about becoming a WAG. What I took offence to was the showboating that took place during her Live Lounge performance. Jessie? Un-nessy.

But what do I know? That very same performance that I found so ridiculous was probably being discussed in sixth form common rooms the length and breadth of the country as something truly original and amazing - although I've no idea what the relevant translations into youth speak would be these days because I am too OLD.

The thing is, I'm still laughing about it now.

Mr G just told me a really sad story about a dog dying of a broken heart and I burst into tears. There was only one thing for it...

Whoaooooaa whooooooaaaaa I haven't f f f f f f finished this post yet

*whispers* I'm making you think I'm finished b b b but, cha ching cha ching, there's still fuel left in the tank

Whooooooaaaaaaaahhh whoa whoa I am

FIiiiiiiNNNNNFINISHEDDDDDDDDDDDDAH!

Now.

She's Adele-uva Good (Genius Plymouthian Wordplay)

2011-03-06T14:11:00.000Z

I totally love Adele.

I was so excited when I saw she was coming to Plymouth Pavilions on September 4th that I momentarily forgot I'll either be in labour or nursing a newborn baby on that date.

Ah well, now I've got my nipple shields I'm sure Adele wouldn't mind me sitting backstage whilst she sings her beautiful lullabies to Baby G. She seems like a nice girl like that.

If you missed her on Radio One's Live Lounge the other week it's definitely worth looking for on YouTube. Not only does she sound even better live than she does on her album, but she also achieved what I previously thought was an impossible task - making one of Cheryl Cole's songs sound good.

I've put a little clip on the left hand side of her performing at The Brits. Unfortunately we'll probably all be sick to death of this song in a few weeks because it is everywhere but for now if you've ever had a broken heart, enjoy Someone Like You....

MegaLOL

2011-03-06T14:02:00.000Z

This page from Heat magazine made me laugh on my own, in my office, for about 10 minutes this week.

Funnily enough, I went to the Cwop wearing a similar outfit myself the other day...

Strange Things Are Happening...

2011-03-06T13:50:00.000Z

So... being pregnant is very weird.

For something that is currently the size of an avocado, this baby is launching an all-out attack on my entire body:

For starters I can't stay awake longer than about four hours. Yes, I know it doesn't sound much different to my usual snooze-tastic lifestyle, but this is something else. Afternoon naps last on average about three hours now and I still go to bed at the usual time and sleep right the way through the night. Naturally, I am thrilled about this development. Mr G even seems to have stopped nagging me about being asleep all the time. Result.

I still can't drink tea. I fancied a brew the other day at work and was so excited to be drinking my first cup of tea in three months that I emailed my husband to share the good news. Followed an hour later by "Oh. I've just been sick."

I wasn't just sick, it came on so quickly and violently that I actually burst the blood vessels in my face. Attractive.

And following on from that, I have finally admitted defeat in the war on chocolate. I tried in vain to fight the choc, and the choc won. I had a few defiant attempts at eating it for the sake of it but every time the experience was just never as enjoyable as I had anticipated, and usually made me feel ill afterwards so I have now given up even trying. I'm expecting the news that Cadbury's has gone into administration any day now...

I was expecting my emotions to go into overdrive - friends told me stories about crying at adverts - what I wasn't anticipating was just how out of control they would become. Last week, I was listening to the radio and found myself crying at how much I love disco music. Amazing.

All of this pales into insignificance as I learn about things still to come... Yesterday I was going through my latest Bounty Pack and at first I thought someone had kindly sent me some new muffs for my headphones, but then discovered they were in fact nipple pads. "What on earth do I need nipple pads for?" I wondered out loud... and was shocked to discover that milk may well just come pouring out of me any time I go near a crying baby in a few months time. Errr... what?

Having said that, have you heard about Baby Gaga Ice Cream? My friend told me about it because her colleague was one of the donors. It's ice cream made from breast milk. If I start producing enough for a milking parlour (possible, with these waps) I could always sell some on for a bit of extra cash. Judging by the fact the ice cream sold out in 2 days, there's clearly a demand for it.

But never mind all that, spare a thought for poor Lucy Liu who seems to be affected by all the wild hormones in the house and does not know what to do with herself. Anyone else's dog done this?

FreeBees!

2011-02-15T19:41:00.000Z

Head over to my sister blog, Unworkingworld, to find out how you can get these lush, limited edition MUA nail varnish sets totally free!

The ThreeGees

2011-02-15T19:23:00.001Z

It's been so long since I last wrote on here that I momentarily forgot my password.

Anyway, I can now explain that the reason I haven't written for such a long time is because me and Mr G are going to become a family of three!

We've been waiting some time for this to happen so you would expect that it would have taken a bit longer than an hour post-positive test result for me to start moaning about how hideous being pregnant is, but of course that was not the case. Why suffer in silence when you can bring everyone else down with you?

How quickly I forgot how long we've wanted a baby when I was struck down with (what can realistically only be described as an average case of) the dreaded morning sickness.

On one particularly harrowing occasion - which has now become known as The Dominos Disaster - Mr G went out for the evening so I thought I would cheer myself up with some pizza. I ordered £20 worth of scran, threw up before it arrived and then managed to eat precisely 1 slice of pizza, 1 chicken goujon and 1 potato wedge before throwing the rest in the bin as I couldn't bear the sight or smell of it.

On another occasion I thought I was getting my appetite back so cheerfully wolfed down a lovely spaghetti bolognese, only for it to make a reappearance before my knife and fork even came to rest on the empty plate. I actually cried about this. I love bolognese.

People keep telling me it gets better. Let's hope so, eh? Yesterday I got off the bus and had a little cough tickling the back of my throat which set into motion one of the less glamorous moments of my life...I walked the length of my street at the speed of a slug, doubled over gagging, before finally coming to rest against a lamp post and vomiting in the street.

So, not only have I been regularly saying hello again to meals I had considered finished, I've also noticed I am growing a beard, and my boobs have become so massive that when I get cold my nipples look like a Shar Pei (If you don't know what a Shar Pei looks like click here) but something even more distressing than all this has happened to me since I became pregnant:

I've gone off chocolate.

Regular readers will be astounded to hear that not a single Flake has touched my lips since well before Christmas. In a bizarre twist that would surely even shock medical professionals, it turns out that this baby prefers healthier eating. Not only can I no longer enjoy a diet rich in cakes and chocolate washed down by a nice brew (and believe me, I HAVE TRIED), I find myself putting away fresh fruit at a rate my bank balance cannot sustain.

Anyway, of course I am just messing around (Not about the pregnancy, that would be a bit weird?), I am very grateful to be pregnant and after such a long wait we do realise how lucky we are. I am totally overwhelmed that there is a new life growing inside me, and aside from the barfing, the beard, the boobies and the chocolate lockdown, there have been lots of amazing moments as well. I don't think I've ever been as proud as I was when we went for our scan last week and saw the baby relaxing with its feet up, legs crossed , in the ultimate lazy recline. It refused to move, apart from to wave its hand once dismissively above its head, as if to say "Errr... Trying to SNOOZE in here!" and the tears rolled down my face as I thought "Now that's my child!"

Long Time No Post

2011-01-27T16:10:00.000Z

Sorry it's been so long!
I've not been very well. Rest assured I'm still here but I'm just not feeling very funny at the moment. I'm sure I'll be alright in a couple of weeks and I'll find some stuff to moan about then.

In the meantime, if you want to get in touch with any thoughts or just to say hello, please email me at unworkinggirl@googlemail.com. I'd love to hear from you! x

Happy New Year!

2011-01-03T19:33:00.000Z

Can't stop long as I've got a sausage cass in the oven but just a quick post to say Happy New Year to one and all. I hope everyone has a healthy and fun-filled 2011 (in spite of The Economy's best efforts to ruin everything for all of us ).

I went very uncharacteristically off the radar for a few weeks and for some reason I'm still not feeling back to my normal self but I'm sure it's merely a temporary state of affairs and I'll be whinging and moaning again in no time.

Will write again during the week. x

p.s. Please tell me these dirty rumours I'm hearing about more snow heading our way are LIES?

A Merry Christmas? Maybe Later...

2010-12-23T13:14:00.000Z

With only two days to go I am finally starting to get into the Christmas spirit. I'm not quite there yet because this afternoon I have to venture into the cardiac arrest-inducing death trap that is Plymouth City Centre to both start and finish my Christmas shopping.

In normal conditions it is bad enough; with the kamikaze pram pushers, screaming parents, fed up shop staff and arguing spouses, but add to that potent mix a couple inches of (now frozen solid) ice and snow, and the combination is deadly.

Once this mission is accomplished I will well and truly turn my Christmas on. I promise.

If you don't ever hear from me again it's because I'm in prison for murder.

(Going Nowhere in a ) Winter Wonderland

2010-12-19T16:03:00.000Z

Me and Mr G have been trapped in the house for two whole days because of circa 3cm of snow which has now frozen, rendering our street an outdoor ice rink.

Ordinarily, I would be more than happy to spend an entire weekend wrapped up in my slanket watching murder mysteries but for some reason as soon as we realised we couldn't go anywhere, we started scratching at the walls desperately trying to get out. We are driving each other MAD. I can't wait to get to work tomorrow, that's not normal.

