Those of you who like watching celebrities dance on TV may well be horrified to have learned that the new Strictly host is Josh Widdecombe. Not a patch on the former host, old Wink' (Claudia Winkelman).
This is Chubby Checker. In 2013, he was forced to sue a leading IT company for promoting an app that used his name as a euphemism for measuring the size of one's manhood. The app was withdrawn.
Here are 15 songs that could well be euphemisms for nookie.
15. Danced for Patrick Hernandez.
Before she became famous, she was a backing singer and dancer for the French disco star.
If you've never seen the video before, I urge you to give it a click. These days, we're so used to seeing pop stars singing about sex... but these guys look so wholesome, surely they were waiting till they were married?
13. Dustbin Wagon Americano.
Dustin Wagons are made by Dennis. An Americano is a coffee.
5. The city with the longest name is Krung Thep Mahanakhon Amon Rattanakosin Mahinthara Yuthaya Mahadilok Phop Noppharat Ratchathani Burirom Udomratchaniwet Mahasathan Amon Piman Awatan Sathit Sakkathattiya Witsanukam Prasit. But we call it...?
There was also a question about what the following three cities have in common… New York, Mumbai, Istanbul. But I’ll give you the answer to that one… as I might have done to one of the questions above, being unable to resist an obvious tune.
Back to Richard Herring's Emergency Questions, and this week we're asking for your darkest confessions...
Have you ever had the opportunity to assassinate a public figure?
Now clearly there are a lot of people in this world right now who might want to assassinate a certain orange demagogue... although I'm sure most of us realise that doing so would only make a martyr of him, and that's the last thing anyone wants. Better to let such people die on their own swords, methinks.
I also feel I should clarify that I don't condone murder, even the murder of complete tosspots, and I'm sure none of the good folk who waste precious minutes reading this guff once or twice a week condone it either. Still, there are, I'm sure, some people out there in the world who you definitely feel would be deserving of a good slap. So have you ever been in a position to administer such an admonishment... and had to hold yourself back?
The first came back in the late 90s when I had the misfortune of going to see Oasis at Sheffield Arena. Now It's no secret that I am not, nor have I ever been, a fan of the Gallagher brothers and their brand of plodding, humourless, psuedo-Beatles Brit-rock. With that in mind, you may well wonder how I ended up at one of their gigs? All I can tell you is that this was during my radio days, the tickets were free, and my mate was a much bigger fan of the Brothers Dim, so I was persuaded that it might be a good ticket to have in my scrapbook. A couple of years earlier, when the lads were just starting out, that might well have been true. However, this was the Be Here Now tour, and all I can remember of that travesty was that they had a red phone booth on the stage. (A little research reveals that even Noel Gallagher now admits Be Here Now was a bag of shite. Whereas Liam says it's his favourite album. Make of that what you will.)
The support act that day were Travis. Now I know what most of you think of Travis, but let me tell you this: They blew the Swaggerlers off the stage. I can't have been the only one in the audience who thought so. In fact, Liam Gallagher himself even came out to watch them... and herein lies my tale.
We had pretty good seats in the arena. Front row, just above the tunnel. There were no seats below us, that area was fenced off for the sound guys. And that's where Liam came to watch Travis. He walked out directly beneath us, stood by the sound desk for a few songs, then mooched back into the tunnel. And this would have been my moment. At the time, I confess (and it's not a particularly nice confession), I briefly considered spitting on his head. It's lucky I didn't have a brick at hand. I mean, imagine if I had... I might have denied the world that Beady Eye record. It doesn't bear thinking about...
Comedy is a very subjective thing. What I might do a LOL at, you might roll your eyes and breathe a deep sigh. And vice versa. With that in mind, I take on board the idea that some of you might consider the comedian Michael McIntyre worthy of the space he takes up on this earth. I certainly do not.
