Eminem's Spirit Entered me... again!

Eminem’s Nan
Chorus: Dido

My tea's gone cold I'm wondering why I..got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window..and I can't see at all
And even if I could it'd all be gray,but your picture on my wall
It reminds me, that it's not so bad,it's not so bad..

1st Verse:
Dear Nan, I wrote but you still ain't callin
I left my cell, my pager, and my mums home number
I sent two letters back in July, you must not-a got them
There probably was a problem at the post office or something
Sometimes I scribble addresses too sloppy when I jot them
but anyways; Fudge it, Nan what's up? Nan how's the Dalmations?
My boyfriends playing rugby, I'm cleaning the team kit
I can’t get the stains out, guess I'm doing something wrong?
I'm not a woman perhaps
Maybe I’m a man
I heard about your favourite son, Uncle Ronnie - I'm sorry
I had a friend got divorced over cheating too
I know you probably hear this everyday,
but I'm your biggest fan, nan
I even got the same air freshner as you
I got a room full of your pictures of us eating chips on the bench
I like the Horlicks you made for me, that drink was phat
Anyways, I hope you get this nan, hit me back,
just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan
This is for you, Oh Gran
{Chorus: Dido

2nd Verse
Dear Nan, you still ain't called or wrote,
I hope you have a chance
I ain't mad - it's just Winding me up you don't answer nan
If you didn't wanna talk to me outside your house
you didn't have to, but you coulda shared your cake with Jonny
That's my boyfriend nan, we’re getting engaged
We waited in the blistering park for you,
four hours and you just said, "No, go away smelly.
"That's pretty mean nan - you're like my Fudgeing idol
Even Jonny wants to be just like you, he likes you more than I do
I ain't that mad though, I just don't like being lied to
Remember when we camped in Devon,
I was a cutsey 7 - you said if I'd write you
you would write back - see I'm just like you in a way
I like promises, rules and a neat home;
It’s a bore with Jonny sleeping on the couch while I’m scrubbing floors,
I can relate to what you said about lazy Grandad
and how your knees always hurt
so when I have a wack day, I drift away and think of you
cause I don't really got nowt else so those thoughts help when I'm depressed
I even got a tattoo of your name across the chest
Sometimes I even cook myself kidney pie, and over boil the veg
It tastes yucky but I know you love it
That makes me love it.
See everything you say is real, and I respect you cause you tell it
Jonny’s now getting jealous cause I talk about you 24/7
But he don't know you like I know you nan, no one does
He don't know what it was like for people like us growin up
You gotta call me Nan, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose,
I’m 20 stone now!
Sincerely yours, P.S. We should be together too

Chorus: Dido[Eminem]

3rd Verse
Dear Susy, I meant to write you sooner but I just been busy
You said your engaged now, that don’t sound unpleasant like!
Look, I'm really flattered you like my hot drinks,
and here's a knitted scarf for your Jonny,
I'm sorry I didn't see you at the picnic,
I musta missed you
Don't think I did that intentionally just to diss you
But what's this nonsense you said about you can’t clean grass stains?
I say that nonsense just clowning dog,c'mon - how Fudged up is you?
You got some issues Susy, I think you need some instruction on cleaning
to help your ass from bouncing off the walls getting muck on em
And what's this nonsense about us meant to be together?
That type of nonsense will make me not want us to meet each other
I really like Saga trips, I think you and your fiancée need each other
or maybe he just needs to treat you better
I hope you get to read this letter, I just hope it reaches you in time
kick him off the couch and get him on the hoover,
I think that you'll do just fine if you relax a little, I'm glad I inspire you but I’m just your nan
We’re not that closely related
Are you turning into your mum? Friggin mad!
Try to understand, that I don’t want you 24/7, I’m just your nan
I love my Saga Trips
I saw these wack jobs on TV a couple weeks ago
Such jibber jabber inside their home. Gross they hadn’t dusted!
Their pets were sat on the sofas, it made me sick
The bin was overflowing with pizza boxes, yuck
but they didn't say who it was
Come to think about it, there names were Suzy and Jonny.. it was you two!
Damn, Dirty Cow!
I’m disowning you,
Nan!

