Wednesday, 18 August 2010

Love hangs herself with the bedsheets in her cell





















I dreamt at the weekend that I was staying at The Ritz in town with an old boyfriend (using the term advisedly). I used to really like him, then I really hated him, then he died and death being a great healer and all, now I quite like him.
Anyhow, in my dream we checked into a grand room on the top floor of the hotel. The place was divine with fine upholstered french furniture, plush carpets and wonderful drapes. A magnificent bed was made up with grey satin sheets and a tapestry throw.
Two things made me nervous however, firstly the thought that I was about to get into bed with this man was quite rightly disturbing me and secondly the room had no roof at all. All I could see above me was the night sky, deep black and littered with stars. I called down to the conceirge:
'This room has no roof'
'That's correct Madam'
'But if it rains there will be a cover for the roof?'
'No'
'So if it rains we can change rooms right?'
'There are no other rooms available'
'So if it rains ....'
'You get wet'

The Emperors New Clothes





















I have been working on a dissertation for the past few days now it’s starting to feel like I am writing it in my own cold blood drawn from my wounded corpse with a rusty quill. Like most borderline personalities I oscillate from thinking I am completely useless to believing I am no less than genius. I totally underestimated how long it would take to write up an 8000 word academic report. Imagine my surprise and disappointment when I realised that I am actually not capable of producing a year’s work in 3 days.


One of the issues I am discussing at the moment is the changing educational profile of the average student. It used to be that you had to be literate and reasonably bright in a bookish sort of a way to go to university. In the late 80’s the government decided that pretty much any public building with young people over 17 in it was now to be called a university. They then decided that everyone had the right to attend university and soon after that revelation they decided that higher education was no longer going to be free. Cunning!

Simultaneously British manufacturing companies decided that they would stop producing their products at home and in order to maximise their profit margins, outsource production to unpleasant places in the East as it was cheaper. Banks, communications businesses & service providers did the same thing and rather than provide employment in Britain they set up call centres and processing centres in far flung corners of the globe where life is cheap and employees even cheaper.

So basically Britain has very few employment opportunities for unskilled young people who haven’t done particularly well at school. The government makes it very hard for these people to get benefits or training but has no problem offering them a loan so they can pay the fees at their local university. Universities are happy to take on these fee paying students, in fact they expand so they can offer places to more of them. They drop entry requirements in the name of ‘equality and diversity’ in order that they can justify offering a degree programme to a teenager who couldn’t write a note for the milkman.

Many of these students claim to be dyslexic but the reality is most of them have been completely failed by the school system and some of them are just not that bright. I can’t imagine why a dyslexic person or someone who just can’t read and write would want to take a course that requires them to do the thing that is most difficult for them. Of course there are exceptions to every rule but I have always been inclined to take the path of least resistance. Hence I am not performing with the Ballet Rambert at the weekend or modelling lingerie in Paris come September! In the world of political correctness it has become sacrilege to suggest to someone that maybe they are unlikely to do well at something they can barely do at all.

So I am writing about ‘issues of diversity and equality in higher education’ or more accurately ‘how the fuck do we get all these illiterate people through a 3 year degree program so we don’t loose their fees?’

Saturday, 14 August 2010

The greatest love of all


















Hilarious – I just got an email from friend asking if I would like to attend a workshop entitled ‘Would you marry you?’ On clicking the link I discover that the evening is hosted by a man named Tom McCabe who looks a lot like Percy Thrower, and is according to himself, Britain’s only Radical Happiness therapist.
As Frankie Howard used to say ‘neigh neigh and thrice neigh!’


And actually ... I do know that sentences shouldn’t begin with conjunctions by the way ... I would marry myself, I really like myself, for all my idiosyncrasies, for my dark sense of humour distilled through years of misery, for my compassion and grace, my wit and tenacity and above all my ability to not give a fuck. I would only marry myself in fact, why on earth would I settle for less?

I have fought in my way to be free



















Each morning I feed pigeons on my window sill. I live near Trafalgar Square so I am lucky enough to have plenty of pigeons to play with. The same ones come every day – really beautiful ones, a white one who I guess is almost a dove and my favourite a little grubby skanky one with bright orange eyes. He looks like he needs a bath and has a few bald patches – I love him the most; perhaps he is unwell, he may not make old bones but he will always have few seeds if he sits on my sill. Pigeons are sexually complex creatures; in many ways watching them in breeding season is like watching human mating rituals. The male puffs himself up and circles the female, the female acts disinterested and walks away quickly and yet not quiet quickly enough. He leaps on her if she concedes then great if she protests he moves on the next pigeon. Pigeons rape and even commit acts of necrophilia. I actually witnessed a number of birds having sex with the headless corpse of fellow pigeon. Dark.

Chanel


The advert above is way more interesting than the rather dull Coco & Igor movie I saw last week and unlike the film this advert has a rather attractive male lead.

Friday, 13 August 2010

Grievous Angel














My love has turned to hatred                    
Sleep escapes me still
God please take this heart of mine
Cos if you don’t the devil will
Hearts on fire
My love for you brought only misery.

Hearts on fire – Gram Parsons

Today’s theme is Gram Parsons, I had to trek all the way to Waitrose in Russell Square to buy my favourite beetroot soup (I just can’t enjoy life unless my pee is pink). Anyway I was listening to Grievous Angel over and over on my i-pod laughing at the sad country and western style lyrics.

Wednesday, 11 August 2010

Gonna make the violet more violent


Ted Bundy's Last Interview
Uploaded by xxxchurch. - Up-to-the minute news videos.

My friend John once said 'The problem with pornography is that it is prohibitivley expensive!' Feminist Angela Dworkin famously stated  'pornography is the theory and rape is the practice', in the above clip excuted serial killer Ted Bundy discusses his thoughts on the subject.