That aside, the one trait I find off-putting in celebrities and commoners alike is arrogance. Hence my disdain for Frank & Betty Gallagher, and the intense irritation I feel whenever I see Michael McIntyre's smug mug on the TV. Imagine then, coming across that detestable countenance in real life. The horror!
Such a thing occurred the last time Louise and I visited That London. This might have been about 15 years ago. We were staying in the leafy borough of Hampstead, and one day were were mooching around the shops when we heard a loud, braying voice in the street behind us. A voice that chilled our blood.
There he was, the so-called "funny" man himself, large as life, peacocking down the road with his mobile phone pressed to his ear, talking loudly to his agent (or some other amenable sycophant), loud enough so that everyone could hear, so that everyone would look, so that nobody could fail to notice that they were in the presence of "greatness".
I'm not a violent man. I've never thrown a punch in my life. But it's no exaggeration to say that Louise had to physically restrain me that day. McIntyre got off lightly.
Thank God I've never been in the same room as Bono. I'd be serving ten to life right now. Either that, or somebody would have given me a medal. Maybe both.
Damn it - I missed that conference. If I'd known about it before, I'd have been there like a shot.
Cryptozoology is the study of animals that are legendary, extinct, or unknown, and whose existence is disputed or unsubstantiated. Not that anyone in their right mind would dispute Bigfoot or Nessie... but there are some crazy folk out there.
That's Huey Morgan's favourite Queen song. He used to do a Radio 2 show in the middle of the night between Friday and Saturday that I always used to listen to (one of the last Radio 2 shows I bothered with) and he'd play that every other week.
And next, we have a best straight out of the old testament, And next, we have a best straight out of the Old Testament, whose "bones are tubes of bronze, his limbs like bars of iron”...
Last week, we talked about hating people, and I came to the conclusion that I didn't really hate people, but actually it's "all just an act to paper over insecurity, a tragic lack of self-confidence and a Grand Canyon of loneliness in perpetual conflict with an innate desire to be on my own".
Just as I thought I'd talked myself out of misanthropy, C replied...
You're in good company Rol, I think nearly all the best people I know are people-haters, which doesn't really make a lot of sense and yet somehow it does!
And then I remembered the postcard at the top of this page, which Louise bought me some time ago; it's pinned on the wall next to my desk. You may find it interesting to note that Louise ordered two copies. There's also one pinned up on the wall next to her desk. Make of that what you will...
I can't understand What makes a man Hate another man Help me understand
Not that MC. Here's MC Flux, psychologist, neuroscientist and science communicator from the University of Colorado, as quoted in the Grauniad. He says annoyance is “moderately negative, and moderate arousal... it’s basically a flag, saying: ‘Something is wrong, and I should probably do something about it.’”
Now, I'm tiptoeing around this subject because I don't want to get onto anger until I've read sweary Dr. Faith's next book on my reading list, Unfuck Your Anger. And clearly anger is the next step on from annoyance. However, it should come as no surprise that our old friend the amygdala is the main culprit responsible for such emotions. Healthline says,
Anger starts with the amygdala stimulating the hypothalamus, much like in the fear response. In addition, parts of the prefrontal cortex may also play a role in anger.
Frustration, such as facing roadblocks while trying to achieve a goal, can also trigger the anger response.
Now we know what's going on in our brain... but we've still not answered the big question: why are people so annoying? Or should that be: why do I find people so annoying? Are they the same question... or two very different questions?
That Guardian article I mentioned earlier highlights four key answers to the first question: "uncouth habits, inconsiderate acts, intrusive behaviors and norm violations". I think a lot of these come down to what I'd label a lack of empathy, emotional awareness... or just plain arrogance. And once we get onto the subject of arrogance, I need another post. Or ten.
Meanwhile, therapist Julia Kristina has an uncomfortable answer to the second question...
Those unfavourable qualities, habits, or tendencies of someone else we react negatively to are really just our own shortcomings that we have turned our back on and refuse to own up to.
They always clap on the wrong beat They're wearin' loafers on their feet Greedy awful people!