Popping Eyes

Last Night in Bangkok?

Sexually Yes! Physically and Spiritually No:0( But ho-hum I won't grumble!

I had a packed crowd at Leicester Square Theatre last night. Sweaty Betty! The smell of Pancetta and feet wafting through the Theatre showed London was not built for heat!

My audience were grasping and desperate for me to contact their dead relatives. The shere quantity of demands forced me to do 8 Psychic drawings (4 dead relatives from the same family)!

For speed and conveniance (and fun) I now do all the pictures on my iPad, and project them on the wall - how easy to draw and colour on!! I'm so 2011!

Unfortunately - my low tech audience meant they couldn't bluetooth my virtual images home.

I am hoping the 82 year old (Rose? Petal?) has the internet at home, so I can email her those 4 psychic pictures I did of her great Aunt, Father, Child and Sister. I kept asking the 82 year old (Violet? Scarlet?) for her email address, she said it was 42EdmontonstreetLeyton@e11.computerwhatmydear.

Helping 20 people, last night, to speak to their loved ones, fills me with joy and satisfaction. I loved watching them cry and gulp breaths of sadness. It shows that my gift (which earns me £3000 for 2 hours work!!!!) is valuable and proof that people need me! Bupa have approached me to work for them!

Hooorah and Hooray

Wanda - my Producer had to re-type the Police interview

Police Station Interview Room

Tabatha Whittle 28 years old, well dressed, sophisticated London accent. In grey room. Bare walls, table, 3 chairs. No Windows. Office door. Tape recorder on table.
2 smartly dressed people, with tidied up working class London accents face Tabatha. They have A4 notes on table.
Police Officer 1 switches on Tape Recorder.
P1: 11th November 2010, Inspector Firth and Police Constable Coles of Kensington Police are interviewing Tabatha Whittle regarding Kidnapping attempt that occurred this afternoon. Time is now 17:55.
Police Officer 1 (P1) - Thankyou Tabatha for this, I’m sorry you can’t
go straight home, we just need further details of they men involved in
your kidnapping. You must have been very frightened?
TW - I was literally terrified, I was like, literally OMG they’re
going to kill me
P1 - So this morning, you were home alone, at your parents property, and
these kidnappers barged through your bedroom door?
TW - Yeah, I was in the study, the main study – I was revising, I was
so exhausted. I was literally asleep while reading.
P2 - So you were asleep?
TW - Yeah, so when then they came in, it was so noisy and frightening,
it like literally sounded like 20 men rushed in, literally filling the
study
P1 - 20 men came into your house, the study?
TW - 3 guys , but like literally they were as loud as like 20 men with
horses and shit
P2 – Can you describe these men? Were these men tall?
TW – Giants, literally 10 feet tall all of them, I was literally a
Tinkerbell compared.
P1 – ok? I have written here that they wore balaclavas? These 3 men
had you blindfolded and cuffed? What do you remember about that?
TW – I hate the dark, I literally die when it’s dark, so they like
killed me literally with the blindfold. Their hands on my skin, icy
cold and just one hand of theirs could of literally covered my whole
head.
P1 – they put you into their van?
TW – It was a large vehicle
P2 – was it a car?
TW – bigger than a car, smaller than a lorry
P1 – so a van?
TW – Bigger than a car, smaller than a lorry
P1 – A van?
TW – Um?
P1 – Literally a Van?
TW – YES! It was literally a Van, big, with seats – but when they
opened the door – I could tell it was an SUV
P2 – [Exasperated] How did you know that?
TW – I could see, literally my eyes were open and I looked and it was
a Landrover.
P2 – You pulled the blindfold off?
TW – Um!
P1 – Did you remove the blindfold, with your cuffed hands?
TW – They scared me, so I shut my eyes, which was like literally a
blindfold to this event, whatever
P2 – NO Blindfold?!?
TW -
P1 - Cuffs?
TW -
P1 – So did you see where they took you?
TW –
P2 – Did you recognise where they took you?
TW - Look, it was literally hundreds of hundreds miles and miles, I
was super terrified and the guy driving had literally eyes in the back
of his head, so I just sat petrified
P2 - How long was the journey, can you estimate? We’re really keen to
identify where they took you so we can find these men, So think
carefully.
TW - Ok – they drove for 5 or 6 minutes, past the school, past the
police station, stopped in Iceland then parked outside 14 Cleer
Street, the driver led me into the house, asked for my dads new mobile
number, dialled and asked my dad for £50.
P1 - Your dad said he’d been asked for half a million pounds!!!?
TW - But to my dad…half a million is like, literally £50… because he’s
so rich… I was offended, quite literally, when my dad said No.
P2 - But you then managed to escape? Without them harming you. Can
you run through what you did?
TW - I was literally NinJa, using my Yoga moves. I flipped tables as
they literally realised I’m BA Baracus in a Skirt, I’m gonna Bin Laden
their Arses
P2 Reads his A4 notes.
P2 - You said earlier, to the female officer they “asked” for you to leave.
TW –
The interview is interrupted by another officer who comes into the
room, he has a piece of paper, which he hands to the interviewer.
P2 We’ve found the Taxi driver, who says he picked you up. From 14
Cleer Street.
TW –
P2 He said the men that brought you to the Taxi paid your fare.
TW-
P2 To quote the Taxi driver, the ‘kidnappers’ apologised to you when
they got you in the taxi?
TW –
P1 Literally apologised?
TW – I’m starving, literally starving, can I get a Skinny Muffin?