So yes, I've just about had enough of this snow now. Anyone else?

Dirty Harry (Styles)

2010-12-14T18:15:00.000Z

The sole reason for this post is to use the headline that I should have used on Sunday for this post.

If only it had come to me at the time.

p.s. Is anyone else freezing their NADS off tonight?

Don't Go a-Cruisin' if I'm a-Snoozin'

2010-12-14T18:11:00.000Z

Not particularly happy news if you were aboard The Brilliance of The Seas cruise liner last night and were looking forward to your stopover in Egypt today, but nonetheless what I am about to present to you is irrefutable evidence that I am, in fact, actually, psychic.

I doubt it will be a surprise to anyone that I have odd dreams.

I have foreign language dreams, I have recurring dreams (hiding, and shopping, if you're interested) and I have unsettling dreams.

Last night, I had a dream about a boat sinking in a storm. It was a cruise ship. It nearly always is.

When I have a vivid dream about a cruise ship, something happens the next day. Usually involving cruise ships. I've dreamt about sinking ships, fires on ships, storms battering ships... And I'm telling you, the very next day something like this will be in the news.

Admit it everyone - I have special powers.

One Direction: One Track Mind

2010-12-12T22:23:00.000Z

XFactor: Some people sang, Take That did The Flood (again), there was ticker tape, more singing. It was all a bit underwhelming to be honest. Then Matt Carldle won. Still a bit underwhelming if I'm honest.

Bored, I was titting about on my iPhone when all of a sudden, Mr G spat "WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?!". I looked up as he was rewinding the final moments of the show and stopped at Harry (Curly-One) from One Direction leaning towards Matt and muttering something in his ear.

"What does he say?!" Mr G giggles...

Girls of the world, you have been warned.
p.s. He's not talking about your pet.

The End of The Weekend

2010-12-12T18:57:00.000Z

So, it's X Factor final night tonight. I don't particularly care who wins, but what I do want to know is THIS:

What the hell am I going to do on Saturday and Sunday nights now?

Actually talk to people? Go out? Socialise?

Christamatic

2010-12-06T20:25:00.000Z

It's been approximately 4 days and the Hipstamatic is not yet in the Hobby Box. I've now got so many photos of pens, coke cans, leaves and such like stored on my iPhone it takes about 2 minutes for it to respond to any command.

This weekend we put our Chrissie decs up, which provided me with yet another happy snapping opportunity, and I'm sure you're all just dying to see the results.... Well wait no longer because HERE THEY ARE!

Just think of the serious damage I could do to the pseaudo-art-fragrance world if Hipstamatic did camcorders.

Lock Your Diors!

2010-12-06T19:53:00.000Z

Ahhhhh Christmas. A time of giving, merriment and general excitement... Oh yes, and of course another influx of pretentious, pseudo-arty perfume adverts which, you may remember from last year's rant, I detest.

Usually following one of two formats - celebrity movie short (black & white or sepia tone optional) with patronising life motto (yes, I am talking to you Scarlett Johansson, Keira Knightley, Charlize Theron) or inexplicably bendy supermodel with patronising life motto, if you don't know what I'm talking about just wait for the next ad break during whatever programme you're watching and I guarantee there will be at least one example before you've had chance to make yourself a brew.

Anyway, this year we are being subjected to the absolute epitome of hideous fragrance advert. The fragrance advert, I can only hope, to end all fragrance adverts.

Directed by actual film director Guy Ritchie, this offering by Dior Homme stars Jude Law as what appears to me to be some kind of..... sexual predator?

You're alright Dior, we'll stick to Old Spice, ta.

Little Treats

2010-12-02T20:05:00.000Z

Some nice little Christmassy treats over at Unworking World for you to check out, including these little cuties caught in Hipstavision! Please have a little look x

A Teeny Weeny Vapour Cloud of Success?

2010-12-02T18:50:00.000Z

Can we go, with Bompas and Parr, where we failed so miserably with Dirk Benedict, Sara Cox and Tom Daley?

When I say "we" I of course mean "I".

Further to my recent excitable posting about the incredible food masters, I have a monumental update from Mr Bompas who (and I quote) "will have a little think" about coming to Plymouth.

Now in my mind this essentially means it's a done deal and it's going to happen, but the hard part is going to be convincing them. We have a fabulous city in Plymouth, steeped in history and beauty, so I'm sure we can put them in touch with the right people to make one of their projects a reality. Thanks for all your suggestions so far - I'm going to email the list off tomorrow so there's still a bit of time to leave more comments and ideas.

Let's DO THIS.

No Way to Control It, It's Totally Hipstamatic

2010-12-02T18:36:00.000Z

As mentioned in the last post, I've downloaded a new app for my iPhone - the Hipstamatic camera. It. Is. Brilliant. I have spent the past 24 hours turning everything in my sight into mean retro style photographs.
I'm sure there are real, proper photographers shuddering at the sight of my random attempts at being creative but it's so much fun and EVERYTHING* looks better in Hipstamatic.
If you don't believe me, suggest things for me to photograph and I'll post the results up. Then download it for yourself and get snapping away!
Here's a few of my favourites so far...

*apart from my hair and my desk at work - it turns out nothing can make either of these look presentable.

Its Beginning to Look a Lot Like... Chaos

2010-12-02T18:20:00.000Z

This morning Plymouth finally succumbed to the snow and was dusted with at least a 5mm covering of the white stuff.

Looking out the window as I was getting ready to leave the house, it was only natural to assume that I would probably be snowed in, or worse still, snowed out whilst at work. But no, it appears that Plymouth's infrastructure is just about supporting the weight of this treacherous blizzard. I give it another day before everything comes grinding to a crushing halt.

In the meantime I've been out and about taking photos on my new Hipstamatic iPhone app - which is, incidentally, the best £1.19 I have ever spent in my life. Here's some snaps of our glorious city...Perty, ain't it?

Love Fun? Yes! Love food? Yes! Meet Bompas and Parr!

2010-11-28T11:19:00.000Z

I recently came across these people and am determined to get them down to Plymouth for an event.

Even if you haven't heard of the brilliantly named Bompas and Parr, you may well be familiar with their work as they provided consultancy for food scientist Heston Blumenthal's recent series, Feast.

As well as creating food on an architectural scale (think glowing jelly sculptures, caves made of sugar, a building flooded with cocktail) they are passionate about taste, and design fun, informative events aimed at exploring how taste is affected by our other senses. Past projects include a scratch and sniff cinema event, a chewing gum factory where visitors could make their own gum from 40,000 flavour combinations, a breathable cocktail,power trifles, underwater courses and a musical banquet. Think of them as real-life Willy Wonkas.

Imagine negotiating your way through a giant pyramid, inhaling vapourised fruit that actually contributes to your five-a-day, and then reaching the summit to discover the way out is a slide. Well, they did that. If only every meal could be like that...

Their latest creation is a Taste-O-Rama showing of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, where viewers eat snacks at key points of the film to experience the same foods as the characters, such as cricket canapes and chilled monkey brains (don't panic, it's a korma blancmange) after taking a special tour of the secret underground tunnels of Welbeck Abbey in Nottinghamshire. All this, for an accessible-to-everyone ticket price of £7.50 (although not surprisingly it has now sold out).

I've become obsessed with Bompas and Parr so I'm definitely going to be talking about them a lot more - deal with it. Click here to see more of their work and if, like me, you want them to bring one of their projects to our glorious Plymouth, leave some comments below. Let's DO THIS.

Fake That?

2010-11-22T19:42:00.000Z

I'm still concerned that all is not as it should be in Camp Take That. I seem, however, to be the only one who suspects that things might not be as harmonious as they might look.

First they seemed a bit frosty on X Factor, then I notice it again on Children in Need. Then (because I've become obsessed with it now), I watch this clip from Radio One's Live Lounge from today:

"Here come Take That! They have not performed together for 15 years! They all fell out and now they're mates again!" WAHHOOOOOOOoooo... Oh.

Call me an old romantic, but I was expecting a big old love in. At least for the first few weeks. Sure, Mark, Robbie and Gary seem to be having a laugh and yes, it certainly looks like it's one big barrel of fun between those three, but as soon as the music stops I can't help but feel a little.......well..... underwhelmed if the truth be told.

"Oh it's just Robbie trying to keep his ego under control!" said someone on Twitter.
"It's probably a bit awkward since there's been just the four of them for so long" proclaimed Mr G, AKA their number one fan.

Really? REALLY? What is going on? Where are the man hugs? Something isn't right and I can't believe I'm the only one bothered by it.

Daley Worship

2010-11-19T20:33:00.001Z

I love Plymouth's Diving Sensation, Tom Daley.
I love the Daley family.

Watch this and you will too:

Clip from Tom Daley: The Diver and his Dad, BBC

Everyone I have spoken to who watched that documentary adores them too, so if you don't, congratulations, you are dead inside. They are a typically warm, funny Plymothian family and it's a refreshing change to have some locals to be proud of.