Ouch. I think I'm going to have to come back to that one as well. But just in case anyone here thinks of me as an annoying person, I consulted Indeed for some tips on how to eliminate my own annoying behaviour...
Be an active listener
This is actually really easy if you don't have much to say for yourself.
Louise does sometimes get embarrassed when we're out in public (not often, to be honest) as she claims I speak louder than I need to. I don't think I do, but then I am partially deaf...
Many annoying people don’t even realize they’re being annoying in the first place. Annoying people might violate various social norms, be incompatible with others, try too hard to make others laugh, or even take a phone call while in a quiet library.
Did you know that you could even be the “irritating person” because you’re too positive?
Oh, yes. I knew this.
This type of positivity is known as toxic positivity—and it’s a real thing.
You don't need to tell me twice. There's a post in that as well.
By hook or by crook, Sam's football team, The Hawks, made it into the local cup final. They were very much the underdogs, and had been all season. It was easy to tell him to relax and enjoy it, that it was just another game, and it didn't matter if his team won or not. What an achievement it was getting to the final anyway! We were proud of him whatever the result. All these things were true, but they were far more true for us, his parents, than for Sam himself. At his age, you still believe that life is fair and that if you try your hardest, the underdogs will come out on top... just like in the movies. Winning is everything.
The opposition were a better team though, so the result was inevitable. They also had some particularly unpleasant supporters (mostly older brothers, I guess) who heckled Sam's team from the sidelines and made the final even harder. They were playing in a proper stadium too - well, there were stands on one side, so it was more like an actual stadium than anywhere they'd ever played before. Sam told me later that this in itself made the game tougher - he'd rather just be on a field in the middle of nowhere, like usual.
Regardless of all this, the Hawks did OK. They didn't win, but they had some good chances and kept the effort up right to the end. They played better football at times, but the goals just didn't come. Still, a 2-0 defeat wasn't the worst they've suffered this year, and we all felt they could hold their heads up high. (Look at me, writing about football: using the vernacular!)
Although initially sanguine in his defeat, Sam felt the disappointment later in the afternoon. He bounced back pretty quickly though. I admire his resilience... I hope the world doesn't beat that out of him. It's easy to say that losing in a situation like this is a better life lesson than winning... but that's no consolation for a ten year old.
I drink my coffee black, because that's how I prefer it. Despite my previously discussed aversion to cold milk, I can have milk in coffee... I just don't like it. Also, less calories, so it's win/win for me. I also don't have sugar, because... why would you?
...but it's also been recorded by all the usual suspects: Frank, Ella, Petula... Tricky.
Back when I drank tea, I used to take it black with no sugar as well. I couldn't find any songs about Black Tea, so here's some Pennyroyal Tea for you tea drinkers.
Give me a Leonard Cohen afterworld
So I can sigh eternally
I'm so tired I can't sleep
I'm a liar and a thief
Sit and drink Pennyroyal Tea
I'm anaemic royalty
(Be warned though, although Pennyroyal leaf extracts are relatively harmless, Pennyroyal Oil can cause syncope, seizures, coma, cardiopulmonary collapse, acute liver injury, renal insufficiency and multiorgan failure. You might be better sticking with a nice cup of coffee.)
The big question is... why did I call this post “Dead Pheasant”? Not because the pheasant had been eating from the Pennyroyal plant, I assure you.
No, this comes from an amusing story my mum told me at the weekend, about the time my dad hit a pheasant with his car on his way home from work. If you drive the country lanes round here, kamikaze pheasants are a constant risk. They really are the stupidest of birds, and appear to have a pathological desire to run out in front of oncoming traffic. Watch them run and you can also see how they’re clearly descended from dinosaurs. Although thankfully, they do less damage to your car than hitting a velociraptor.
Anyway, my dad hit the pheasant, and being a Yorkshire farmer, he brought it home for tea. Waste not, want not. “I lit some candles,” Mum told me, “and we had a nice romantic meal.”