Got a new Friend called Tabatha:0)

Tabatha Whittle's life
INT:Harley Street Plastic-Surgeons Reception.
Very clean, modern, posh and quiet with a couple of people waiting.
In walks Tabatha, she’s 6ft 2 and carries a Selfridges’ bag. She walks to reception desk and leans over counter.
Tabatha: Literally the price of Prada shoes has crashed. These pairs literally cheap as chips! £180. I doubt I’ll ever wear the 6 inch heels – but so sexy! Is she seeing someone?
Receptionist: Yes, Camilla.
T: OMG The Camilla? Botox I bet? I literally hate botox. She’ll end up looking like she’s wearing a face condom, literally, yuck! [Tabatha Gurns] How long?
R: 5 more minutes?
T: My life literally slipping away, always waiting….

T:No! Just kidding:0) I don’t know how you stand this job? It’s so dead and quiet!
R: I’m pretty lucky to have a job & your mum is a great boss and a fantastic surgeon.
R: Dr Whittle mentioned you were with the Police yesterday?
T: See that? That’s where the police literally handcuffed me! See that, smaller yes – that’s what the criminals did to me.
R:Oh my! What happened?
T:Wasn’t my fault, Yesterday!! OMG Literally attacked by criminals, yeah you heard me right… then I got a roughing-up by the Police. Both of those ‘gangs’, the Criminals and Police literally ripped me, screaming, out the womb of innocence, away from my civil liberties… human rights.
T:I’ve had to block book 2 weeks with my therapist. I am literally suing the Police. Mum will pay for it!

