Love (Ick!)

Recently, a couple of my closest friends (you know who you are) have fallen in lurve (yeah - I did drop the L-bomb but it wasn’t a proper L-bomb so don’t freak out). This means that I am having to take a massive dollop of my own medicine when it comes to listening, as all good friends must, to smug tales of loved-uppyness.

I have therefore, out of the kindness of my heart, and in the true spirit of helping my dear darling friends, compiled a list of comparisons, between the way things are in the “Honeymoon Phase” and the way they become 10 years later in the “We-have-a-40yr-mortgage Phase”. This is purely to help you prepare for a happy and fulfilling future together, you understand, and not, in any way to deter you from continuing your beautiful, fledgling relationship so that I can go back to being Queen of Smug.

You know you are in the “Honeymoon Phase” when:

He stays over, and you act as though his sleeping naked is in no way awkward, even though you lay awake all night with his sweaty balls stuck to the back of your thighs, thinking “Oh my God, his balls are stuck to me! They must love me too!”

You share a bed together and he’s out like a light whilst you’re never able to get comfy but you mistake your over-tiredness for euphoria because THERE WAS A MAN IN YOUR BED!

You get up before he does so that you can artfully arrange your hair and make-up to get that adorable slept-in-but-still-beautiful look, then sneak back under the covers and pretend to wake up all cutely ruffled!

He makes you a lovely breakfast every morning that he stays at yours and serves it to you in bed, and pretends not to expect any sort of reward.

You watch him wash and shave and all the time you’re watching him, you’re staring with this overawed look on your face because you just can’t quite believe that THERE WAS A MAN IN YOUR BED and now HE IS SHAVING AT YOUR SINK! (By the way - that overawed look, it ain’t pretty, close your mouth dearie, we are not a fish!).

He stares into your eyes all the time you are doing your make-up and then fervently declares that you don’t need to wear any make-up because “your eyes are as beautiful as the stars”, or “your face is as beautiful as a fresh spring day” or some soppy shit like that. 

One or both of you keeps instagramming arty shots taken on your numerous dates, showing your hand clasped in his, or his shoes next to your shoes, or the meal you’ve just had, or the pretty way the light hits the pavement outside the bijoux restaurant you just left, together, on your perfect little date.

You have had a complete change of opinion apropos your stance on Public Displays of Affection. 

You wear uncomfortable knickers with lacy bits, and frills and “sheer panels” and ribbons - and he probably bought them for you, in which case they’re even more uncomfortable because you probably also lied about your size, right?

You shave past your knees, but you never let him catch you doing it because you too busy pretending that you’re blessed with natural hairlessness in all the most convenient places. You are imagining that this makes you more desirable but that slightly caveman look on his face? That’s not lust - that’s confusion, darling.

You keep your bedroom tidy, just in case you should accidentally-on-purpose stay out too late for him to catch the train home, and he has to “crash” at yours.

He thinks that he has successfully survived your period because he stayed over one night during your monthly and managed to not get shouted at, even though you were shaking with suppressed rage the entire time because he patronisingly stirred the pasta when you were just about to do it yourself!

He removes his socks and shoes before engaging in a quickie.

You laugh at all his jokes, even when they are not at all funny, and then tell all your friends the same jokes and get disappointed when they don’t laugh as much as you did.

When you introduce him to your friends, you try to make him perform all the funniest things he has ever said or done, despite already having tried to re-enact them yourself, so that your friends can further appreciate how funny he is.  

10 years later...

You wear long pyjamas and spend your nights blissfully unconscious of each others presence but you get really cross if you are woken up by the other person “breathing loudly” (I don’t snore!).

When one of you leaves the bed, the other immediately spreads themselves across the vacated space with no apparent regret at their partner having left.

You wake up like an Orc who’s just been stabbed by a sneaky Hobbit - it ain’t pretty and you don’t care because it will hopefully put him off ever trying to wake you up again. Oh but that time that you missed your alarm and were late for work? His fault.

