Archive for June, 2009

Uri Geller – no relation to Ross or Monica. They still have Friends.

Posted in I'm More Annoying! with tags , , , , on June 26, 2009 by MrsMinxington

Firstly, apologies for the lack of blog the last few days. The eldest and youngest Minxington children have succumbed to the chicken pox over the last couple of days and plus I had a Vegan land on me for a holiday, so I have chained her to the kitchen sink and am now ignoring her to write this.

Anyway, you can’t HELP but know that Michael Jackson is dead. It has after all been breaking news on Sky 1 for about 18 of the last 24 hours. Think they *might* have got round to removing the breaking news logo by now – and just gone for TODAYS TOP STORY instead, but I wouldn’t know because my attempts at a diana style overt display of handwringing wailing and swaying, whilst heading straight for the crash spot so I could lay my tribute bouquet, or you know, gawping like a moron while stuffing my face with bourbon biscuits (Did you know they are vegan? Most brands are anyway – but don’t let that put you off. ) had been somewhat impeded by stern looks from the Vegan who labelled me sad, then stuck a postage stamp on my arse and sent me to Coventry.

I had the good / bad fortune to get wise to the breaking news because I was farting about on Twitter at the time when it started to be talked about. Kids were in bed and I was patently trying to ignore the vegan because she’s been nothing but trouble since the moment she arrived. I did actually boot her up the arse today in Argos, things got a little heated and competitive over the arrival of our respective orders – she only ordered one thing, BEFORE ME, and I ordered FIVE things, AFTER her. And my stuff all got to COLLECTION POINT B first. HAHAHA. Anyway, her failure to lose gracefully led her to shamelessly berate me for handing her the larger of the two bags to carry. She whined like a wino. That means “a lot”. So I demonstrated the “Bishop Brennan” on her and she soon behaved herself. Sorry. went a little off tangent there.

So, I switched the news channels on to see what was happening, and lo, there’s Uri Geller talking about how he’s hanging on to a glimmer of a thread of hope that the rumours aren’t true and that he is going to be ok even if the coma rumour turns out to be true. Now, this is literally minutes after the story started to break. MINUTES. Theres no ACTUAL confirmation of the death yet, but either some desperate researcher scrabbling for someone to comment on it had called him, OR he had called into the studio himself to say that he was too upset to talk and then carried on talking anyway.



"Look, I told you Mr Geller, I'm straight!"

"Look, I told you Mr Geller, I'm straight!"

So, there I am, with the husband and the vegan, gawking like the rubberneckers we were – and there’s Geller, the smug cutlery intimidating cunt, talking about how he can’t talk about it right now, he doesn’t have the words, but he’s devastated, and has no words, and has no comment when asked when he last saw him (which implied to me it had been a good while – didn’t they fall out anyway?) but he’s devastated, and has no words, and so many people are calling wanting to talk to him and he doesn’t even know whats going on yet, he doesn’t know if he’s dead but of course would much prefer it if he was in a coma than actually dead because coma is something you can come out of, deadness tends to be a bit trickier, but he has no words, and he will be in a better place now if it is true, which if it is, he has no words for.

Within an hour or so he’s actually ON camera talking about it, how he doesnt have the words, how he’s devastated. He doesn’t at that point encourage us to put our index fingers on a red button on the TV screen to focus positive energy to help Michael heal. This disappoints me slightly, after all, it worked for David Beckham’s cruiseship ligament. Nor does he use the power of his mind (has he actually got a large magnet mounted in his forehead that is charged in the polar opposite way to your average kitchen implement? Some sort of stainless steel repelling implant?) to ruin any perfectly serviceable spoons. He just doesn’t have the words to express how devastated he is. Of course, he can’t comment on how MJ has been recently. because he has no fucking clue, he’s just been pulled out of a nice snuggly spoons position and handed the opportunity of a deathtime to reinvent himself as “Friend of Michael Jackson” which will let him dine out for MONTHS along with all the other “FRIENDS” who will no doubt follow suit.

Of course, I should be careful what I say – he will already have read my mind and know that I have malice aforethought. Then he might start legal action against me, just like he did when he tried to sue Nintendo for creating a pokemon that he claimed was modelled in his image. No, not Jigglypuff, although that was my first thought too. I can’t be arsed putting this into my own words, so I shall just post it in its raw entirety lifted straight from Wiki.