T:I will not let this drop!
R: Oh my!
T: Double Jeopardy Victim.
R: Um
T:All that tax I pay… and it was the Police who literally treated me worsly.
R: -
T: Just got off the phone with Amnesty International! 3 minutes ago Amnesty literally called ME and asked if I was ok. They wanted to film an advert for me, highlighting - Literally to the world my plight!
R: My dad’s in the force.
T:I said thankyou, Amnesty – but I got it covered. Go film the Iranian’s that get stoned and can’t keep their Hijabs on!
T:I swear, if I was born in the USA I wouldn’t be treated like this. Oprah Winfrey wouldn’t allow that in her country.
INT CONSULTING ROOM
Dr Whittle (Tabatha's Mum) is 5ft 2. She’s sat talking to Camilla. We only ever see
the back of Camilla’s head. Between the two women is a large mahogany desk. On top of the desk is a firm plastic mould of a middle age woman’s arse with black marker pen marks around the lower arse cheeks. Dr Whittle fondles the buttocks as she talks.
Dr Whittle: Camilla! You will look amazing! You’ll notice a big difference and have a confidence that the new ‘cough’ will give you, Ahmen sister! Oh but *wink* he won’t realise…

Dr:Well he will notice of course! Notice that your ‘hmm’ looks tight..er and firm..er and has a magnetism, akhem, greater magnetism than it…. your kkkk does now.
Dr:What I’m saying is that he won’t know why or even suspect surgery! No No but, no don’t worry - if he did suspect… he would have to inspect your fffcuh with a magnifying glass…. Yes yes - in order to see my tiny incision scars he’d have to get right into your undercarriage, akhem… y’know down there.. and he’d need a very bright light aswell, and be wearing his best reading glasses, sober.. ha ha.
Dr: But he wouldn’t go to that level of scrutiny, no, not of ones body…. :o(!
Dr: Not that he wouldn’t want to… he loves you!…’Whatever ‘love is’ haa haa… he’d just get so quickly distracted into satisfying another need I’m sure, that he would lose interest fast wwww - oh not lose interest in you and your body... noWAY! He’d just get distracted.. by his burgeoning fruuu yes umm... distracted by the naked ness..
Dr: Yes Yes getting naked is definitely exciting akeh, I love it and you’re yes tttt.. corr lovely, yes
Dr: Don’t worry - for me my attraction to you is purely aesthetic & medical & it’s my job umm….
Dr: Plus I’m married… and it’s not a sham marriage, no we’ve a full, very full marriage phew.. lots of shshsh… But I’m saying in your case, ... not that you have a sham marriage or anything sham... well you will have a sham new arrrr.... but i'm saying with your chap.. y’know for him… Well he loves water colours….akem..
Camilla: - - -
Dr: Yes Yes Right..
Dr: So see you next Monday, 9.30am – nothing to worry about. No food for 6 hours before.
Dr: Yes, the car is waiting downstairs, use the side door – fine fine.
Dr: Goodbye. Thankyou Marm.
Dr Whittle bows slightly as Camilla leaves the Consulting Room.

