Monday, 25 October 2010

Not Like They Use To Be


We’ve all heard the phrase ‘they don’t make them like they use to,’ and it was just this week I heard myself repeating this phrase, thus rendering me official past it. I thought I was past it anyway, no longer can I go out four nights on a row and not suffer a hangover. I still go out, but by god does my head feel like I’ve just been battered with an angry trannie’s stiletto.

I was referring to the corn-flavored snack, Monster Munch, when I said the above phrase. The beef ones are my flavour of choice, but then you all knew that. My obsession with beef monster munch is like Jordan’s obsession with fame, desperate and cheap. You see they just don’t seem as big as they use to, either the monsters have got smaller or my hands have got bigger.

I then started thinking just what other things aren’t what they use to be like? Top of my list was good old British Television. What ever happened to the days when you could pop you tele on and Cilla Black would come on your box? I use to love Surprise Surprise. I’ll let you into a little secret; I use to dress up in my mum’s dresses when I was 7 and totter around the house in high heels singing the Surprise Surprise theme tune in a scouse accent.

Before I move onto my next topic I would also like to state for the record that I would like to see the following programs brought back to our screens; Challenge Anika, Brookside, Soldier Soldier, London’s Burning, Fat Friends, Smack The Pony, and my channel 5 favorite, Naked Elvis.

Next on my agenda to bring back would be the old cartoons. Quite frankly Pepa Pig gets on my tits and Dora the Explorer is nothing more than a common tart. How else would you explain her waking up in different countries at 7 in the morning? Quite frankly I think it’s disgusting. It should be called Dora’s Walk of Shame and screened post watershed.

Whatever happened to the innocence of Button Moon? And where have the Moomins gone too? I blame the Teletubbies for cheapening kids tv, it’s never fully recovered after Tinky Winkie’s sex tape scandal. My all time favorite kid’s show was Sooty. I think he may have been a great inspiration for me as a child as many men have made me feel like Sooty in my later years.

Next on my hit list has to be pop music. Since Steps vanished all those years ago there hasn’t really been any decent pop music about. Kylie has tried and just about managed to scrape a half decent album together, but let’s face it, she doesn’t give us dance routines we can all copy and perform on a Saturday night after sniffing a bottle of poppers and downing 5 Sambuccas. Where did B*witched disappear to? What happened to all the pop bands that use to grace Smash Hits magazine and Top Of The Pops magazine? What happened to those magazines? The only real decent pop music that has been released in the past 5 years is the amazing Disco Defenders album by Alcazar, and that didn’t even get a proper release.

Last on my list of things that aren’t what they use to be are Prisons and the UK justice system. I know I have ranted about this before but this really gets my back up. I would love to track down the person responsible for making the justice system completely unjustifiable. I would rip his head off, in a public place to gain mass media attention, and then shit in his neck. I have no doubt I would only serve two weeks in a prison that could easily be mistaken for a holiday camp and be made to attend an evening course in papier-mâché. I would then quite possibly be given a new identity and have my mortgage paid for and given enough money to travel to the Costa Del Sol twice a year.

Whilst I remember there is one salvation in the world of television entertainment in days gone by and that is the release of all Victoria Woods work on DVD this month. To celebrate have a browse through her back catalogue on the amazon link box below.

Now before I go if you have anything to add, anything at all that you feel isn’t what it use to be please email your thoughts to mikie@handbagsnbotox.com The best ones will be added very soon.

Now in the words of my here Sooty, ‘Bye Bye Everybody, Bye Bye.’ 



The Sweet Tune of Memories



It’s surprising how a song can take you right back to a point in time when you least expect it. Sitting in a bar down in the Falklands I suddenly found myself transported back to 2001; sitting on the number 4 bus in York with my first love and his sister.  Some clever spark had put Shakira, Whenever Wherever, on the jukebox. It wasn’t for them to know that this song choice would suddenly give me flash backs like out of a horror movie but I did have the sudden urge to scold them with a hot tea or coffee the next time they’re unfortunate to be on one of my flights. You see the bus driver had put this song on full blast just as I was in the middle of a blazing row with my ex.

It’s not just Shakira that haunts me, although she is the only recording artist that I would happily burn at the stake for crimes against music, Natasha Bedingfield also holds memories for me. Any track of hers from the Unwritten album takes me back to 2005 and over to Cyprus. This is my summer of obsession with a man named Craig, another one who turned out to be an absolute twat.  It wasn’t just his persistent playing Natasha Bedingfield that got on my tits but his firm belief he was worth more than anyone else. Also the fact he’d openly said I was much fatter than anyone he’d normally go for didn’t really do much for my opinion of him, especially as I was only 11 stone.

Don’t get me wrong, there are also many happy memories hidden in music; just one beat of anything by Booty Luv brings a smile to my face. It also makes me long for a bottle of rose wine and makes me want to mince around my forgotten friend’s apartment laughing at jokes that only we would get.

Play Alcazar and you’ll soon see the real me. Anything by Alcazar makes me want to party. Alcazar is my obsession and holds no hidden meaning apart from a good time. One particular song of theirs called Shopping has quite possibly the best lyrics of any pop song; ‘you broke my heart and I go shopping shopping, you broke my heart, I put your name on a credit card and I go shopping shopping.’ Obviously written by someone fresh from the Paul McCartney school of music.

