An Open Letter to Daniel (Sodding) Bryan

Picture the scene. You're in bed, the lights are low, you've got the music on, you've had a steamy hot shower, you've even done the BIG SHAVE (you know what I'm talking about ladies!). The scene is set for some seeerrioouss Business Time. Sometime later, you hear...

"YES! YES! YES!"

Don't get me wrong, most women would be proud to hear this repeated affirmation and, in other circumstances, I probably would be too. But my Significant Other isn't even in the room!

What's he doing?

Gaying it up over Daniel (Sodding) Bryan.

Giving the unprecedented strength of feeling that my boyfriend has for this (*checks Wikipedia*) "one-time World Heavyweight Champion in WWE", I decided to write a letter of appeal to the man himself...

Here goes:

Brighton

18/07/13

Dear Mr Bryan, 

It has recently come to my attention that you have seemingly won the affections of my long-term Boyfriend by doing nothing more admirable than pretending to fight men in pants. 

Whilst this is not necessarily a reason to blame you for all that is wrong in the world, it is good enough reason - let's face it, I'm a woman, I don't need much of a reason - to have a good ol' whinge about you and that ridiculous "sport" that is WWE (*shudder*). 

I shall now list the detrimental effects that you, Daniel Bryan (nee, Bryan Danielson - I see what you did there with that stage name - very clever!), have had on my lifestyle (with specific but non-explicit reference to the allotted Business Time). 

1) In an effort to convince me that WWE is, and I quote, "genius" I was forced to watch a disturbing scene not even worthy of the worst Eastenders' plot line, in which an old lady gave birth to a hand. A HAND! 

This awful experience is attributed to you because you are the reason my boyfriend wanted to convince me that WWE is, here's that mis-applied word again, "genius". I am now mentally scarred and have lost 12 minutes of my life which I can never get back!

2) I may have been able to recover some semblance of normality if it hadn't been for detrimental effect number 2 - in which my boyfriend seems to have memorialised one of the funniest moments of his life with something that happened while he was watching you. 

During some sort of "intense" pay-per-view wrestling match, he got a little drunk with a bunch of mates and consequently was nearly paralysed when one over-enthusiastic friend "angle-slammed" him (steady). Previously, I was the cause of many of his most humerous memories and he would look at me with such love and laughter in his eyes. 

Now he looks at me with confusion..."you're not Daniel Bryan..." and then resigned tolerance ..."ah well, I suppose at least you do have bewbies...".

3) He has a t-shirt that says "YES! YES! YES!" on it. 

This is courtesy of his friend who went off-list and bought him an unapproved birthday pressie. Tut tut!

4) He wears this t-shirt far too often.

Seriously - he can't go and watch wrestling without it. The one and only time I have seen him iron anything in the last 9 years is when he was so desperate for this tshirt to dry (I had actually managed to get him out of it long enough to wash it) that he used everything he could, including my state-of-the-art hairdryer just so he could wear it to a PPV that night. 

5) People stop in the street to shout "YES! YES! YES!" at him, congratulate him on being "awesome" and share some in-joke about friggin' WWE.

This happened! I know! It's like these wrestling nerds just gravitate towards one another and then slowly take over your whole town and eventually, your life!

6) I nearly lost him at an Iron Maiden gig when same friend as in number 2 tried another wrestling move on him in the mosh pit which nearly resulted in him crowd-surfing 100,000 people, which I would NOT have been pleased about - although he would have found it awesome I'm sure.

7) He's not shaving as often as he used to.

I'm okay with him having a beard. I've gotten used to it. He would have grown it whether I liked it or not so I've had to suck it up (not literally - eww!) but it's getting a little long now, and having Wikipedia'd you, I'm starting to wonder whether he isn't inspired by your abundant facial hair. 

He'd better not be copying yo' face!

8) He thinks it's funny to make references to WWE at inappropriate times.

He actually thinks it's pretty comical to make references to anything I hate at inappropriate times. And I'm not a hateful person but there is a list (quite a heavily South Park-related list) of jokes/ voices/ accents which I would respectfully ask him not to do in my presence but which he, disrespectfully, ignores at every opportunity.

9) He keeps saying "shuck ducky qua...(oh wait - that's for my letter to that other wrestler...)

10) I worry that he loves you more than me :'-(

I didn't even hear about you from him, I heard from his best friend (waaah). 

In light of the above detrimental effects that your on-air representation has had on my personal home life, I would seek to be compensated as follows...

- that you ruin your reputation in favour of Stone Cold

- that you encourage my Boyfriend to adore Stone Cold instead and, if possible,

- that you cause my Boyfriend to desire Stone Cold's inclusion in our relationship on a casual basis because him, I can accept and even appreciate (on a purely biological level, you understand).

I look forward to seeing Stone Cold at Business Time next Wednesday evening from 8pm. 

