Yet another rant from Mrs T involving a letter to the English Cricket Board

Have you heard the tragic news, readers?

Kevin Pietersen has not been selected for the next English cricket tour. His career with England is over.

Okay, a quick explanation for my American friends: Kevin Pietersen is to English cricket what Michael Phelps is to USA swimming. Only Kevin doesn't pee on the pitch like Michael pees in the pool and Kevin has a bigger mouth.

Right, so Kevin has not been selected to play for England. I am disgusted, mortified, shocked, sickened, etc etc etc at this decision. Now I'm not even going to mention Kevin's vital statistics (rumour has it they're pretty darn good - even the ones with his bat) but, in addition to his stats, Kevin is "hot". I mean seriously "hot" and we ladies, who must suffer hours of watching international test cricket, need something decent to look at every now and then. And, believe me, the only thing that stops me from hanging myself whilst watching another England defeat is the thought of a close-up of Kevin.

Anyway, I'm drafting a letter to the English Cricket Board to register my dissatisfaction. It goes something like this:

Dear Miserable Old Farts,

WE WANT KEVIN PIETERSEN

WE WANT KEVIN PIETERSEN

WE WANT KEVIN PIETERSEN

WE WANT KEVIN PIETERSEN

WE WANT KEVIN PIETERSEN

WE WANT KEVIN PIETERSEN

Yours sincerely,

Mrs Jane Turley, Housewife Extraordinare.

Ps Please remember how boring Boycott was. Do you really want to be responsible for mass suicide?

Right, if any of you ladies or gents out there feel I've forgotten to mention anything important in my letter, please let me know so I can make amendments.

Kevin Pietersen in his shades. Cool. Did Boycott ever look that cool? I can't say I noticed - I was usually in a deep coma.
 (Picture courtesy of Wikipedia, fair use)

What shall we talk about? The weather or vaginas?

I was going to write a post about the awful weather in the UK at the moment but then I read this article in The Daily Mail and decided it was way more interesting and deserving of some serious analysis.

So to sum up the article there's a woman called Kim Anami who, supposedly, can lift a 12kg kettle ball with her vagina.

I can lift a HB pencil with mine. Which is handy because if I ever have my hands amputated I will still be able to sign my name.

Now I don't want to cast doubt on the strength of this woman's vagina but whenever I read stuff like that two words cross my mind. They are "mentally" and "unstable."

Now I regularly lift an 8kg kettle ball (with my hands) as part of my on-going fitness drive and whilst this has resulted in many things (a broken window, a dead cat and facial disfigurement) it has not resulted in the desire to shove a hook up my assets and start hauling it around the house.

Anyway, I wish Kim a lot of luck. If she doesn't turn herself inside out and get mistaken for a Lady Gaga dress she can always hire herself out as a tow truck. With the current UK weather she should get a lot of work.

This lady attempted to lift a 12kg kettleball. Now she gets strange looks every time she's goes shopping. The only bonus of her current disposition is that it's far easier to have a pee in a public lavatory.

The Need to Express

Relax. This is not a post about breastfeeding.

No, today I am going talk about the need to express oneself artistically - which is a pompous way of saying you like to fart around wearing a silly hat and want everyone to admire you for it. 

Needless to say, I have always worn lots of hats.

Anyway, this subject came up for discussion in my writers group where my fellow writer, Susann Fruendt posed the following question;

I noticed that many of you have mentioned a real NEED to write; that it keeps you from going insane; that you feel restless/unhappy/incomplete/add other adjective of your choice if you don't find the time to write. So my question is: Do you think that this necessary to be a good writer? Do all of you feel that to be writing is your calling? Does this consuming passion make you a better author?

So if any of you thespians out there want to leave an answer for Susann then please do. You can also find her poignant short story on Amazon here.

In my answer to Susann (you knew this post was going to be about me didn't you?)  I related how I have always felt the need to create and express and that writing is but one of the forms of expression I've attempted ("attempt" being the operative word.) Indeed, I have tried my hand at various forms of  "the arts" including acting, singing, art and music - but not dancing (except in my kitchen - which if you've seen my legs you'll know why I stay behind the safety of my sink.) 