I am going to make it my life's work to become an honorary member of the Daley Family and at the very least, join them down the Lord Louis for a carvo.

They seem to be rejecting my advances so far but this is HAPPENING.

Job Vacancy: TV Presenter, Must be able to work Evenings

2010-11-19T12:54:00.000Z

I hear that as of this morning there's a spare seat at The One Show.

Actually, I don't really care what Jason Manford's been up to. That's for him and his wife, AKA the mother of his two (very soon to be three) young children to sort out amongst themselves.

This is what I don't understand. Riddle me this:

WHY?

WHY?!

Celebrities of the world, why do you do it?! If you get up to anything remotely improper it will come out*. It always does. Eventually, someone will sell their story, and during times of such economic hardship, it is likely to be sooner rather than later... Stop being so foolish.

Anyway, every cloud... Two new career ideas to go on my list now that "Arm Model" is out the window:
1) Presenter of One Show (I think me and Alex would make a fabulous team)
2) Twitter Celebrity Temptress to Tabloid Newspaper Entrepreneur.

* Unless you obtain a Super Duper Wooper Injunction

It's a Jungle Out There for Anxiety Sufferers.

2010-11-17T20:10:00.000Z

Today was the first time I've left the house since coming out of hospital on Saturday (I probably didn't mention this, but I've had an operation). I went to see my doctor.

I probably didn't mention this either, you know how I hate to go on about myself, but I suffer from Anxiety.

Whilst the care I received in hospital was phenomenal, had I not been so smacked off my teeth on painkillers I would not have left without arming myself with a touch more information about what was meant to happen next.

I came home with the following two instructions:

1) If you do not exercise your elbow every day it will seize up

2) DO NOT use your triceps muscle until it has started healing or it may tear again.

Fine. Got that. Sounded pretty straightforward in the reassuring surroundings of a hospital.

Fast forward four days and I'm on the phone in tears to anyone who will listen, asking them if my arm is about to drop off, making an appointment to see my GP to check it out. Should I be using my arm? Shouldn't I be using my arm? Should it still be hurting? Can I get a blood clot from not moving my arm? Are the stitches infected? Is my arm supposed to have gone yellow? Is that burning pain normal? Is it right that I now can't stretch out my fingers without a searing pain in my forearm? Should I be able to move it more than this? What if I've taken too many painkillers? What if I get addicted to the painkillers? Will I go to sleep and not wake up?

Hold your horses everyone, I am not writing this to fish for anyone's sympathy. Or apathy, for that matter, because I know to most people these probably seem like ridiculous thoughts, disproportionate to my situation which is, in the grand scheme of things, minuscule.

I am, however, genuinely trying to show how frustrating it is to live with constant anxiety so that I can now seamlessly lead on to the subject of "Dr" Gillian McKeith and the column inches she has been receiving during her stint on I'm a Celebrity.

So, it turns out she is Literally. Scared. Of. Everything.

Either she is playing a clever game, planning a sudden epiphany where she conquers her fears to win the hearts of the viewing public, or she genuinely believes that such extreme exposure to her phobias will cure them. OR... as I suspect to be the case, she is absolutely bonkers.

I'm not an expert on the subject, but I do know that exposure therapy has its place in treating anxiety disorders. However, that usually takes place with the guidance of a trained professional and on a gradual basis.

I can only imagine that this level of exposure to her fears will cause her to become hyper-vigilant, constantly on the look out for threats, and will just become increasingly petrified of anything and everything (Natalie "Ooh I touched a tree!" Appleton, anyone?). I already know that I would completely and irrepairably melt down on that show, which is precisely the reason I will, regrettably, have to repeatedly turn down their offers when I become a best selling author a la Jessica Fletcher. So I do wonder what on earth she was thinking agreeing to go on the show. Given the media attention she is receiving, I have a feeling Gillian may have been tempted by a slightly different type of exposure therapy. Perhaps she learned about it at fake medical school...

In other news, some people got engaged this week.

Pic: TV Throng

New Fix Factor Conspiracies?

2010-11-15T23:30:00.000Z

Courtesy of Twitter this evening, two new potential embarrassments for X Factor bosses - neither of which started with me, by the way, I'm just repeating what I saw in the public domain.

I never really bought into the "Fix" claims and Mr G is now laughing at me for going all "Pelican Brief" on him but check this out:

First, someone posted a picture from an old copy of Elle magazine, of Kelly Osbourne at an event with Storm Lee, who, if you remember was chosen to go through to the live finals by Louis Walsh and Kelly's Mum Sharon.

Then someone else posted this link, which would appear to show Simon Cowell's favourite contestant, Katie Waissel performing on last year's show with JEdward, followed by this picture. Is it really the same person?

Before I had chance to finish typing it up on here, I went back to find the Storm Lee pictures and they had mysteriously disappeared?

Thoughts, please...

An Observation

2010-11-15T21:03:00.000Z

Is it just me or does anyone else become obsessed with wanting to inspect their wounds after an injury? Why is this?

Since the operation my arm has been tightly bandaged and I'm not allowed to remove it for 2 weeks. Yesterday, during a sneaky little scratching session under the dressing I felt the stitches. Hello! There's loads of them, they go half way up my arm! I feel oddly proud. But now I can't rest until I find out how far onto my forearm they reach. I've tried having a gentle prod around without success so expect a further update shortly that goes a little something like this "I'm back in hospital because I ruptured my stitches poking a biro under the bandage".

A Look Back at the Weekend

2010-11-15T20:54:00.001Z

Did anyone catch the Take That documentary, Look Back Don't Stare, over the weekend?
I was never their biggest fan but since their renaissance, and mainly because Mr G appears to be obsessed with them so there's no avoiding it, I have followed their progress.

I'm not going to lie, I shed a couple of tears watching the programme. Call me soft (you certainly won't be the first) but regardless of the level of significance you place on a boy band healing old wounds and getting back together, I thought there was something genuinely touching about the way they seemed to have all learned to support one another and respect their differences. An example of this can be seen in the lengthy clip below, where they disagree over song lyrics and eventually all listen as each member other puts across their position. I couldn't help but think the world would be a more harmonius (nice wordplay) place if more people learned to resolve their issues in the same way, and I really believe that. Of course this all backs up my earlier theory that Gary Barlow should stage some sort of coup and sort out the shambles that is this country from behind his old Joanna.

Fast Forward to Sunday night and after compiling a comprehensive list of components for any future boy band performances in which I may be involved (Podium, pyrotechnics, key change, finger to earpiece during the high notes) I was excited to see the big reunion that my generation had been waiting for but never thought we would see... After 15 years apart... finally... Take That appear on stage with Robbie Williams...

Um. *whispers* Was. That. It?

I really want to hear your thoughts on this, most people seemed so distracted by the fact that it was happening to notice that after the performance it all looked a little bit awkward. Yes, there were all the matey glares and smiles during the song, and Robbie had a bit of a wobble at the beginning, but when the singing stopped, I couldn't help but wonder if they'd fallen out already.

(For some reason I can't post the video but you can click here to watch it).

Comments, please.

Insert Bionic Components: Here.

2010-11-13T14:17:00.000Z

I'm back home now from my overnighter chez Derriford were I had my elbow rebuilt.

I'm in total agony and it feels like someone has been hacking at my arm with a rusty, scalding hot, junior hacksaw but I believe all went according to plan.

Pre-operation I told Lorenzo, my anaesthetist, about my anxiety over losing control and worrying that I would be lairy when I came round from the operation as I'm a terrible drunk. To reassure me, he told me that most people show their true colours as the drugs wear off because they behave the way they would without the influence of intellectual and cultural factors. "Brilliant" I thought. "That's all I need. Me showing my true colours..."

I went to sleep saluting my Commander surgeon and laughing into the oxygen mask as I protested against a suggestion that I imagine I was relaxing on a beach; "NO! I MUST DREAM ABOUT DICK VAN DYKE RIDING A DOLPHIN!". I woke up smiling and chatting to Lorenzo in his mother tongue, German. Much to the amusement of the other staff who said they wished all their patients came round so cheerily. Especially when, for a fleeting moment, I had them fooled that I'd never spoken a word of German before in my life. So there we have it, my true colours, a happy, bilingual, practical joker. Who knew?!

Back on the ward, I tried to rest but was unable to because a) I was in so much pain, and b) it's SO BLOODY NOISY IN HOSPITAL.

During the night, the girl next to me spent the entire time alternating between vomiting and apologising for waking me up, the woman across from me was snoring, another woman needed her bed pan changing frequently, requiring the noisy assistance of three people each time and setting off various alarms every 5 minutes, another lady in our bay kept sneaking into the toilets to have a fag, resulting in us all getting a collective bollocking at 2am (and the prime suspect being ME!), and the final lady was moved to another ward in the early hours, which of course caused much clattering and bashing around and one of the porters to jokily chirp at me "Get to sleep, you!". Shortly afterwards, he found himself in the morgue with my saline drip feed tightly wound round his neck.