He makes you breakfast in bed and then nicks your toast whilst waiting for you to finish eating so he can claim his reward.

He doesn't shave...

... neither do you.

Comfort becomes your number one consideration above all else when it comes to matters of intimacy. There comes a certain point when it becomes totally okay to leave your socks on.

This point comes around the time when you start wearing the BIG knickers. (Don't pity me. Most girls long for this day).

Oh, and you might still make an effort where make-up is concerned but rather than declare that you don't need it because you're "beautiful as you are" he tends to make huffy comments about how you're running late (again) whilst pointedly looking at his watch - then the next thing he'll say is that he doesn't see the point of "natural" make-up anyway, grumblegrumble, etc.

You don't Instagram so much as happy-slap each other, post the resultant pictures on Facebook, and tag the heck out of each other's double chins.

And a "perfect, little date" constitutes a Chinese takeaway on the living-room coffee table while watching back-to-back Breaking Bad.

Your bedroom is just one big floordrobe and laundry only happens when one or the other of you runs out of pants. So you buy more pants every time you pass Primarni - just to make sure that it's not you who will be driven to use the washing machine. Sometimes, it's not even lack of pants that force you to do laundry - embarrassingly often it comes down to a battle of wills.

In his opinion there is no longer such a thing as you being justifiably angry, because, having survived 10 years of your periods, he now puts all disgruntlement on your part down to hormones - which just makes you even angrier...

He keeps his socks on at all times because NOTHING is worth getting cold feet for.

It annoys you if your friends find him hi-larious because it just encourages him!

--

HAPPY ARBITRARY-REASON-TO-BUY-OVERPRICED-CHOCOLATE DAY!

Confessions of a Warhammer Widow

Darling,

My therapist says that I should share the following confessions with you...

1) Sometimes, when I find that blue and yellow plasticine lying around, I like to smush it together and make cute little shapes out of it.

2) I like to peel the paint scabs off of your mixing tiles.

3) Yesterday I hoovered up 4 tiny bits of grey plastic. I'm not sure what they were but they might have been arms...

4) I accidentally spilt my tea on one of your little pages of transfers and ended up transferring some tiny black signs onto the coffee table. Don't worry! The coffee table's fine.

Please love me still!

Becky

How to get 4 people into a Leyland Mini...

The Leyland Mini - enough to bring a tear to a manboy's eye.

http://www.minionlinemuseum.com/images

Following a recent study conducted by myself and 3 friends, allow me to advise you on the best way to get into (and out of) these sardine tins.

1) Remove all loose items from the car.

2) Remove all objects from your pockets.

3) Remove/ loosen all tight-fitting clothing.

4) Appoint the 2 people who will be sitting in the back, whom we shall call Passengers 1 and 2.

5) Open all the car doors.

6) Fold both front seats down as far as possible which you should find is approximately 7 centimetres.


Passenger 1

7) Raise one leg.

8) Stretch it out in front of you and hop towards the door of the side that you are intending to get in.

9) Wiggle your leg over as far as it will go to the opposite side.

10) When you have that one leg in, bend at the waist and touch your nose to your knees.

11) Use your hands to steady yourself and ease your head, shoulders and arse in through the door frame.

12) Sit down on the back seat.

13) Unfurl yourself so that you are sitting with your bum on the seat, one leg inside the car, one leg outside the car.

14) Retrieve your other leg from outside the car.

15) There will be nowhere to put your other leg inside the car so you will have to curl it around the seat in front of you, between the door and the front seat.

16) Congratulations, you're in - check all your vital signs and that you are still in possession of all your main faculties - touch, sight, hearing, etc.

Now laugh unkindly as you watch Passenger 2 repeat steps 7 - 16.

Passenger 2
Repeat steps 7 - 16.

Passengers 1 & 2
Once you are both in, you are likely to feel hot and, depending on how well your loosened trousers have held up and how well you know each other,  a little embarrassed.

