My neighbour has a good sex life.
Isn't that nice.
Many times a week she makes love.
I make tea.
I probably make more tea than she makes love. Which is probably just as well since if she matched me cup for f**k (or is that f**k for cup?) she'd probably run out of juices and the friction would be a fire hazard.
Not that she doesn't make tea of course, I'm sure she does. After all, she's British. The difference is that whilst I potter into the kitchenette and lean on the counter watching 'Come Dine With Me' whilst I wait for the kettle to boil, she hobbles into hers with legs wobbling like laundry in a light breeze following a sugar-wall shaking petite mort.
You could be forgiven for thinking I am envious, however I assure you that I am not. I've seen them. It's just difficult to hear their moans and groans as anything other than moaned gloats. "Oh yeah" he shouts, "yeeesssss!" she squeals, but all I hear is "ha ha, we're doing the sex, aren't we great, look at you alone in bed reading your Danny Wallace book and chuckling into your fat. You're so sad and dull. We judge you with our sexy time". Maybe things would be different if my bedroom encounters didn't consist of two minutes of fumbling, five of apologising and then an awkward wait for a cab.
That, incidentally, was a joke. You see it's not like my flat doesn't have its moments. Only last night in fact the rutters were busily writhing around in their brilliant sex, and approximately twelve feet away I too was making my own "ooh" noises. Sadly mine formed the opening of the rather less interesting statement "ooh, 'The Apprentice' is on next week".
I then texted this news to a friend and put my headphones back on.
Wednesday 29 September 2010
Wednesday 8 September 2010
Good deity you
It's always nice to experience things for the first time. Unless that happens to be the experience of watching Bruce Forsyth tap-dance of course, but at least you then get to experience chewing off your own feet. I recently experienced something that I wasn't particularly expecting. I had someone turn up at my front door, trying to deliver some religion. This rather took me by surprise because I couldn't remember ordering any.
A yawn was making its presence felt as I opened the door early on Saturday morning to be greeted by a smiling old lady. Her posture adjusted as the door opened, presumably scarred by decades of having it slam shut in her face. Upon judging that I wasn't much of a door-slammer she produced a leaflet.
"Good morning, I wondered if you had seen our leaflet"
"Er...no" I said. I assumed she didn't mean the specific leaflet she was holding. It would be fairly odd behaviour to go from door to door holding something and ask the occupiers if they could see the item in question. Maybe if you were selling spectacles.
"What's it about?". This was a bit of a stupid thing for me to say. I could see that it had a drawing on the front that depicted the garden of Eden so it was fairly obvious it was something religious. The only other option was that she worked for a garden centre, and she could see that I don't have a garden. Unless she thought I had turfed over my living room, and if she thought that then she was an idiot.
I can't really tell you exactly what she replied. Not because it's a secret, but because my mind (if it can do such a thing) glazed over. I can tell you that it was something about how brilliant religion is.
"Right...thanks very much but I'm really not that interested in religious matters," I said, "not that I'm against people that are, it's just not for me". This was mostly true. What I meant of course was that whilst I appreciated that some people take comfort from such things, I've never been able to get over the idea that it all just seems a bit silly.
"Oh right dear, so I can't interest you in taking this little bible then?". She rummaged in her handbag and produced a book. When she said 'little bible', she really wasn't joking. This book had obviously been abridged to such a degree it was in danger of being mistaken for one of her leaflets. Roger Hargreaves has produced heftier tomes.
"No, thanks anyway but I'm sure there are other people who would get more enjoyment out of it than I would".
"No? Oh that's a shame because it really is wonderful" she said, looking down at the well thumbed booklet in her paw. It was quite sweet how she was beaming down at it. I was expecting her to kiss it and whisper "I love you" into one of its dog-eared corners, but instead she opted to tell me why she loved it.
"It's just so amazing how everything in it is coming true"
"Is it? Great. Thanks very much then"
"We won't give up on you" she said, and with that slightly threatening statement hanging in the air she tottered off down the hallway, and I shut my door. And locked it. And hooked up the security chain.
