Other Woman Who Loves Other Women News…

I am in class and I am paired with the OWWLOW (Other Woman Who Loves Other Women) and we are working on choking techniques.

The basic thrust of these is that they give you an escape route if somebody grabs you from behind, the side or from the front and allow you to turn a potentially not-very-good situation into one where you suddenly have control of your opponent and can do all sorts of ‘Bad shit’ as the Boy and his peer group would no doubt say.

Consequently we have to get quite physical with each other and, as she is in quite a cheeky mood, she dumps me on my arse then offers me the following compliment with a large smirk on her face.

‘You’re very good at going down. In fact there’s something very satisfying about the way you go down. In fact you go down really well…’

For once I am speechless in class. The OWWLOW is not only bloody lovely but she’s also superb at hapkido and has knocked me around the Dojang on many occasions – but this is the first time she’s defeated me with sauciness.

I think it should be a new set of techniques…

Fashion News…

I went out shopping with the Missus and the Boy on Sunday and I made two superb purchases.

The first was a pair of black long-johns for cycling and I tried them out this morning and I have to say I am massively impressed with the whole concept of long-john-ery. To be fair they are essentially tights for blokes and they are not the most aesthetically appealing garment (and as a proud possessor of well-defined legs I was a tad upset to discover they may not be suitable for evening wear). But overall they’re a winner. No mistake.

The second and more joyful purchase, however, was a new hat.

Many years ago when I was a thrusting young community theatre writer and director I had a hat that was like a beanie hat with a small brim. Sadly it got lost one drunken night out in the People’s Republic of Goole and I was never been able to replace it, despite trawling through several Army & Navy Stores.

But yesterday my search ended and I found it. I genuinely didn’t realise a cheap hat could make me so happy. The Boy, however, was very embarrassed as I stopped before every mirror in every shop to admire my new purchase. He was even more embarrassed when I enacted my new hat joke in the middle of a crowded Kensington High Street.

I said ‘Who am I?’ took off my hat, pretended to poo in it then put it back on my had and said ‘Beam me up, Scotty!’ The Boy looked blank and walked away and the Missus looked perplexed then walked away too.

Left alone I said the punchline:
‘William Shat-hat-ner…’

Hypocrisy News...

The Vatican has condemned Amnesty International because they have stated that women have the right to choose whether or not to have an abortion.

Amnesty are arguing this is a basic human right that women, especially victims of rape, should have. Amnesty are not saying it is morally right or wrong but that it should be an option available to all women, especially in poor countries where some 70,000 women annually die because of illegal or backstreet abortions.

The Catholic Church discussing the sanctity of human life seems a bit rich, especially when it quite happily watches millions die from Aids-related illnesses in Africa because of its policy on contraception.

And any institution which has a history of systematically covering up widespread cases of child abuse (step forward the Catholic Church) should perhaps get its own house in order before it starts discussing morality with anyone else.

Just a thought…

Belt Up!

‘You’re having a f***ing laugh, right? I can’t f***ing believe what I’m seeing! Jesus H f***ing Christ! I’m really f***ing unhappy about this!’

This was one potential reaction when I glanced at the new hapkido syllabus during a busy day at work on Monday and discovered things had changed and I maybe wouldn’t be getting my much longed-for red belt after my grading on Sunday.

Instead I quietly seethed most of the day then went home and was very grumpy. Sulky even… So I explained my predicament to the Missus who was quite puzzled and suggested I speak to my instructor about my concerns.

So yesterday I dropped my instructor an email asking what belt I graded for. The reply came back that it was red. So I was going to reply and ask how this could be because on the new syllabus there was new stuff for this level that I had yet to learn.

Fortunately I was no longer manic at work so I double-checked the new syllabus before I sent this email – and this time I realised I’d actually read it wrong. The new stuff was for the next belt, which I now discover I already know the skills for as they were included in my previous belt before everything changed. So in theory I’m actually closer to the next grading rather than further away.

