Tuesday, 29 June 2010

TV review from 25 years ago.

Thanks to the glory of internet television it's almost completely possible to live as a 30 year old, as if you were actually eight, and had just come home from school, ready for a fresh lesson about morality.

This is exactly what Emily, my beloved best friend / sister in law / sidekick / no you're my side kick / fuck you I'm no one's sidekick, and I have spent the day doing.

Yesterday was active, today we have been learning courtesy of Degrassi Junior High.

So far we have learned:
  • It's okay if your boobs don't grow, as long as you can swim really fast
  • It's okay to be gay. Really, it's okay. 
  • A five line essay is worthy of praise, if using it you reveal the inner you. Yes the inner you. 
  • If you are beaten by a parent then a man who looks like he's in Duran Duran will save you and move you immediately to a new house. By the end of the episode it'll be like nothing ever happened.
  • If you brag about having sex then something bad will happen to you. 
Okay. I trust that we're all better people for this now. Also our hair might be a bit bigger. And we might say "aboot" more. (Sorry if this is offensive to any other Canadians. If you are offended please contact me and I will demolish Grange Hill or Byker Grove - Britain's finest teen 80's learning tools, in a single, unfunny blow. )

Any questions?

Saturday, 26 June 2010

Two more, then I'm off on holiday

Hello people - all 15 of you, it's lovely to see you here.
I'm going on holiday in eleven minutes. In my absence I hope you can all behave yourselves and, most importantly, survive the pain of not reading every goddamn thought that comes into my mind.

For those who can't - all 1 of you, I'm going to try and blog from Berlin, if my brother's computer decides to work.

If not - see you later suckers.
Here's a little something to keep you going (p.s. I'm supposed to be starting a new task soon, but have been distracted by Deirdre, Claire and Louise and Tommy and Baggy - there's something very soothing about spending entire Saturdays being rubbish on photoshop. However I will get around to it soon.)

Love love love xxxx

Friday, 25 June 2010


Sunday, 20 June 2010

Thoughts on the weekend

I've just returned from a folk festival. My annual desire for festivals seems to have been diminished somewhat this year, I'm not sure why but it might have something to do with Marie Claire listing their top ten "festival fashions" this year. Fuckers.

Anyway, I have returned with a few choice thoughts that I'm here to share with you. Or one at least, depending if I can be arsed to colour in the others!

Here you go for now xxx

Friday, 18 June 2010

The adventures of Tommy and Baggy episode 2

I'm concerned about Maxi Dresses. 
I feel a little bit like I'm sitting waiting for the first wave of maxi dress casualties to start flooding in. They're like foxes in London - sure they look pretty, but all they want to do is maim you and eat your brains. 
I bet Bryan May supports maxi dresses too. And Anita Dobson. 

What if a bear tried to chase you, if you were wearing a maxi dress you'd never make it. Never. 

These things frighten me about contemporary fashion. 

Anyway - without further ado, here's episode 2 of Tommy and Baggy (starring Kirstie Alley, Drew Barrymore took out a restraining order was busy).......

What do I have to do to get you cats to comment on this thing?

Is it me? 
Is it my smell? 
Surely you can't smell me from there? 
Oh God...

The opposite of hate World Cup special

Okay, so it's an unlikely title for a blog from a confirmed football hater - but seriously, for some reason or other the 2010 World Cup has reached a Lassoo milestone.

Yes dear readers, for the first time in the cup's 828 (or something) year history I don't give a shit about the world cup.

 I don't find myself being annoyed at all the twatty plastic St George's flags everywhere - even the ones that see fit to write ENGLAND across them, as if you didn't know what they actually stood for in the first place. Nor am I irritated by the tens of thousands of companies who think it's brilliant to use the World Cup to hock their shitty products 24 hours a day. I care not for the casual sexism of ejected blondes in orange or the casual xenophobia of pundits only giving a shit about a national team who really aren't going to win - because you have to score goals to win.

I can safely say that the World Cup has barely affected my life, and as a result I feel a vague warmth toward the competition and its followers.

So in celebration of me not being pissed off by football, here it is folks - the Opposite of hate World Cup Special.

Extra points to anyone who gets the film that the last one is quoted - who isn't related to me. xxxxx

Sunday, 13 June 2010

The adventures of Claire and Louise

This month has been all about countering the television concept of reality, and I think I've hit on the perfect way. 

I'd like to introduce Claire and Louise. Claire and Louise are peg doll angels that were constructed by an eight year old Tommy Lassoo in a kitchen somewhere in the picturesque but otherwise evil town of Felixstowe. Since being created they've sat on Christmas trees every year and generally been up to no good. So much so that they've been sent to London for a few months to stop them from terrorising Ma and Pa Lassoo. 

like a good and evil media bastard, instead of curbing their wild behaviour I've just taken photos of it to spread to the wider world. It's like The Hills - only fun and interesting. 

So, for your delectation, please welcome episode one of The Adventures of Claire and Louise.......
(I've got to start coming up with snappier titles for things). 

The End. 

Thursday, 3 June 2010

Okay - just two more.....

Helpful advice from Deirdre

Today I'm going to be tackling a British institution. Partly because I'm going to see Rage Against the Machine on Sunday and have spent the days since receiving my ticket regressing to being a 14 year old; partly because I tend to dislike things that are called British Institutions which are not related to Eastenders or Dame Judi Dench (because I defy you to find me a person who doesn't like Dame Judi Dench - how could you not? she could beat Dame Thora Hurd in a fight and still be able to stagger home and down a pint of real ale).

But mostly because aforementioned "institution" appears in The Sun newspaper and is therefore the epitome of everything that stinks about our beloved country (reason 1, topless women on page 3; reason 2, David Cameron; reason 3 owned by a rabid Australian who wants to rule the world and may well do so; reason 4 was edited by the woman who beat up Ross Kemp (see prior Eastenders note); reason 5 it's written by posh people using language your average 8 year old would think sounded thick, because that's how they think the proles wish to be controlled; reason 6 for the excuses people give me for reading it, believe me I will not think more of you because you think the astrologer in The Sun is really accurate - I could go on forever but I already have.)

Anyway - the force of my rage is directed straight at Dear Deirdre today. For anyone who isn't lucky enough to work in a press office or to buy The Sun newspaper (for the horoscopes / sport news / because you're thick as shit and want to be spoonfed idiocy) let me explain a bit about Deirdre.

Deirdre is the advice columnist in The Sun. On a daily basis she doles out advice to people who have accidentally managed to shag other people. Be it their brother, their mother, their boss or their boss' partner (n.b it was always "the best sex I've ever had" so if you want good sex please climb up your brother / mother / boss etc like a rat up a drainpipe - but keep a sharpened pencil nearby to write to Deirdre with your regrets) Deirdre can relieve the pain of modern existence by telling the aforementioned loser what to do to correct this shagmania they seem to have developed.

Accompanying this is always a photo story - examples in the last few weeks have included advice on rape not being a nice thing to do, even if the girl is very very drunk (we the feminists salute you); on not going out with some dodgy jailbird with floppy hair even though your parents don't like him AND (my personal favourite) just because they go away for a bit doesn't mean your herpes have been cured.

Being a girl who could never let such art go to waste, I've done a bit of doctoring in the name of art. When I drove across California and Oregon with the lovely Roxanne Laker in 2008 I took a quote book with me, in it are numerous incredible statements made by numerous incredible people. Worthy of Dear Deirdre herself? I'll let you all decide that..........