Do not worry. This is completely normal. Simply grit your teeth, smile and avert your eyes.

Passenger 3
It's your turn...

17) CAREFULLY fold the 2 front seats back up. (I think "fold" is probably the wrong word since they don't go down far enough to be "folded" but you know what I mean).

18)  Following much the same method as Passengers 1 and 2, you're going to need to aim as though your planning to put your "junk" in the glove box.

19) When you have fully aligned yourself with the glove box, jerk your pelvis backward and bring your knees up until your butt finds the seat.

20) Then gingerly settle back into the enveloping thighs of the passenger behind you.

Top Tip: Fold your arms because the driver is about to get in and you will suddenly find you have nowhere safe to put them.

Finally, it's time for the Driver to take his position...

Driver
21) You will need to return all the items that the Passengers removed from their pockets and persons. That way you can be sure that they will have the 20p they will need to pay you for the petrol.

22) You will also need to replace all the loose items that were removed from the car in Step 1. You will need to store these items in the remaining nooks and crannies, if you can find any, around your Passengers. Often times, you may need to make use of each Passenger's lap, hands, shoulders and possibly even mouths.

Top Tip: When selecting your Passengers try, where possible, to find thin people with a tiny bit of podge which can cushion them from the objects which will undoubtedly end up being packed around them. 

23) GENTLY close all the doors except the one on the Driver's side.

24) Follow a similar method to Passenger 3, this time aiming your crotch toward the steering wheel.

25) Once in, make sure that you can reach all the pedals.

I say "reach"...reaching them should not be a problem as such, it's more the angle at which your feet are when you try to press them. At the very least, please make sure you can successfully, and with minimal discomfort, press the brake pedal. It is unlikely that you will need to use the brake pedal all that much because most of the time, it will be enough for each of your passengers to simply extend a hand through the window and "paddle" in the opposite direction.

Oh wait - you can't open the back windows?

Brake it is then...

26) Check that everyone is still able to breathe.

27) Close your car door.

28) Waggle the gear stick. I don't know why. I don't drive. This is just something that I see my Dad do before he turns the engine on.

29) ALL PASSENGERS: I hope you feel that you know each other a little better by now because the next step is a little intimate. You are going to need to explore the flesh of the person next to you in order to find the socket for your seat belt, if you are lucky enough to be given the option of having one.

Passenger 3 and the Driver may be lucky enough not to have to dig around in the other person's flesh but don't count on it.

30) Check that you are all able to breathe and agree never to mention how cosy you all got.

Commence countdown, engines on. Off you go...

Further Tips for your Journey
DO NOT lean into corners.

DO be as lightweight as possible.

DO bring a snorkel with you so that you can more effectively suck in air through the gap in the back window.

DO sit on a hemorrhoid pillow to try and combat getting booted up the backside every few seconds by what is laughably called "The Suspension".

DO strap another hemorrhoid pillow to your head for the same reason. The roof of the car is very low!

DO NOT fart!

And finally...

REMEMBER: What happens in the Mini, STAYS in the Mini! 

Horse-meat scandal! Woman survives consumption of WHOLE, LIVE, HORSE!

Betty Bumpkin*, 84, smiles kindly at me through the myopic haze of her age-addled memory as she recalls how she came to defy modern medicine by surviving the worst recorded case of Hippophagitis since records began.

Nose-to-kneecaps in a chintzy armchair which, presumably, was last upholstered sometime prior to 1974, I attempt to return her toothless smile whilst subtly adjusting the position of my buttocks, in order to accommodate the detritus of the last 40 years, protruding through the pitifully flat cushion. 

Literally furniture-bound, I try in vain to gently wrest an over-full teacup from her shaky hands. Having spent 40 minutes stuck on the godforsaken Coast Road, less than a mile from her front door, eyeing those cliffs almost longingly...I am desperate for a proper cuppa! 

