Saturday 01 December 2012

The Bit My Mum told Me Not To Include

Haha! Yesterday at work I was all like “I am going to add some rennet to milk, heat it up a bit and cast it into moulds and make cheese to raise awareness for dick cancer. Who is going to sponsor me for Briecember¹?”. I am definitely the funny one in most rooms I am in. Making jokes stops me remembering my mum shouting that she didn’t love me one day when we went to Blackpool and I must have been annoying her or something, it definitely must have been my fault. Haha! Let’s make some jokes – I am remembering it again.

[I told my mum that I had written about this and she insisted that this was a lie and that I shouldn’t write such things about her on the internet. Well who should you believe? A poor, big-eyed child devastated by his mother’s words or an evil woman screaming at a small child and then 27 years later calling her own son a liar? The choice is yours, reader.]

[Of course I might have remembered it wrongly. I’m almost certain I haven’t, though. I have an annoyingly good capacity for recall of incidents. If I say I can’t remember something when you ask me about it, I am probably just lying. *SMILEY EMOTICON*]

[Seriously, though, my mum will be annoyed at me – and may be reading this in a depressed rage that her own son could turn against her. So, in the interests of appeasing my lovely mother, who refuses to accept that I stretch and distort things in the hope of being funny, I should state that she is the best mum I have ever had. She worked tirelessly and mainly (completely) without thanks to raise three children. Sure, we’ve not turned out perfectly: my sister in borderline insane and my brother is a homosexual of all things. Not to mention my own depraved, self-loathing-yet-egotist-obsessed-with-making-people-laugh personality. I’M JOKING MUM. JOKING.]

But the start of December means more than trying to thing of something that rhymes with the first syllable of the word December. Even though the first syllable of Moustache doesn’t rhyme with the first syllable of November. I guess I am more of a perfectionist when it comes to making up names for stuff².

The start of December apparently means putting decorations up if my social network feeds are anything to go by. Growing up it just meant starting my advent calendar. And I don’t mind admitting that this was plenty enough excitement for the little Philip. I didn’t even have chocolates as a rule – sure I had chocolates. Don’t go away from this thinking that I didn’t experience an advent calendar with chocolates as a child. They were just not the norm back then – I think Thatcher had banned them or something. If that’s not ‘the truth’ then it sounds like something she would have done, it was generally agreed around our way that she was a total shit.

¹I think we all know the kind of BRIEcember I’d actually like to take part in: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-RwXSQ_7Jk&list=UUsXb1jdMa3ybPw4eiT_2g-A&index=5&feature=plcp
²This is a call back to yesterday’s blog and how pathetic the name ‘blogthday’ is. I am not even putting a link to it, it’s yesterday’s blog. Fuck you for not getting it.

ADVENTurous Images No 1: Given The Elbow

The first in a series of images acting as this blog’s very own advent calendar. I’d be amazed if this lasts until the 7th, I’ll be honest about that.

This is the genius that is Guy Garvey in the middle of a ‘song’ (some people use a mixture of substances in different shapes to make noises, they construct these noises into different melodies and often someone – known as a singer – will sing words over the top of the melody, often talking about things such as ‘wonderwalls’ and ‘slapping bitches up’) at tonight’s Elbow concert at the Manchester Arena.

There were occasions when I tried to catch the eye of Mr Garvey and his band to ask them if they could stop being so rude – they failed to see the people stood about clearly trying to have conversations. Conversations that definitely couldn’t wait and were very important. During a bit where the band gathered on the walkway for an intimate performance GG was explaining was about a dead friend, I heard a woman saying loudly “it’s got three storeys and two bathrooms”. And Elbow had the cheek to try and sing a song about a departed loved one. Idiots.

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