“In November 2000, Geller sued video game company Nintendo for £60 million (the equivalent of US $100 million) over the Pokémon character “Yungerer,” localized in English as “Kadabra,” which he claimed was an unauthorised appropriation of his identity. The Pokémon in question has psychic abilities and carries bent spoons. Geller also claimed that the star on Kadabra’s forehead and the lightning patterns on its abdomen are symbolisms popular with the Waffen SS of Nazi Germany. The katakana for the character’s name, is visually similar to the transliteration of Geller’s own name into Japanese. He is quoted as saying: “Nintendo turned me into an evil, occult Pokémon character. Nintendo stole my identity by using my name and my signature image.””


That’s beautiful.

It was thrown out of court.



Loose Women

Posted in I'm More Annoying! with tags , , , , on June 23, 2009 by MrsMinxington

loosemingesNow, according to The Law Unto Hucknall (which I made up myself, and thus can cite with confidence), people should be listed individually with their individual lack of merits detailed individually. In this case however, I shall make an exception. It would be very easy to pad out a chunk of the 1000 people with each and every single “woman” that’s ever been a panellist on ITV’s “Loose Women” but frankly, I don’t feel like giving them that much space or attention. So I am lumping them into one post.

If you aren’t familiar with the show, and I sincerely hope for your sake that is the case, then basically I can describe it thus. It’s like Scrapheap Challenge, but instead of manly men building interesting things competitively in order to provide fulsome entertainment, the Scrapheap itself has been given it’s own show and invited to comment on topical items of the day in front of a studio audience made mostly out of other bits of the scrapheap that didn’t ever make it to be famous.

Now, I should point out, that I am a lady, of sorts, anyway. I’m not the most delicate and feminine of girls, I have all the right lady parts and am definitely identifiable as female, but I’m not a girly girl by any stretch of the imagination. When you are six foot odd and built like a brick shithouse, it’s pretty impossible to get away with flicking your hair back, giggling lightheartedly and talking about kittens. Although kittens ARE pretty cool. But even if I was two foot seven and shaped like a cotton bud, I still don’t think it would be in me to be able to do those things. I’m far too lazy, for one thing.

It just doesn’t interest me. It’s the way I am. Not a thing I can do about it.  So, you can imagine that something like “Loose Women” is not something that is likely to appeal to me anyway. I’m sure lots of people find it entertaining, I suppose if they didn’t then it wouldnt have been recommissioned endlessly.

Packed to the absolute brim of the cauldron with former soap actresses, former reality stars, former wives of famous people, former frontswomen of meaty stock cube advertising campaigns, etc etc etc etc, it’s notable that the word FORMER is relevant in nearly every single case.

Now, I don’t dispute that it is important for older people, of both genders, to be appearing on TV and showing us that life goes on beyond the twenties. But this format and this concoction does no favours for the positive reinforcement of that message. Instead, it tells us that by middle age, women should be bitter old careworn harridans who have nothing better to do than bitch at one another, until one of them gets so stressed out they have a nosebleed and have to be carted off to hospital.

They are not setting a good example, in my opinion, for the middle aged or older generation. It’s tawdry, and it’s not good TV. 

But then, it’s pretty much typical of ITV these days. Long gone are the days where Farmhouse Kitchen, Emmerdale Farm, The Sullivans and Crown Court were the daytime viewing choices on offer – and perhaps that’s not a bad thing either, but if this is the choice of a new generation, then that generation should be given a very stern talking to at the least, or potentially given community service for crimes against public broadcasting.

Come back, A Country Practice, all is forgiven.

Ingrid Newkirk – The P.I.T.A. P.E.T.A. Of Tiny Dead Paws

Posted in I'm More Annoying! with tags , , , , , on June 21, 2009 by MrsMinxington
"Particularly enjoyable with some fava beans and a nice bottle of Chianti. pft pft pft pft pft"

"Particularly enjoyable with some fava beans and a nice bottle of Chianti. pft pft pft pft pft"

The name Ingrid Newkirk may not be that familiar to you, but the organisation that she set up and controls certainly will be. Ingrid is the head of P.E.T.A – People for Ethical Treatment of Animals. I think perhaps describing her as an annoyance really doesn’t do the woman justice, for an annoyance implies a tick in the ear, a flea bite, a mild dose of the clap, whereas Ingrid and her happy bunch of supporters are much more of an anal prolapse, or a bunch of dog and cat murdering hypocrites.