INT RECEPTION

Tabatha sitting in reception. Alongside a patient.
T: Hi, here for treatment? I know why they call it Rhinoplasty now… looking at your nose – it’s literally like a Rhino!
Patient: I’m getting breasts…
T: enlargements Oh! Bigger boobs yes. Men literally explode around big boobs…. You’ll see, DD!!
P: Breast reconstruction, I’ve just finished breast cancer treatment.
T:…...
T: ...and the nose?
P: No… family heirloom
T: Yes definitely it looms and it's covered in hair…Ha!
P: I like my nose, it’s my dads
T: Tell him to take it back!.... It’s very ‘ethnic’ I like that…
P: Yeah….. my Irish family?
Reception Phone rings
Receptionist putting down phone: Mrs Cooper. Dr Whittle is just tidying up, so if you just take this form and sign here you can go in now.
T: Just a moment – can I nip in? Literally 2 seconds ok?
INT CONSULTING ROOM
On desk sits the life size model of a bum with black marker pen dots and dashes. The Surgeon is washing her hands with her back to Tabatha.
Tabatha smiling, lifts and play with Buttocks.
T:Literally holding Parker Bowels arse… ooh [impersonating Prince Charles] “I wish I was your tampon – lick lick”
Mum: Lovely to see you my little baby, wow your hair, kiss kiss. Why aren’t you working today? It’s a Wednesday?
T:I can’t live, I’m so tatty, literally a tramp. Everyone has seen the clothes I’m wearing a million times, literally a trillion times and I’m so ashamed and everything.
M:How do you get through your allowance so quickly? Two days in and you’ve kkkk
spent £600 that daddy gave you?
T: PETROL has doubled in PRICE mummy!
M:You Taxi everywhere…
T: HELLO! Taxi's use PETROL.
M: Taxi's use ummm Diesel
T: Thankyou mum for that education!
M: I’m quite busy darling
T: That’s it? You’re only surviving child and I get dismissed when I’m clearly distressed?
M: I never had, there was no other ffff - I didn't have any other children
T: but,,
M: Your father used a filter on the camera – there was, there is no twin sister….
M:It’s your birthday soon, is there something special you want?
T: A Barbour coat… just like yours, and this year I only want, literally 1 present and it’s a Barbour coat… and matching shoes…. And gloves.
M: So the same as my navy Barbour ummm, in a size 20?
T: NO – I’m the same size as you… but I’ve literally got such enormous tits – it will have to be 2 sizes bigger than yours.
M: ...size 20.... WELL if you’re lucky you may get it my little ppp princess..
T: But it’s on offer NOW and they’re holding it for me – it’s literally the last one in the country on sale… Just £320… c’mon
M: I’m busy and your birthday’s not for a whole month…. umm
M: Wednesday you help daddy, he needs your support petit pois.
M:How will you take over the business if you don’t know about it? Hmm?
T: He puts me in the back room and shuts the door. It’s literally a prison cell.
M: His office is very nice – it’s plush. Look - go help Daddy. After work, I will come pick you up and if he says you’ve been his perfect little helper then perhaps we can pick up the Barbour?
EXT Harley Street
Tabatha flutters 2 doors down Harley Street to Victory iVenture Capitalist.

INT ViVC RECEPTION
Immaculate skinny, straight haired lady sits behind high reception desk with a blue tooth ear piece. She smiles warmly at Tabatha then her face drops to cool.
Tabatha walks through the building to a tall grand door, she goes through. Inside is an empty office with a high backed chair and huge ‘Apprentice’ style conference table. Tabatha slings her bag on table and aims the coat for the chair – it misses and falls on the floor.
She sighs and walks out to a open plan office full of people busy on telephone calls and typing.
Tabatha wanders over to a good looking young new recruit, she’s flirting.
T: What you doing Firoz?
F: Umm closing a deal on Frankies Asia Net, it’s a 17% stacking up
of..
Tabatha wanders off
T:Dad uuuurrrh?

The owner of the business is Lord Whittle, he’s 5ft8, well built and very attractive, oozing charisma with a practical manner. He’s perched on the corner of a desk addressing 3 members of his successful business. They all look at him with interest and respect. He loves his daughter and hopes the best for Tabatha but he isn’t interested in Tabatha beyond the minimal parenting required.

Dad: Sit with Roanne – go on – deal with the files she’s going
through. ROANNE – give that work to Tabatha, then Roanna – get me a
10/31 on yesterday’s takeover bid? FIROZ - Man you giving a 211 to
Asia Net - Let the good times ROLE homey!
Tabatha sits next to Roanne. Roanne begins to explain the job
//time jump
3 minutes have passed and Tabatha’s nostrils flare with annoyance and
frustration.
Roanne: So that’s how you enter the data.
T: Excellent, you’re literally a database whiz, Bill Gates could learn
from you! So let’s start.
T: This file? Roanne, you enter that detail in. Do it
there. Ok?
R:Um? Ok – well if you actually do it – here or in your office, I
need to speak to Lord Whittle.
T:Tell Daddy “Tabatha nur nur”
J: Pardon?
T: Definitely, you go an speak to my father and I will support you in
doing your job, for you – literally doing this work, your work –
literally here, over there, in my office where I’ll literally work
over there. Yes? Ok?
R: Ok.
T: Coffee? I’m gonna nip to Starbucks.
R:No Thankyou.
Roanne with gritted teeth walks over to Lord Whittle. Tabatha chews a wasp.

