Saturday, September 27, 2008

Six ways to change the world


I have to thank Mr Intrepid over at Intrepid Ideas for the inspiration for this post. Apparently Google are running a competition with a $10, 000,000 prize. Wow! The prize is justifiably big as they are looking for ideas that might change the world. Well, I had a think and these are some ideas I came up with;

1. I will create a renewable energy source. This is how it will work; I will be strapped into a chair with electrodes on my hands, feet and head that will transmit energy impulses from my body to a battery that will then generate enough electricity for the whole of the UK. How will this concept actually work? Ok… I will be forced (and I use that term lightly) to watch moving images and stills of Pierce Brosnan in compromising positions on a giant sized film screen…. Obviously my resulting body heat will bring me close to spontaneous combustion but in view of the benefits to mankind I feel Google will be impressed. Of course, should I begin to cool down at any point I must also be subjected to pictures of George Clooney, Kevin Costner, Daniel Craig……..

Like minded woman all over the world will be asked to participate thus providing a new and completely renewable energy source.

Pure genius eh?

2. I will halt global warming. I will do this with the aid of 2.5 kilos of potatoes and
a Le Crueset saucepan.

How is this possible? Well have you ever lifted a Le Crueset saucepan? Blimey, are those things heavvvvvy. I refuse to have any… even the thought of them brings me out in a sweat and I don’t fancy working out at the gym just to pick up the damn things. I have relations who own Le Crueset and I’ve worked out that if you fill them with potatoes they are in fact deadly killing machines… so if you want to finish of your granny and inherit a fortune just give her a Le Crueset saucepan. With the strain of carrying it she’ll be dead by Christmas.

So how will this halt global warming? The answer is simple. Global warming will continue until some disbelievers/politicians get off their backsides and do something about it or they are…. “Removed.” (Know what I mean?) Of course, using an AK47 assault rifle would be quicker but I feel any “removal” must look accidental…. A little bit of water on the floor, a Le Crueset saucepan on the head… and whoops..... cynical politician is no more…

I will also head a secret agency called MI5LC (The British Secret Service - Military Intelligence, Le Crueset Division) and I will be known, amazingly as…. Not M, not J, not T but… but…. Mrs T. The Mrs T. My deadly cohorts and I will stalk disbelievers of global warming and eliminate them...thus allowing effective solutions to be put in place quickly……

(Hmm.. that idea really appeals I’ve always fancied being in the secret service….However, I don’t qualify because according to all the thrillers I’ve read a female secret agent must be at least 5ft 10in, beautiful, a black belt, fluent in 5 languages, an expert marksman and familiar with explosives.

Regretfully, I don’t qualify on any of those accounts. Except the explosives of course…….cos you know what? And this will come as a surprise to you…me and the microwave just don’t get on……)

3. I will solve the current world financial crisis. The answer to this is easy; we all know that there is plenty of cash in this world it just needs to be distributed fairly. What we need is to appoint a thoroughly honest and trustworthy person to administer it.

As a certified
“Honest Blogger” I put myself forward for this job… I will be unequivocally fair and scrupulous; world crisis solved!

“Ssssssh…Ok Mr Intrepid… that’s 10 billion for me, 5 billion for you, ½ a jam sandwich for Bill Gates, 10p for Gordon Brown and a kick up the backside for Mr Bush….”





4. I will increase recycling efficiency. Well I can’t take all the credit for this one - but by using the threat of my Le Crueset Saucepan I will force the entire Women’s Institute to knit recyclable carrier bags made from used plastic carrier bags, thus reducing the need for throwaway plastic carrier bags and the epidemic of castaway products. I read about a British woman who actually does this; to which I say…. Obviously this woman is a member of the WI …. and hurrah for British madness! There’s nothing like it! The knitted bag will be a precursor to Tinfoil Jumpers, Cardboard Trousers (A bit rough on the skin but I bet some folks out there will enjoy it), Paper Doily Knickers (Oooh!) and The Baked Bean Tin Brassiere….

5. I will solve the epidemic of obesity by manufacturing an appetite suppressant. This wonder pill will be based on my own (carbonized version) of
The Turley Pizza Surprise….. I can vouch for the success of this recipe as my boys are supremely physically fit with not a pound of unnecessary flesh on them. (Unlike myself of course… experience has taught me to not to eat my own cooking and just suck on chocolate all day….)

6. In addition to The Turley/Brosnan Renewable Energy System I can offer an alternative solution. It will be the called the Hot Air Vacuum Solution. Politicians who spout lies, rhetoric and “hot air” and also certain celebrities (Obviously I mean Tom Cruise) will be encased in a giant dome where they can spout drivel to their hearts content. The resulting hot air will be collected and used to power massive energy turbines. When they’ve exhausted themselves arguing amongst each other they will be allowed to rest and substituted by celebrity chefs……

Well there you go; 6 easy ways to change the world and earn me 10 million bucks.

What d’you reckon am I in with a chance?

Copyright Jane Turley 2008

Okay.. I know..time to think of something sensible....

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

The Honest Blogger (Ho, hum)


Okay, this is a quickie. Well I hope so but you know sometimes I just go off on a tangent so forgive me if it suddenly becomes an essay.