Under the guise of “Animal Rights” – Ms Newkirk and her organisation bully and terrorise people with their message that wearing fur is wrong and that animals are on the planet for no other reason than to occupy themselves and that as humans we have no right to use them for food, entertainment, experimentation etc. The “I’d Rather Go Naked Than Wear Fur” campaign has seen countless celebrities posing nude to highlight the inappropriateness of wearing animal skin. Turning up at fashion shows to throw buckets of fake blood over models is just one of the many shock value tactics they have used, and whilst they claim to be a non-violent organisation, they wholeheartedly support organisations who DO use violent tactics, such as the Animal Liberation Front.

Now, let’s be clear about the fact that I don’t disagree with a fair bit of the theory behind that message. Personally, I wouldn’t wear fur, mostly because it looks a bit shit and 1950s, partly because I would look like a Yeti, but I do understand the reasoning and logic behind that particular campaign.

What I don’t understand, is how you can make statements about mistreatment of animals, but then “rescue” them and destroy them yourself under the guise of humane and ethical treatment. If an animal is incurably sick, or old with no quality of life, then euthanasia, is in my opinion, the kindest option. It prevents the suffering of the animal any further and gives them a peaceful exit from their life. Indeed, I think that should be extended to humans too, but that’s a whole other discussion topic.

However,  if a perfectly healthy rat / dog / cat is “liberated” by PETA and it’s partners in crime, why then is it not their primary aim to find suitable homes for these animals?  The percentage of rehomed animals from PETA shelters is miniscule compared to other government owned, or charitable organisations. PETA do not operate a “no-kill” policy, they operate a “better off dead” one instead. Their justification for that is that “They didnt have enough room to home them all.”  And by the looks of it, they didn’t bother to try to find alternatives either. They did however, try to cover themselves by dumping some of the dead animals into other peoples dumpsters in the middle of the night. Surely if they had nothing to be ashamed of, there would be no need to have hidden it? 

 There are countless anecdotes on the internet about people who have willingly handed over their loved pets to PETA, only to find later they had never even had the opportunity to be rehomed, they had simply been destroyed as soon as they had parted company with their owner.

Where are the animals rights when they are being “humanely destroyed” for no good reason at all? What RIGHT does PETA have to do that?

Newkirk has written a will (which is freely available on the internet for anyone warped enough to actually want to read it to do so).

This will is notable in that she requests that parts of her body are used in different ways after her death, including a “human barbecue”, feet turned into umbrella stands, bits of her to be delivered to people she finds personally offensive,  and parts of her skin to be made into wallets and purses. If she did the same with all the dead animals her organisation has massacred, she could have made a fortune for her cause by selling dogskin wallets and rat leg pencil pots.

They envision a day when all animals are allowed to roam free once more, pets are a thing of the past and woah, all animals will be vegetarian.

Hate to break it to you guys, but you might have a bit of a fight on your hands persuading the lions to give that one a try – but feel free to go have a chat with them!  I’m sure they will have plenty to say.

Ingrid Newkirk, an affront and an abomination in the name of Animal Rights.

R.I.P. F.I.A. The Downfall of Max Mosley?

Posted in I'm More Annoying! with tags , , , , , , , , on June 19, 2009 by MrsMinxington
What do you mean this isn't what you meant by Budget Cap, Mosley? I have 40 million of these on order!

What do you mean this isn't what you meant by Budget Cap, Mosley? I have 40 million of these on order!


 Ok, maybe jumping the gun a little maybe, but hopefully it’s not a Mauser Schnellfeuer-Pistole. Anyone who’s been anywhere near a news website or tv show is likely to know that FOTA (the Formula One Teams Association) have stated today that they intend to form a breakaway championship, as a result of an inability to find a suitable compromise over contractual conditions for the 2010 FIA World Championship – with the FIA – International Automobile Federation (yes, its FIA in another language, probly Italian or something.)

Those of you who are not F1 fans will probably still know that the head of the FIA is Max Mosley – simply because he was a tabloid star for some weeks after the News of The World exposed his private “Pretend To Be A Germanic Army Officer Torturing Someone But Honest Guv’nor It’s Nothing To Do With The Nazis I Promise” activities which kinda killed his credibility as the senior figurehead of a huge international governing body such as the FIA. Nonetheless, he stamped his jackboot firmly and stayed put despite calls for him to step down from his role, somehow surviving a vote of confidence from the members of the Federation.

Anyway, long story short, Mosley and the FIA have said “Next year you vill all either stick to a budget cap of 40 million OR you von’t, but you von’t have the same freedom as those that do! Heil Hitler!” to the teams. 

Most of the teams retorted “Up Yours, Mosley. Your plan sucks and we will only sign up for next year’s championship if you change this plan significantly so we don’t end up with a two tier system, and take that anglepoise lamp out of our eyes.” 

