Jules’ head is full of candyfloss

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Cheggers vs the comedians (skip to 0:49) http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00t19f7#synopsis

Tea, slippers, jimjams, chocolate hob nobs

Actually that’s what going on at the other end of phone sex lines. You reckon you’re talking to sexy Sukie from Southampton who’s wearing stockings and a basque, when in fact you’re talking to Jean the cleaner from Stockport, who’s in jim jams, slippers and has just lost her hobnob to the depths of a cup of tea. Brings a whole new meaning to wanting it hot and wet.

There’s something quintessentially English about the way we go to the toilet in this country. In particular the way we go when we’re hemmed in at gigs or overcrowded clubs. There’s this common understanding about the order of things.

First we have to do the standing squeeze and shuffle, where you become a Ricky Martin impressionist as you lambada yourself towards the loo, always located at the furthest geographical point from your current position. Of course we all still do that polite English ‘excuse me’ thing as we’re rubbing our groins against complete strangers as we wade through the throng.

Then there’s the etiquette of passing places. You know those little stop gaps on route similar to hobbit holes

– do you plough on through totally ignoring the hobbit hole, hoping for the best
– do you make a bolt for it, letting the other person pass in the process
– or do you do the hesitation thing waiting for someone else to make a decision and doing the wavery head motion.

We follow this with the right/left shimmy where you try to do the passing thing but end up doing the 2 step with your newest friend (all without making eye contact of course, we are English after all).

Then comes the queuing – oh yes this is where the British absolutely excel.
Ladies are particularly brilliant at this but we also get particularly pissed off at this point. We’re patiently lining up and all the men seem to have some sort of tardis thing going on. For every 10 men that go into the loo only 2 come back out and then when they do emerge they’ve got that supercilious smug look on their face which says ‘I’ve just had 3 pisses whilst you’re stood here turning blue from practising your pelvic floor exercises’.

I seriously think men must have some futuristic piss extraction machine in the middle of the urinals.

I know there are some subtle differences between male and female urination but believe me, when you’re pissed up, wearing a summer skirt and no knickers, you’d give any man a run for his money.
But Christ you guys have mastered the art of speed pissing.

I’ve been stood a queue for the ladies and no quicker have I said to the girl standing next to me ‘oh dear never mind I’m sure it’ll be ok but, yes he really is a utter bastard, tell me all about it, is that the fucker over there and by the way where did you get that lovely lipstick from’ than one of you fuckers has been in and out of the loo already.

Is it ALWAYS wrong to be in your 30’s and still drink an entire bottle of lemon schnapps and throw up down your jim jams?
Cause we never wear anything but jim jams now. They suddenly become the uniform of choice for the semi alcoholic 30 year old. Gone are they days of throwing up in the gutter, on someone else, or down your best batwing fluorescent jumper, nope hit your 30’s and you just don’t go outside any more. Quite frankly, what’s the point you’re only going to be harassed by hoodied youffs shouting obscenities about your zimmer frame and all the drinks are bloody expensive. Why go to the expense of going out and buying a jack daniels and coke when you can buy a bottle of Liebfraumilch for a fiver and stay in watching Top Gear.

And what about the serving suggestions they put on bottles of wine. I don’t mean the serving suggestions ‘ this goes nice with chicken or fish’ those sorts of one, cause lets face it all we really want is one that says goes very well with kebabs, but I think the lager industry has cornered the market on that one.

No I mean the size servings they suggest. On a standard bottle of wine they reckon you can get 6 glasses out of it. 6! 6! – What sort of Lilliputian fantasy world are these guys living in? I don’t know about you but I’m lucky if I get 3 glasses out of a bottle and to be fair I’m lucky if the wine even makes it into a glass.

Now they’ve also come up with wine stoppers, you know to ‘store’ your wine so it doesn’t go off! Christ that’s never going to happen, my white wine is lucky if it even sees the fridge before its consumed. I don’t have a cellar, why in hell would I need a device to store wine.

Of course the problem with living on your own is you have no guage of how drunk you actually are. Yes you’ve got a ready meal for 1 and the cats for company but that’s about it.

Stairs do help with establishing the level of drunkenness but if you live in a studio flat or a bungalow you’re totally bollocked. You tend to be ok until you attempt to go for a piss and then suddenly the sofa seems to be a very long way from the floor. Of course its not at this point that your body goes into puke spasms..oh no its at 3 am, you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours when your body suddenly jerks you awake and you realise that:

a) you’ve drunk an entire bottle of walnut liquer and you have a intolerance to nuts,
b) you’re spreadeagled like a beslippered starfish across your rather cold and hard laminate flooring and
c) you’re really not going to make it to the loo or even sink in time to chuck up last night’s kebab.