Any funky house track reminds me of my one true love. I can see his dance and his beaming jokers smile. I can smell his Star aftershave; it takes me back to a time when I was in complete ethereal love. It brings mixed emotions of comfort and love, but it also reminds me I no longer have that love anymore.

Perhaps the most embarrassing track I can ever listen to is the song Naked by Louise, formally of Eternal. The very thought of the song sends shudders up my spine and transports me back to the world of an awkward fat teenager. To be precise it takes me back to a drama lesson in 1999. As part of my drama project I thought it would be perfectly acceptable by my peers to perform an extremely camp dance routine to it, a routine that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Steps appearance on Top Of The Pops.  After this, in my opinion BAFTA award-winning performance, there was no denying I was gay. This song outed me and scarred me for life.

Perhaps the most special album I own is the supreme Ghosts by Siobhan Donaghy. If ever I feel down and need music to be melancholy to this is my album of choice. What makes the album even more special to me is the fact that so few people own it. It makes me feel lucky to know I’m one of few who have ever had the joy of Miss Donaghy’s velvety vocals caressing my ears. The song So You Say holds a deep meaning to me. And although I like to think the album was wrote specially for me, I would like to share it with you. You can purchase it from amazon by clicking on Ms Donaghy's photo below or via this link Ghosts

Feel free to share what songs take you back. Email mikie@handbagsnbotox.com for your choice to be featured in a follow up article.




Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Would Like To Meet


WLTM . . .

No one could say I don’t lead the life of riley. Working one day a week for a fantastic wage is more than acceptable one thinks. Especially when the other six are spent either on the beach in a remote tropical island or groping over sexed solders in the Falklands. I even find time to write these little witty columns for your amusement.

However, just recently one has been feeling like something is missing, like having a Jack Daniels without coke and ice, or Geri Helliwell without the smell of desperation. I’ve been looking for what has been missing; my Jean Paul Gautier make-up, a Victoria Wood DVD from my collection, a pair of Aussiebums, my designer stubble and charm? All there present and correct.

I did however have a Eureka moment; I actually had it whilst I was surrounded by a platoon of extremely hot army boys with more muscle than a seafood casserole. You see I was sat down in the NAAFI bar with my gorgeous MacBook, I think it makes me look like Carrie Bradshaw, when I was looking at old photos and suddenly I came face to face with my ex boyfriend for the first time in 18 months.

I have been single since I found myself climbing through his window; it’s a common enough situation to find your self in after ten Sambuccas. I have enjoyed being single, it’s nice to not have to answer to anyone. But, just recently I have found myself missing having that special someone to come home too. Maybe I’m an old romantic, I do like sending flowers or coming home to find that a bath has been run for me, with lit candles and a nice bottle of red wine.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m down here in the Falkland Islands so far away from home and being with someone here would make it that little bit more comforting. Either way I think it’s about time I found myself a nice gentleman friend to settle down with in Manchesterford.

Now I’m not desperate at all, I’m quite happy to wait for ‘the one’ to come along and sweep me off my feet, but in the mean time if you have a single friend, feel free to give them my number. I don’t mind too much about a little bad breath, and I’m not to bothered about a sense of humour or a little body odor. The use of all limbs is also not essential; neither is having all of your own teeth. I also will not hold a history of mental health problems against them. One thing that is essential however is a pulse, but like I say, I’m not desperate. . . . 

Tuesday, 19 October 2010

I've never been in the army but the army has been in me, part four.


I’ve Never Been In The Army But The Army Has Been In Me, Part 4.

As you all know I like a drink but I am in fact now in fear that my liver is going to give up any minute. This is of course due to the price of the vodka down here in the Falklands. With vodkas at 22p in the Nafi bar you can get pissed on two pound. Although, I think that 22p is taking the piss a little bit, two weeks ago it was only 19p. I blame new labour.

Now I truly believed that there would be no way of me outdoing myself in the humiliation stakes, especially after that unfortunate experience with the sea urgent, however it turned out as I was wrong. My friends will tell you I never drink vodka, it does something funny to me that sends me more psychopathic than a Z list celebrity on a reality tv show, mentioning no names, Vanessa Feltz.
Now I’m not sure if it was all the testosterone in the air from the suqaddies that made me go a little loopy, or the fact that despite me waiting patiently in the showers for six hours for an unsuspecting squaddie to turn up I’d left disappointed and more shrivelled up than Geri Halliwell’s showbiz career. So, I decided to take things into my own hands, literally.

Downing half a bottle of Malibu I thought the appropriate course of action was to pull my senior’s pants down before rubbing his cock.  I wouldn’t call this a particular satisfying sexual experience, would you? This took place just shortly before I had vodka spat in my face and just after I’d vomited from smoking too many fags. The conclusion meant I was still moist but not perhaps in the way I would have liked. It also left me with the niggling feeling that my p46 could be shoved under my cell door at any moment.

Fortunately this happened two days ago and I’m still without my p46, actually, I have just received my roster telling me that I will be down here in the Falklands until way into January and I’ll be spending Christmas and New Year down here. Hopefully they’ll be lots of festive activities, such as the emptying of squaddies’ sacks, full of presents of course, and some festive games such as soggy biscuit (please google for the rules).

I would like to say that I learnt from my intoxicated experience, however this morning I woke up with vomit in my sink and a very scared looking penguin in my room, again.