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Posts Tagged ‘The point being?’

Because Life’s Too Short To Not Have Mary-Kate In It

Posted by idetest on January 18, 2012

Hola, totes soz for the radio static.

Totes not sorry, come find me here so I can apologise;

Come find me! We’ll braid each other’s hair and talk about boys. And strange and unsightly rashes that occur after having braided one’s hair, but before doing anything that needs talking about with boys.


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Posted by idetest on March 23, 2011

I’ve neglected you of late, I know. I die of the shame. So here, in my beloved list form, is some stuff you should think and consider as your drink yourself into unconsciousness on this warm spring eve.

1) I read The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I wish I hadn’t a lovely little story about emotional manipulation and hot guys who be packin’s bein’ all rebel with a cause a la nineteenth century ruined by being written by a Brontë sister and their godforsaken love of God and fuckin’ Jesus.

2) Also now reading Somerset Maugham’s Of Human Bondage. Yeah, wish I wasn’t. If you ever desire to read this just skip from about page 250 to 400 otherwise you will find yourself sitting on public transport tutting, rolling your eyes and lobbing it across the train with an exasperated “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” at the pathetic protagonist’s lack of a backbone or any sort of testicles.

3) Saw True Grit. Friend and I did so on a whim after we decided Never Let Me Go looked depressing. Instead we got weirdo southern cowboys and proto teenage lesbians. And Matt Damon doing a Chuck Norris impression. And squickly violence. This was the week after we went and saw Black Swan and were both still “Ew, EWWW!” over the scene with the finger…

3a) I still love you Keira Knightley.

4) I’m on a diet. This is exciting, no?

5) Read this

6) And then pay it no heed, cos girl you FIERCE! (Except you, you’re ugly).

7) I bought new shoes! Hurrah for credit card debt and our generation thinking nothing of spending money we haven’t got!

8 ) Met The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, Prince Richard (Who?) and The Duke of Westminster over’t weekend. And also John Prescott. Google him you ignorant, unwashed hobos.

9) And by met I mean served them food at a 5* hotel.

10) And by served I mean I nearly dropped it in their laps and then got yelled at by my manager.

Wish you were me yet?

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I Forgot I Had This Blog…

Posted by idetest on March 1, 2011

OMG, my life of late, like literally. It has so not been worth making me die. So hard. So I comfort myself with this. He’s like the gay Chelsea Handler. Who’s the blonde Kathy griffin. Who’s the alternative Tina fey. Who’s the female Conan. Who’s the American John Cleese. Who was the 1970s Noel Fielding.


And you want to know why I compare Noel Fielding to gay satirical comedians. Mostly cause of this:



And, yes. This is family entertainment: British TV style.

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My life, is Like, Really Hard, Y’know?

Posted by idetest on January 17, 2011

Hola chicos

I hear you, asking, nay, berating yourselves over your callous ignorance of my suffering and what causes it. I shall tell you.

My next door neighbour snores like a banshee getting a Brazilian wax. Like a freight train in a Bruce Willis movie. Like the screams of a Catholic Priest at the end of  a swimming lesson.

And yes, even though he may live next door I can hear him. At midnight. At 1am. At 2am. At 3am. You get the picture. The man is my constant companion in life. I may civil partner him just to get me through these long winter nights.

Anyho, these are the steps I have taken so far.

1) Bitter ranting

2) Screaming abuse

3) Banging on the wall (Useless as the wall is made of stone or some shit and rock solid. It sounds like I’m hitting a fish against a fat person’s thigh).

4) Earplugs. I, your humble narrator has to wear these hot, sexy and yes quite daring and avant-garde orange earplugs to be able to get one’s requisite thirteen hours of sleep every night. It’s hellish.

And they don’t even work. But why am I surprised. They’re Boots own brand.

Here’s what I shall try next

1) Alcoholism. I won’t care if I’m passed out by 9pm.

2) Drug addiction. See previous. Also may take up ganja again to help me cope with the stresses of modern life and city lying which are currently driving me to empathise with serial killers.

3) A small animal impaled on a spike left on the doorstep with a note written in blood reading ‘STOP SNORING OR YOU’RE NEXT’.

Obvs. I’m keeping this all in perspective.

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Period Drama Fanboy

Posted by idetest on December 27, 2010


No, in all seriousness this will be a post about the new BBC remake of the 1970s classic Upstairs Downstairs.

Some thoughts.

  • It’s lost its comma, and is now just Upstairs Downstairs. Kind of like Kylie.
  • The kid who was the schizo emo (it’s okay, it’s not un-PC to call those mental freaks that) on Hollyoaks got a new job and is now a poor northern child with a dark secret. Big career move for him then.
  • Keeley Hawes got a job! She no longer has to try and flog Boots make up. The poor lass, she looked so miserable in those ads. and now look at her, she gets to wear hats and boss servants around! Is that a cool gig, or what?