Ladies - is it you that's the Alcoholic?

Ladies… You know when you go to the bathroom – always checking for spots? No pimple can last for longer than the time between urinating. Messy hair with knots, ladies it’s the same – it’s just the time between pees that your hair can be and stay naughty,

But you can weigh 9 stone and have fingers as swollen and large as cumbershire sausages and you still won’t notice you’ve got a drink problem.

You can sit out on an October morning, 5 degrees, gail blowing, you’ll be in a tshirt and sweating and you still won’t notice you’ve got a drink problem.

Your nose is as red as Rudolfs.. but no – it’s winter sunburn, you haven’t got a drink problem.

Your friends start ordering water from the bar, and it takes the same amount of time for them to drink 1 half pint glass of water as for you to down 3 pints of strong bow and you still won’t notice you’ve got a big drink problem.

You see your best friends chatting to you with a big smile on her face, you sense shes talking about the cute guy in the office and what she wants for her birthday but all you can say is, “Why such a sad face, get yourself a drink, cmon lets party” No you still won’t notice during this work away day that you’re the one with the drink problem.

You’re buying a Kebab.

You’re on your second Kebab and you’re not sure how you got a chicken one this time. Alcoholic? Not you.

The whole of London is winking at you – you’re in a tower block – perhaps you can fly? Oh – a cold bottle of beer being handed over by a cute fat guy who looks like father xmas….. drinking issues? Nope!

Really comfy soft bed – need toilet – oh fat guys fallen asleep on top … warm water flows, feels nice….

Head hits taxi door jam…. Santa’s so nice..

Time for work….oh I’ve got a cold:0) Phone in.

Love Music

Woman in thirties walks into a small independent music store. The shop is full of Vinyl and CD’s.

The Owner is a smooth talking city type, a budding Richard Branson.

Owner: Can I help you Miss?

Customer: I’ve just got into a relationship & I want music to match my mood, you know?

Knowingly the Owner nods.

Owner:Lemar Love

Owner picks up the CD Lemar Love. Picture of X Factor winner covers the CD.

Customer:What Tracks?

Owner:The Classic, [Sung] “You making me Feel Good”

Customer:No

Owner: George Michael? [Sung] “Come unto me”

Customer nods No

Owner: Elton Johns new album – the track [Sung] “You wear my lions mane, ile wear you”

Customer: No! We’re in a Romantic mood..

Owner (Eager to please and sell) Barry White, Love Walrus…

Customer: Used him with my ex…put me off, and I want it to be real this time…

Owner; Susan Boyle’s just released an album.. she’s fresh to romance. She wrote this album after she began dating her first boyfriend.

Owner picks up Susan Boyle's album as if it's something dirty and revolting. Owner reads the track names.

Owner:First Track is called “Is that it?”, 2nd Track “I’d rather Titchmarsh”, 3rd “My body stings, you sure we did it right?”

Customer:Perfect – I’le buy it!

I'm Dating Facebook. Ok?

Those excluded from cyberspace, sacrificed to living just within these 3 dimensions, marooned on the island of actual reality – let me explain Facebook.

It’s Heaven - for us on earth, and it’s name is Facebook. I have 370 friends there. They are always smiling and cute. Interesting and fun. They bask under the virtual Facebook Sun. Eyes open, teeth shining, never growing old, never dying, no pain. Once in a while they wake from their happy slumber and instant message me, but most of the time they lie passive and happy. I float around their pages, undisturbed, learning all the best things about them. If I want find others – I search and see the smiling faces of billions..

Dry humping, always felt so much better than sex. Like Dry Humping is Facebook. Facebook is better than life… umm and Sex.

