A plea to all French expats in the UK

Stop calling yourselves “Les Frenchies” all the time. Just stop it. Please.

This magazine in particular is a nightmare:

It’s Frenchies this and Frenchies that throughout. Just look at the cover! (I see they’ve now discovered ‘Froggies’ too, oh dear). Makes the whole thing look like some silly school mag, when it’s actually a interesting resource for expats. Pity.

Expat blogs also tend to be called something like “Une Frenchy in London” or “Two Frenchies à Londres”. I’m not sure why they all seem to believe it’s cute and funny; let’s face it, being French in London is hardly a novelty these days.

Maybe ‘Français’ is just too hard to type on a qwerty keyboard…

Another “I’m surrounded by idiots” moment

I’m currently reading The girl with the dragon tattoo – three years after the rest of the English-speaking world, I know. For me, that’s cutting edge.

It’s pretty good so far. Well, the actual printed text is pretty good. I wish I could say the same of the pencilled note left in the margin of page 210 by a previous library user:

Love that full stop after the 'I'. Assertive or what?

So, our unknown pedant appears to have a problem with “older than Anita and me”. Let’s see. The usual rule when dealing with a …and I or …and me situation is to remove the bit immediately before I or me. Then you know which is correct.

In this case, older than I happens to be more grammatically correct… if you wish to sound like Stephen Fry in full Jeeves mode, that is. Since the character isn’t an Oxford don, this is an informal conversation and there is more to the art of translation than being grammatically correct at all times, I’m firmly in the translator’s camp on this one.

Plus, anyone who writes in a library book – for whatever reason – is a vandal and a cretin.

The Facebook of Common Prayer

A Christian charity has been dropped by AdviceUK for offering to pray for people in debt. Just how behind the times are these Christian people? You don’t pray for causes anymore, you just ask everyone to post a status update on Facebook. It’s so much more public, and with none of that embarrassing religious connotation. LIC is the future!

Speaking of which, I saw my very first “I am 6 weeks and craving Twizzlers” status today. Sigh.

Oh no. It gets worse.

The ‘raising awareness by posting a stupid Facebook status’ monster rears its ugly head again, and by an interesting (if predictable) gravity-fed compensating mechanism this is causing my heart to sink.

I just came across this scintillating piece of literature:

Following our last Facebook trend alert “why are women putting inches in their status?” [explanation: you needed to write your shoe size – just the number- followed by the word ‘inches’ and how long it takes to do your hair… har har], we’re bringing you another one. With October aka Breast Cancer Awareness Month right around the corner the ladies of Facebook have decided on a new game to play with male minds. The newest Facebook trend is weeks and cravings.

You may see women posting something like, “I’m 4 weeks and craving skittles” or “I’m 13 weeks and craving gummy worms”. Why are women posting weeks in their Facebook status? And why are women posting something that sounds like they’re pregnant on Facebook? Here’s the email I received about the game:

Ok pretty ladies, it’s that time of year again, in support of breast cancer awareness!! So we all remember last years game of writing your bra color as your status?…..or the way we like to have our handbag handy? Remember last year so many people took part that it made national news and, the constant updating of status reminded everyone why we’re doing this and helped raise awareness!! Do NOT tell any males what the status’ mean, keep them guessing!! And please copy and paste (in a message )this to all your female friends to see if we can make a bigger fuss this year than last year!!! I did my part… now YOUR turn ! Go on ladies…and let’s have all the males guessing! .. It’s time to confuse the men again (not that its really that hard to do 🙂 ) Everyone knows it makes their brains work wonders on what we’re talking about!!

The idea is to choose the month you were born and the day you were born. Pass this on to the girls only and lets see how far it reaches around. The last one about the bra went round all over the world. So you’ll write… I’m (your birth month) weeks and I’m craving (your birth date)!!! as your status. Example: Feb 14th is: I’m 2 weeks and craving Chocolate mints!!