Talking off essays I 'm so glad I'm not a student anymore. I had enough trouble getting my arse out of bed without such things as computers, ipods and Wii's to distract me. Also, the other day I found a pile of my old essays in the loft ( Okay, when I say "pile" I actually mean a "handful") and started having a browse through them thinking "Oh my goodness did I really write that!" For example on an essay entitled "What was the nature of
Caesarism in France after 1848?" I'd written;

"After Boulanger's victory at the Paris by-election of 1889 France seemed to be on the verge of a new era. It was at this point that the Boulanger movement began to wither away; for
Boulanger instead of consolidating his his power after his victory went to bed with his mistress preferring the tastes of another kind of victory....."

And my tutor has written;

" I take it that on one para you are writing perhaps in a somewhat lighthearted and jocular mood!!"

To which my answer is;

"How else can you treat French History????!

Besides, any race that finds underarm hair attractive has gotta be warped..... says Mrs T whipping out her
Immac/Veet and trying not to get it on her head like she did last time.

In fact,
the story about the Immac is actually true despite that many of you may think this blog is a complete pack of lies. Yes, I was having a beautifying session and decided I would Immac my legs, arms (and cough, cough) various other areas.... whilst having a soak in the bath. However, in all the various bodily contortions I had to postion myself into, somehow I managed to get the Immac over the back of my head where obviously I could not see it.....

The next day, I'm at Mrs D's house with Mrs P and we've just finished playing tennis, I pull off my headband (A necessity otherwise my view is obscured by my hair and I mistake Mrs P's arse for the ball) and my hair starts falling out! Loads of it ! And then I realise, as I find dried lumps of white globules like toothpaste stuck in my hair, exactly what I've done....

Nope, I don't really know how I did it either but here's a tip...

Don't try to make out with your rubber duck whilst plastered in Immac.....

Just kidding.

Nope, actually wait till you've got rid off the Immac......

Anyhow I'm supposed to be talking about Honest Bloggers. Now
Usha and Eve's Lungs both received The Honest Blogger Award and have very kindly conferred it on to everyone on their blogrolls. So Mrs T has received it too... obviously they both felt it was too awkward to say;

" Everyone on my blogroll except Mrs T....."

Now what can I say? Hoorah! And now I've got this award some of you suckers out there may be believe everything I say is true....

Now about that time I climbed Mount Everest with Pierce Brosnan and was hunted down by a pack of rabid dogs.....

OK, so I have to pass on this award and also the award below from Usha which I received a couple of weeks ago for which I must follow the following criteria.
1. When you receive the prize you must write a post showing it, together with the name of who has given it to you, and link them back

2. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs (or even more) that you find brilliant in their content or design.

3. Show their names and links and leave them a comment informing they were prized with ‘Brilliant Weblog’

4. Show a picture of those who awarded you and those you give the prize(optional).

5. And pass it on!

I'm only going to pass The Honest Blogger Award on to a select few. This is not because I do not feel anyone else is dishonest but because I think both my chosen recipients are honest to the extent that I am compelled to read their blogs and their insight into their own lives and personal development has shed light on my own. So I gave this award to Tamera for her blog Simplifying Life and Love and Mr Geoffrey for his blog Love's Passage.


For the seven Brillante awards I nominate;

Tamera for Simplifying life and Love
Simply the best blog about relationships and personal development.

Mr Geoffrey for Love's Passage
A personal story of the rites of love and maturity.

( Yeah, and I've just finished read his manuscript for his book also titled Love's Passage and let me tell you I had to take "Timeout" in the freezer for half an hour just to cool down.....)

Mr Geoffrey for Geoffrey's Farrago
All about Life in Geoffrey's own inimitable style

Jack Payne for Con Man's Blog
All about those guys who rip you off written in a succinct and amusing manner. ( I 've also been reading his book Six Hours Past Thursday. And I've worked out he likes women. Quite a lot. Jack... I'm looking for a Sugar Daddy.....)

Michele for Tales of a Neurotic 30 Something. Huh, a young upstart trying to steal Mrs T's Mantel of Madness. And who really should be blogging a lot more than she does.


Intrepid for Intrepid Ideas
My favourite American guy with a touch of class (even though he vomits on his shoes.)

And who else but ....

Master Sy, my favourite English guy, for the amazing, witty and completely insane


The Wheel is turning but the Hamster is Dead

Well that's it for the moment..... so to all my friends out there..Happy Reading! You're all special in your own unique ways!

Ps, If your curious I got a B++ for that essay; not bad after a pint of pernod and cheese on toast. ( I await an email from Mrs A to tell me she got a First......)

Copyright Jane Turley 2008

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Somebody tell George to stay inside!

Oh blimey, George Michael has been at it again! As if it wasn’t bad enough being caught red handed (excuse the pun) in a public toilet in LA back in 1998 he’s now just be caught with crack cocaine in the loos on Hampstead Heath!

I find it strange that someone as handsome, rich and as supremely talented as George feels the need to exp
ose himself this way. Maybe its part of his creative process, maybe he’s lonely, maybe with his fame he doesn’t trust those who surround him and seeks solace in sex and drugs. Who knows. The reasoning is his and his alone. I guess he’s had some tumultuous times in his life that perhaps money and fame have only exacerbated. I’d rather like to see him reach that stage in life where he is at peace with himself and sooner rather than later.

But hey, George is one talented singer/songwriter and when I listen to his music all I
hear and feel is someone who is multifaceted, who feels deeply, who is a musical poet. His music has the ability to make me want to get up and groove when I hear a song like Club Tropicana and then marvel at his sensitivity with a song like Careless Whispers. Boy is he one hell of an entertainer!