The following day, I was still in agony so I was given the choice of staying another night so I could continue to take Oramorph, or coming home. The morphine was just making me sick and I was getting irritated by all the noise so I decided to get discharged into the very able care of Mr G who has been a wonderful nurse and basically done everything for me, including giving me a bath and washing my hair today. In a moment of delirium I looked up at him dreamily and asked "Am I really alive? Did I make it Mr G?" to which he replied "Yes love, this is nobody's idea of heaven" and he flanneled down my stubbly arm pit. Yep, he's definitely a keeper.

Thanks to all the people who have helped us out over the past few days, including the amazing staff at Derriford, and for all the well wishes. And to God, etc etc.

Leave Dick Alone!

2010-11-13T12:40:00.000Z

A couple of days ago I was mildly amused by news reports that Dick Van Dyke claims to have been saved by dolphins when he fell asleep on his surf board and drifted out to sea. Oh this is just the kind of zany story I would expect from DVD!

Anyway, in the middle of the night before my operation, Mr G woke up to find me wide awake, looking at Twitter.

"What's up love? You alright?"

"No really Mr G! I've just been re-reading the stories about Dick Van Dyke and the dolphins and I'm not happy at the implication that he might be going a bit nuts!" I explained.

"Oh right." He replied.

"People keep making it sound like he's made it up! If Dick Van Dyke said he was rescued by bloody dolphins, then he was rescued by bloody dolphins and that's the bloody end of the matter!" I snapped.

"In fact, when I go under my anaesthetic tomorrow I'm going to imagine I'm just relaxing on a surf board and DVD is circling round me, riding on the back of a dolphin. And Barry Van Dyke is whizzing about nearby on a jet ski".

"Alright then love." Mumbled Mr G as he rolled over and went back to sleep, leaving me still shaking my head and tutting to myself.

Photo: Los Angeles Times

Pre-Op

2010-11-10T21:07:00.000Z

Woke up this morning thinking my arm had miraculously healed itself overnight as it wasn't really hurting any more.
But a quick diagnostics check revealed that it's still broken: I still can't do the robot dance.

So it looks like I'll still be checking into L'Hotel Derriford tomorrow morning to have it fixed.

I've started my pre-operation preparations: I just ate enough mash to kill a lesser woman, and I've set my alarm to get up early for my "light breakfast" before the big fast begins. Two thick sliced pieces of toast count as a light breakfast, don't they?

I'm not allowed to wear any make up or nail varnish so that'll all be coming off shortly :( and I thought I would straighten my hair. Call me vain but if I die on the operating table bare-faced and starving, at least I'll go down with half decent hair.

I can't quite believe I've neglected to report this, but in case I did, the surgeon carrying out my operation is a Naval Commander, and all week I've been paranoid that as I go under, I'm going to start singing this*:

Trust me, it could happen. Last week when he was sat in front of me and my Dad in his Commander uniform telling us that he would be doing the operation himself, I blurted out this:
"Oooh goody! You look like a man who knows what he's doing!"

It's my nerves! Honestly, I can't help it, these things just pop out.

See you all on the flipside.

*If you watch the video, you'll notice Kel deliberately taunting me with a series of arm movements I am currently unable to make.

Dear Everyone...

2010-11-09T20:08:00.001Z

Today I was dumbfounded when I read this open letter which Gordon Ramsay appears to have sent to his mother-in-law via the medium of the London Standard Newspaper. Presumably he's lost her address, his carrier pigeons are on annual leave and his internet's gone down so he can't even do it via Facebook.

Anyway, it got me thinking...

Dear everyone,

Here are a few things I have been meaning to get off my chest for some time now and thought, "what better way to do it than to use my blog to publicly address the issues that have been bothering me?".

Firstly, to those bus drivers who are grumpy at me first thing in the morning. I've just got up and I still manage to be cheerful and smiley. Stop bringing me down!

If you work at a supermarket and I decline your offer of help with my packing, this merely means I can pack the bags myself when my shopping travels down the conveyor belt at a speed not greater than the speed of light. Anything faster than this and I might struggle a little. 

Likewise, if you could wait until I have unfurled all my change from the receipt you shoved in my hand and redeposited that, along with my loyalty card into my purse and then in turn, my purse,  back into my bag before you start throwing down the next customer's shopping, I would really appreciate that.

Whilst I'm on the subject, if you are a customer on either side of me in a queue at the supermarket, you do not need to panic that I am going to a) let you pay for my shopping or b) accidentally pay for yours. This will not happen. Please don't get into such a flap about separating our shopping with the "Next Customer Please" sign that you knock over the pensioner using a Zimmer Frame who is standing next to you.

A polite note to motorists refuelling at petrol stations where it says "Use Both Sides" - this means the hose is long enough to stretch right round your car so you do not need to wait for a space to become free on the same side as your petrol cap.

And on a more personal note, Mum, you know I love you very much but it really pissed me off when you tried to get me to dress up as a giant baby at the Strawberry Fair when I was 6. Please don't try to pull a stunt like that ever again.

Mr G, yesterday I came home and discovered you had drunk the last bit of Coke, and let me tell you, I was hopping mad.

To the chap who came up to me on a night out in the Treasury once and told me "My mate thinks you're a dog but I think you're quite fit", I will not forget that.

To whoever at my primary school decided me and my best friend were so musically incompetent that we were only permitted to share a bongo for "Little Donkey" in the Christmas Play. Well, you were probably right actually.

And finally, to Gordon Ramsay, please air your dirty laundry behind closed doors, or at least in the domain in which it belongs, such as on Jeremy Kyle.

Kind regards

The Un-Working Girl

That Time Of Year Again

2010-11-09T19:24:00.000Z

I almost forgot this so big thanks to both Strickers and Fiver for reminding me that today is one of the greatest days in the Plymouth local calendar.

Yes, it's the day of the "Baby of The Year" supplement in the Evening Herald - where thousands of parents enter photos of their beloved children in the hope of winning a family holiday to a caravan park and a teddy.

I'm not exaggerating when I say looking through the pictures is one of my favourite pastimes EVER.

First of all, there's the interesting selection of names - some I like, some... Well, not so much.

And yes, you've got the typically cute ones. They're alright. But then you've got the ones pulling funny faces. Believe me, there is not a lot funnier than a tiny baby poking their tongue out. Then there's those babies that are about three days old, with more hair than Justin Bieber. I LOVE this. Extra points also for cheerers or wavers.

I'm honestly not being sarcastic. It's no secret that any children of mine are going to be blessed (or cursed, depending on how you look at it) with brilliantly offbeat names, and I don't care what anyone says (even my husband). I'm telling you now, I would actually question science if me and Mr G do not one day have a huge baby that looks like Winston Churchill with an Afro. If that time ever comes, you bet he or she will be gracing the pages of BOTY.

Any child with no hair but wearing a hairband is automatically disqualified from my poll (sorry but it's not right) and sadly, this year that appears to have reduced the numbers quite significantly, but after much deliberation I am thrilled to announce I am backing baby 1385, the phenomenal Rupert Merrifield!

NB Whilst this blog appears on the thisisplymouth website, I am in no way associated with the competition and the views expressed here are my own.

Nil By Mouth - First time for everything

2010-11-08T20:59:00.000Z

The day of my bionic elbow operation is fast approaching and I'm starting to get nervous now.

Here's what's mainly been playing on my mind:

1) I'm not allowed to eat anything from 6:15am on the day of the operation. I might not have my operation till the evening. Seriously, I'm not sure how I'm going to manage. I don't know if I have ever gone that long without food before. THIS IS NOT A JOKE.

2) What if I don't regain complete movement in my elbow, meaning I can never again do the robot dance?

Coke Addict

2010-11-08T20:44:00.000Z

I know it's really bad for you but I just can't get enough of Coca Cola at the moment. The worst thing is, the more I drink the more I want. I'm worried that I'm developing a dangerous habit.

Just wanted to share that with everyone.

Close, But No Cigarillo

2010-11-06T09:31:00.000Z

Is there anything funnier than your mother getting the name of something wrong?

Me: "Mum, do you want a sandwich?"

Mothership: "Yes please, but I'll have mine on one of them kebabbas".

I look at Fiver, perplexed.

She sighs, "It's called a ciabatta, Mum!"

Mothership "Oh well, I was close".

Not really, Mum.

This is just one example of my mother's attempts at keeping up with the times.

Only recently I was astonished to learn that the Beach Boys had not been singing a song about Barbara Horn, a lady from our street, but in fact about some girl named Barbara Ann.

Similarly, the song "Karma Chameleon" made a lot more sense when I discovered that the words to the chorus were not "Cumma Cumma Cumma Cumma Cumma Camellia".

Is it any wonder I have turned out the way I am? In the words of Peter Kay, "if it's not one thing, it's your mother".

The Verdict

2010-11-04T16:32:00.000Z

Remember that epic story where I fell over in Kracow and hurt my arm? Oh how we laughed!

Ummm... I've got to have an operation to rebuild my elbow. Under general anaesthetic. And stay overnight at the hospital.

The stray bit of bone floating around on the X-ray was, in fact, attached to my muscle - which is no longer attached to my elbow where it is supposed to be and it's all got to be stitched back together*. The consultant, an elbow specialist of some description, was so intrigued by the injury he is carrying out the procedure himself, and said if it is left longer than next week my arm might seize up. How on earth have I done this much damage by falling down two steps?!