So there you go, my first door-to-door God botherer. Naturally I didn't have the heart to tell her that if she really wanted to bother God, did she really think that a small ground floor flat in a Sussex commuter town would be good place to start? Then again, maybe he heard that I once saw Mariella Frostrup by the deli counter at Sainsbury's and thought he'd try his luck. Then again, I may have misunderstood the phrase. When I returned to my boudoir it was a few minutes before one thought started echoing around my head. Namely:
"How the fuck did she get in to the building?"
Assuming she isn't able to sprinkle herself with magic dust, and trot through the keyhole like a blue-rinsed Father Christmas, she had to be buzzed in. Therefore there are two options:
1- She pretended to be delivering a pizza.
2- There is someone in the building who think old storybooks are bibletastic too.
I personally hope it's the second, because if the bible is coming true, they are bound to have stocked up on locust repellent. I'll find out soon enough though, because if they are going to dupe their way in with promises of junk food I'm going to be seeing an awful lot more of that old lady...
A yawn was making its presence felt as I opened the door early on Saturday morning to be greeted by a smiling old lady. Her posture adjusted as the door opened, presumably scarred by decades of having it slam shut in her face. Upon judging that I wasn't much of a door-slammer she produced a leaflet.
"Good morning, I wondered if you had seen our leaflet"
"Er...no" I said. I assumed she didn't mean the specific leaflet she was holding. It would be fairly odd behaviour to go from door to door holding something and ask the occupiers if they could see the item in question. Maybe if you were selling spectacles.
"What's it about?". This was a bit of a stupid thing for me to say. I could see that it had a drawing on the front that depicted the garden of Eden so it was fairly obvious it was something religious. The only other option was that she worked for a garden centre, and she could see that I don't have a garden. Unless she thought I had turfed over my living room, and if she thought that then she was an idiot.
I can't really tell you exactly what she replied. Not because it's a secret, but because my mind (if it can do such a thing) glazed over. I can tell you that it was something about how brilliant religion is.
"Right...thanks very much but I'm really not that interested in religious matters," I said, "not that I'm against people that are, it's just not for me". This was mostly true. What I meant of course was that whilst I appreciated that some people take comfort from such things, I've never been able to get over the idea that it all just seems a bit silly.
"Oh right dear, so I can't interest you in taking this little bible then?". She rummaged in her handbag and produced a book. When she said 'little bible', she really wasn't joking. This book had obviously been abridged to such a degree it was in danger of being mistaken for one of her leaflets. Roger Hargreaves has produced heftier tomes.
"No, thanks anyway but I'm sure there are other people who would get more enjoyment out of it than I would".
"No? Oh that's a shame because it really is wonderful" she said, looking down at the well thumbed booklet in her paw. It was quite sweet how she was beaming down at it. I was expecting her to kiss it and whisper "I love you" into one of its dog-eared corners, but instead she opted to tell me why she loved it.
"It's just so amazing how everything in it is coming true"
"Is it? Great. Thanks very much then"
"We won't give up on you" she said, and with that slightly threatening statement hanging in the air she tottered off down the hallway, and I shut my door. And locked it. And hooked up the security chain.
So there you go, my first door-to-door God botherer. Naturally I didn't have the heart to tell her that if she really wanted to bother God, did she really think that a small ground floor flat in a Sussex commuter town would be good place to start? Then again, maybe he heard that I once saw Mariella Frostrup by the deli counter at Sainsbury's and thought he'd try his luck. Then again, I may have misunderstood the phrase. When I returned to my boudoir it was a few minutes before one thought started echoing around my head. Namely:
"How the fuck did she get in to the building?"
Assuming she isn't able to sprinkle herself with magic dust, and trot through the keyhole like a blue-rinsed Father Christmas, she had to be buzzed in. Therefore there are two options:
1- She pretended to be delivering a pizza.
2- There is someone in the building who think old storybooks are bibletastic too.
I personally hope it's the second, because if the bible is coming true, they are bound to have stocked up on locust repellent. I'll find out soon enough though, because if they are going to dupe their way in with promises of junk food I'm going to be seeing an awful lot more of that old lady...
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