Obviously, I'm hoping I'm better at writing than the other arts. Basically, I was useless at singing, my attempts at playing the clarinet, recorder and guitar were met with looks of abject horror and my art was abject horror itself. If you can picture artwork which is cross between the style of Edward Munch/ Tracy Emin and Damon Hirst's more ghoulish pieces then you'll be on the right lines. Now to be fair, if I'd carried on producing artwork like that, I'd probably have made an absolute fortune. However, on the downside, I might have developed bi-polar by the age of twenty four. I would have had no self-worth at all; painting a picture of myself naked and screaming whilst lying on a messy bed next to a sheep's corpse wouldn't haven't been good for my sanity. 

But, by God, it would have been good for my subsequent literary reputation. Imagine the headlines:

Bi-polar author who slept with dead sheep before taking overdose nominated for ManBooker Prize.

Author who slit wrists with sheep shears scores hit with The History of Sheep in Art

Munch impressionist wrote horror trilogy before throwing herself of towerblock; The Screaming Sheep, The Sheep Murderer and The Last Lamb storm to the top of the bestseller charts.

Now to go back to Susann's question - unlike a lot of writers I don't feel restless or unhappy or the need wallow in the works of Sylvia Plath and Ernest Hemingway whilst taking intermittent sojurns to the bathroom cabinet. That said, I do feel kind of happier/content when I'm writing. It's as if expressing myself satisfies my need to express and entertain. I like entertaining. Just not if it requires cooking as any part of it.

Oh God, I've just googled "writers who have committed suicide" and found this. That is way more writers than I expected. Boy, there's some seriously screwed up writers out there. Now trust me, any of you self-published authors out there - your unedited manuscripts with numerous typos are not worth killing yourself over because unless you're a traditional published author who's been short-listed for a major prize or your publisher has demanded a third draft of your autobiography because there's not enough sex and debauchery in it, no one will care -you do not have to kill yourself. Those typos are not worth worrying about. Seriously. However, if you are at all concerned check out A Post for Depressed Writers: Ten Reasons to be Happy and Other Random Jolly Thoughts. It may cheer you up - or it may not.

In fact, don't read it if you're depressed, it may give you ideas. Sorry. I have a habit of putting my foot in it.

Now I don't want to create an image of myself as a completely happy-go-lucky, cocaine-snorting thespian with a penchant for pulling funny faces and wearing false noses. So it's fair to say I have at times in my life I've felt "down" too. It's only natural. Indeed the time when I realised I didn't need butt implants to have a fashionable butt like Kim Kardashian was a sad day. It was also a very sad day when I realised I wasn't go to grow taller than Tom Cruise. However, being an optimistic person I was able to pull myself out of my depressions by imagining Kim Kardshian's butt exploding on take-off from LAX airport and Tom Cruise asking me on a date because I was the only woman in Hollywood who he didn't have to put his heels on for. 

Of course, when I was a teenager I had a melancholic phase too just like many other teenagers which, again, is completely normal. After all, those teenage spots can really spoil a first date when they explode at an untimely moment. And that can really, really get you down. It happened to me once - it was just like that scene in There's Something About Mary when Ben Stiller gets semen on his ear. I told my date my zit pus was Alberto VO5 hair gel. I'm not proud of it, readers, but I did what had to be done.

You know, I have no idea where this post is going now. I've lost my train of thought. It was the image of Ben Stiller's semen that did it. Yuck.

               Ugh. I say again, ugh. I haven't felt the same about Ben Stiller since. Or hair gel.

Anyway, just for Susann, here's is a picture of some of my woodcarvings from my "artistic" period. These were carved during my teenage "I don't who I am but dead things are fascinating" years. We all have them - it's just most successful artists don't grow out if it or, if they're very lucky, they become fascinated by their genitals instead. Fortunately, I moved out of my "artistic" phase some time ago. Now I'm in my "I want to be a writer" phase. Hopefully, I'll have more success with writing than with my art. Blimey, I hope so. Otherwise Mr T may reinstate those chains.

