Art for Art’s Sake
Not one life vest, not one responsible adult.Call the Social!
One of the Enid Blytonesque things The Flying Martinis do of a week is Family Night (TM). Oh, hang on…I think I just heard the sound of my “Mommy Blogger” blacklisting being revoked! Quick, let’s bake some cakes and photograph them too.
Actually to call our family night Enid Blytonesque is rather ridiculous. In the work of Enid Blyton I seem to remember that kids ran amok solving mysteries without a shred of parental guidance, or were, indeed, packed off to boarding school to be brought up by complete strangers wearing pince-nez and big cloaks. There was never much of a family involved in anything Blyton’s Famous Five or Secret Seven ever did. In fact, they always seemed to rely on goodly yet childless farmer’s wives to take pity on them and replenish them with cakes and sandwiches and lashings of ginger beer. Really, it’s time we re-evaluated the work of Blyton; her tales are clearly of neglected latchkey children.
Essay question: Enid Blyton could be described as aTwentieth Century Dickens but with jam and cakes. Discuss.
Anyway, as you may remember a while back it was Junior Misssy’s turn to dictate what we did on Family Night- we went to the school playground to mess about on bikes, rectify wanton vandalism and listen to other kids swearing at each other. Good clean fun with an edge of gritty realism.
The next week, we had a Mario Kart competition on the Wii, at Indy’s request, in which I played like a big Jessie. Indy and his best friend, Socks, were so concerned for my ego that they would cover the screen when my score came up. I was like Norway in the Eurovision Song Contest. So much so that I wanted to change my Kart to resemble a Viking Longboat.
So onto the actual bona fide reason for this post; it was my turn to choose what we did last week, and I turned the twee factor up to eleven. I made us all paint a portrait of Sonny the Black Menace.
I wish to showcase the results*:
Meeester channels Warhol
Indy channels Hieronymous Bosch
Junior Misssy channels Picasso
Misssy channels Van Gogh
(there’s a second one with one floppy ear missing)
And if you think that’s some quality wholesome family entertainment right there, then wait til you hear what Meeester has got planned. In true Partridge Family style; this Family Night Meeester is going to get us to record a song. Talk about twee with a capital Twuh! I feel like Julie Andrews.
God help you all, gentle readers! (Any requests?)
Our sleeping muse
*Mainly because I’m not well, and light on blogging ideas for this week due to a mind-numbing cocktail of over the counter drugs that is rendering me incapable of doing the simplest things. Picture Jack Nicholson in One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest after the lobotomy, but with a better hair line. Apologies for below par posting, I’m half a person right now.
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Chunder World
For the last few days I have been recovering from the mighty Noro-virus.
This is how the virus works.
1. The virus works best given the temporal proximity of a much-longed-for event, say a holiday, a public performance, a festive event, a party or a family get together.
Mine was a family Christmas, my friend’s was a much practiced for Christmas gig, my other friend’s was a Halloween Party.
Possibly if you are getting married, you should beware. Maybe get a wipe clean dress.
And a bucket; not a bouquet.
(No, I haven’t written the post round that crap pun! How little you think of me.)
2. The virus’s opening gambit is extreme nausea. This will wake you up in the middle of the night but take hours to turn into any kind of relief inducing vomit. During this time you may have visions of the Underworld.
No literally, I was hallucinating that I was in the factory in Coronation Street arguing with Underworld vixen boss, Carla. (Oh, that cow!).
I wasn’t lucid enough to tell, but I may have been Janice Battersby. The Horror! The Horror!
Illness dreams are messed up. It’s like being on bad acid.
W.T.F?
3. Some whining will happen. But beware not to wake your partner, as all they can do is misguidedly rub your back which may make you more nauseous. This may lead to you saying something that might come off like you are less than grateful for their attentions.
And trust me, you’re going to need them not to hate you in the following days.
4. The vomit will hit, ripping most of the muscles in your torso as it surges its way into your sewerage system.
Don’t worry about having time to make it to the toilet, though. You will have been sleeping slumped over it for two hours previously waiting for the event whimpering, “Mu-um….Mu-um…”, even though your Mummy hasn’t lived in the same house as you for some time.
Your New Best Friend
5. The virus will then lull you into a false sense of security by making them think that vomit is the whole of the enterprise. However, it will go on to hit you with a headache that makes you want to claw your own brains out. I actually saw the pulsing graphic circles that they have in headache adverts come from my own head.
6. When you finally manage to sleep, the virus will wake you with cold sweat soaking your jammies and sheets and sleeping partner. It’ll feel like that scene in Flashdance but not as sexy.
Replace Jennifer Beals with naked Uncle Fester and we’re onto something
7. Once the vomiting and headache subside, you will be unable to even see a photo of food in your line of vision. Even if someone takes out a camera and says “Cheese”, you will feel dizzy. Mind you, this is unlikely as no-one will want to photograph you as you will look like Skeletor from “He-Man”.
Me, on Christmas day. I was going to be wearing that outfit anyway.
However, now that I am better I am willing to share one of a possible three funny* stories during which vomit has played a part.
None of these will show me in a good light, so you can choose from the following options with confidence:
1. The Spotted Umbrella Vomit
2. The Long-Lost Goth Friend Vomit
3. The High Velocity German Vomiting Boyfriend
4. Misssy, we’d rather not hear any more vomit stories. I mean this is the second one you’ve done. Tell us more about the kids and Meeester and stop the madness. We didn’t sign up for this.
Just let me know which option you’d like and I’ll work myself up to it.
* I say “funny”, but how gauche of me, really.