Maxy-mo then said “Best I can do chaps, is phase it in over 2 years, next year you can have more, but the year after that you have to get it down to £40 million or else.”

Most of the teams retorted “Up Yours, Mosley. Your plan still sucks. We said we would only sign up unconditionally if the conditions changed in a sensible way. We don’t think thats sensible, and you can kiss our shiny metal collective arses. We’re not signing and more importantly, we’re bored of you bossing us about and want to do it ourselves better than you clearly can. So we’re going to make our own championship, yah boo sucks to you and your pet monkey Ecclestone, let’s see how you fare without eight of the best known teams on board for next year.”

At time of writing – the FIA have announced plans to start legal proceedings against this plan, Bernie Ecclestone is wandering round in a bit of a daze going “Weh Teh Fuh?” and Max “My Way Or The Highway” Mosley has just started the ball rolling for a lengthy, drawn out tediously boring fight that will no doubt drag on for several years, be hugely disruptive and damage F1 so significantly that it will probably never recover. I expect he’s already put a sign up on his office door saying “War Chamber” and has started rearranging model cars on a model track using a pushy stick thing.

Now – clearly the discussions with FOTA were pointless, Mosley was never going to listen, or do anything other than please himself. That’s just the nature of the beast.

However, if there’s one thing that’s guaranteed to bring a previously strong minded person of a well known nature to their knees – it’s being designated MORE ANNOYING THAN MICK HUCKNALL.

Max Mosley, YOU ARE OFFICIALLY NOW MORE ANNOYING THAN MICK HUCKNALL. Stop interfering in that which doesn’t concern you, leave team and budget management to the teams it affects and keep your wrinkly old scrote out of the media and in your pants. And no, I don’t mean Ecclestone. Or maybe I do.

Paris HUGE Hilton

Posted in I'm More Annoying! with tags , , , , , on June 18, 2009 by MrsMinxington



Here's a weird thing, you expand her glasses (they weren't actually this big at the start) and she has no eyes, but looks as though she has bumcheeks there instead! Why? WHY?



Paris Hilton is PARTICULARLY annoying me at the moment. Not because she’s rich, or famous for being famous, or because she goes through BFF’s on a yearly basis, or that she carries her dog around in a handbag, or that she seems to want to get married to any and every single one of her ex-boyfriends who are usually “The One”  from five minutes after they get together until the time until it all goes tits up half an hour later – or any of the other usual reasons why you might be annoyed by her.

No, the reason she’s annoying me so intensely at the moment is because I made the extremely stupid decision to follow her on Twitter. She tweets fairly regularly. That in itself is not so much of a big deal, I suppose, that’s what Twitter is all about, 140 chars to tell the world what you are up to. Like a facebook status update with less letters available and no Bejewelled Blitz to drive you scatty.

You pretty much get to know EVERYTHING that she does, except for take a dump, so she possibly doesn’t actually poo. Maybe she had a colostomy fitted so she can get her maid to poo for her, or maybe the dog in a bag thing is a cunning disguise for her poo in a bag and if it gets a bit ripe she can just blame the dog, I dunno, nor do I really care.

The other day, we (and I say WE because I’m NOT the only person following her, surprisingly) had tweets that included photos of her doggy mansion, which is located next to her swimming pool and has all the luxuries a doggy could ever need, including a large black chandelier.

Yah. Because dogs TOTALLY need to be able to see where they are scampering around their doggy mansions. Who knows WHAT could happen if the doggies weren’t adequately lit up? They might FALL down the doggy staircase and land on the doggy wardrobe where all their doggy fashion items are no doubt stored. That would be a doggy tragedy. Was a little worried about the lack of handbag parking outside though.

But mostly, she annoys me because she seems to want to be creating her own catchphrases. Every single thing she says ends in “HUGE!” or “LOVES IT!”  She took photos of a flight she was on to Dubai, there was a little area with a mirror that had lights round it, and she posted “HUGE!”. I assume “HUGE!” is supposed to mean “WOW, I cannot believe how glamorous and fantabulous this item I am photographing is” – but when you are talking about a small seating area in a transatlantic plane, then “HUGE!”” seems to be a bit of a misnomer.

What does entertain me more than slightly though, is that her namesake Perez Hilton, the celebrity blogger and right royal pain in the arse to the stars, (ahem) has taken to twittering her back and ending his replies with “OBESE!” 