(Mrs A is now turning up Handel’s Water Music to full volume…)

Now I have a little story from way back when Wham were at their height in the 1980s and before his homosexuality was public knowledge. When he was one hot piece of male totty and drooled over by every sane woman. Mmm.. .could he move his hips! What rhythm ladies eh? Oooh I’ve come over all giddy just thinking about it!

Anyway, one day one of Mr T’s female colleagues, who was a bit of a tough cookie and working in high pressure job, pulls in at a petrol station with her girlfriend in the passenger seat. She fills up and the two of them get some goodies in the shop and head for the checkout. Well, guess who is there and paying for his petrol… yep…..

George Michael

Now the young lady is flabbergasted, her mouth falls open , her cheeks flush red. George sees her and being polite is waiting for her to say something…..

And what does she say? Have a guess? Does she say;

A) Oh George, I’m your no 1 fan. Can I have your autograph please?

B) I love, I love I love you! Take me to bed and marry me!

C) Here are my knickers.

D) Can I pay for your petrol?

Nope, she says none of these. Miss Hotshot is completely tongue tied and all she can splurt out is;

“I’m from Newcastle and me mate’s from Scunthorpe.”

Wow!! What an opening line…. I bet George was really impressed! Somehow I don’t think she got lucky that night…..….

Anyway, that brings me round to the idea that if I were to ever meet the lovely Pierce I should
be prepared with my opening line to hook him. Now here’s a few of my suggestions;

1. That’s a lovely Pension Card you’ve got there Pierce, can I help you across the road?

2. My name’s Turley, Jane Turley. I’m an expert with guns; would you like me to show you?

3. I’m Pussy Turley. Come and fly with me…

4. Just call me Honey. I have a lovely pair of shells……..

5. Pierce, Pierce, take me, take me! I’m yours!

6. Here are my knickers.

7. Here is my bra and my knickers

8. I practice yoga. Can I demonstrate for you?


9. Are those X-ray specs Mr Brosnan? (Embarrassed giggles)

10. So we meet at last Mr Bond…..

11. I hear you have a golden gun ….



12. Oh, I’m so sorry my knickers seem to have fallen off…..

13. Here’s my front door key….

14. Here’s my back door key

15. Here’s my divorce papers

16. You are so much BIGGER in real life……

What d’you reckon? Any more ideas out there? (And don't tell me to stay inside.)

Copyright Jane Turley2008

Ps.. It's 100 years since Ian Fleming was born; if you are a Bond fan you can check out this great informative site by
The Times Online

Thursday, September 18, 2008

A Village Affair


Okay, if you haven’t worked it out by now; I live in a village. It’s very small but you know there’s such scandalous goings on here it would make a Joanna Trollope book look positively staid. You know the other day I heard some terribly exciting news… The roses were still in bloom at no 43! Can you believe it? But shockingly, I also heard Mrs Cartwright hadn’t collected the milk from her doorstep until 11am. Outrageous! I shall have to lodge a complaint with the parish council… fancy leaving the milk outside to be harassed by vicious scavenging Blue Tits. Before long we could be overtaken by a squadron of suicidal Tits with little white bands around their heads emblazoned with The Rising Sun……

And as for those starlings I can barely chuck the bread out on the lawn before they’re swooping on me like a scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. I’m ducking and diving just to hang out the washing and if I don’t remember to give them an early morning feed the bastards crap all over my sheets. I’ve been practising taking them out with Master Benedict’s sling shot and marbles but so far I’ve yet to succeed….

Okay, so maybe the starlings have got the better of me of late but I’m not one to take things lying down so come winter I’ll get my own back and when they’re really, really hungry I’ll throw my Christmas Cake out for them……(Evil laugh)……

Did I mention that my friend Mrs C who lives 3 doors down has chickens? Lord, what a racket they make. Clucking and pecking all day long, waking me up at dawn with their cock a doodle doodling… Anyone would think they had nothing better to do but lay eggs. Oh yes, they don’t. Oh well.

But being an all seeing and all knowing mother, I happen to know that the clucking is actually the hens' secret poultry code. Frankly, I think they've watched Colditz and The Great Escape far too often. (Personally, I think Mrs C has been a little extravagent installing a plasma TV in their hutch but hey, it's not my money.) I'm sure Hattie, the ring leader, has got a crush on Steve McQueen too because I keep seeing her astride that toy motorbike in the garden. Actually, I happen to know they're planning to escape from Mrs C’s house before she stuffs and roasts them and move into Master Benedict’s bedroom. How do I know this? Well, I’ve heard Master Benedict plotting with them. Yes, I‘ve seen him down at Mrs C’s stroking their feathers, polishing their chicken shed and whispering sweet nothings in their ears…..

But I don’t want chickens in Master Benedict’s bedroom; it’s bad enough having a box of old fish bones, a snake skin, a wasp nest, a selection of old fossils, a prehistoric horse’s tooth, a bird’s skull, a robin’s nest, an assortment of egg shells and a sheep’s horn. Fortunately, he hasn’t yet brought in mummified hedgehog he found behind the garden shed. At the moment it’s still decorating the front doorstep.

Boy, the postman just loves us. Mind you, I don’t think he’s ever felt the same way since that package arrived from The Netherlands.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that cleaning Master Benedict’s bedroom is not an easy task. In fact sometimes it can be rather unpleasant. And I haven’t even mentioned his pants yet. But let me tell you - he takes after Master Samuel.

Anyhow, I have a plan to foil the chickens’ cunning escape and to cease their clucking once and for all. I plan to nip round to Mrs C’s at dusk, open their hutch and then sneak silently away….