I never watched the original, obviously; I was born a dozen years after it finished and unfortunately it did not remain in consideration for ‘television’s greatest masterpiece of all time’ like Brideshead Revisited or that one about the Indians (Indians Gone Wild? The name’ll come to me) so I can’t compare. But on reading some of the commentary about it one can say that it would have frustrated me.

It spanned thirty years yet no one aged or mentioned the fact that they’d never had a an ounce of character development over several decades. It’s that sort of thing which pisses me off about tv shows. That and token ethnic characters. But I digress.

This one however, lacks the original leftist bent that the two ladies what wrote it had originally intended and instead is portrayed as a glossy new drama full of Jane Austen moments of escapism from the drudgery of recession and snow blighted England circa 2011, dawn thereof.

The first epeisode…well, it was all a bit nice. The matriarch’s a bitch but she’s just old-fashioned and respects the servants, the wife is a bitch but she’s in over her head and feeling out of place-and probably (gasp) infertile and I’m sure by the end of the season her sister (her of the holey knickers. and not in the Catholic way) will have gone all political and banged and boffed the rather hunky blond chauffeur. Lucky cow.

Also what is it with hunky, blond politically aware chauffeurs? (cough theIrishoneinDowntownAbbeywhowastotallydoable cough)

Other than that, I can’t say I care a jot for the tweeny romance between aforementioned Schizo emo and the maid who is all crying and really overacts and does an incredibly annoying Cockney accent. Srsly. Bitch needs to sort that shit out.

I will of course wait patiently on the fence before I cast judgment though, it could be better than Downton Abbey, which drifted off course terribly towards the end of the season, it could be worse. But at the moment I’m just left thinking “Is there a point? Will they get to it soon? And why is everyone being so nice? Will someone say something CLASSIST?!”

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Christmas. It’s so Gay. And not in the good way.

Posted by idetest on December 27, 2010

Hola Chicos,

I Hope we all had a good one.

In fact I hope it was so good that you’ll all want to keep the memory sacred by never having another opportunity to have it ruined by a mediocre Christmas next year. And with that in mind I say we ban Christmas.

Now I know what you’re thinking “Oh, he’s a rampantly anti-Christian liberal, leftie bastard who won’t let us celebrate our mildly paedophiliac (Word?) holiday about some bitch what got knocked up and was too embarrassed to tell everyone the truth that the father was Bucktooth Barry and not the School Football Captain, Joseph (Little did everyone know though that Joseph had a baby dick and a water sports fetish. So, all in all of course poor wee Mary had to go find love in the arms of another).”

Which I am.

But also I am a Socialist Muslim Terrorist Commie who believes that Capitalism and Organised Religion form two corners of the trinity of evil (Lesbians being the third corner) and that when they are brought together humanity’s darkest days are upon us.

Want Proof?

Dec. 26, 2004. A magnitude 9.0 quake struck off the coast of Sumatra, triggering tsunamis that swept through the coastal regions of a dozen countries bordering the Indian Ocean. The death toll has been estimated at between 225,000 and 275,000.

Dec. 26, 2003. An earthquake devastated the ancient city of Bam, in central Iran, leaving between 31,000 and 43,000 people dead.

And that’s just what I found on some weird Canadian news website after approximately three seconds of googling. The fact that both those things happened in mostly Muslim and other non-Christian countries further proves a point…or possibly ruins my point. I’m not sure. There are arguments for both

Non Christians deserve to die BECUZ DEY IS MUZALIM INFIDELZ.

Non Christians have died as God’s wrath against us for our butchering of Christmas.

Whatever. I’m just glad they didn’t happen here.

In short, I say we ban Christmas. Mostly cuz I’m fucking sick of it.

Think about it.

  • Everything shuts down for weeks.
  • You have to spend it with your family. Ew.
  • It’s destroying the world’s natural resources by making us buying lots of Made In Taiwan plastic junk that’ll be used for approx. five seconds before we tire of it and throw it away.
  • Bad, bad, BAD, BAD Christmas Television.
  • The poor Queenie having to do her annual message. She’s not a natural on camera, can she please be let off this obviously stressful duty and allowed to go and glug down a few bottles of sherry like every other OAP on Christmas Day?
  • I may have mentioned having to spend it with one’s family already but there are certain things in life that one must always make sure that other people are aware of. Like the horrors of enforced family togetherness time.

So, who’s with me? Let’s KILL JESUS!

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Well I have one in Leopard Print. So there!

Posted by idetest on October 18, 2010

So my beloved M.I.A. went out dressed like this the other night to an award show.

So basically what she’s trying to say here is that the recent burka ban in France was bad? Or that women who wear burkas are not being persecuted and oppressed because it’s their choice? Or that they are because it isn’t their choice? Or that in the west we misjudge them? Or that we misjudge M.I.A. and don’t really know her? (admittedly this is a strong possibility as Americans who comment about her are often surprised to discover she’s not an American let alone a British born Sri Lankan) Or is she saying that what’s on the outside does/doesn’t matter and we don’t really know someone by seeing them and prejudging them? Or is she saying “Dang this is some cool shit I picked up at duty-free in Islamabad?”