I keep deliberating about unfollowing her, there really is NOTHING that she says that engages me whatsoever, but… I just can’t bring myself to do it. Can someone email me that picture of Zammo McGuire from Grange Hill when he had taken the Heroin overdose, or better yet, the youtube of the Kids from Grange Hill singing “Just Say No”.

 I thought I could handle it. But Hilton really screws you up.

Lorraine “Gawjus” Kelly

Posted in I'm More Annoying! with tags , , , , on June 16, 2009 by MrsMinxington
She's a gawjus greet sheep. Two of those words are spelt incorrectly and one's a lie.

She's a gawjus greet sheep. Two of those words are spelt incorrectly and one's a lie.

Oh where do you start?

Is there anyone that you can think of that you would not prefer to have gurning at you at 9am in the morning?  OK, maybe John McCririck in his underpants. And most of the people on the list so far. Ainsley, definitely.

If there’s one person guaranteed to put you off your Honey Nut Loops – it’s Lorraine. If she fawned any harder she would be mistaken for Bambi and shot by Prince Phillip one day when scampering past Buck Palace. She would be “GREEEEET” on kids TV, but as an adult presenter, even in the floaty-lighter-than-light entertainment section of GMTO (Good Morning, Turn Over), shes more irritating than a chronic vaginal yeast imbalance. (That’s thrush, GMTV viewers).

I can’t imagine she’s likely to be in line for any National Journalist of The Year Awards, unless we have a particularly slow news year and the most cutting edge thing that happens is the price of lip-gloss exceeding the current rate of inflation, or batwing jumpers making a come-back.

Everything is “Gawjus”, even if its a potato sack. It makes a change from a few years back, when everything was “GREEEET!” I remember her interviewing Paula Radcliffe (way before the turd on the kerb incident) and telling her REPEATEDLY that she was in “Greet Sheep”. GREET SHEEP? WHATNOW?

Took me about 10 minutes to work out that she actually meant “great shape”. Well of course she’s in great shape you patronising mare, shes a marathon runner, you can’t run 26 miles and 385 yards if you weigh 30 stone and live on chocolate éclairs and doughnuts. Well, you can, but it’s more commonly known as waddling and would take about a month to complete.

Can anyone confirm or deny the rumour I just made up that she has invisible string attached to the edges of her mouth that is tightened each morning and tied behind the back of her head to keep that gigantic cheesy grin in place? I’m sure that’s what gives her the extra definition on her cheekbones too. And her perfect skin is no doubt the result of all that endless anal burrowing she indulges in when she gets an actual real life celebrity on to her overstuffed face couch.

 And just to add insult to injury, she immediately precedes Jeremy Kyle. If that’s not a good reason to put the radio on first thing in the morning, I don’t know what is. Bring Back the Big Breakfast, all is forgiven.

Piers Morgan

Posted in I'm More Annoying! with tags , , , , , , , , on June 15, 2009 by MrsMinxington

So, my brother gave me a list of people I should put on the list. I hate it when he bosses me about. He’s younger than me and it simply doesn’t fit in the natural scheme of things for him to tell me what to do. But, he was IMO reasonably annoying, (Morgan, not my brother) and so I had him down on the list of “to-do” for future blog moments of “oh WHOOOO shall I dooooo today? I’m simply not irritated enough.”

But then TODAY, this monstrosity of a publicity picture came to my attention. It appears to be a Burger King advert, and I can only recommend that EVERYONE boycott Burger King PERMANENTLY, for thinking this was in any way shape or form amusing. It’s REPELLENT.

Be warned, before you scroll down, that your eyes may suffer permanent damage as a result of viewing this image. If they do, I can only apologise and ask you to contact one of those Lawyers -4 -Us type companies who will laugh in your face and eat your compensation in the form of a three course lunch at Wetherspoons.

“I went on a website with my eyes and really shouldn’t have been there.” Too bad, suckers. You were warned. Does anyone have Jeremy Clarksons phone number? I want to call him and see if he takes on contract work as a sideline. He gave him three punches for free, how many could I get him to give Morgan for actual cash? That said, I don’t have any actual cash, so a whipround would be in order. Cheques Payable to the “I wish to get Piers Morgan Beaten By Jeremy Clarkson Coz I Believe He Can Pack A Right Punch Fund” c/o Minxington Towers.

Britain MAY have Talent. But THIS, is not it. Gather your paper bags ladies and gentlemen, and make them sturdy. You’ll be needing them.


















Christ. On. A. Bike.

Christ. On. A. Bike.

Satan. On. A. Scooter.

Satan. On. A. Scooter. Which is the real one? Answers on the back of a stuck down envelope, pref not stuck down with vom chunks.