Unkind regards, 

Becky

***DISCLAIMER***

I would really appreciate it if you didn't sue me but I was semi-serious about the Stone Cold thing - he pwns you!

So this happened...

A spitfire. A friggin' SPITFIRE! \m/

Is this the most disappointing ending ever?

**WARNING: SPOILERS OF SYLVIA DAY'S CROSSFIRE SERIES**

Right, make yourselves comfortable. This is one of those ranty, unplanned posts which might go on a bit because I am SO ANNOYED!

First things first - I can't go on an erotica rant without briefly mentioning this...

I was a bit late to the party when it came to Fifty Shades of Whatthefuuu so, rather than jump on the bandwagon, I ended up running waaay behind it trailing desperately after all the cool kids and shouting "Heeyyy, waiiit! I've got shit to say about this book too!".

Well, it took me a while to make up my mind about 50 Shades because, having read my fair share of Mills & Boon, I had expected it to be so much worse, and was therefore pleasantly surprised to find some semblance of character development.

I mean, yeah, the inner goddess vs. subconscious waffle was really painful and borderline schizophrenic BUT on the whole, and let's be reasonable here guys...

It. Wasn't. That. Bad.

...Although arguably, the only reason it had any character development was because the characters were based on Bella and Edward (what is it with stupid names? Bella?? Really?) from The Twilight Saga (which I haven't read - disgraceful I know).

...And okay, the repeated vocab was annoying but show me an erotic novel which doesn't repeat itself...at the end of the day - there are only so many words to describe your spam folder!

I mention Fiddy now because, until last night, I thought I'd found a series of erotic fiction that I could hold up to you as an antidote to everything that was wrong with E L James' writing.

The Crossfire Series by Sylvia Day. 

In essence, the story is pretty similar. A pretty-and-successful-but-doesn't-realise-it woman, falls for a ridiculously rich and good-looking man. The books follow their passionate love affair as they fight to overcome their emotional issues in order to stay together yattayattayatta. There's a whole sub/dom element to it but it's not as pronounced as in 50 Shades, which I personally prefer. The plot is more textured, there is more to the characters and it doesn't feel like the author is just using a loose story as an excuse for something to write about when the protagonists aren't banging each other. So far, so good.

I found that I absolutely tore through the first two books because the love story, while completely unbelievable fantasy, was fun and easy to read. The dark side of these books, doesn't necessarily come from the sexual deviance of Eva and Gideon (the main characters, again with the names...), instead, Day uses a sort of crime fiction baseline to give the story drama. Again, I much prefer this type of multi-layered story. I think I would go so far as to say that I really loved the first 2 books. They were welcome, summertime, escapist reads and I think that's why I was so utterly disappointed when I came to the end of the first book last night.

Here's what happened...I was tearing through it, as expected and Day was bringing all sorts of interesting stuff into the plot. The guy that Gideon supposedly killed in the second book was found to be inexplicably linked to the Russian Mafia. This let Gideon off the hook because it raised suspicions that a member of the Mafia killed the guy instead. The police evidence against both possibilities is sketchy but Day brings in bits and pieces of the back story here and there making you wonder exactly how the guy was killed, who was responsible, how that affects Gideon and Eva's relationship etc. etc... and alongside that, we find that Cary has got a girl up the duff!

Alarmingly, we only start to really get into all this when we are like (*looks at Kindle*) 80% of the way through!

Then, all of a sudden, we come to an abrupt end where the Author writes a quick, crappy little note to say that she missed her deadlines so the book is unfinished.

No.

I lie.

She says:

Author's Note

Yes, dear reader, you're right. This can't possibly be the end. 

Gideon and Eva's journey isn't quite finished yet. I look forward to seeing where they'll take us next. 

All my best, 

Sylvia. 

Seriously?

GAAAHGGHGHAAHAHHHHH

Have you read this book? What did you think? Let me know in the comments below - I'd love to hear your views!

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.

Boo's Reviews| “An explosion in space makes no sound at all.”

[Warning! This review contains spoilers.]

Sisters...sisters...they were never really skinny blisters... (my Dad used to sing this to me and my Sister to the tune of the Irving Berlin song - this is obviously the "not-for-radio" release).

Title: Sister

Genre: Crime Fiction (ish)

Author: Rosamund Lupton

Published: 2012

This book came to me in a little pile that my Mum-out-Law gave me. They were surplus novels from her work's reading shelf (they have a one-shelf limit!!). To be honest, this book went unloved and unnoticed for months because of the company it was keeping (Mills & Boon do not a goodread make!). Anyway, I ran out of books to read a week before payday so I turned to it in desperation fully expecting a sickly, pink-filled, cream puff of yuckiness. 

Oh how very wrong I was...