From behind the garden fence, I will make the secret cluck-cluck noise that Master Benedict has instructed them will be the time to break free ….

And out they will come, waddling down the path like....chickens…. to their freedom…..

Only I happen to know that at dusk my friend, Ferdy Fox, comes a visiting………..

Yeah, I guess I’m bored at the moment. There’s nothing exciting going on around here. It’s dead. So are half the residents – well over 70 - Doesn’t that count as the same thing? I guess I’ll have to wait till the local Member of Parliament comes around on his mobile surgery before I can stir up any trouble.

Hmm… what can I complain about next time?

I know, those damned blackbirds that keep roosting in the eaves….

Oh, but wait a minute last weekend there WAS an incredibly exciting event held at The Village Hall….

The Women’s Institute Annual Harvest Festival!

Well, being a bit slack on the preparation side I only picked up the entrance leaflet about 4 days beforehand and immediately regretted not having made any raspberry jam to enter in the Preserves Category. However, I did think about entering my mother but then I thought maybe people would think I was being unkind….

I looked through the other categories and at what, if anything, I might be able to enter. Here were some of the possibilities;

1) Make a cross stitch picture (No chance)

2) Bake a Pineapple Upside Down Pudding (Well, the upside down bit I knew I could do… but the sponge cake???)

3) Knit a tank top. (Are you kidding? I’d rather die.)

4) Create a flower arrangement. (Well yes, that was a possibility but my idea of flower arranging is putting the bouquet still in the cling wrap straight into the vase. Not ideal really.)

5) Arrange a selection of your own home grown runner beans on a plate. (Hmm… I must say the prospect of cheating on this was tantalising. But you know I like to win fair and square…well sort of .. except for cards maybe.... )

6) Make a knitted teddy bear.( Oh joy… like I need anymore teddy bears in our house. I can’t give them away fast enough before another one arrives… so just in case any of my relatives are reading this…. NO MORE TEDDY BEARS. EVER. JUST SEND THE CASH PLEASE.)

I can’t remember the other categories now but there was a one that I thought Mrs A might attempt which was to make a jug cover. So I duly ran down to her house and posted the form through her door. The next day I received this succinct email;

“I have thought long and hard about my WI entry and now have finalised my concept for the jug cover (any medium). I propose entering in two media - one entry will be a jug covered with a saucer. The other will be covered in Clingfilm.”


Um. That’s Mrs A for you. Practical to the last.

Anyhow eventually, I entered in 2 categories. Firstly, I entered in the writing category which for once was entitled something vague; a poem entitled Memories. Anyway, I cheated; I just changed the title of that poem I wrote the other week and submitted it. Unfortunately, it didn’t even get into the top three! Well, I was mortified that my masterpiece had been ignored. Then I studied the opposition’s poems and I realised mine was fatally flawed because;

It didn’t contain any couplets
Like piglets or curly ringlets
Which surely is a heinous crime
When a poem should always rhyme!

(Blimey that was Baaaaad)

Also, my poem didn’t contain any of the following words; child/children/ playground/swing/mother/father/ sweet/ bikes and …supermarket trolley.

Yep, I must say even I was surprised at “supermarket trolley”…just can’t think of why I didn’t think of that myself…. Memories of a Supermarket Trolley….Has a certain ring about it.

Anyway, I’m not bitter. Well not much anyway.

Now my other entrance was a photograph in the My Favourite Face Category and I entered this;


Again, Master Benedict’s picture didn’t even come in the top three. Humph. Look what’s wrong with my child?? Isn’t he adorable?

Okay, he’s actually incredibly annoying at times, a bit of a rascal and is passionate in a rather unhealthy manner about chickens but he’s still my son and I love him. So I’m mortally offended… so next year I’m gonna boycott the WI festival.

Unless, of course there’s writing category entitled;

“Bored Housewives.”

Then of course, I might just have a chance of winning.

Copyright Jane Turley 2008

Ps Mrs T now has a column on the BBC; you can check out my first introductory piece by clicking onto the link on the right hand side of my blog. Hope you like it!



Wednesday, September 10, 2008

It's nearly Christmas...


Well, no... actually it isn’t. But Master Benedict who is 7 years old clearly thinks it is because yesterday I discovered a letter to Santa in his room;

Dear Farmer Christmas

May I have a big telly for Sky please and a chicken.

Hmmm. Perhaps I should get him a hearing test?

Howeve
r, the use of the word “farmer” maybe something to do with his obsession with chickens lately. In fact, he’s been counting out the pennies in his wallet because he wants to buy a chicken. Not a dead one obviously, a real live one. (Personally, the only chickens I like are the ones that come with stuffing.) Now Master Benedict tells me that we could have one for only £30 (Seems a bit pricey to me when I can get a roasted one for a fiver) and that he would collect its little eggs daily and we could have lots of scrambled eggs on toast which is one of his favourite meals. Kinda cute, but just not practical at all.


Why? Well, firstly, even though we live in the countryside the garden is not that big and secondly, and most importantly, NOTHING lives in our back garden. Yeah, that’s because Master Jacob and Master Benedict are out there with the masses of footballs, tennis balls, rugby balls splattering the living daylights out there of anything that is anywhere near a shade of green.(And cripes... you should see what they do to woodlice and worms. Ever tried to explode woodlice with a magnifying glass? Hmm... maybe that’s just an old English tradition…) Anyway, I’ve given up planting summer bedding plants because after nurturing them for months as soon as they bloom I find their heads firmly implanted on the garden fence and it kinda makes me MAAAAAD. So, I’m just going to have wait till they’ve all flown the nest… yep, it could be a long, long time before I get out that wicker basket and pick blooms and make flower arrangements…

Hmm… that sounds worryingly like I’m one of the
Women’s Institute. Well, I’m not. Not yet anyway. I don’t want to bring down the average membership age to under 60 do I? That would be sacrilege. And I’m far too young to being wearing polyester trousers and plastic beads. Although sometimes those beads really do it for me…… oh um…must stop there….before I get onto tank tops…..