There’s a moral in there somewhere about not trying to make rational decisions based on wrong or misunderstood information. Or maybe it’s the sort of story my instructor and her teacher would tell about seeing things for what they are and not through the eyes of personal insecurities or a hassled mind.

Or there’s always the Missus’ point of view when I explained my error to her:
‘You really are a f***ing idiot at times…’

Either one works…

Something For The Weekend…

Myself and the Missus saw Arcade Fire on Sunday night at Ally Pally and they were bloody fantastic.

The Missus suggested I listen to their first album Funeral when she bought it a few years ago, but I ignored her as she sold it to me by saying ‘It’s gothy folk music and it’s so you it’s unbelievable!’

Then she reminded me of this view when she bought their new album Neon Bible last year. And I thought I'm not that predictable in my musical tastes, surely?

But now I've seen them live I have to admit that she was absolutely bang on the money and it’s only a matter of time before I become a fully fledged fan.

If you’re not convinced listen to the video for No Cars Go on You Tube. It’s very good…

Grade Expectations…

On Sunday I grade for my red belt at hapkido and I’m feeling remarkably chipper and upbeat about the whole affair.

I’ve been quite nervous on previous gradings so to go into a test for a higher belt so full of optimism is a very welcome change.

This latest belt test features spin kicks, Korean judo, choke escapes and another form. I’ve absolutely nailed two of those areas and am OK on the others and, even better, I’m no longer carrying a knee injury I thought would stop me from grading.

Confidence, positive thoughts, it’s gonna be great…

But there’s a little nagging doubt. I mean, this year I was equally confident I was going to win a playwrighting award and I was also going to win a Surrey pool event – and look what happened there…

So better not dwell on that. As the Boy says when discussing stress: 'You just don't let that shit mess with your head...'

Honey Monster...

I developed an allergy a couple of years ago and I was tested and it turns out I have hay fever triggered by grass pollen.

Consequently I have been dropping allergy tablets by the truckload for the past two years in an effort to stem the constant sneezing, runny nose and itchy eyes.

A few months ago I was discussing this problem with a friend and one of his friends joined (ramraided her way into) the conversation and suggested a good homeopathic remedy was to take honey with tea. So I tried this and, even though I can't tell whether it's working or not, I thought I'd persevere...

Then yesterday I saw the previously mentioned conversation interloper and I realised that she is an idiot which means I have followed the advice of an idiot. In fact if she had told me to rub excrement all over my face and put the word 'homeopathic' in front of her suggestion I would have probably given it a go.

The Missus and the Boy are right. I am an idiot but even worse I am now an idiot who follows the advice of other idiots. There is no hope...

Spider-Man...

I like Louise Bourgeois, the sculptor and artist whose work is currently on show at the Tate Modern.

The Missus went to see Bourgeois's exhibition with her mum and I have yet to visit but I really adored the huge spiders she did when the Tate Modern first opened in 2000 and which took pride of place in the massive Turbine Hall for several months.

This is what they looked like:

So as myself and the Missus have spent the weekend chilling out by playing Scrabble and eating Quality Streets I decided to make my own Bourgeois spider out of the foil sweet wrappings. This is what it looks like and I think it's quite good:

I am now working on a bigger version but it means we have to eat at least three family size tins of said sweets. But it is in the name of art.

I may have found a new career...

Kickass Goes Jackass…

One of my favourite series of recent times has been the excellent Mind, Body And Kickass Moves.

In this initial BBC3 series of 12 documentaries, martial arts expert Chris Crudelli travels all over the globe examining different martial arts from different cultures.

He then followed it up with a six-part series called Kickass Miracles, which focused on the more esoteric side of martials arts training. This again was utterly fascinating but it also featured one of the nastiest but funniest moments I’ve ever seen on TV.

