Some things make you feel like gnawing your hand off, and much like how Hollyoaks continues to be commissioned, no one really understands why. Hark! Bear witness to the majestic glory of your favourite internet doctor and man magnet, Dr. Angel, as she recounts her own list of inexplicable bile. Do not be afraid, my little Paulo Nutinis, for you too can add you bile-inducing atrocities for others to witness, validate and add their own personal reflections, resonances, and stupid ignorant scrawlings.
- Sarah Jessica Parker’s open mouthed gasp on the ‘Lovely’ perfume advert.
- Hollyoaks calendars (this isn’t all that inexplicable really)
- Chris Moyles’ new ‘book’
- People serving you in shops who won’t look at you whilst they are in the serving process. Not good with people? Then work in an abbatoir.
- The phrase “at the end of the day”. Nghghghghghghghghghghghhghghghghghghh!
- The phrase “fair play”, or equally overuse of the phrase “to be fair”
- People who use the word “yourself” when it should be “you”. “would you like anything for yourself?”. It’s YOU. YOU!
- People who have to be ‘looked after’ when they sniff the babycham
- People who can sing well on Kareoke
- Shop assistants who ask you if you need help as soon as you get in the shop. I don’t know whether I need help yet, I’ve only just got here. I seemed to get through the door alright, so chances are, I’ll just about pull through.
- Nicole Kidman (and especially her Chanel advert…”I’m a dancer!”)
- Mariah Carey
- Secret Santa-I have enough tat in my airing cupboard. Thanks.
- The phrase ‘Jacob’s Join/t’ to describe a meal where each person brings something.
- People who mix metaphors. “I’m not the brightest tool in the box”
- The fact that once I start watching a crap film, I have to see it to the end. I wish I could stop wasting my life this way.
- Friends who talk about wanting babies every time I see them. Way to go the reinforce the stereotype of women as baby making machines who only purpose in life is to reproduce then bore the arse off every one in work talking about offsprings boring minutae.
- The word ‘pouch’
- Small talk. I don’t care where you live or where you work. I don’t care about what Joshua said last night.
- People who recount an event in infinite detail “so then I asked him if he wanted a cup of tea, and he said yeah, and then he said, no I’ll have a coffee. Think this was Tuesday, no it was Wednesday ‘cos I was going to get my hair done that day and my hairdresser had to cancel because her mum always gets sick on a Wednesday. Then I put the kettle on, and I noticed that…..” NGHGGHGFGHHGHGHGH!!!!
- People who use the phrase ” Then he turned around and said” and it’s vile partner “then I turned around to him and said”. I have a mental picture of people spinning around every time it’s their turn to talk.
- Katie Holmes, and the way she talks out the side of her mouth.
- Dawson’s Creek
- The OC, and I’ve never seen it. But I know I hate it, that and ‘Lost’.
- Nicholas Cage
- People who GRIP your arm when they are talking to you.
- People who say “Hi” every time you pass them in the corridor. We’ve said hello once this morning. It’s not like every time you see me you are being born again for the very first time.
- People who talk to you at the gym. I feel uncomfotable talking to people when I’m clad entirely in lycra. It feels that I’m just one gentle gust of wind away from being naked.
Now, WoS enthusiasts, what irritates YOUR nodes of Ranvier?
Mining the archives finds me reflecting on one of my first forays to Carlisle, a place that later became a regular haunt of mine and where I met my current beau ‘The Cow’. I’m sure you’ll enjoy my amusing reflections on the fair town. It may even result in you designing a competition to win Preston train station.
14 November 2005
My sexy a** has got you in a new dimension
and that dimension would be carlisle…more soon…telephone call. And so I’m back, afresh from my phone call from Radio 1 northern irish bum boy Colin Murray. He of course launched into full Jane Austen-esque dialogue with me, and asked me whether I knew who Noel Coward was. I replied, “of course, isn’t he in Emmerdale?”, to which Colin reared up on his hind legs and turned into a praying mantis. Anyway, AWoS fans, yea, my sexy ass did indeed have me and others within a 3 km locus (that’s just how powerful my ass is, I think it emits gamma rays and can only be stopped by lead) in the fair town of Carlisle this weekend.
Anyone who knows the fair town of Carlisle must know that it is a truth universally acknowledged by all of Carlisle inhabitants that the young ladies there give you looks of violence even if you so much as throw a a4 ring binder in their direction, not to mention a Andi Peters commemorative urethral wand! I kept mine firmly upon my person, as instructed in the handy leaflet ‘Andi sez urethYEAH!’. Anyway, here are some facts I gathered about Carlisle:
- Carlisle is named after the isle of Cars off the East coast of Wales.
- There are three packets of Berkeley Menthol to every gaylord in Carlisle
- Men in Carlisle are all hopelessly in love with me. FACT! This is largely due to my overuse of the words ‘Biere du france’.
- In Carlisle,apparantly, the girls “Don’t like the Argies and that’s just fucking that” when questioned why, you will recieve the answer “no reason, I just don’t like them. That’s that”. This will be accompanied by a look which can only mean they want to drink the fluid from the soda stream in your brain.
- There are no laws in Carlisle, apart from ‘thou shalt not covet thy neighbours breville pie magic’. The penalty is a date with sodium permanganate.
Have you been to Carlisle, shed fans? Can you tell me any facts about it? Did a young boy called Andy try and hold YOUR hand? Or was it just me that he did that to? I await, with writhing eyes…
He: Why that’s girl’s so beautiful. Her eyes are large like the Nazca plate and her lips are like delicate toilet paper. Why, a girl so beautiful as that wouldn’t be interested in a bum like me. Sometimes it’s hard for girls to get past my job in the fluffy animal abbatoir.
She: Alright, have you got the time?
He: It’s half three. Say, I don’t suppose you fancy going out some time? Could I have your number?
She: Yeah sure. It’s 18934 88474 28282.
He: Oh Brilliant. Phone you later.
As part of my ‘mining the archives’ series, I’m generously sharing more of my ‘gold’. Today’s ‘gold’ comes via a post from December 2005 where I share my ‘short plays’ for you to enjoy.
It was here in 2005 that I first introduced the pure animal magnetism and inherent rawness of the character Kowalski. Jesus, just thinking about him makes me all hot. hot like I’ve had a laptop on my knee for too long or hot like a can of Lynx Java on a bonfire outside the community centre. Keep your eyes peeled for more Kowalksi Adventures in the future.
Angel’s Short Plays: Add your own.
Jesus, Kawolski, we gotta round up every goddam bum in new york city. We gonna bust our asses until the jobs done, if my names not James T. Loose Cannon.
(bangs on door)
(shouts)NYPD! NYPD, this is a bust!
2. oh hello, do come in.
3. thanks awfully.
1. Sweet Jesus, Loose-Cannon, my ass is on the line, I can’t keep covering for your fuck ups and this city is going to the dogs. This morning I found a bottle of whisky in your goddam filing cabinet. you better pull yourself together man and stop drinking or I’m going to pull you off the Jawoski homicide case!
2. Sorry chief, don’t pull me off the Jawoski homicide! I’ll find out the nearest AA group and quit the booze.
3. good ok. See you later.