Woodcarvings from my ghoulish period. Is it any wonder I'm mad? The centrepiece was for an exam but unfortunately the jaw of the skull didn't turn out quite as well as I'd hoped. I used to say this was because of time constraints as I had to find the time to do it in between classes. However, the truth is I just ******* it up with the chisel. Oh well. The skull and snake normally resides in the loft, the skull I use as a bookend and the head I put on a windowsill to scare off intruders. However, I find just opening the door in my PJs usually works pretty good.

Ps My short story collection is coming very soon. Apologies to anyone waiting. There is a reason which I will explain at a later date. 

Ten Reasons Why I Love Americans

1. Over 100, 000 Americans have just signed a petition to have Justin Beiber kicked out of the US. That action deserves a round of applause. True, there's been the odd occasion I've thought Americans were all bonkers (Eat Pray Love, election of George Bush Jnr, Kindegarten Cop) now I know they're not. Hurrah.

2 Lots of Americans wear really big hats and I like hats. I especially like those ten-gallon hats cowboys wear. I also like the hat Huggy Bear wears in Starksy and Hutch. Cool.

3. I like Americans' style. Even though Americans blow each other's heads off with guns they still manage to justify their gun policy on the grounds of personal safety. In England we call that irony. In the US they call it logic. As I said, I like their style.

4. Americans spell words wrongly. I've got used to it. In fact, I find it rather cute. It reminds me of when I was at school at the teacher would look at me fondly and say "Well done, Jane. That was a really good attempt."

I was 5 years old at the time.

5. Lots of Americans read my blog for which I am truly grateful. I'm sure they are picking up lots of tips on how to behave when they come to the UK . We love Americans over here. And, if they can wear a ten gallon hat and a (plastic) pistol around their waists, we'll love them a whole lot more. Alternatively, some Americans might want to experience what it is like being English and get into some role playing by eating cucumber sandwiches and talking posh like Mrs T. For this  they will need to wear a bonnet and pantaloons to get "in the mood".

I will meet them at the airport. With the customs officials.

6. The American and English nations have a lot in common.  For example, we both have "Tea Parties." To be truthful, I think our English tea parties are a lot more fun as these involve our obligatory cucumber sandwiches, sponge cake and in-depth discussions of Winnie the Pooh. As far as I can see American tea parties just consists of a whole bunch of fruitcakes.

7. Walt Disney was American and I love Disney movies. This could change of course but, luckily, I haven't yet seen Miley Cyrus in Hannah Montana - The Movie.

8. Seth MacFarlane is American. If I was single I'd probably want to marry him as he makes me laugh so much. The only trouble is I think I am actually more attracted to his dog. It's the woof that does it.

9. Americans voted in Ronald and Nancy Reagan as their President and First Lady which took some balls as, generally speaking, most film actors don't know what reality is. Admittedly, most Americans probably didn't know that Ronald told Shirley Maclaine that he was directed to go into politics by an alien who had stopped him on his way to a Hollywood party - but, nevertheless, I still say it was a courageous decision. I am currently trying to persuade Posh and Becks to go into politics. Who wouldn't want to see Becks giving a speech outside no 10?

"Ummm. We've scored a bit of a home goal with this...un..ah.... immigration policy......... Anyone want to play footie?"

I hope he's wears his Calvin Klein underpants.

10. Americans can be very forgiving, generous and kind. I know this from my writer's group which has a lot of Americans in it. They are quite tolerant of my sense of humour really. I'm not sure why - maybe it's something to do with the fact that they I think I'm related to Mrs Thatcher and they all secretly fancied her. What d'you reckon?