God set up a Fan Club on Facebook… After reading the DaVinci code I don’t trust all that gubbins… Especially the rules for joinng… sheesh! I won’t accept getting gangbanged by a mob so my dad can sit safely indoors drinking with a rescued Angel, I don’t care if the angel looks like Zac Ephron – I ain’t being no Jodie Foster on a Pool table… not even for God! That joke really worked in the Vatican…. You know Sodom and Gomorrah? “I know what the Sodomites did but what the Feck Gomorran’s were doing – SHEESH!’

Jesus’s fan page – All his status updates are in past tense. It’s supposed to be what you’re doing now.

Plus he starts playing Farmville and all he had was 1 cow and 1 pig, within 5 minutes of joining he had thousands, enough to feed 5000 fat Americans. I don’t trust him.

Mohammad’s page, he didn’t have a photo… Shy? Whatever – they’re all too old school – for me! I can’t poke or chat or tell Jokes with no shut your eyes and imagine religion. I need interactivity!

So I settled for signing upto Oprah Winfrey’s Facebook fanclub. She’s all the god this woman needs.

Plus she’s released a sex book!

Coxswain. I used to be a Coxswain. That’s the little gobby one that sits on the end of a rowing boat and shouts and the big rowers to go faster. Due to hitting 11 years old and overnight turning into the 6ft 20stone women you see before you, I was yelled at to “GET OFF THE BOAT! The boat’s scraping the bottom of the river; Water is coming over the sides, this aint a submarine, GET OFF FATTY, You Giant FreaK”. Rowers were little bitchy in the eighties….

I had to stop being a Coxswain. I’d loved it – I had been involved in a sport – but really - I was a spectator with a great view.

SEX is very similar. It’s also a Spectator Sport, with a great view.

Can we rebrand SeX? Sex for women means fumbling around with a guy, watching him cum then using up the next 24 hours buying Caneston, having salt baths & using Caneston - all for the friction burns (Boys – our soft bits feel like they’ve been tenderized, like you tenderize a steak. Why do they feel like that? Cos are soft bits have been tenderized, the way you tenderize a steak. [mime getting cock out and tenderizing steak] I know that what you boys do!). So boys, lets not talk in ‘Sex’ terms – keep it to Orgasms. That’s the bit I want…. The big O, an Orgasm. You can keep your spectator sport, I want to be in this game and score big and often, I’m happy to have as many as you:0)

Let me Row!60 million people working at this moment in the United Kingdom. If we each raise £13,333 we can pay off the UK £800 Billion debt. So I’ve set up a Facebook page asking for donations. It’s called “You wanted this ‘just society’, So pay for it!”. Easy! Suck Dirt ConDems!

I only accept messages from Facebook. I’m weaning myself off this face to face stuff… like if you call me on the telephone, or dare even to text – I SHOUT – get yourself back to the 90’s Mr Alan Sugar, Facebook me or nothing.

And I’m sorry I missed your event DAD – if the event ain’t on Facebook it don’t exist in my world, ergo – it don’t exist FULL STOPP. Yeah – so I missed your funeral? You didn’t send a global event invite Dad – so you aint dead to me…

BTW What is the etiquette of dead Facebook friends?

Report them…?

I had an instance – I’d met a guy called Gordon through mutual friends and we’d gone out on a few occasions, had pizza wine – he was so good looking and charming – he was like a beautiful modern day Roger Moore James Bond. He loved to talk about porn, and the sex he’s seen and wanted – and I really didn’t mind, he was charming and sexy and I spent the meal turned on and highly amused – he made sex funny and saucy, naughty and palatable, his conversation went well with the wine and 4 Cheeses pizza, my nan might not of liked it, or his wife – but they were busy chatting about X Factor or whatever….

6 months passed and life moves quickly and we’d not seen each other around, then I spy his gorgeous face on Facebook. So I ‘request Friend’. After a few days I bump into a mutual friend of ours who tells me that Gordon died of cancer.