Weirdly, since getting the diagnosis it seems to be hurting a lot more...

* This has very helpfully been indicated on the X-ray with the use of a giant question mark.

Seriously. I'm off now...

2010-11-04T09:33:00.002Z

I'm just going to check Heatworld and then I'm going. Seriously.

Beetroot Juice

2010-11-04T09:18:00.000Z

Am home for the day as got to go to the fracture clinic in a bit to find out how much damage I've actually done to my elbow.

Caught Daybreak for the first time ever - bit ropey - and now watching Lorraine. She is currently doing a piece on apple crumble (or "crumbo" as we would call it here in Plymouth) with a chef who has a gorgeous Westcountry accent. Oooh he's put a lovely gert dollop of clotted cream on there. Beaute.

Lorraine just took a sip of a beetroot smoothie and this has reminded me of something from the weekend (might want to look away if you're eating your breakfast). Having enjoyed a side order of fried beetroot in Kracow, I feel I should warn Lorraine not to forget she drank it as I had the shock of my life when I went to the toilet and thought I was suffering from major internal hemorrhaging before remembering I'd eaten a plate full of beetroot.

Oh come on! That's funny! True story.

Anyway, me and the bionic plaster of Paris arm are off to try washing my hair. I've just realised how stupid an idea that actually is, it's never going to work.

Arm is really hurting today :( I'm starting to worry that it might be diagnosed as "totalis fuckedum" to quote the correct medical term. You know me, I don't like to grumble. But I'm sure I'll report back.

Goodies!!

2010-11-04T08:14:00.000Z

Looking forward to reviewing these products that arrived this morning. In particular, giving myself a little manicure to cheer up the shambles that is my arm. Check The Un-Working World website later for more info!

The Birthday Girl!!

2010-11-04T08:10:00.000Z

I can't believe my baby girl is 4 years old today. Gosh, they grow up so fast!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUCY LIU xxx

Cher-L: Stay that way

2010-11-03T20:58:00.000Z

Now... I've been pretty vocal in my disapproval of faux-gangsta Cher-L on the X Factor, so never let it be said that I'm not open to changing my opinion about someone.

I really enjoyed her more vulnerable, less gimicky performance on the weekend. Much better and much more believable! Loved that eye make-up too.

Here it is if you didn't catch it - give it a go and let me know your thoughts:

Of course, we all know what this means, someone at Xfactor HQ obviously reads The Un-Working Girl and has taken my advice.

Does My Arm Look Big In This?

2010-11-03T20:25:00.001Z

Took a bit longer than I expected to get back to finishing the story as my doctor referred me to casualty and I spent last night up there explaining the story to various medical staff and other patients. Don't worry - I loved it.

Turns out I've been walking around with a fractured elbow for 4 days, but I'll come to that....

Now where were we?

Ahhh yes, in the back of a taxi en route to a hospital in Kracow.

Upon our arrival the driver gestured for us to wait in the cab whilst he went in to talk to someone. A few minutes later he came out and started babbling away to us, pointing over the road. One of the girls followed him over to what turned out to be a pharmacy with one of those security windows that 24hour petrol stations have, and on the other side of the glass a lady in a white coat started chattering away to the driver and pointing to another building. We all sloped over there, teeth chattering in the cold, between giggles and whispers of "what the hell is going on?".

A couple of doors down the road was what I assume was a small doctors surgery with an emergency department. It was empty. The taxi driver ushered me in behind him and found a member of a staff, who eyed me disdainfully with that look only worthy of a drunken English girl abroad. She and the taxi driver then started arguing right over the top of me, angrily gesturing back towards the other places we had just come from. Another lady stuck her head round a door and joined in the debate whilst we tried to work out what was happening. It became clear that nobody wanted to deal with me, the taxi driver wanted to get back to work and my arm was STILL hanging off. "Start. Crying!" One of the girls muttered through clenched teeth. "I. Can't!" I muttered back, and with that, started to laugh.

The argument came to a climax and the taxi driver stomped off with the two women still shouting after him. We jogged along behind, trying to keep up, as he crossed the road and pointed to the little hospital we went to first, indicating that he was about to leave us.

Inside a reception area, a man sat behind another security window stirred from a light slumber and raised his eyebrows at the sight of me tip-toeing around in a mini skirt with my arm held rigid in front of me.

In broken English-slash-sign language he directed us over to a waiting room, which was empty save for two police officers loitering by a coffee machine and a man seat quietly. He indicated that I should bang on the door, so I did, and was greeted by a scrubbed-up woman who tentatively opened the door just enough to expose her head and shoulders and eyed me up and down, looking surprised at my arrival.

"Do you speak English?" I asked.

I didn't understand her reply but there then ensued another rumble from which I understood that yes, this was the casualty department but they would not see me. I had no idea why and was starting to get a bit exasperated now since it was pretty obvious, to me anyway, that my arm would shortly need amputating.

"Excuse me lady?" Comes a quiet voice from the seating area.

"YES!" I sighed happily at the sound of my mother tongue.

"You must sit and wait" he said. The two police officers stirred.

"No, they said they won't see me. But look at my arm! I need an Xray!" I pouted.

"No, no, no. Just sit. You wait. maybe one hour, maybe two. Sit!" he explained. The police officers eyed him cautiously and nodded in agreement.

The Po Po were now sitting down so we took a pew opposite them and one of them nodded his head in the direction of my arm.

"I fell down some steps!" I announced proudly, making a rolling gesture with my good arm, followed by a "splat" sound.

He laughed. They seemed to be in good spirits and we managed some basic conversations about where we were from, what we were doing, etc, and they were highly amused by the tale. Every so often the chap sat near me piped up with a question and when the Police kept shhhhing him and talking to him sternly, the penny finally dropped that he was under their custody. Apparently the handcuffs went unnoticed by us.

"Don't talk to him. He criminal" they informed us.

Well, AS IF...

"Are you a criminal?" I enquired?

"Yes" he nodded with a smile on his face.

"What did you do? Have you been naughty?" I asked.

He pointed to his head.

"You're crazy?" I asked

"Yes! Yes! Crazy!" He laughed.

"Well, aren't we all!" I laughed.

We passed some time chatting with them, and cheekily asking if they would pose in some photos with us. The criminal very kindly agreed to be photographed with one of our "Hen Nigh Scoring Cards" which we had still in our possession, and one of the girls bought him a coffee.

Eventually he was escorted into the treatment room and we were left on our own in the waiting room, taking a catalogue of photos of my crooked elbow, and still laughing at the comedy of the whole situation.

Someone who spoke good English appeared and told me I needed an Xray, so I was lead off to the room, still carrying my mobile and just told to balance my arm on the table underneath this giant machine. I couldn't stretch it out so had to squat into an amazing position just to get it at the right angle for the Xray.

"Errrr.... should I put my phone somewhere?" I asked nervously. It was currently in my hand right beneath all the equipment.

They scrunched up their noses and dismissed the suggestion as crazy. As soon as they got behind the door I threw it like a grenade as far away from any machinery as I could manage.

Back in the consultation room, the adrenaline was starting to wear off and I realised what a total tit I am, since this sort of thing happens to me all the time. I suddenly realised I didn't have a clue what was going on, I had no money, and actually, my arm was hurting quite a lot. I started to cry silently, feeling mightily sorry for myself (blame the vodka). "I'm such an idiot!" I lambasted myself. Why did this always happen to me?

"Don't cry!" came a voice, the doctor had spotted me. I looked away in the other direction, wiping the tears away, unable to stop myself from crying and noticed the two police officers looking over at me. They both caught my eye and smiled at me sympathetically which made me cry even more.

Suddenly, the man who I previously assumed was unconscious, or even dead, on the bed next to me sat bolt upright, wires and pipes all hanging out of every orifice, and chirped "Drink Polish medicine! WODKA!", then lay back down again.

With that, everyone started laughing and normality was resumed.

Jesus, this is going on forever. Lets wrap it up, shall we?

They said it wasn't broken and then prescribed me a load of drugs which I had to run to the pharmacy over the road to collect, and then come back to have something injected into my bum cheek. It's still currently working its way through the rump and I expect in about a week I'll experience some immense pain relief out of the blue.

I left with my arm in a sling and we caught a taxi back to the apartments and went to bed.

Naturally I have not stopped talking about it since and lapping up all the attention. This was compounded further yesterday by the discovery that it is actually broken and I am now wearing the most LUDICROUSLY MASSIVE CAST KNOWN TO MANKIND. I have to go to the fracture clinic tomorrow so I'll know more then. I'm a touch worried about the stray piece of bone that is just floating around in my elbow vicinity but I suppose I'll find out tomorrow if that's going to be a problem.

In the meantime, Mr G is looking after me very well and has even relinquished his side of the bed for me. I'm not looking forward to telling him I need some help washing my hair in a minute though... I can't go another day looking like this!

Enjoy the pics. Please, laugh away. We did.

