Helter Skelter!

Women start to become a little berserk after the age of fifty, and there is nothing that can be done to stop it.

Men have that whole midlife crisis thing; you know the sudden urge to buy a motorbike when they’ve previously never shown any interest. This also can be seen at staff Christmas parties when 50+ men suddenly think they can pull 20 year old women.
Harrison Ford’s manifested itself as getting that ridiculous and cheap looking earring that looks as if it might turn his ear septic. Mick Jagger’s manifested itself as impregnating women the age of his daughters. My dad’s manifested itself as buying an expensive trilby style hat that really didn’t suit him. Born to be Mild, that one!
As laughable and horrific as the male midlife crisis is, they are usually temporary affairs and service is returned to normal within a year or so. And a Kawasaki languishes in the garage before eventually being put on Ebay. “Motorbike For Sale. One sad, cowboy-boot wearing, deluded owner”
Women however are totally effed from fifty onwards and do not return to normal ever again. They just steadily get worse. I see it all around me and I am starting to see early signs in myself. I won’t go into the horrors of females past a certain age, as people I know of over fifty who read this will think I am talking about them and fall out with me.

Instead, and because I’m frightened of my Mum, I will turn the critical mirror to me and tell you why I think I am starting to show signs of being a nightmare old bird.

1. I have complained to the BBC and Ofcom this week. You don’t need to know why (but it’s Kirsty Wark- time for her to go.)

Now, this is the first step to madness. At first you make a legitimate complaint, then in ten years you start doing things like phoning the BBC to complain about the “Fruit and Fibre” ad that isn’t even broadcast on the channel. My gran, Anna has done this. Although it might have been a rival cereal, I can’t remember.

You don’t even have a legitimate complaint about the advertisement; there’s nothing offensive about it. It just irritates you. A friend of mine used to man the reception at the now defunct Grampian Television. She got this kind of thing all the time; always women of a certain age. I’m on a slippery slope.

2. I badgered my husband to……

Actually, let’s just let that sentence end there. I badgered my husband.

3. I badgered my husband to write a letter of complaint to the local private school after attending an army recruitment day for schools. The kids from my husband’s school put all their rubbish from the burger van in the bin, the private school kids left their patch full of trash.

Nothing incenses me like litter dropping. Second only to private schools thinking they are better than everyone else (this is an old wound. Its origins lie in losing a match to cheating radge bunch of girls from a private school team in secondary school) .

Meeester took photos to show me because he knew it would enrage me. He didn’t bargain on me wanting to phone the local press like a wild white haired, tartan skirted harridan demanding that they publish them.

4. I growl at groups of stationary teenagers I don’t know. Look at them hanging about! If they’re moving, they’re fine. It’s when they loiter that it bugs me. I am a total hypocrite, I used to loiter at the village phone box making crank calls.

If they are my students, that’s OK too. Once I retire and have no students, I’ll pretty much hate all of the bastards.
5. I have started muttering under my breath.
I spotted teenagers outside the local hotel last night they were hosting an “80s night” (I love 80s nostalgia, me) and they were just dressed plain wrong! I was caught muttering something like , “80’s my arse, you stupid twats” as I drove by. Didn’t even realise I was doing it. Meester had to remind me of the presence of children in the car.

When Meeester worked as a social worker he had one elderly lady “client” who would mutter obscenities under her breath completely unaware that she could be heard. A conversation would go like this:

“Hello Jean. Would you like a cup of tea and a biscuit?”
“Hello son, that’d be lovely…(loud whisper)…. you long-haired fucking idiot bastard”

6. I bought “Calms”. Slippery slope to Valium!

7. I’ve been whinging for three weeks about a sore neck and shoulders. It’s only a matter of time before I use this phrase:

“I’m a MARTYR to my neck and shoulders”

8. I MIND bad language. Except when I am using it.

9. I kept a pair of shoes that should go in the bin, “for the garden”. Slippery slope to buying a gardening HAT.

10. I am currently wearing a thermal vest ( but I bought it for going to Finland. That surely is OK). I tell you, it’s so warm and lovely. Are big pants round the corner? (Please God! No!!!! I don’t want to turn that corner…but, Ooh! I bet they’re comfy…)

11. I wore my slippers to drive round to my sister’s house last night. I did the same thing to my Mum’s last week. It’s going to be my new thing. Those who are long time fans of “Coronation Street” will remember when Emily Bishop went a bit senile and they found her at the train station wearing her nightie and slippers. Slippery slope.

Ha! Ha! Hah! “Slippery” slope!

12. Feeble puns amuse me in lieu of actual wit.

*Sigh*

June 9, 2007. crises, men, muttering, thermal underwear, women. Leave a comment.

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