Sister follows the story of Bee, a busy executive in NY, One morning, she receives a call from her mum in England telling her that her sister is missing. Bee hotfoots it back to Blighty in a complete panic since Tess' disappearance is so out of character and, as we discover, she (Tess) is heavily pregnant.

When Tess' body is found in some park toilets with slit wrists, the Police close the case and treat it as suicide. 

But Bee knows her sister and is adamant that there are other evils at work.

Everything is told from Bee's point of view, with the timeline flitting backwards and forwards between her giving her statement to a Police Officer and writing a letter to Tess, her sister, explaining how she came to discover that her presumed suicide was, in fact, murder.

It is a sort of "whodunnit" really; a pleasant surprise because I really wasn't expecting a murder mystery.

We start with a missing girl, then a body, then a motive, then the struggle of trying to get the police to believe that it is murder not suicide - all the way back to working out who the murderer is and how they did it.

I found the writing style was quite hard to stomach at first. I thought that the flowery vocabulary was complete overkill. I felt a bit like the author was trying to prove that they could write well, or something. However, once you get to know the characters a bit more, you realise that the language is totally suited to the older sister's accidentally condescending personality. In the end, the vernacular chosen by the writer for Bee, the main character, served to enrich my experience of her. Once you are accustomed to the many layers of Bee's character and her gradual blending into Tess', you begin to see just how many dimensions there are to her character. The many layers of emotion that Lupton adds to her protagonist forces you to put yourself in her situation. In this way, you discover how love can control, change, destroy and heal.

Warning: You will probably cry and, if you have a sister it will be almost unbearable (but totally worth it).

All-in-all, "Sister" is an excruciating, tear-jerking, interesting and satisfying read. I would thoroughly recommend it. 

Keep bookwormin'!

Becky

I TOUCHED JUSTIN HAWKINS' BUM!

I am never washing again *girlish sigh*.

Yes, apologies for my absence and welcome to March. Apparently March "comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb...". God knows where this saying comes from. If I could be bothered I'd wiki it for you but meh...let's just agree that it's a weird saying. Clearly this phrase hails from those halcyon days of yesteryear when all was rosy and sunny and golden, when March actually did signal the start of spring. These things I think this old adage is probably more applicable to June!

That's right - I'm still depressed about winter. Hence the absence. I've been hibernating!

AAaaaanyway...Justin Hawkins' Bum...

Mmhmmm, yeah, I touched it! Woop!

How/ Why/Where/etc?

Well last Thursday night, I took some time off from hibernating to go and see The Darkness at the Hammersmith Apollo in London. They are touring their new album "Hot Cakes". I hadn't heard any of the latest stuff until the gig but I have to say it was very catchy. Apparently they are trying to get back to their "Permission to Land" sound because they feel that the second album was "a bit over-produced". From where I was standing though - it was all gooooood!

Admittedly my discerning *cough* musical ear was somewhat disengaged because my attention was drawn to the rude little trail of hair beneath Justin Hawkins' bellybutton. He was sporting a rather fetching stripy, full-length leotard with the front cut out revealing his ripped torso - mmmm.

Ahhemhemhem...I am sorry,this post seems to have taken a bit of a 50shades turn! You know it's weird - Justin 10 years ago...not that hot. Justin now...well...

Above: Old Justin = Not Hot, Below: New Justin = Yummy!

I nicked these photos off of Google - please don't sue me!

Suffice to say - when he jumped onto his brother's (I think) shoulders mid-song, and got him to gallop around the arena with Justin on his back and several heavies from the Apollo security team following after, doing their best to make sure that no-one has any cause to sue, I was among the many screaming women trying to claw their way towards him.

Fortunately, they ran right past where I was standing and, before I knew it, I'd slapped his sweaty, lycra-clad bum.

That, my friends, is Rock 'n' Roll!

See ya later Amigos!

Becky



P.S. Gimme a shout if, when someone mentions "Justin" to you, you think Hawkins and not Timberlake. Also - have you heard the new Darkness album? What do you think?

Winter of discontent...

Does The Sun (the star not the Kerry Katona Daily Update) work for British Airways? I was just wondering because of the following:

1) It appears to have gone on strike.

2) BA are always offering "deals" to fly to increasingly far away places to go and spend some time with it.

--

Me to The Boy this morning (details may have been exaggerated for your enjoyment):

At the bus stop on the seafront....

WIND: I'm gonna batter you because I' m The WIND and I'm a violent bugger...

ME: (Shouting over the wind and shivering from cold...) W..w...w..what's (*I'm shivering remember...from the COLD!*) th..that...wuh wuh weird p..p..patch of orange c..cloud over..ver.. there?

BOY: Is it...*squints* the...S...s...Sun? (*also shivering - see?*)

ME: *also squinting* I guh..guess...we'll n...never know buh....because..it's...it's *sniff* GONE! (*cries out in woeful lamentation*).

BOY: *Holds me to him and sings in Russian* (wait...whaaaat...?).