Anyway, Master Benedict obviously had second thoughts because on the reverse of his letter I found an expanded version which read;

May I have a big telly for Sky. Please please also a rabbit please please. All the other things can be your chouse. Please please please please please, please please.

Huh, what does he think? That grovelling with adults works?? ?????

Dear Mr T,

Please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please,please, please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please can I have a teeny weany, itsy bitsy holiday in the Caribbean??

Hmm….I think I know the answer to that one. Ah well.

Well just to change the subject… Hormones. Yikes, these are baaaaddd thing for us women. Mine have been racing around my body the last few days, churning me up and making me feel like a sack of mouldy potatoes. How do I know that? Well, I wrote a poem didn’t I?? That’s gotta mean depression hasn’t it?! Cripes, any moment now I might even take up yoga, start sticking incense sticks in my potatoes and start worshipping muesli…

Anyway to relieve the tension Mrs B (that’s
ford focus mum) and I agreed to go swimming together. Mrs B is late and I am early. There is only one other lady in the pool. Lovely, Mrs T thinks. Sheer bliss… and not even a sign of a shark or a barracuda. Heaven.

So I climb in and just as I’m ready to spread my arms out and merge into the blue depths, the other lady starts talking to me and wading over to the dividing rope between the speed lane (where I am) and over 45’s lane. (Sorry Mrs B!). And talking to me…and talking to me … and talking to me. For nearly 15 minutes she talks as I’m posed to plunge… in that time I’ve heard about every ailment, operation and illness she’s ever had, about her recent holiday and how she negotiated a special price on her membership.

Yeah, and I’m thinking I know just why she got a special price... as the word “Nutter” keeps going over and over in my mind. Believe me if you’ve worked in retail like I have, you’ll do ANYTHING to get rid of a nutter even giving them a discount. However, you must not be too friendly as then they just keep coming back and then you'll want to take a gun to your head.

Personally, my technique to avoid this situation was to say;

“I’m so sorry to break the conversation. My colleague over there would love to be of assistance.(Whichever one was annoying me most at the time.)
I’m on my lunch break now and I must dash to a hairdresser’s appointment. I’m having it cut short as these nits are so hard to get rid off….”

Worked a treat every time.

Anyway, the woman is back onto her ailments again;

“Oh and I can’t make here till 11 am as I have to take it easy and I’ve had diarrhoea this morning (Mortified look on Mrs T’s face) but don’t worry… I’ve taken my Imodium…..”

NO, NO, NO. Mrs T’s brain is in information overload. Shit, I think. Yep, shit, literally, could be in the pool. This is not good for Mrs T’s depression. Mrs T does not fancy a mouthful of...well you know…shit. (Aplologies for language folks...)

“….And where do you live…?”

Mrs T plunges deeply under water……

When I surface half way down the pool I’m doing my best impression of an supreme athlete (pretty hard, but nevertheless vital in the circumstances) and within a couple of lengths the lady, realising Mrs T is now immune to conversation, takes her leave. Mrs B arrives and I recount the story and Mrs B says she has seen the said lady idling in the Jacuzzi.

About 40mins later and our swim completed we decide we will go the Jacuzzi to swap school horror stories. But alas, when we get there the Jacuzzi has been drained and the attendant is scrubbing it clean.

Mrs T and Mrs B look at each other with horror….

“Do you think this is a scheduled clean or perhaps…….?????” Says Mrs T, gagging back vomit at the very thought…..

“I don’t know,” quips Mrs B, “we may never get to the bottom of it!”

Indeed not. And Mrs T never wants to get to the bottom of it.

Onto other matters. (Yes, I’m rambling today.) For a while Mrs A, (Yeah – The Cynical One) and I have been battling it out over Mr Pierce Brosnan’s worthiness as World Number 1 Superstud. Mr Brosnan, in my opinion, has everything a gal could want; looks, charm, suaveness, humour and a bulging wallet. He also sports a tuxedo pretty well. Too well, if you know what I mean. In fact last time I watched the Thomas Crown Affair I became so short of breath I had to be admitted to hospital. They soon discharged me though when rifling my handbag for identification they discovered my Pierce Brosnan 007 “doll,” my mobile with 200 text messages addressed to Mr Bond, Universal Exports and a spare pair of knickers. Now Mrs A thinks the delectable Mr Brosnan is past it, a has been, and all washed up and she prefers a younger man like the lovely David Tennant. Shame, shame upon her! No one compares to Mr Brosnan and I might add a little experience can go a long, long way. (Cough, cough.) However, I do agree with Mrs A that Mr Brosnan has erred by doing that the L’Oreal Advert. Have you seen it? Well here it is;








Well, I agree that the advert is a little on cheesy side. Well, very cheesy actually. Even perhaps rather like a ripe Stilton. Now one has to be a realist; they probably paid Pierce a whole heap of cash to do it and who are we to say he should turn it down. For all we know the lovely Pierce may be a secret philanthropist and donated it all the cash to charity. Anyway, there’s no doubt they could have done a far better advert – it’s just a little too smooth isn’t it? So smooth it’s just not believable really. Which is a pity because up until now I’ve always believed everything he did was absolutely genuine. I mean he has saved the world so many times I was in total awe….have I been taken in? Have I been fooled by the size of his gun? I hope not….