Krac-owwwww: Hens on Tour, Unworkinggirl on the Floor

2010-11-02T15:54:00.000Z

Cast your minds back, if you will, to last Monday when I uttered the immortal words:

"Oooh, I'm off to Kracow on a fabulous Hen Do this weekend, so I'm sure I'll have some stories from there. If you've ever been and recommend anywhere then please comment below."

This, my friends, is what is referred to as tempting fate.

On Friday afternoon I arrived in beautiful Kracow with a group of lovely girls for my oldest friend's hen do. We checked into our apartments and got ourselves ready for the night ahead.

It was all going so well, the "Mr & Mrs Quiz" we put together turned out to provide an excellent excuse to make the hen drink several shots of Vodka before heading out to a cute restaurant for dinner.

After that we headed over to the main town square for an organised pub crawl that we had booked to join, primarily because the first stop on the tour was dubbed the all-you-can-drink "Power Hour". We bumped into a stag party from Cardiff who we met on the plane - although at this early stage we were surprised to notice that the stag, Tony The Tiger (so-called because he had to spend the entire weekend dressed in either a fleece tiger suit or a Borat Mankini), was nowhere to be seen.

"Ahh, yeah he's back at the hotel in bed!" We were informed. Boys, eh?

The first port of call was not dissimilar to (in fact, it probably was) a small cellar. We spent a lot of time mesmerised (in much the same way my Dad was bemused by the cup holders in the seats at the O2 Arena - "Haha. I can't get over THAT!") at the fact that smoking inside is still legal, and reminiscing at days gone by, in only the way that a group of people hurtling towards thirty can. Yes, yes, all very amazing until the next day, when it smelled like someone had smoked a ham in my hair.

It turned out that in the aforementioned Power Hour, the only thing you could have to drink was vodka. Shots of.

Being the sensible girls that we are, we were sufficiently horrified at this but of course, we had paid our money so what other option did we have during this awful recession but to knock back as much of the stuff as we could handle in 60 minutes?

The next stop was a slightly roomier cellar. The Cardiff Stags were still standing, and amazingly, so were we. We located a small dance floor and in between taking gazillions of photos from arm's reach, strutted around to a bit of Polish Techno-Pop. Oh, we were having the time of our lives!

I gestured to the others making a "T" shape with my hands, which as we all know, is the Universal Night-Out sign for "I'm popping to the toilet".

One of the other hens came with me and after a mandatory re-application of inch thick lip gloss and this conversation:

"Are you having a good time? I'm having a GREAT TIME!"

"Yeah, I'm having a GREAT TIME Are you having a good time?"
"Yessss! I'm having a BRILLIANT TIME! Are you?!"

I had a quick look in the mirror and thought "Geddon bird, you're doing alright. It's midnight and you're still going strong. You're looking FIERCE!". With that, I teetered off down the stairs, feeling slightly proud of myself for making it all the way down in my high heels without twisting an ankle.

Sipping on my drink, I trotted smugly towards the dancefloor to find the others, congratulating myself for scrubbing up ok for a rare night ou...

BAM!!!!

Next thing I knew I was sprawled out on the floor dripping with Vodka & Red Bull. Two Polish girls yanked me to my feet and said what I presumed to be "Oh my GOD! Are you ok?" but could just have easily been "Hahaha what an amazing face-plant you stupid bloody Brit". I have absolutely no idea what I answered but I managed to stumble back up the two came-out-of-nowhere steps I had just dived off and found some of our party in the bar.

"I just fell over!" I announced. I think the general consensus was that I had just taken an embarrassing drunken tumble until they saw my face, which apparently was drained of any colour, save for an inch of bright pink lip gloss that was now smudged down my chin. They ushered me to a seat.

"You're ripped your tights!" exclaimed one hen.

"I think I've broken my elbow!" I mumbled through chattering teeth.

"Yes, but you've ripped your tights!" The hen pointed out. "Have a little sit down for a minute" the offered.

By all accounts at this point I suddenly pronounced that I "had to get my shoes off and go outside". A couple of lovely hens followed me and my bulging elbow to the entrance where a doorman agreed that I should probably go to the hospital.

"Should I get an ambulance?!" I asked.

"In Poland, ambulance is only for emergency" he informed us.

Sorry - was this not an emergency? My arm was hanging off! Ok... not quite. No, it was not an emergency, so we crept off to find a taxi, scaring revellers on the streets along the way with the sight of my eggy elbow, leaving the other hens blissfully unaware and techno-popping the night away.

Believe it or not, there is still a lot more of this story to come but I have to go to the doctors now for them to check over my injuries, so I'll have to give you the next instalment later...

The Tabloid Roos-papers

2010-10-27T14:53:00.000+01:00

I noticed Wayne Rooney in the papers again yesterday, and for once I'm on his side.

Yes, ok so he made himself look like a bit of a ninny with all that "I'm off!" "Oh actually, I'm staying" drama last week but as we all know I ain't even bovvered about football so I paid little attention to that, apart from perhaps to look down my nose (and laugh patronisingly) at the losers who took to angrily protesting on the Rooneys' front lawn. And come to think about it, get a little bit annoyed at the notion that it was obviously Colleen's fault he was leaving.

All in all, he earned himself something like an extra £100k per week for kicking up that little stink, and it seems like nobody really liked him anyway so I doubt he's too concerned about public perception of him.

Which is lucky really, as little did he know it was about to get a whole lot worse.

That's right. He's masterminded a bumper pay rise which he is now getting stick for to the extent that he has received death threats and has football hooligans camped outside his house; lets not forget after the hooker scandal, he'll be trying to worm his way out of the doghouse for quite some time yet; oh, and it's his birthday.... So how bloody dare he GO ON HOLIDAY SOMEWHERE NICE.

Seriously, this was front page news on the tabloids yesterday, for example; The Mirror "Rooney flees furore with £17k holiday to Dubai" and The Star "Rooney's Obscene Holiday".

Let me be clear, Wayne Rooney could buy my house outright every week with his wage increase alone. I have no money. I wish I had some money. That doesn't mean that a) Rooney is not entitled to spend his and b) it's his fault that nobody else has any money. Don't get me wrong, I'm insanely jealous that he's got all that cash and last week I spent my very last pennies on an emergency Freddo bar, but that's the industry he works in:

His football club (for whatever footballing reason, that does not interest me in the slightest) agreed to pay him that much money.
If his club hadn't, I'm led to believe another would have.
All football clubs seem to spend a ridiculous amount of money on their players.
Football fans also seem to pay a ridiculous amount of money supporting their clubs.

It might not be right, but it's not his fault.

Again, I'm stretching my understanding of the fiscal situation here but last time I checked, Wayne Rooney was not single handedly responsible for the Double Dip Recession, so why does it matter if he's spent an afternoon's wages on a mini break? If I had it, so would I. And I would help out charities. For all we know, so do the Rooneys. Chris Evans said in his latest autobiography that one day he and Billie Piper got a private jet to South Africa, went into a bar, had one drink and then flew home again. Granted, quite irresponsibly enlarging their carbon footprint but that aside (minor point!) what's the big deal?

I'm sure he would get just as much stick for going to Centerparcs for the weekend, only everyone would be calling him tight then. In fact, by my calculations, spending 17k on a holiday when you earn £800,000 per month is about the equivalent of someone on a £20k salary spending about £35 on a weekend away.

I think we've got far bigger economic problems to worry about than Rooney's disposable income.

Just saying.

On That Note...

2010-10-25T19:11:00.000+01:00

I think it's time to changer le disc. I know I'm a bit X Factor crazy at the moment. I love and hate it in equal measure so I can't help but go on about it (arrgh which is exactly what "they" want!) but I should probably find something new to talk about now...

But WHAT?

Oooh, I'm off to Kracow on a fabulous Hen Do this weekend, so I'm sure I'll have some stories from there. If you've ever been and recommend anywhere then please comment below.

In other news, I'm about to make a cottage pie for tea. It is quite literally ALL GO here this evening.

Cher-L: Origin-L

2010-10-25T19:05:00.000+01:00

Just found this little YouTube video that highlights what I was trying to say about Cher-L not being very original.

I'm not saying this is the vulnerable teenager's fault. I suspect the whole thing is being manufactured by The Powers That Be, but what do I know? I'm just a dumb X Factor viewer...

X Factory

2010-10-23T20:41:00.000+01:00

Grrr I'm in a right old X Factor grump this evening. It's been pretty dull so far, I can't be bothered to write any more about it. Fingers crossed next week the theme will be "Songs guaranteed to fill a dancefloor".

Message For Cher-L:

2010-10-23T20:24:00.002+01:00

Anita Dobson called, she wants her wig back.

BREAKING NEWS!

2010-10-23T20:15:00.001+01:00

The X Factor is really boring tonight. zzzzzzzzzzz

Because I'm Worth It...

2010-10-23T20:12:00.000+01:00

An important message to everyone in any way associated with the X Factor (they're all avid readers, I'm convinced):

PUT DOWN THE HAIR DYE.

Is it Because I Is Black?

2010-10-23T20:10:00.000+01:00

The judges said they wanted to get to know "the real John Adeleye".

Obviously the cultivation of an Afro and the addition of a quirky jacket have really made him stand out as individual. Well done XFactor...