And really puke is bloody difficult to get out of flannelette. Maybe that’s what we need for the next series of the ‘You’ve got a crap idea’ or Dragon’s Den or whatever it’s called – the first set of puke resistant pyjamas.

Once upon a time in an enchanted palace known as the shining city of Priviness, lived a small and delicate fairy known to all as Toiletta the guardian fairy of all water closets

Toiletta ruled over her kingdom with peace and serenity. She had many lovely female followers who were respectful to her world and abided by the rules of the land and could make a ‘hotel point’ fold on a loo roll in 5 seconds flat.

For many years Toiletta and her followers were blissfully happy as they went about their daily business and Toiletta enjoyed a peaceful reign for the loo rolls were plentiful and abundant. Years passed and the inhabitants grew worried as their numbers began to dwindle. Then on one magical night the inhabitants of Priviness found themselves over run with young males intent on helping them with their repopulation.

At first the ladies of Priviness were delighted with their new and interesting consorts and for a while the inhabitants would happily laze about making love, skipping through golden fields and generally getting themselves up the duff.
Then slowly as the rose tint began to tire the original inhabitants realised they weren’t perhaps as happy as they once were. Their previous balanced lifestyle was being upset by an imbalance in nature and force unknown to woman.
It happened slowly at first, everyone could feel it but none could figure out why arguments were starting to rumble and remote controls were being thrown.

Finally they decide to seek Toiletta’s advice as they were in fear of losing their marital beds. Toiletta listened patiently to their tales of woe and with years of wisdom, enlightened her followers…’But of course it is obvious what is happening, these men folk have not respect for the rules of Priviness and mock us with their ways. You can clearly see it..have you not noticed how thy throne seats are always left in an upward position and how thy toilet paper is never replaced on the holder and it is always the woman folk who find the inner tube lolling sadly against the holder’?

A gasp went through the assembled throng as they realised that Toiletta did in fact speak the truth, but what one earth were they to do? They couldn’t risk losing their only means of reproduction. Toiletta did impress upon them the learned ways of Priviness and asked them to educate their men.

So over the coming years the inhabitants of Priviness attempted to educate their men folk with a variety of lectures, demonstrations and the tried and tested technique of nagging on mass.

However Toiletta did not account for the serious defect in men that leads to total diviness and an inability to hear the fine acoustics associated with a well timed nag. The inhabitants of Priviness were furious with their ruler and took revenge in the only way they knew how.

And so in memory to the Priviness riots of 1733, you’ll find in homes across the land, resting on top of the toilet, a small fairy, with a crinoline skirt and a loo roll shoved up her arse.

My brain has gone into porn overload and everything I see or hear has very overtly sexual conotations to it..so time to expand on my porn shed theory.

Firstly porn and sex aids deserve to be displayed openly, not hidden in bedside cabinets and under beds. You need to display these items proudly, shouting – ‘here is my porn, come have a look, my collection is very extensive…..you like?’.

Not have it so that it sends you into a brown paper bag inhaling panic attack everytime your parents or babysitter comes round. Steady boys..once you start going down the babysitter track there is no return…

Darling? Have you put all the porn away?
Yes of course sweetness
All of it? Including that really dodgy stuff you had to get flown in from Finland in a special container and you had to give them your Swiss Bank account details before they’d hand it over?
Yes dear, all of it, its all safely stashed in the bedside cabinet.

Oh yes the ‘bedside cabinet’ cause no fucker is ever going to think about looking in there. It’s the first thing you do, surely? If you’re housesitting or left to your own devices in someone else’s house for any length of time – you go looking for porn. Of course you rummage through the old medicine cabinet first in case they have any embarrassing ailments but then you search for porn.

But oh no, someone’s been sneaky and they have a lockable bedside drawer (the fuckwits) but it is ok ‘For I am Pornania Jones, intrepid porn treasure seeker. Your fiendish traps and tricks are no match for my cunning and well lubricated fingers’.

Hmmm now where could thay have possibly stashed the key?
Could it by any chance be taped to the underside of the bed? No?
In the little trinket box on the dressing table? No?
Damn trickies these trusted friends of mine.

So then and only then, when you’ve exhausted all possibilities do you go that place that dare not be mentioned. To that unholy hiding place of all that is evil…

THE MAN’S SOCK DRAWER

I know ladies please try and remain calm I’ll send someone round with some smelling salts shortly.

Of course being British we couldn’t possibly display our porn so brazenly, oh no we’d much rather wait until we’re all sat round for Christmas dinner. Auntie Doris is saying grace and is just at the moment when she says Amen and everyone opens their eyes, when Little Bobby makes an appearance sporting a rather fetching spiked rubber hood with matching love beads necklace!

So be proud of your porn and display it where everyone can see it, even Auntie Doris might like a crack at it.

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