Babbling on about her "darling" bungalow, I learn that she has lived here, in the ironically-named, traffic blackspot of Peacehaville*, since the Fifties. It would seem she has also had the central heating on, continuously, since it was installed. 

Wondering if she'd notice an attempt to catch the raindrops of tea by just stretching my tongue a ...little...further, I reluctantly prepare to take notes on yet another sensationalist bullshit story to feature in "Bumfodder Weekly" or, as most people know it, "Really". Really? Yes. Really. 

Oh don't worry! They don't read their submissions...And I'm only on a government-forced Apprentice Scheme so with any luck they'll fire me and I can get on with being 18. 

Anyway, I'm here today to interview Betty, who, in the light of the recent horse-meat scandal, has written to us with the shocking claim that she has eaten an entire live horse - and survived to tell the tale (and earn £50 and a Royal Jelly gift set to boot)! 

So Betty, what made you decide to eat a live horse? If you were so interested in horse meat, why not just buy a Tesco Value "beef" burger?

Ah, well, you see my dear, it's actually a little known [or perhaps, made-up?] illness called Hippophagitis, not to be confused , of course, with Hippovaginosis which is an entirely different matter and not at all pleasant, but then I wouldn't know, you see, because I've neither got nor had it, but Mr Spencer at the local pharmacy did say that he thinks Mrs White at number 22 might have something funny going on "down there" because she asked for Canesten with her blood-pressure tablets last week, if you ask me, I always said Mr White was a wrongun, I reckon he's been giving it to her in the...

*Cough* Yes, errr, so an illness, you say? Do you know what brought it on?

What brought what on, dear? 

...The Hippophagitis...?

Hippovag...!? I beg your pardon! Oh no dear, not me dear, I've never had nothing like that going on with my you-know-what thank you very much. My mother always said never to go with a foreign gentleman else that's what you get, you see! *Incoherent mumbling...*

*Raising voice* Mrs Bumpkin? I was asking about the HIPPOPHAGITIS? WHEN YOU ATE A HORSE??

Well why didn't you say. Of course! Well I 'et an 'orse dear to catch the cow I et. 

The cow...?

Oh yes, you see, during the war, our food was heavily rationed, and my mother always said "waste not, want not". So I 'ad to eat the whole cow even though I was rather full already what with the dog and everything. And I paid for it afterwards an' all because it really upset my IBS!

I sense I should pause, thoughtfully, and take the time to really delve into the sad back story that she's clearly alluding to. Let's just assume that it involves some sort of WWII-related childhood trauma, an absent father, a profound hunger, blah blah blah...

Focussing on the single, most interesting thing, Betty has said so far, though:

I'm sorry - did you say something about a dog?

Yes, dear, the dog dear, what about him?

Well - it's just that I didn't realise you had a dog?

Had's the word dear. I did have a dog, yes. But I et him. 

Errr...so is that...Caninophagitis?
Well call it what you will dear, I wouldn't advise it. Most unpleasant week of my life, eating that dog...

Well, why did you eat your dog Mrs Bumpkin?
I simply had no choice! That's simply what you have to do in the unlikely circumstance of having eaten a cat!

*Starting to doubt my own sanity and Googling "symptoms of early onset Dementia on my iPhone"*.

I'm beginning to sense that this is a futile question but, may I ask WHY you ate A CAT?
Well you see, I'm a little befuddled as to how it happened. It was a sort of accident you see because, although I admit I did mean to eat Tommy the Cat at the time, I don't really remember the circumstances too well but I think...I think I thought he'd be able to settle my stomach after I et that dodgy seagull. Tommy used to like catching birdies.

Yes... 
Clearly I'm on candid camera so I had better just ride it out with as much dignity as I can muster - maybe this is part of my exam?

Tell me, what made you decide to eat a seagull, specifically? Surely a blue-tit would have been more manageable?
Mmmm you are right there my dear, and had I known what a flap it would cause, I certainly would have chosen more carefully. The thing about seagulls, though, is...the thing about seagulls...