Months

January – 1 week

Febuary – 2 weeks

March – 3 weeks

April – 4 weeks

May – 6 weeks

June – 8 weeks

July – 10 weeks

August – 12 weeks

September – 13 weeks

October – 14 weeks

November – 16 weeks

December – 18 weeks

Days of the month:

1 – Skittles

2 – Starburst

3 – Kit-Kat

4 – M&M’s

5 – Galaxy

6 – Crunchie

7 – Dairy Milk

8 – Lollipop

9 – Peanut Butter Cups

10 – Meat Balls

11 – Twizzlers

12 – Bubble Gum

13 – Hershey’s Kisses

14 – Chocolate Mints

15 – Twix

16 – Resse’s Fastbreak

17 – Fudge

18 – Cherry Jello

19 – Milkyway

20 – Pickels

21 – Creme Eggs

22 – Skittles

23 – Gummy Bears

24 – Gummy Worms

25 – Strawberry Pop Tarts

26 – Starburst

27 – Mini Eggs

28 – Kit – Kat Chunkie

29 – Double Chocolate Chip Chrunchy Cookies

30 – Smarties

31 – Chocolate Cake

So this is an unfunny private joke having nothing whatsoever to do with breast cancer in the first place and which is shared only by those who received the email, who are then banned from telling men what the ‘joke’ is actually about.

Where exactly does the ‘raising awareness’ bit fit in again? And what’s with the random misandry? Men can and do get breast cancer too, you clueless, immature bints! Not to mention the sheer devastation of seeing your partner suffer from it (or worse). But no, let’s pretend we’re twelve and just exclude the boys from our little games because it makes us feel so cool.

Today rocks, tomorrow breast implants

Internet cliques and playground behaviour in adults who should know better. Yuk.

Stop LICing my arse

LIC: Lazy Internet Caring. I just made it up as a response to those stupid things people post on Facebook to ‘raise awareness’ (argh) of various issues without actually doing anything to help:

“All of us have a thousand wishes. To be thinner, have more money, a new phone…..A cancer patient only has one wish, to kick cancer’s ass. I know that 97% of you won’t post this as your status, but my friends will be the 3% that do. In honor of someone who died, or is FIGHTING cancer, post this for at least one hour. ♥”

“Your car is Japanese. Your Vodka is Russian. Your pizza is Italian. Your kebab is Turkish. Your democracy is Greek. Your coffee is Brazilian. Your movies are American. Your tea is Tamil. Your shirt is Indian. Your oil is Saudi Arabian. Your electronics are Chinese. Your numbers Arabic, your letters Latin. And you complain that your neighbour is an immigrant? Pull yourself together! Copy if you’re against racism.”

“MAY I ASK MY FACEBOOK FRIENDS, WHEREVER YOU MAY BE , TO KINDLY, COPY, PASTE & SHARE THIS STATUS FOR 1 H0UR TO SUPPORT ALL THOSE WHO HAVE HEALTH PROBLEMS, WHO ARE STRUGGLING , AND JUST NEED TO KNOW THAT SOMEONE CARES. Do it for all of us , unfortunately no one is immune. I hope to see this on the wall of all my friends ! JUST FOR MORAL SUPPORT!!! I KNOW SOME WILL . THANK YOU”

What. Is. The. Point.

There’s not even a link, or an appeal to donate/volunteer, or (in my dreams) a mention of what campaigns the poster actually joined before they decided to lecture all their friends. How is posting some stupid text for an hour going to help people who are struggling with health problems or racism? It’s moronic.

It reminds me of what happens when something bad happens to you in public (falling down an escalator, being knocked off your bike by a pedestrian who didn’t look before crossing the road, etc). Everyone usually stands and stares, nobody comes anywhere near you but one brave soul might ask from a distance “Are you OK?” in a simpering voice. No, I’m not, you twat and merely asking isn’t suddenly going to turn you into Florence Nightingale either. Keep your fake concern to yourself, you’re only making it worse by raising my blood pressure.

A smear on my reputation

I really, really dislike being almost bullied into having a smear test every time I come anywhere near an NHS health professional.

For a start, I find everything to do with sexual health sexist and unequal: only today, when I filled the form to register with my new GP, there was a section entitled “If You’re Female” containing all sorts of personal questions I might not necessarily want a receptionist to see, like

Have you ever had a miscarriage?
Have you ever had a termination?
What contraception do you use?
When was your last smear test? (Bingo! Didn’t take long, did it?)