From subversive to submissive

I'm having a hell of a morning, folks. Full of disappointment. Now this is not because Master Jacob has forgotten his PE kit AGAIN and I've had to drive into town to drop it off - because three days in a row would have resulted in a major depression as I would have known for sure that my son was incapable of remembering anything but his first name. So all's good - just two days in a row and he's even managed to catch the bus every day this week. Yippee.

The truth is I'm depressed because I've received an email from Amazon trying to sell me a matching set of placements and coasters. Now this is depressing because, frankly, I'm not looking like a very dynamic person if all they can try and seduce me with is placemats and coasters. How about sending me an email for a super-charged vibrator or a sit-on lawn mower? Or maybe a helicopter flight or a massive chainsaw?  Cos you know, I like to consider myself still relatively lively for 48 years old. There's still some life in ol' Mrs T yet. I'm not sitting in front of my fire with my feet ensconced in a foot warmer, wrapped in a waffle dressing gown and studying the Sunday supplements for bargain hearing aids.

Not just yet anyway.

So, if getting an email trying to entice me to buy placemats and coasters wasn't bad enough - the pictures on the placemats they wanted me to buy was even more of a kick in the teeth.

It was artwork by the once subversive street artist Banksy.

Who is now selling his art for use on placemats and coasters. Gez. Talk about being commercial and conventional. I mean one has to assume Banksy knew what was going to happen to it - or at least have a very good idea.

Ah well, I suppose age makes people lose their ideals. Still selling out for placemats is sinking pretty low.

As for me? At the moment, I'm still after a ******* huge chainsaw but I guess my time will come too. Those bed socks get more appealing every winter.

Everyone can have fun with a chainsaw. Even a business geek. I want to see if this one is going to try and cut his hair.

Interrupting the deafening silence

Yes, I know I've have not been around much of late. However, today I had to break the silence to report a crime so heinous by one of the Young Masters that it can not go unreported. When they return home from school today I will be wearing my Spanish Inquisition frock and my kitchen tools will be laid out for ready for use. I will find out whether it is Master Benedict or Master Jacob who is the perpetrator of this unforgivable crime.

And what crime is this I hear you ask?

Well, dear readers, this morning I opened my email account and found a record of an unexpected purchase from itunes.

One of the my boys has downloaded Let Me Go by Gary Barlow.



GRR. I thought I was doing a good job with their music education. I shall have to review my methods.

A (quick) Christmas Quiz

In case you've been wondering where I've been and where is my promised short story collection, here's a short picture quiz which should enable you to deduce the answer.

My laptop, featuring a picture of my forthcoming short story collection.

A cup of green tea and lemon. (This mug was a gift from a friend  who, I think, was trying to give me a subtle message. Jokingly, of course.)

Speaks for itself really.

Yep, so there you have it; I drowned my laptop. In true Mrs T form, I manage to completely wreck it. However, as I try to look on the bright side of things, you might be interested to know that I can now personally vouch for cleaning properties of green tea and lemon. You may be even more interested to know that a range of previously unknown obscenities will be published in the English dictionary next year.

Anyway, to add to the hellish inconvenience of not being able to continue work on my stories, I couldn't do my Christmas shopping on the internet. Gross. I actually had to brave the shopping malls. This is a truly horrifying experience for me, especially as I seem to have one of those faces where people seem to want to stop and talk to me. Thus I was duly inflicted with several bizarre conversations about plastic jugs and tomato ketchup by strange people who for some reason thought I'd be interested in such things. Personally, I blame John Lewis for attracting too many menopausal women. Next time I go Christmas shopping in a mall, I am going to put lipstick on my eyes and eye-shadow on my lips thereby identifying me as a nutter who should be avoided at all costs. Hopefully, I will be able to do my Christmas shopping in peace then.

So anyhow I finally got my repaired laptop back on the 23rd December and since then have had too many family commitments to log on. So here I am at last to wish you all a Merry Christmas and a happy and healthy 2014. I will be back shortly with news on my now delayed short story collection and, hopefully, an update on progress with my novel submissions. In the meantime, thank you all for reading The Witty Ways of a Wayward Wife.

See you soon!