Her head droops onto her saggy chest and she starts to snore. This gives me time to weigh up my options...

1) Make a run for it, fabricate the rest of the article, possibly get found out, and fail my Apprenticeship assessment?

2) Steal from the old bat and try and disappear?

Oooh, what's this? I've been, almost subconciously, rooting down the side of the sofa, in the hope that I might find something to recompense me and, woo hoo! I can feel something like a note...

I surreptitiously try to unbury it and am startled when she jerks awake. Pretending to be looking in my pockets, I laugh nervously at her. She's staring balefully at me as if she had never been asleep and I sense that I ought to carry on where I left off. Best not to mention it, I suppose. 

Where was I, oh yes - the thing about seagulls is that they're very aggressive and so I figured he wouldn't be scared orf by the spider.

The spider...?
Balls. It's a bloody dollar! Maybe I will stop by those cliffs on the way home... Or perhaps I could take Betty for a walk...?

Yes, dear. You know. SPIDER. 'Orrible 'airy thing will all those legs and eyes.

I can't believe it. She's actually trying to mime a spider to me.

YES MRS BUMPKIN. I WAS JUST WONDERING WHY YOU ATE ONE?
Ah yes. Well, it's a funny story actually but it's caused my bowels no end of trouble I can tell you. The doctor wouldn't even grant me an appointment. But you know what it's like these days, I think you have to make some sort of blood sacrifice to the receptionist to get into see them these days, he does sign aspirin prescriptions pretty darn quick though, hands those things out like sweeties he does but, well really, I blame the NHS!

The NHS?
Yes, you see I et a fly, and then I panicked when I could still feel it flapping about. But I used the symptom checker and they...

...said you should eat a spider and then consume progressively larger animals over the coming weeks until you either come to your senses or die of internal bleeding?
What? No! Of course not. NHS Direct didn't help at all. The internetty thing had nothing to say for itself, and when I phoned I just kept getting put on hold. I got the feeling they were all having a laugh at my expense you know!

Noo...
Oh yes. That's what the world's coming to these days. Impersonal and uncaring. It's that David Cameron's fault! Big Society?Big Scam, more like...

You could've gone to A&E...?
Oh no, not me. I haven't been ill since the Eighties. Besides, I don't want to waste anyone's time!

Wondering what she thinks she has been doing for the last hour, I politely phrase, what I hope to be my final question...

What made you eat a fly Mrs Bumpkin?
Ooh I don't know, dear. I don't know...

-- Becky Boo.

In loving memory of Mrs Betty Bumpkin who sadly died last Sunday after suffering complications arising from Polyfaunaphagitis.

The Gruffalo - The Untold Story

Until a few years ago it was widely believed that there was "no such thing as a gruffalo". Thanks to an unlucky coincidence one brave mouse recently discovered that such a monster does indeed exist - in the dark depths of a woodland previously frequented by teddy bear picnickers.

Half grizzly bear, half buffalo, this awkward animal is believed to be the product of one awful experiment involving a disreputable scientist who was unavailable to comment by virtue of the fact that he has since, regrettably, been eaten.

We follow the plucky Mouse as he retraces the steps he took on that fateful day when he discovered The Gruffalo.

Milo, for that is The Mouse's real name, strides into the wood with enviable nonchalance. He begins by picking his way along the side of the marked footpath before veering off towards the fox's den where he met his one time enemy Felipe. Unfortunately, the Fox has been so ridiculed by the community for his apparent stupidity in falling for Milo's tricks that he has been unable to get a decent meal for weeks. Unwanted celebrity has not brought him any fortune so he has left for America where, he is reliably informed, the streets are made of cheese. As everyone knows, foxes are really quite partial to cheese...

Swaggering past Felipe's former residence, Milo recounts how he courageously avoided The Fox's jaws and instead thought up the story about the Gruffalo. His over-confident demeanour falters just slightly when he is questioned as to how he thought of the Gruffalo and whether he really knew that one existed.