A year or so back, I began to feel victimised by another prominent member of the blogging community. Not someone whose name you will ever see in the comments box on this site, but someone who is well-regarded by certain other bloggers, and who occasionally comments on a select number of the blogs I read. I began to notice that whenever I wrote a comment on one of those blogs, expressing approval of a certain artist or song, this particular individual would soon after leave their own comment, not so much rubbishing my opinion, but making it quite clear that they disagreed and that they saw no value at all in the music I liked. After a while, I attempted to deflect this with humour, leaving jokey follow-up comments about how much our tastes differed or faux apologies for inflicting my own noxious opinions on him, but my olive branch of banter was met with a wall of silence.
This is when my paranoid brain kicked into over-drive. Did this blogger really have it in for me? Were my opinions so distasteful that the very sight of my name in a comment box drove him into a rage? If he felt this way, how many other blog readers might I be offending with my awful taste in music? The least I could do was comment less on the blogs he read, so as not to upset him any further. Beyond that, I seriously considered quitting blogging altogether, or at least making my blog private and just writing it for myself... though I knew I'd miss the community and the chance to chat away in other people's comment boxes.
Paranoia is thinking and feeling like you are being threatened in some way, even if there is no evidence, or very little evidence, that you are.
Even more tellingly, they add...
Paranoid thoughts could also be exaggerated suspicions. For example, someone made a nasty comment about you once, and you believe that they are directing a hate campaign against you.
Ouch. That's right on the money, isn't it?
Paranoia, paranoia
Everybody's coming to get me
Just say you never met me
I'm running underground with the moles, digging holes
Apparently up to a third of the population experience paranoid thoughts at one time or another. Paranoia isn't an actual mental health diagnosis - not unless you respond to your paranoia in an excessive way. Clearly it's linked to low self-esteem and intrusive thoughts, both of which we've looked at here before. So it should come as no surprise that "amygdala dysfunction" is one of the key suspects in causing paranoid thoughts.
(On a side note, whenever I start a sentence with "So...", I worry that I'll anger Charity Chic, since it sticks in my mind that he doesn't approve of said practice. God, writing a blog when you're a delusional fruitcake is an absolute minefield!)
Mind tries to reassure me that what I have is mild or non-clinical paranoia, not one of the more serious forms: paranoid personality disorder, delusional disorder and paranoid schizophrenia. But really, what if they're wrong? Am I paranoid to think I might have a more serious version of paranoia?
An Australian Better Health website lists the following as possible symptoms of paranoia. I'm going to try a little tick box exercise to work out just how paranoid I might be. Feel free to copy the table and play along yourself...
Generally, a person who is paranoid may:
be easily offended
✔
find it difficult to trust others
✔
not cope with any type of criticism
What are you saying?
assign harmful meanings to other people’s
remarks
What are you saying?
be always on the defensive
What are you saying?
be hostile, aggressive and argumentative
WHAT ARE YOU SAYING!?!
not be able to compromise
✖(Everything I do is a compromise.)
assume that people are talking ill of them
behind their back
✔✔✔
be overly suspicious – for example, think that
other people are lying or scheming to cheat them
✔
not be able to confide in anyone
Well, there’s you guys…
find relationships difficult
✔
consider the world to be a place of constant
threat
Isn’t it?
feel persecuted by the world at large
I’m not that important.
believe in unfounded ‘conspiracy theories’
No, I only believe in the true
ones.
Not looking good, is it?
Clearly I need to do some more work on this... next week.
In conclusion for today though, I haven't had any recent follow-up comments from my blogging bully, even after I started commenting again on the blogs he frequents. Maybe he's got bored with persecuting me... or he's too busy at the moment... or he's had a change of heart and suddenly realised that Barry Manilow is actually great. Who knows?
I am also prepared to entertain the notion that he never actually had it in for me in the first place, that it was all in my imagination, and that all the negative comments he left as a follow up to my positive ones were purely coincidental. It could just be all in my mind...