Now Mrs A, who is always trying to stir me up into vicious diatribes, has challenged me to write an alternative L’Oreal advert for Pierce. Oh by the way Mrs A has instructed me that the script must include a jar of the offending face cream L’Oreal Vita Lift for Men and a Stannah Stair lift. (The implication being obviously that Pierce is too old.) Let me assure you that Mrs A is a cruel, cruel woman and I just want to point out that she is considerably older than me and she will be requiring a Stannah stair lift long before I do. I will still be skipping gaily around while Mrs A is hobbling along with her walking stick and her anti wrinkle cream in her pocket....

Anyway, here’s an alternative script….

Pierce walks centre stage sporting a Tuxedo and packing a big bulge…underneath his arm…..He looks straight into the camera…

“The name’s Brosnan. Pierce Brosnan. I’m a one stop sex machine and I don’t need a Stannah stair lift because I’m supremely fit and A1 in between the sheets."

(Pierce presses detonation device connected to nearby Stannah stair lift causing it to violently explode)

" Ladies, if you buy your husband L’Oreal Vita Face Lift you can pretend he is me and I guarantee you will have the best night of your life.”

The End.

As a result of this advert sales of L’Oreal Vita Face Life soar dramatically overnight causing a global face cream shortage. Women march in protest outside L’Oreal Headquarters and beat each other senseless over the last remaining pots. The final pot on earth is sold on Ebay for a phenomenal £1,000,000. The purchaser is an unknown woman living in The Home Counties. She just pips Joan Collins, Elizabeth Taylor and Ivana Trump at the post because they were so old they couldn’t press the button quick enough to up their stakes. Unfortunately, The Unknown Woman’s bid is later rejected as her money is discovered to be from a Monopoly Set. The last pot of face cream goes to Ivana Trump instead who unfortunately confuses it with her hair gel and has to live her remaining life knowing that she will never, ever get to make wild passionate love to Pierce Brosnan…..

Well there you go Mrs A. Pretty bad eh? But you know those hormones……


Copyright Jane Turley 2008

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

My 51st post! (Brace yourselves; it could be worse than normal!)

Before the final (and rather late) instalment to my quest for The Blarney Stone, I just like to say…

Cripes, my last post was my fiftieth and I’m going to make a whole post out of my achieving the grand number of 50 posts! Kinda cheating don’t you think? But who cares, it’s more fun than cleaning the fat out of grill pan, de-scaling the kettle and certainly the hideous task of scrubbing Master Sam’s underpants.

However, whilst blogging is fun it is not as good as throwing darts at a picture of Tom Cruise which is extremely satisfying. My accuracy has certainly improved since I started using Mr Cruise as a target; I’m not sure why… maybe it’s because I haven’t felt the same way about Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs since I saw T
op Gun. I did briefly try substituting a picture of George Clooney but my accuracy diminished overnight. In fact, for some peculiar reason, I found myself strangely attracted to George’s sexy, stimulating, tanned, well-hot body and polishing it lovingly with my duster. Hmm…strange. I mean it’s not as if Mr Cruise is unattractive it’s just next to George his weapon doesn’t look so Top Gun. In fact it looks rather like a Mission Impossible. Yeah, that’s what happens when you look at a Vanilla Sky and think that A Few Good Men from Far and Away with All The Right Moves can stop The War of the Worlds with a lethal Cocktail the Colour of Money and pretending you’re the Last Samurai. Here’s a tip Tom… GET OVER IT MAN. (Not Katie obviously; you’re way too short. Yeah, you know exactly what I mean Readers… but I’m not mentioning it for fear of persecution by strange aliens with short legs and funny noses.)

Boy, John Travolta gets everywhere doesn’t he? Still naming a film after yourself is a bit much isn’t it? Honestly, you would have thought someone would have told him that “Get Shorty” wasn’t a good idea.

Did you hear there’s a new film out soon called “Get Mrs T”? Apparently, a group of cerebrally under developed mammals but with short, powerful legs chase down a superior being in the hope of seeking justice. Unfortunately, they lose. Something to do with barbecue tongs and pickle forks. Watch out for it; it’s coming soon to a cinema near you soon.

Sorry about that folks. Just an late night rant. However, in a rare moment of affection ( The kids are back at school tomorrow I'm feeling generous) for Mr Cruise I’d just like to say he was great in
Born on the Fourth of July. Watch it. The fireworks up his derriere were just great. (Just kidding.)

By the way here’s a Mrs T tip for cleaning the grill pan… Leave the dish on the floor by the cat bowl and by morning it will be sparkling like a diamond! (What’s more for once you’ll actually take pleasure in seeing the cat throw up - knowing it has nothing to do with those ghastly hairballs it usually deposits on your slippers.)

Oh, here’s also a tip for de-scaling the kettle. Don’t waste your money on all those special lime scale removers; just turn the kettle upside down and bash it with a sledge hammer. (Not only will this save you money but all your friends will complement you on your taste in fashionable kitchen accessories.)

I suppose I might as well give you a tip for removing stains from men’s underpants.

OK, I can’t think of one. So I suggest you just get a brown crayon and fill in the white spaces.

Well, I did say this might be a little daft, didn’t I?