Soon enough we happen upon the Owl's house but, alas, he is not home. Oswald the Owl was once known in these parts for his superior wisdom having once belonged to a wizard. He prided himself on knowing everyone and everything in these woods and did not suffer fools gladly. People from miles around used to come to seek his counsel but, since the whole Gruffalo affair, he hasn't had any custom. Instead he has suffered a bout of depression brought on by a loss in confidence and has flown away to Hogwarts where he is now working as a post-owl (Editor's note: That is to say "post" as in "postman", not "post" as in "posterior"/ or "post-war").

The fact that Gruffalo-Gate as it is now being called has disrupted the lives of, so far, The Fox and The Owl does not seem to bother Milo The Mouse in the slightest. Indeed, for a little marsupial he seems to have delusions of grandeur, focussing instead on how long it will be before they make a 3D movie of his adventures. Boo Publications understands that a stage re-telling is already in production.

In keeping with the predictable, repetitive nature of these kinds of stories, it doesn't surprise us to find that The Snake has also fled. Although it appears in this instance that The Mouse was right to think Simeon the Snake is an idiot. Apparently he is well known for his stupidity and has fallen for an Egyptian Snake Charmer who has whisked him off to Sharm-el-Sheikh.

As we pass this last checkpoint on the way to meet the terrifying Gruffalo, it is interesting to see that Milo has lost some of his bold stature and in fact seems to be backing away whilst gesturing us towards the cave.

Our hearts in our mouths, we make a hesitant move towards the beast's lair. Before we have even reached the opening, an enormous roar almost knocks us backwards. We all jump and topple against one another like dominoes. Wiping the monster's spittle from our faces and the sweat from our brows, we proceed, with renewed caution. Our less-than-gracious host appears to have beaten a hasty retreat and is nowhere to be seen.

With one swift step we are inside the mouth of the cave. We hold fast through another few ripping roars and then we finally find the torch. Casting it around quickly - we get a real sense of the decrepitude that this beast lives in. There is not a single piece of furniture. Not even the cheap kind from Ikea. No wallpaper, nothing. Just two glowing orange orbs in the darkness at the back of the cave. As we steel ourselves for the final, and they do seem likely to be final, steps - we are stopped in our tracks by the metallic clang of something falling to the stone floor.

We hear a small, petulant voice, rather like that of Billy the Smallest of the Goats Gruff who we interviewed last week.

"Tell Milo I ain't doing it no more."

We glance at each other, completely nonplussed.

Our lead cameraman steps forward.

"I beg your pardon, so so sorry to intrude and thanks awfully for not eating us just yet but we are making a documentary and it would be really helpful if you could expand on that comment you just made, if you wouldn't mind, Your Gruffness..."

We hear the slap of skin against stone as Our Gruffness approaches. (The skin of his feet that is...not...ewww...please...this is a CHILDREN'S STORY). To our utter shock, what edges towards us is, what can only be described as, a...a... "Buffizzly Bear".

He has a hairy head and a hairy tum with hair-covered hooves and a hairy bum. He has awful breath and claws to match with tiny pustules all over his back. His eyes are indeed orange, his tail is long and the entire picture is, frankly, just wrong!

On questioning, it seems that the Buffizzly Bear, or Norman as he was christened, was the result of an accident that his well-meaning scientist creator had when he was trying to split the atom. Norman is in fact the head of a grizzly bear and the body of a buffalo. He would like us to mention that he does NOT eat mice, foxes, owls or snakes. Much preferring to raid the bins of the nicer neighbourhoods after dark. He was blackmailed by the Mouse who caught him having an affair with a young woman of questionable morals. The young woman is apparently a well-respected MP (hence the questionable morals) and Milo threatened to reveal their sordid secret if they did not agree to help him get rich.