Shit – it was really sad, plus I was a bit embarrassed about requesting his facebook friendship – it’s a bit insensitive. Well I log in to Facebook – to see if I can withdraw my request… and - he’s accepted. Dead Gordan has accepted my Friend Request.

OMG - SHIT I think – he’s contacting me , from the other fucking side.. I’m like thinking O’My dude – get off the Facebook, leave it alone.

Fuck – that really is a Facebook obsessefysing. So what’s the etiquette – do I delete him? Do I block him? Report him? “Dead People Message Me”. Then he messages me, asking me “do I want to meet up?”

What the? I look at his profile – I read all these condolences from friends and family.

His status doesn’t ever change – it reads ‘Feeling better’.

He emails again asking me to his memorial service –well that does it – he’s taking the piss - it freaks me out – I’m like – begon satan bastard – leave this living plane. Now the surprise – satan only goes an apologises!

Unexpected? Nice!

Now the passive aggressive power of Facebook – “Facebook Blocking”. Similar to Cock Blocking – but involving more Cocks.

Men have Blocked me from their Facebook – what do they think I’m gonna do?

When I see these Face CockBlockers, in the flesh – what do I say to them…. Cos if I shout at them “hey you won’t accept my friend request, I can’t see your photos.., I can’t show the world I’ve got even more friends” I sound like a sad bitch that needs a life and they’ll be as smug as David Cameron. So instead I have to act like I don’t give a shit – but I do. They’re defecating my civil rights, they’re deny my feminist power, they are imprisoning me away from my bra burning liberty…

Martin Luther King said“I have a dream”, Germain Greer said “I’m allowed to Cream”. They would spin in their graves if they new their efforts were powerless against Facebook Fascists!

If someone asks my religion.. I say Facebook. I deny all false profits like umm letter writing, travelling.. conversation..



What I love about Facebook is it crosses all divides, all classes. It’s a universal leveller.

People without the internet still use Facebook.

They get a piece of card, like a from a cardboard box and write in Blue and White ‘Facebook’. The exact styled name and logo… you know - on the card.

Then they add a photo or draw a picture of themselves… sometimes wearing funny moustaches. They hand the card to their friends… their buddies will add notes.. and then when you get your Facebook back, you add a status, then pass it around again –

“The Circle of LIFEEEEE”

Over time these cards, get turned into little books – they stick their profile card onto school books…they’re upgrading you see? Creating their very own Face Book Book….

They have all Facebook applications.

If they want to poke a friend, they like get up and go over to their friend and like actually ‘poke’ them, with their finger..

And they email ‘old-school’. Yeah Coolio… Email – Electronic Mail. They get a guy with a Tazer or an old car battery, and they like send him over to their mates… they go over and ‘email’ you…a Male Electrocutes you. It’s so cool..

In huts and communities around the world, Facebook creates a quiet atmosphere – everyone scribbling at their Facebook pages.. which is likegreat for countries in Warzones or under seize… coz like in Zimbabwe or Afghanistan… Instead of the head Mullah screaming – “Get down, be quiet, the Americans are coming, they’re drugged up on prescription post-traumatic anti-psychotics and want to rape us all” – they now just whisper ‘Facebook’ and all the women and children quietly busy themselves.. updating statuses… while infidels and holy warriors are killed to the back beats of Jimi Hendrix remix and of course the swishing of Facebook updating.

If someone is a bit dirty though – on someone’s face…book…book.. You know – writing about how bad you look in your photo, or that you’re tits look fake - well you get reported and a warning is smeared onto your Profile Card, if you don’t cool it they burn your Facebook book. I don’t like the idea of burning face book books – burning Facebook is immoral – Fair enough you wanna burn a regular book on evolution or some maths shit – but like buring a face book book – it’s like burning a soul – it’s life and everything, like burning gods face… book……