Now what was I talking about before I got onto little Tommy and men’s underpants? Oh yes… I started blogging in
Dec 2007; it was sort of a new year’s resolution. (Well actually Mr T was away with his parents, I was tipsy and I had nothing better to do.) Anyhow, despite the ad hoc manner of my posting I’m really pleased I’ve managed to keep it up so far. But you know we women have many whims (well I do) so any time now I may give it up and take up ballet dancing instead. (Hmm… those tablets the doctor gave me don’t appear to be helping me with the delusions….)

Now I know probably all of you out there have done more than a mere 50 posts. In fact I know for certain Mr
Intrepid has recently passed his 100th, Master Sy has also passed his 100th and Usha has passed her 500th!! And I’m sure all you other bloggers out there have done equally well too. But nevertheless I’m is pretty pleased with my paltry 50 and I’ve had such a fun time writing and reading blogs and making some wonderful friends all over the world. So a big Thank You to everyone that has contributed to making the experience so enjoyable and that includes all you folks who just read my silly musings.

Well this seems a good as time to say an extra Big Thank You to
Tamera over at Simplifying Life and Love for giving me this award recently and also nominating me for Best Humour Blog 2008.( Okay, I 've just checked my votes..what only 6?? What's wrong with you all?? I've also just realised Tamera has also nominated me in two other categories. Oh dear, I'm pathetic and I didn't even realise. Thanks Tamera!) Now I know it says “was” on that humour widget on the top of my page but actually the competition is still running so perhaps it should read “is” rather than implying the competition is done and dusted.


I know, I know, I'm no saint and a little bit lapse on the grammar stakes myself from time to time.( Especially when I’m in my hip hop trendy mum mode and I’ve got my baggy jeans on that fall down between me legs, me ripped tee-shirt and I’m gettin’ down in the der groove.) But bad grammar really does annoy me.
So read this. Anyway, being the pain in the arse that I am, I decided to email the administrators to point that out this rather major technicality with the following sophisticated and charming email;

“I have been nominated for the 2008 best humour award. So I "claimed" the blog and got the widget thingy.... but is it the right widget thingy 'cos it is in the past tense? No doubt I have done something wrong, but would you mind explaining as I'm just a housewife and a slightly deranged one at that and technical stuff is beyond me. However, dishcloths are a speciality; I will happily instruct you how to use them in exchange for the appropriate information. Alternatively, just the information will do.”

Believe me, this was pretty tame compared to my draft email which contain the words “idiots”, “useless”, “up”, “ balls” and “Bushism.” Yes, that is “Bushism” as in the man (well that is questionable) who lives in Washington DC. However, I ‘ve worked out if I play the "Stupid Woman With No Brains At All" card, it works a lot better than looking like I have more than two brain cells. Take note ladies; this works especially well with garage mechanics, plumbers, electricians and carpet fitters.

Unfortunately, it does not work well with husbands. Damn.

Anyhow, I received this reply below from the Customer Love Department . Yes, that’s correct! The Customer Love Department!( I also received a packet of condoms but that’s a much longer story which I don’t feel is entirely suitable……)

“Great observation the badge does say 'was' and can be construed as past tense. It should be 'is' I’m curious myself why that is. You have done nothing wrong and are on your way to hopefully gather more votes for your blog even if it says 'was'. The badge will still gather voters to vote on your blog and that is it's purpose. I'll have our marketing team consider changing the wording for the badges. In just a few weeks there is going to be a redesign of this site and I'll try to get that thrown into the new stuff we have planned. Good luck with the voting!”

Umm… this was back in February. Need I say more? Except perhaps that I should have written…

“This is back in February.”

Oh dear, that rather pathetic joke rather tickled my fancy. If only Mr Clooney would tickle my fancy too - then I’d be one well happy middle-aged woman. Hmm, I can just imagine the gossip at parent’s evening too. Ho, ho ho.

God, this fantasy world I live in is bloody marvellous…….

Anyhow, if you want to, you can still vote. And I’m not going to beg or grovel like
Master Sy. I’ll just say… have you seen that film Predator? You know - the one where the invisible alien hunts down all of an American Special Forces team and murders them one by one? No? Might be a good idea before you make any decision.

I also suggest that Barack Obama uses the Predator technique. Well, why not? Mr McCain seems to be playing a little unfairly. Hmm… perhaps at this juncture I should point out that McCain is a brand of chips in the UK. I find them a tad bit greasy myself. When they’re like that they just don’t taste that good. Know what I mean? But Black Pudding… that’s a different story altogether…

Now back to that award form Tamera. As a recipient this is what I have to do;

1. Select 5 blogs that I believe deserve this award for their creativity, design, and interesting material or for contributing to the blogging community. (So that excludes just great ogling sites then? Hmm..shame. I’m rather partial to
Pierce Brosnan’s website.)
2. Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog .
3. Each recipient must then show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.
4. The award-winner and the one who has given the prize has to show the origin of the award which is
http://arteypico.blogspot.com/

Hmm… well this is very tricky indeed. Now a while back I gave a mention to
some of my favourite blogs so I’m not going to deliberate too much because I hope you all know that I appreciate all the blogs I read in so many different ways. Therefore, I am going to use this opportunity to mention some recent finds and one or two old favourites.

So here goes….and in no particular order…

No 1 Goes to Marie over at
Nourish whose blog is a fairly recent find. Marie is my kind of woman. She struggles with bad health caused by MS and has a particularly bad time this last year after losing her job but all the time I have been reading her blog she has faced her adversities with humour and courage. She makes me laugh out loud! And as for her parents….Good Lord it is a wonder the Marie is even sane. I am also deadly jealous of her because she only dreams about facial hair whereas I have a small beard.