Norman the Buffizzly Bear wants to be left alone to continue to scavenge a living from bins and woo political ladies.

The MP in question has got a super-injuction against us using her name, has quietly resigned and is now writing a book about her experiences. Rumour has it that she has signed an exclusive deal with Channel 4 to make one of those vaguely sex-related documentaries about weirdos who fancy their cars/ horses/ bicycles/ fairytale animals (delete as applicable).

Norman has moved to the Netherlands where they tend to be a lot more accepting of this sort of scandal.

Milo the Mouse has taken refuge in the Ecuadorian Embassy, London.

It would seem then, that there IS no such thing as a Gruffalo.
--

NB: Boo Publications are co-operating with the police in their ongoing investigation of this fraud and all relevant permissions were sought before going to press.
--

And this week: Bewbs!

Afternoon Book Clubbers!

This week I am bringing you a review of the critically *cough* acclaimed men's magazine, Nuts.

The 26 October 2012 issue promises an "All-New Danica Shoot!". Danica (is that Dan - icker or Da-neeka - I dunno), according to the text box on her left booby is from "Celeb BB!" (Translation: Celebrity Big Brother). Celebrity?? Don't get too excited girls, they haven't actually shot her - just taken some tasteless and hilariously ill-posed photos of her in, and occasionally not in,  tacky underwear.

The first article inside is actually a Skyfall Special. Let's see...we've got an interview with Daniel Craig. Probably the last time we are going to hear from a sophisticated male then. I expect most readers would skip this bit and head straight to da bewbies but I gave it a good once over (look out) - just to critique their interviewing style you understand.

Sigh, compared to other interviews I have seen with Mr. Craig in more reputable publications (namely, Empire) I was sorely disappointed. There aren't even any hot pics of the new Q to take my mind off the crapness of it. The interviewer was clearly also impatient to see Danica's nipples because a six-year-old could have come up with more interesting questions. And it's like they told Daniel - "If you could just be as macho and brainless as possible, that would be great!". Appalling grammar, boring content and - if you could just lower your expectations a little more, I'll turn the page...

Of course no self-respecting spunk rag could include a Skyfall Special without featuring a double page spread of a scantily-clad Bond Girl. They have put in a few pics of the really quite pretty Berenice Marlohe. Check out this accompanying text though, it really made me lol...

"You may not have caught her past classics Pas De Secrets Entre Nous or the TV series Equipe Medicale D'Urgence..."

Of COURSE they haven't "caught" these "classics"..they're in FRENCH! Got a lot of French readers have you Nuts? Got a lot of Francophone readers in your home market? No?? You surprise me.

And get this - Berenice is "maybe surprisingly the sixth oldest [Bond girl] at 33 and definitely one of the hottest". Erm, why do we need to know that she is the sixth oldest? And WHY is it surprising? This stinks of I-couldn't-think-what-to-write-and-was-a-bit-stuck-for-facts-about-this-obscure-actress. There's more Skyfall drivel. Don't bother with it. Just go watch the film. It really is a good movie and this "Special" doesn't do it justice so just go! Gogogogogo...I'll still be here when you get back.

--

--

So - did you like it? Good huh? Back to the mockery...

Nuts News features "8 amazing stratos jump facts". Basically, Nuts are unsurprisingly gay for Baumgartner and this is yet more hero worship of that 'complete twazzock what jumped out a plane'. If it is not already crystal clear what I think of that doughnut - please refer to my rant in my previous blog post.

Oh hey! Did you know "The Chinese zodiac has been bestowing years on arbitrary animals since the Han Dynasty of 203BC"? Oop somebody has wikipeed... What's that Mr Nuts-Reader? You don't care?? They just wrote that to try and introduce an article about Rosie Jones's (whose?) 2013 calendar? Well I suppose there have to be some words...otherwise this "exclusive" is just a load of gratuitous nude pics of another fit unknown.