Later Haterrrrrz

2010-10-23T17:38:00.000+01:00

I feel bad for being mean about Cher-L. She's clearly got enough on her plate (well, not literally) with that eating disorder, without some low profile blogger giving her grief as well.

I don't hate her or anything. We were all 16 and starving once. All I'm saying is I don't buy into the idea that she's original and genuine or in the least bit "gangsta". I'm sure she's still a nice girl and everything.

This Week's XFactor Predictions

2010-10-23T16:34:00.000+01:00

I fear it will be the end of the line for ~~Bellamy~~ Belle Amie tomorrow night. As we know, girl groups never get the public vote, so I think they'll be teetering off into the sunset and before the month is out appearing in various tabloids stripped down to their La Senza underwear, admitting they all hated each other really. Which is a shame because I quite liked them actually.

Cher-L will probably be safe again because in the eyes of the viewing demographic who are too young to know otherwise, she is like, totally unique. And a girl on my bus had the Cher version (which, incidentally, is identical to the Keri Hilson version) of Turn My Swag On as her text alert the other day so the kids must be down with her. The good news though, is that for every week she stays in the competition, there's a chance that she goes out for a celebratory meal so that's at least one more meal a week than she was eating before.

One Direction's vocal arrangement will have been thrown into chaos this week when one of their member's voice dropped.

At least one contestant will be shown visiting a doctor on Harley Street in a desperate bid to find a pioneering cure for the common cold.

Simon will use the word "relevant" 5 times. And will also declare after every act that we've just witnessed "the best performance of the night so far".

Louis' hair will have gone back to grey.

Saturday Job

2010-10-23T16:18:00.000+01:00

I'm half way through a stint of babysitting my nephew JEdwards. So far, so good.

He's either asleep, or has been unconscious for a couple of hours. I've watched a bit of Columbo and had a little snooze.

According to my comprehensive list of instructions, it's time to wake him up now so I'd better sign out so I can do all the necessary bits to have him in bed before XFactor starts...

Speaking of which, I'll be blogging along tonight again so if you're a fan then join in.

(If you're not, join in anyway. You'll still enjoy it. Probably. Maybe. No, you will...)

Banksy, Dreamboats & Petticoats

2010-10-20T16:10:00.000+01:00

Last night Nickers from Work took me out for a surprise treat to Torquay to watch Dreamboats & Petticoats at the theatre. We had a funny time, especially when I became convinced that the lead character was looking directly at me in the middle of a very heartfelt number, and engaged in a stare-out death match with him that ended in me and Nik getting an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. Yes, very grown up, I know. Then we got our swag' on in the aisles with a load of old people at the end, which was amusing...

We also managed to stop off to check out the alleged new work by renowned graffiti artist Banksy on the side of the Grosvenor Hotel. It was pretty cool.

Why I'm Called The Un-Working Girl #27868704

2010-10-16T14:31:00.002+01:00

Incidentally, the reason my Dad has not phoned me back yet about the below leak is because he's currently out and about sorting out another one of my problems.

Yesterday during its MOT it transpired that my car has actually had the wrong numberplate on it for years...

Why I Never Do Housework: Reason #473

2010-10-16T14:29:00.000+01:00

Oh hell and damn nation. Hot on the heels of our major electrical fault just one week ago, me and Mr G this morning uncovered a new problem chez nous.

Since we have some visitors popping round this weekend, we thought it only polite to clean up a little bit. When you start leaving footprints in the dust, you know it is time to locate Henry the Hoover.

I was quite merrily Ecover-ing down the cupboards in the kitchen and singing along to a bit of Rihanna when Mr G came in and declared that, having lived here for three years, perhaps we should attempt to lift the washing machine onto the blocks it was always supposed to be on, so that we could actually put the plinths down under the kitchen units. The thought process behind this being that it may one day inspire us to lay an actual floor - going by the current work rate, in about 5 years' time.

So, down on my hands and knees, I removed the carrier-bag barricade (originally installed to prevent the dog from eating the mouse poison laid down under the sink) and promptly heard a familiar, desperate, expiration of breath coming from Mr G. I knew what this meant, and it wasn't good.

"What now?!" I dared ask.

"Brilliant. A massive leak" came the answer.

I peered under the sink, positioned between the washing machine and dishwasher. Running the length of the two appliances were soaked, rotting, mushroom-covered floorboards, overlooked by a black (formerly white), mould-covered rear wall.

"Excellent!" I declared, choking. Mr G rolled his eyes and slowly shook his head.

"What?!" I coughed. "I'm surprised it hasn't killed us! Mould spores are really dangerous! Don't you remember that episode of CSI?" I asked.

And then I did what experience tells me is best in these situations...

Sent Skipper a picture message with a :( and am currently pretending none of this has happened until the inevitable phone call:

"Alright love, what's that?"
"A massive leak from behind the dishwasher Dad!"
"Well it shouldn't be!"

Matt Cardie

2010-10-15T21:26:00.000+01:00

Errrrrr Hello Matt Cardle from XFactor...

I'm very excited to report that beneath that 'orrible hat was a sexy, tousled mane. And who knew chunky-knit sweaters could be so attractive? I got quite hot and bothered looking at that photo. What's that Matthew, do I want to come and snuggle underneath that blazer with you? Err, yes. Yes I believe I do.

p.s. I have borrowed this picture from Syco. Email me if you own the copyright and would like me to remove it.

ALL HAIL DARINA!

2010-10-15T21:04:00.000+01:00

Massive chufty badge for reader Darina (we played together as children and she's named after a boat, fact fans) who after some intensive campaigning has managed to officially recruit the blog's FIRST CELEBRITY FOLLOWER!!!!!!!

If you check the "Followers" section on the bottom right, you can see the evidence for yourself and join me in welcoming the very gracious Ms Terri Dwyer as our latest reader... Thrilled to have you on board this one way train to global domination. You can Click here to go to Terri's website.

As always, thanks to everyone for joining in and following the blog. x

The Un-Workinggirl Strikes Again

2010-10-14T21:57:00.000+01:00

Oh my god, I really am such a cockface at times.

Today, in some kind of hormone / Capsiplex Slimming Pill-induced rage, I was about to throw my iPhone out the window in sheer frustration at the lack of responses I have been getting from Twitter. A few weeks ago I felt certain I was about to break into the mainstream and soon the book deal / regular panel slot on satirical talkshow was would be safely within my grasp, but since this had not happened within the space of about 15 days I can safely say I was on the verge of throwing all my toys out the pram and shutting down my account.

First the Dirk Benedict interview fell through, then I missed Gemma Arterton on the red carpet, and now celebrities were routinely avoiding my, quite frankly, horrifically desperate attempts to attract their attention.

So you can just imagine my excitement when a genuine celeb (and a really decent one at that) tweets me asking for a link to my blog.

In what will now forevermore be known as my "I. Carried. A. Watermelon?" moment...

I. Typed. The. Wrong. Blog. Address?

Tweets, Blogs and Big Hugs All Round.

2010-10-14T21:38:00.000+01:00

I should explain... The reason I Tweeted Sara Cox was because she's been writing some fantastically witty blog posts about parenting recently, (which you can read here) and she was upset because some people had taken the time to post really negative comments underneath.

I have been really fortunate that the majority of the feedback I get is lovely and supportive, but on the occasions where people have been a bit mean, or misunderstood my point, I have taken it really personally. Everyone is entitled to their opinion but I'm just one insignificant person rambling on about things that seem funny or important to me at the time - I never set out to offend anyone or for much of it to be taken too seriously, and I don't understand why some people are so nasty. Anyone who has ever lingered over the comments sections of thisisplymouth will understand what I mean. Come on everyone, hug it out!

When I do eventually achieve global stardom (which, face it, is now imminent since I've just become BFFs with Coxy) I know I'm going to find it difficult to take any criticism.
So I just quickly wanted to say thanks to you all for being so lovely and supportive and for "getting it". Please check out Sara's blog, it's v funny.

Right, got to skedaddle. Me and Mr G are having a Virgin+ crisis - the box has just gone off in the middle of Law & Order UK!

HOW DO SARA!!!!

2010-10-14T21:20:00.000+01:00

Just a quick post to say Hello to Sara Cox!

By a strange turn of events this evening we have shared a couple of tweets about blogging and I've sent her a link to my little old blog so fingers crossed she's reading this.

And now I can't think of anything funny to say to recruit her as first celebrity follower. BUMS.

A Miner Celebration

2010-10-13T10:37:00.000+01:00

If you've woken up feeling a little bit shit, then have a quick look at any news channel this morning.

For a natural born pessimist like myself it's quite easy to get sucked into the black hole of doom that we hear about every day; The War on Terror, the Double Dip Recession, Courteney Cox and David Arquette splitting up... the list goes on.

We're constantly being reminded that us decent people are all skint, and those of us who aren't destined to die a slow and painful death before reaching retirement age might as well jump in front of a bus anyway because there won't be any money in the pension pot*. Cheery eh?