No 2 Goes to
Paul Burman. Paul was the subject of my last post and if you’ve not bought his book yet, The Snowing and Greening of Thomas Passmore why haven’t you??! Do you really want Mrs T to come after you with a large pitchfork and her feather duster? ( Btw…I will happily accept indecent replies from any George Clooney look a likes.) Now Paul usually writes about books, but you can also find him At the View From Here with other literary musings. Paul is also an ace commentator who indulges my rather silly side. So hurrah for Paul!

No 3 Goes to Usha with her blog called
Ageless Bonding. Damn it, that is such a good title, I wish I’d thought it up! Usha has been blogging a long, long time and has a host of readers. And do you know why? Because quite simply, it is one of the best blogs in the blogosphere. No fancy gimmicks, just good old fashioned, thought provoking posts that exhibit thoughtfulness, humour and intelligence. Sometimes her blogs even tempt me to write something serious… and then I wake up.

No 4 Goes to Mewie. Now some of you may remember that Mewie closed his blog Sharing Life on Life sometime ago to concentrate on his novel but now he has restarted it under the title M.K Louie, Sharing Life on Life. Here’s what I like about Mewie. He’s intelligent, thoughtful, kind, and humorous and genuinely cares about other people and that transcends in everything he writes. Mewie is a Christian too. And I just like to say I’ve read some gibberish worse than my own (and let’s face it that’s pretty hard) about religion on the internet and I have no interest in fanatics of any sort of any religion. I also believe that all religions are inherently good; it is what fallible people do with them that make them into something they are not. Mewie represents everything to me that is good about religion and Christianity. He has the capacity to share his life and his love that many people do not have. More People should be reading his blog.

No 5. Goes to
Mark Stoneman for reawakening my brain. Need I say more? That’s an important role Mark. So keep up the good work. Cos one day I plan to write a thesis that will blow the minds of the academic world apart and reduce them to begging for my next piece of intellectual genius and in the meantime I need to practice using my grey cells.

Just in case you’re interested the title will be;

“How to the get the best out of your Brussel Sprouts.”

Right I’m nearly done now. Just a last minute thanks to Usha for giving me this award earlier this week.




I’m going to pass this one on at a later date as I’m exhausted now and there is a rather large bar of chocolate that looks very, very tempting on the sideboard………

Blimey, after all those honours my head is as big as my bottom. Hang, on let me just check...... Ummm.

On second thoughts... (Mrs T glances at her arse) Nope. That butt is still way, way, too big to warrant such a comparison.

See you all soon and take care,

Mrs T.

Ps..I've just remembered that Master Sy wrote one post - so this really is my 50th post! Hmm that's almost as spooky as the time I went to school with my slippers on. Yeah Ok, that wasn't spooky, it was just plain stupid. Ah well

Pps I've just been reading the BBC news headlines which says Bush has given his backing to John McCain. So well done Obama for his forthcoming victory ! Persuading Bush to support McCain was a superb political move. No one in their right mingd would vote for McCain now he's received the Kiss of Stupidity! Oh and I really think you all ought to read this by Onedia

Copyright Jane Turley 2008

Monday, September 1, 2008

Just for Paul

This is a very special post and especially for Paul Burman. As many of you know, Paul has been a very welcome and thoroughly entertaining new commentator on my blog in recent months. Paul has been writing for years but on August 30th his very first book entitled The Snowing and Greening of Thomas Passmore was published. I've spent a lot of time ribbing him about that title but actually I think it's very lyrical and I very much look forward to reading his book.

Yesterday, I went to that veritable place that purports to be Milton Keynes, a major shopping centre in the UK. As usual, I'd left all my school shopping to the last moment - 'cos that's just the way I am! In addition, I love the challenge of whipping away that last pair of size 7-8 trousers from under someone else's nose, the search for shirts with some sleeves that fit and don't make your child look like Mr Elastic or a rucksack that has pockets where you can stand up a drinks container without it leaking all over the exercise books. Oh the sheer unadulterated joy! My goodness it's almost as much fun as Christmas Shopping! (Hmm.. I think I'd better devote a whole blog to that subject nearer the time...)

Anyway, whilst I was going all red faced, sweaty and cursing the length of the queue in Clark's shoe shop I saw this;




Then I saw this;
And then I focused on this;

Well, I can't tell you how much pleasure it gave me to see Paul's book sitting on the shelf. As an aspiring writer myself I know how much effort, frustration and love are wrapped up in making a dream come true. I was almost as pleased as if I written the book myself! Anyhow, after scrambling around in my handbag (a hideous task) I managed to find enough pennies to buy two copies; one for me and one for Mrs A, my friend, neighbour and member of The Book Club. I suspect Paul may be sweating now he knows Mrs A of the acerbic wit has a copy but you know somehow I still think he'll be pleased!

A thought also crossed my mind... Paul is very fortunate to have the surname like Burman because his book is sitting just below all those Dan Brown titles! And Paul's book has a much better cover... Hmmm maybe I should change my name to J A Towelling? Somehow, it doesn't have the same ring about about it though. Kinda reminds me of towels.. and dishclothes...

Well, I 've opened my book at page 1. That's unusual for me because I usually go for the pictures first... but I'm looking forward to reading this book and somehow I think I'm going to like it....

Well done Paul. May you reap all the rewards you so richly deserve.