Up next some piffle and spaff about a video game. Then - oh yeah - THEN they do a double page spread of snippets from Sean Lock's new stand-up show. I have nothing against Sean Lock. He's a funny guy but clearly Nuts were stuck for funny material of their own and had to basically just chav other people's and stick it in as some sort of non-porny filler.  I think that's just about the last of the non-titty related stories so let's see what's next...

Hahaha I have just counted how many pages I have left and we are only up to page 24 of 75-odd. (Yeah, I didn't prepare this blog post at all...). Now I realise I would be pushing it to ask for your attention for another 50 pages of textual deconstruction (50 more pages - really!?). So I will just tell you this. Not including the smutty classifieds at the back, I counted no less than 142 pairs of tits from this point in. Most of these are courtesy of Danica and her friends in the poorly named "101 Topless TV Stars!" (...who nobody has ever heard of).

The other articles of note are the problem pages and the confessions - which I shall save for another post because they are just too funny.

One more thing - whoever you girls are who are texting in pics of yourselves in your underwear for the pervs at Nuts to dribble over - STOP IT! It's not sexy okay?

The Very Hungry Caterpillar - The Untold Story

For Ben:

Cyril was a caterpillar. Cyril had no friends. You may have heard of him.

This brave caterpillar, previously unable to discuss his difficult experiences has finally decided to come clean about his recent weight-loss in allowing Becky Boo's Book Club to publish this EXCLUSIVE heart-warming story.

Previously Cyril had a court super-injunction in force which was broken by Eric Carle who took liberties with Cyril's trust and published a tell-all book about his weight problem.

Originally called "Lepidopteral Obesity - A Caterpillar's Struggle" this book was later renamed to the much more catchy "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" and published in at least 40 languages, much to Cyril's distress.

A victim of constant bullying from other caterpillars in his neighbourhood, Cyril took to eating for comfort and, after a particularly voracious week, found himself the subject of nosy parker Eric Carle's attentions. Eric had never seen a caterpillar behave in such a way and said that he was using Cyril, without permission, as a "nature study".

According to Cyril "Carle didn't help me to address my weight gain, nor did he help me to understand the psychological reasons behind it. In fact, he encouraged me to eat more and more until I could no longer identify with my own species".

Cyril - 2004

Cyril had a hard start in life, he was born with very unusual features and only six tiny legs. His entire back was covered in prickles, he had very large ears - akin to those of a rabbit, and suffered greatly from cataracts in his overlarge eyes. Looking back, Cyril believes that all of these factors contributed to his low self esteem and, eventually, his appetite.

So what's new? Well! Becky Boo's Book Club can exclusively report that Cyril has undergone a startling transformation following ground-breaking treatment from the Harley Street Clinic for Caterpillars. 

The treatment:

6 weeks of nibbling tiny holes in leaves as his only food intake

15 days in a silken sleeping bag

The addition of wings

A radical sex change

Yes, it may seem mad but Cyril, now known as Cecile, maintains that this treatment has had a lasting effect on his health and happiness. 

Cyril explains - "By only allowing yourself to nibble a tiny hole in each leaf, you are fooling your body into thinking that it is eating more whilst it is actually breaking down the poly-saturates stored in your blood stream. The next stage is to, effectively, hibernate. This is because, after 6 weeks of starvation, you will not be able to stand, six legs or no! The next stage is to grow, or otherwise obtain, a pair of wings. Because they're pretty. Also, you will find that you will suddenly pay much more attention to your weight once you have wings. Lastly, the sex change. This is necessary because it has long been proven that women do not "get fat" they simply become "curvier" - which is not quite the same."

Cecile (nee "Cyril") - NOW

Cecile's happiness just goes to show what a few simple lifestyle changes can do. Beat obesity - with leaves, hibernation, wings and femininity!

If you are a caterpillar and have been affected by Cecile's story - please write in with an appropriate picture of you looking fat and ugly so that we can exploit you too!

© Becky Boo's Book Club 2012