I went to Morecambe. It was a little bit shit.

It would be really mean to write a poem about a town that was less than complementary wouldn't it?

Hey, well that's just the way I roll.

Ode to Morecambe*

Morecambe, its a little bit shit
Its a little bit shit
In Morecambe
Morecambe, there's fuck all in it
That's why its so shit
In Morecambe
There's not even branded pound-shops
Chains are missing 'cept in Argos
All them gold rings are just brassy
Cos in Morecambe, No one's classy.


*No offence is meant to people who live in Bare or towards Hest Bank.  You just happen to be in Morecambe.  Sorry about that.

I guess it's summer.

Its a heady 20 C here today and where I live that's scorching hot.  I don't think we know quite what to do with ourselves.  You see, normally, it begins to rain at the start of June and carries on all through July and August before stopping, briefly, for a couple of weeks in September before the October rain starts.  This whole sun and warmth thing in July is most confusing.

This isn't my best ode, but it pretty much sums up how it is here at the moment.

Ode to it being a bit hot

There's a lot of shirtless lobsters,
There's a lot of tiny skirts
There's a lot of sweaty cyclists
and I'll tell you what is worse
That we all look quite bewildered
That the sun is in the sky
and perplexed it isn't raining
Like is normal in July.

Simon and Carbunkle

Whilst digging in my vault of useless stuff, I found this version of the Sound of Silence that I wrote when on Mat leave with baby-babyheave.

It made me smile as it refers back to a time when I was at home procrastinating, rather than in work procrastinating.  Gosh.  I've come so far.

The Sound of Mumsnet

Hello Mumsnet my old friend
I've come to post on you again
Because the youngest DCs sleeping
and the eldest is not peeping
and My DH is now watching boring sport
Of some sort
And so I'm here
On Mumsnet

In Morrrisons I shopped alone
then I lugged the groceries home
And then although the house needs cleaning
I found the thought just so demeaning
When my hands were spared by the thought of a fresh bun fight
On this web site
And so I'm here
On Mumsnet

And in the forums here I saw
Three hundred people, may be more
People posting random queries
drunken threads where posts are bleary
People starting threads that no one answers there
If they don't care
It's all in here
On Mumsnet

The fools that ask AIBU
and when told yes refuse its true
the parents obsessed with their buggies
advice on real nappies or huggies
And the topics where so few go silence falls
within their walls
Its all in here
On Mumsnet

But I must go now with regret
Before I'm accused of negect
As My eldest is now calling
and the youngest's started squalling
And My DH's banging on about the final scoree
its such a bore
but no more can I spend time
On mumsnet

This has really got my goat / throat.

And so it begins.  The Daily Fail has published an article saying how calling the attack on Nigella Lawson ‘domestic violence’ demeans people who are suffering from real domestic violence.

This is marvellous news.  Since grabbing by the throat and twisting someone’s nose isn’t violence, I know what I’m going to be doing this weekend, and if anyone complains, I'll explain that its demeaning of them to call it violence as I've not murdered them.

Ode to the Victim Blaming Daily Mail

Thank god for the Daily Mail!

Without them I would never know
That there’s a sliding scale
And that some domestic violence
Is OK now just so long
As it’s not as bad as other types
That we know still go on.
 

Thank god that we’ve cleared that up!

Without it I would still have thought
That grabbing by the throat
Was in fact domestic violence
But I now know if I’m cross
I can do it to my husband
And all with no morals lost!
 

Thank god for the Daily Fail!

Without them I would never know
That there’s a sliding scale
Of criminality so long as
Something is much worse
So since you’ve not been murdered
Don’t report I’ve nicked your purse.

 

Fuckers.

The party of the third part...

Today I am mostly writing contracts for 3rd parties.  There's not much else I can say about that really.

 

Contractual Ode

4.1

4.1.1       The licensor of this ode is not contractually obliged to provide enjoyment.

4.1.2       The licensee of this ode may choose to terminate their reading at any time.

4.1.3       This is the kind of thing I have to write for my employment.

4.1.4       This is the reason why I waste my time

4.1.5       Writing silly rhyme.

I'd never know by looking at you!

I have bipolar affective disorder.  I'm not bothered about people knowing as its just part of who I am.  My direct reports at work know, my friends know, my family know.  Every so often though, you get a comment that makes you go HMMM.

While having a conversation about health with colleagues today, it was mentioned in passing about me having time off ill.  "What's wrong with you"  I was asked.  I told them and they came out with this gem - "well I'd never know by looking at you!"

Yes, because you can tell by looking at someone whether they have a mental illness, can't you.

Ode to not having two heads

I don't have two heads.
You may find this hard to believe
but an extra head didn't grow when I got ill.
And my face is the same colour
as it always was before
and my eyes and nose and ears
are all there still.

Thanks for telling me, but you can go now...

I like a bit of lively discussion.  I also like feminism.
I like a bit of lively discussion about feminism.
I like a bit of lively discussion about feminism with anyone who may be interested.

I'm not so interested in men who claim they want to discuss feminism, while telling me not to worry my pretty little head about it.  Then get angry when I don't shut up.  Its irksome in the extreme.

Ode to the Mansplainer

It's curious, I'm curious,
You're arguments are spurious
And your disdain as you mansplain
While slowly getting furious
Does make me question once again
If there's something that I've missed
About why you'd want to tell me
That you're not a feminist.