All this stuff is (or should be) confidential medical information which should remain between me and the doctor or nurse, not on a form that could be lying on the reception desk for hours. Funnily enough, the form contained no “If You’re Male” section asking questions such as

Have you ever experienced erectile dysfunction?
Have you ever had trouble urinating due to prostate problems?
When was the last time you examined your testicles?
Etc, etc.

Not long after I registered with the surgery at my old address – a surgery I avoided as much as possible after my first visit, due to the incredibly dopey middle-aged Indian reception staff who’d routinely ask me to spell my (very normal) surname five times in a row and would still get it wrong, not to mention the verbally abusive doctor because I dared to go to a private specialist! – the nurse suddenly asked me (I was there for a totally unrelated matter) “When was your last smear test?”

Now, I’d never been registered with a GP before and didn’t even know these things were supposed to happen on a regular basis. So I said “Er… never…” “Why not?” she replied in a tone that implied she couldn’t believe anyone could be so stupid. I said “I dunno” since no one had ever mentioned smear tests to me before. “Well, you need to have one” she said firmly. I didn’t like the sound of that and said I’d think about it. Cue much eye-rolling, but at least I managed to escape without having to make an appointment.

I then looked up the whole sorry business on the internet, and concluded that I really wasn’t at high risk of contracting cervical cancer (thanks to the kind of almost monastic lifestyle no twenty-first century UK resident ought to be getting away with ) and might as well subject myself to monthly lung cancer or liver cirrhosis screening, for all the good it would do me.

For the next few years I was regularly bombarded with letters from the surgery offering me smear test after smear test. I ignored them all even though they became increasingly frantic and hysterical, until I finally received the Holy Grail: an opt-out form where I agreed to remove myself from the screening programme and promise not to go crying to them if I ever got cancer, sign here.

Free at last! Well, only until I moved and had to register with another surgery. I have the preliminary appointment with the nurse on Thursday and am mentally psyching myself up for another battle of wills.

Sigh.

I realise this may sound like cutting off your nose to spite your face (“it won’t hurt you to have it done”, etc) but I have one remark to make and one question to ask.

Remark: These tests are not very reliable. I read that one test in ten has to be retaken as the results were inconclusive or (much worse) a false positive. One in ten! Thanks but no thanks, I’d rather take my chances.

Question:
Since cervical cancer is caused by the HPV virus and said virus is spread by sexual contact, why are all those programmes aimed only at women? Why should I, who have only ever had one sexual partner, go through this unpleasant experience every three years (every five years from the age of fifty) for the rest of my life, when it would be so much easier to test my boyfriend so we know once and for all whether or not he’s carrying the little buggers? Why is the newly-invented HPV vaccine being thrown at all teenage girls, even the ones who aren’t sexually active “just in case”, whereas boys are totally forgotten even though they’ll certainly be doing their bit to spread the virus too!

I don’t know the answer to this but I suspect it is “Because there’s no test or vaccine aimed at men”. Well why not? Aren’t they concerned too? Just because they don’t have a cervix doesn’t mean they should get away with passing on nasties willy-nilly. Imagine not testing the women in families with a history of haemophilia because they don’t personally suffer from it… Unthinkable, isn’t it?

Update: the nurse at my new surgery totally took no for an answer! I was stunned!

Who’s the vermin here?

Fox cub gets his head jammed in glass bottle

After a 2-week camping holiday in pristine Germany it is all the more maddening to come back to the UK AKA the Giant Dustbin. This fox was very lucky but how many animals have to endure a slow and miserable death after an encounter with human-made rubbish? It doesn’t bear thinking about. The lazy, thoughtless bastards who litter should be made to eat whatever it is they discarded. I will gladly volunteer to help with the swallowing (a clothes peg on the nose should do the trick).

The Keep Britain Dirty campaign is in full swing

And I’m not just saying that because I recently found a used condom stuffed into my garden fence or because I regularly have to walk around our house and little car park picking up all the crap left behind after bin day (WTF do they do with our bin bags?) and smoking paraphernalia (butts, empty packets, lighters). No, litter has been a pet peeve of mine since childhood, when I systematically complained every time my mother threw a sweet wrapper out of the car window – and totally ignored me. And they go on about role models…