In it an escrima master goes through a ritual to demonstrate how he can switch himself into fighting mode and he attempts to show how this ritual empowers him and even makes his arm invulnerable to the hacks of his own razor-sharp machete.

And I’ve now found it on Youtube. Just type in kick ass miracles-escrima jackass.

Enjoy…

Pornucopia…

This is a true story that happened to a friend of mine…

My friend of mine was feeling a little jaded. He’d been very busy at work, his wife had been away and several other things had gone pretty badly wrong.

So to cheer himself up he decided he’d buy some 1970s pornography. Modern porn didn’t really float his boat but 1970s stuff with real women, men with tashes and body hair, corny plots and fantastically cheesy soundtracks always kept him entertained.

So he went to a shop in Soho to treat himself – but when he got there he was too embarrassed to go into the shop let alone buy anything so he wended his way home.

Pondering his embarrassment he decided to go in semi-disguise and he opted for the look of a French tourist as anyone with any knowledge of world affairs knows French men have no shame when it comes to matters of sex and any one of them would rut a polo while smoking a Gitanne if the urge came upon them.

So wearing a hat, some stout hiking shoes and carrying a backpack, and using all his acting skills to get into the character, he finally entered the land of smut in Soho. The store was busy and as he was still feeling slightly embarrassed he decided to find a place away from the busy spot to work out where his intended target DVD would be located. The TV section was empty so he backed into there so he could get the lie of the land.

Unfortunately TV did not mean television section as he previously thought. It meant transvestite section.

On realising this he backed out of there at a rate of knots and looked for the door. But he got the wrong door and ended up in another section of the store standing next to two women, one of whom turned to my friend and exclaimed ‘It’s all men in here. Have you noticed?’

Not knowing what to say he adopted his French tourist character and simply replied ‘Oui madam…’ and left.

Fortunately next door was another store and my colleague entered to find it was empty apart from the man serving behind the counter.

Even better a quick peruse through the titles on the shelf and it was pay dirt as there was a classic 1970s film called The Opening Of Misty Beethoven that ticked all the boxes. So he picked it up and headed to the counter and, even though a hen party then entered the store, it was surely a matter of buy the film and off.

But no…

The man at the counter struggled to find the disc and searched through his files but to no avail. Then he shouted downstairs and asked for the film by title. Seconds later a little man runs up the stairs and shouts ‘Don’t have that. But we do have one where Mozart fucks a group of nuns.’

At this point the hen party are intrigued by what my friend is trying to buy and head on over to the counter to investigate. Having had his recommendation rejected the man returns downstairs but as my friend is heading out of the door he runs back up clutching the missing DVD in his hand.

My friend pays for it and is about to head out of the shop when the man behind the counter then tries to sell him a loyalty card but after five minutes of explaining he is not interested he finally gets out of the shop.

He’s stood in the transvestite section of a store, he’s pretended to be a Frenchman, he’s been pegged as a man who wants to watch nuns having sex and he’s even been offered a loyalty card scheme for pornography fans. But he’s got it and it’ll be great as he saw the film when he was 15 and it was very funny.

So later at home he finally goes to play the DVD and puts it in his DVD player – and it's the wrong region…

Halloween…

I went out to play a pool match last night and I saw a friend I hadn’t seen in a while.

We got chatting and I asked him how his missus and his daughter were. So we discuss playing pool and other bits and bats and we’re having a laugh. Then I asked him something along the lines of what his girl was up to tonight and he replied she’d gone to a Halloween party dressed as a pumpkin and she looked really cute.

So I said that was brilliant because when she gets back from the party and he was back from the match he could end up getting jiggy with a pumpkin.

The conversation died and he just stared at me. Then the penny dropped.
‘You do realise it’s my daughter who’s gone to the party dressed as a pumpkin, don’t you?’
‘No. I thought you were talking about your wife…’
‘No. It’s my daughter…’
‘And your wife didn’t dress as a pumpkin as well?’
‘No…’
‘Oops…’