Well whatever. When I get blown up on the tube by a suicide bomber I’ll know who to blame.*

*Americans. Because you couldn’t just let Obama take over and make us all into Muslim Socialists, could you? Tea Party cunts.

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Dumbo Speaks the Truth

Posted by idetest on October 11, 2010

This man apparently knows me well.


I'm not saying it's a big contrast or anything...


Andrew Marr, has dismissed bloggers as “inadequate, pimpled and single”, and citizen journalism as the “spewings and rantings of very drunk people late at night”.

I’m just glad he knows we exist. What with him being so busy being a useless political reporter. No seriously. He is useless. And anyway, taking the debate down an intellectual notch (chance, fine thing, insert own comment here), who is he to comment on other people’s looks?

Read the full article here. If you’re not too drunk while masturbating over a pair of your own mother’s underwear, you sick, perverted little creeps. Dirty.

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I am homeless. Like the Jews pre 1948 (But I do it better).

Posted by idetest on August 25, 2010

Oh, cruel twists of fate that endlessly conspire to make me feel like I would be better off to change my name “Lindsay”, move to LA and live on a Park Bench (note: I need no encouraging to do this. It’s already my plan for 2011).

Yes faithful acolytes who love me, worship me and hang on my every uttered witticism: I, your godlike blogger of infallible brilliance and amazingly toned calves is soon to be homeless due to (in no particular order) the economy, the failings of state education and a particularly bolshy Australian with too many minutes on her cell phone plan going unused.

So what am I to do? Do I use this opportunity to pursue my dream and move to the Swiss Alps and find a hunky blond (I’m imagining Alexander Skarsgard. Yes I know he’s Swedish. But come on…do you know how cold Sweden is? At least in Switzerland they have… er, um, chocolate?) farmer whose cottage I will deliriously stumble upon after days of hiking across the terrain. Obviously he will take me in and bring me back to health. Then we shall unlock each other’s hearts and find love. Also: free German teacher! Although hopefully I won’t actually have to speak it to him – we’ll talk with our bodies or some shit.

Option number two (and this is considerably less exciting and involves little chance of Skarsgard’s Swiss cousin coming into the picture) is I actually like, demean myself enough to go and look on gumtree and join in the scrum of people trying to find mid-priced flats in zone 2. Which is basically as easy as, oh, you know, SPLITTING THE ATOM. I’ll die before I find a place that lives up to my impeccably high standards! Does the world not realise how amazing I am and how much I require in a humble abode? (i.e for it not to be humble at all and in fact magnificently opulent…for under £450 pcm.)

OR there is always option number three. I actually pursue my dream of becoming a Lindsay Lohan impersonator right now and move to LA and sit around on Sunset strip, or whatever that street’s called, and charge tourists $50 a pop to have their picture taken with me while I’ look like this


People. we have a winner.

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You get what you give

Posted by idetest on August 16, 2010

One of the searches my blog got hit up on was a ‘recession theme party’. Hah.

Unfortunately that person probably went away empty-handed on tips for some decadence. To apologise I’ll try to rectify that.

For a recession themed party you shall need the following:

  • Despair
  • University degrees to burn and dance around
  • At least one ethnic minority to dress as a Mexican Migrant who will halfway through the party shake off their cloak of despair (did I not mention the despair comes in cloak form?) and laughingly declare themselves King of the Gringos.
  • Burlap Sacks
  • Vodka. For added emphasis make people line up for it and hand them a potato or stale bread when they reach the front of the line.
  • A riot.
  • A portrait of Margaret Thatcher.
  • A Billy Elliot rendition.
  • A soundtrack consisting of Pulp, The Clash, Morrissey and poss. Bon Jovi (I’m not sure why but when I think ‘recession’ my mind always turns to New Jersey…)
  • Snooki (Italian’s know hardship). Also: because Snooki makes everything better.
  • A Chinese person to go around and taking everyone’s money off them before bumping fists with the Mexican and run off cackling.
  • Someone for the Mexican to use as a footstool
  • A scared fat person who could be used for food if things get desperate.
  • A few relics of the good old days; A JLo record, some cheap party favours from Walmart, a copy of Time or some such magazine with an article on house prices.
  • An SUV parked in the driveway they can’t afford to run anymore.
  • A foreclosure sign out the front of your house.
  • At least one token intellectual right-wing person who will find a way to blame the Jews/immigrants/the poor/gays/single mothers.
  • At least one person wearing a sandwich board sign saying “Will blow for food/work”
  • A gun to kill yourself at the end as the joke wears off and a Nietzsche like sense of existential hopelessness at the declining standards of humankind envelopes you.

Enjoy kiddos!

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