The Trouble with Russell (… saying ‘moreish’ has
lead to him being
demoted from my MySpace top 8. Like heroin. And
regurgitated gags).
“Nobody ever died of laughter”, Max Beerbohm once said (according to my book of 5,000 gems of wit and wisdom). Or did they? Certainly none of my relatives look set to suffer but there must be someone somewhere with a tickle stick and a throbbing pain down their left arm. Perhaps rupturing an artery when chuckling (leading to sepsis) would get Channel Four on the blower to the document the whole thing. BBC3 are sure to sign up. Screw you Max Beerbohm and your badly thought out comments.
My now deceased fiancé raised a few good points during his “one-short-of-a-score” reign on the earth. “I don’t see why everyone in the world isn’t on Virgin Mobile. 3p texts and you’re laughing”, was one. To be fair he also coined such witticisms as “I’ll marry you tomorrow if you buy me a nacho hat”, and my personal favourite probably led to us falling in love so passionately. “Your face reminds me of Rutger Hauer. Not your features but your face shape”. We were, of course, watching The Hitcher at the time. What I liked most about this comment was that he picked a quiet and private moment to tell me my face was similar to that of his favourite actor (I have one of those forwarded questionnaire’s in which he refers to me as “Ace” and admits his favourite actor is the Rutger man).
I was speaking to my friend Frances on the phone at the time and she had yet to see this Rutger chap. I think she found it difficult to convince me of how little resemblance was struck before actually seeing him. Admittedly Rutger and I are of the same species and we both eat, drink…go on murderous rampages using the medium of film. Apparently that last one’s just me.
To prevent Frances receiving hate mail (not that you ever have in the past), I must say that she was the first to Google “Rutger” and reassure me of the many dissimilarities. Namely that he has a jaw that would rival that of the average cherubism sufferer and a five o’clock shadow.
I think I am yet to (soberly) share with many my fondness of the appearance
of Charles Manson. In no way do I find his general demeanour or “silly
ways” sexually enthralling, this has to be said. Sarah does. Ha. Naaah. She
doesn’t. He’s not indie enough. Sarah never
fails to surprise me and her chosen recent reading material is no different. She
has been taking delight in reading about all things rape and death related
- activities which she has not participated in, willingly or otherwise. She
has been reeling us all in with her tales of homicidal woe and details
of Oedipus.
Don’t have nightmares love. I won’t be able to decipher
the meaning of them for several reasons:
1) My “Meaning of dreams” book is pink and forces me to take
anti-nausea tablets- the side effects of which include mild nausea, vomiting
and the ability to make ones bed move using only the power of your heart
beat.2) My “Meaning of dreams” book is crud. 3) I don’t
believe that dreams can always be accurately interpreted beyond anything
obvious like dreaming that fellation of Russell Brand’s dinkle*
is normal.
*I intend to start a petition to keep Russell Brand from using the word dinkle more than once a season.
Keeping the word from being over-used is probably as pointless as using the word at all but that’s not going to deter me. I’m going to proactively advertise my mission to KEEP DINKLE OFF OUR TELEVISIONS whilst beginning my new mission: To find the worlds most amusing idiom. Top of the hit list at the moment is “albatross around ones neck”, which means “a persistent problem as a result of past actions which hinders present or future success”.
Using the oven as a cigarette lighter is becoming rather an annoyance. I
had two lighter’s (both alike in appearance like Rutger and I),
and when kindly giving one away to an almost stranger I parted with the
one full of gas. With that in mind I’m going to laugh and
die. Probably, though not
definitively, in that order.