So quick, turn over to Sky News to watch live coverage of the 33 Chilean miners being pulled alive and well from the collapsed mine half a mile underground where they have been trapped for almost 70 days. Recharge your happiness battery and enjoy the emotional scenes as you see them being winched up one by one in the Phoenix capsule to be greeted by their loved ones, the president and all the engineering staff who have never given up hope that they would get them out of there safely. See... sometimes, nice things do still happen.

It's probably going to take another 24 hours or so to rescue every last person so fingers crossed the remainder of the operation continues without a hitch.

And as I'm sure each and every one of them will check my blog immediately after resurfacing: "Bienvenidos de vuelta!"

*That was, of course, a joke. Please don't jump in front of a bus or any other vehicle.

Wives And Girlfriends...

2010-10-11T20:46:00.000+01:00

Here's an interesting article from the brilliant writer, Grace Dent, about Michelle Obama being named the most powerful woman in the world.

Have a read if you were pondering the issue of feminism after my ground-breaking post: The Great Big Hooters Hoo Haa.

Empire State of Migraine

2010-10-11T16:04:00.000+01:00

Thank you very much to whomever crept into my bedroom on Saturday night and, whilst I was sleeping, attacked my temporal lobe with a pick axe.

I am now on my second day of a monster migraine and I would quite like it to go away now please :(

Reports that the migraine is as a result of an epileptic episode triggered by the new styling on X Factor remain unconfirmed.

B.Y.E F.Y.D

2010-10-10T21:01:00.000+01:00

Awww that was a shame. The only group that were not manufactured by the judges and they're gone.
The public did not warm to Katie Waissel and her rainbow visors, possibly since finding out she already has a record deal in the States.

Notice also, how the performance she gave tonight was totally different to the one that was orchestrated for her last night. She may well be a gonner next week.

Xpert

2010-10-10T20:42:00.000+01:00

As I predicted. Ciao Nicolo :(

X Factor Sunday Summary

2010-10-10T20:27:00.000+01:00

I have had an awful migraine all day, and I can only conclude it's some kind of hangover from last night's hallucinogenic X Factor marathon.

I just about managed to blog along live to the show but I appreciate not everyone cares so I might not do it every week.

Here's a quick rundown of what happened:

The judges were each permitted a "Wild Card", so they could bring back one act from their judges' (not their real) houses shortlist. In the show with "no second chances" it turns out there are at least a couple of second chances.

The entire show was totally bonkers and there were several moments where I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing, former PE teacher Wagner fitting around the stage to Ricky Martin's She Bangs, Katie Waissel wearing a crash helmet with a spectrum of visors, pretending to play along on a keyboard that was resting on the backs of two Lycra clad men, Diva Fever skipping around in day-glo cycling shorts... MENTAL.

Standout performances from: Mary Byrne & Aiden Grimshaw

My favourites so far: FYD, Belle Amie, Mary Byrne, Wagner, Aiden Grimshaw

Who should leave tonight: Wagner

Most likely to leave tonight: John Adeleye, Paije Richardson, Nicolo Festa

Number of times Simon said "Relevant": lost count

In spite of spending most of the night completely bewildered it was much more entertaining than usual even if it was a bit long. At least there was some variety for a change.

So onto tonight. I'm mortified to see the producers have chosen to keep the horrendous group performance as an opener to the show. It's just so embarrassing. The song is always rubbish, they mime terribly and there appears to be absolutely no point to it. Tonight I even witnessed the Lesser Spotted Fist-above-Air-Pump-in-Unison, a dance move not seen since the late 1990s.

Usher was great though, even Alpha Male Mr G was impressed.

Now Joe McElderry's turn and then we'll find out which two acts are getting the boot tonight. Stay tuned...

Is there Anybody Out There?!

2010-10-09T22:07:00.000+01:00

Thanks to the one person who has joined in so far with my live X Factor blogging!

Am I talking to anyone else?!!

Come on, join in the X Factor chat! It's easy to comment...

Trey-C

2010-10-09T22:04:00.000+01:00

I was gutted when Treyc didn't get through at the judge's (not their real) houses, so I was pleased that she got Cheryl's wildcard. BUT, did she just slag off two of her team mates? Hmmmm. I don't think that's very good cricket.

Aiden Grimshaw

2010-10-09T21:58:00.000+01:00

I really fancy Aiden Grimshaw.

I liked him better with his eyes shut though. With them open he's looking through the telly at me like he's about to murder me.

I'm not raving about this song.

Phew, is there anyone left? I feel like I've been through the wringer tonight. Is it just me or has the X Factor been going on for about three years?

Wagner

2010-10-09T21:48:00.000+01:00

Has the whole world gone mad this year?! What am I watching?! Am I enjoying it?! The answer to any of these questions is anyone's guess.

One thing I do know though is that I would have LOVE, LOVE, LOVED this guy to have been my PE teacher.

One Direction

2010-10-09T21:41:00.000+01:00

Does anyone else feel like they're watching that new band, The Wanted, starring in a West End musical?

Should have put Liam through on his own...

Ciao Nicolo.

2010-10-09T21:30:00.002+01:00

Just putting this out there, but in Italian, "Ciao" is used for both "Hello" and "Goodbye".

Mary, Mary, Quite Glad They Gave You A Make Over

2010-10-09T21:27:00.000+01:00

Here's Tesco checkout lady Mary.

There's no denying she is amazing. She's sooooo likeable and has a brilliant diva voice, but man am I glad they got rid of that stringy, spidery fringe. I preferred the Dawn French hairdo to tonight's one though, looks a bit like she's just clocked off from behind the deli counter.

I do love her and I really hope she stays in till the end - the crowd reaction was amazing. Even if she doesn't win she'll definitely be playing Mama Morton in Chicago by the end of the year.

Katie Waissel

2010-10-09T21:20:00.000+01:00

Jesus Wept. For a second there I thought I had been spiked with crystal meth and accidentally switched over to Battlestar Galactica.

What. On. Earth. Have they done to this poor (if slightly annoying) girl?

She's got such a sweet, old fashioned voice.

Simon just slated Storm Lee's outfit and is now saying that he thinks she looks great. I literally have no idea what is going on any more.

Love her make up though. Top marks.

Paije

2010-10-09T21:09:00.000+01:00

Hey Paije. Theo Huxtable called. He wants his outfit back.

Diva Fever

2010-10-09T20:59:00.000+01:00

What. Is. Happening. In. My. Living. Room?

X Factor: Quote of the Night

2010-10-09T20:57:00.000+01:00

Dermot: I think it's fair to say you needed that performance, right?
Cher: Yeah. I really needed that, I think.

I think we all know what Cher really needs. It starts with a Mc and ends with a Donalds.

Cher L from the Block

2010-10-09T20:53:00.000+01:00

HERE SHE COMES! The girl who doesn't deserve to be here, wearing an outfit from Cheryl's Fight For This Love video.

Wonder if she'll rap about her "hood" of Malvern, Worcestershire again this week?

Ooh here it comes. Dammit. The rapping isn't as cringe worthy as I feared it might be.
The singing, on the other hand, and song choice, are rap, with a capital C.

Slightly embarrassed by Simon's defence of Cheryl at the end there. Nope, not as embarrassed as I am by Cheryl doing a big, chavvy, council estate whoop afterwards.

Not quite sure why they're all calling her "current" and "relevant". Alesha Dixon has been knocking around for years. Inter.

Bellamy

2010-10-09T20:39:00.000+01:00

"Bellamy? That's a weird name! Oh right, it's Belle Amie".

I wonder if anyone can confirm to me that it should actually be Belles Amies? I mean, with all that money I spent on getting a degree in modern languages I should definitely know the answer myself but hopefully someone will be able to back me up.

Girl bands traditionally don't do too well in X Factor, they don't get the voters, so we might not see them for long. I love the girl in the jumpsuit's hair though, that's what mine is supposed to look like, WHY WON'T IT GO LIKE THAT?!!!

Storm In a Teacup

2010-10-09T20:32:00.000+01:00

Mark my words, each week we will hear less and less of Storm's American accent and out will come the Scottish one. Experience tells us The Scots are patriotic voters. Watch and you'll see.

I don't know what to make of Storm yet. I hate his yankee fakeness and that strong whiff of desperation just oozing out from the TV, but I have a feeling I'll end up liking him. Watch and you'll see.

Shy Rebecca

2010-10-09T20:25:00.000+01:00

Here's ~~Sade~~ Rebecca, singing my best friend's fave song.

She's gorra lovely voice and I'm sure she'll be in it for weeks yet. But onto the important stuff... I want to see what her bonce is like beneath those hairpieces. One thing's for sure, it's scraped back so tight I bet she has helluva headache at the end of the day.

Somebody's been Tangoed

2010-10-09T20:17:00.000+01:00

Jesus Christ. I just looked up and thought "Oooh, Nicole Scherzinger's back on the judging panel!". Turns out it was Cheryl, who last time I checked was Caucasian. Might want to lay off the fake tan a bit, Chez.

John Somebody...

2010-10-09T20:14:00.000+01:00

I quite like this guy. He works in a nursing home and has a lovely big grin.
But it was a bit boring. When's Cher L getting her swag back on?