Tuesday, 12 August 2014

Oh Robin :(

I’ve come out of blogging retirement for one day only, just because I feel like I have to write this all down and get it out somewhere.
There aren’t many things that happen now days that make me feel like I just need to talk and talk and talk, or write and write and write.  There are bad things going on in the world, things that I feel strongly about and things that I don’t, but sometimes it’s hard to convey into words how something makes you feel.  Alas, there are certain times where the thoughts I have on a certain subject are so strong, I’m so sure of, that they are bubbling away inside me and I feel like if I don’t extract them from my head and put them into words onto a paper or a screen it’ll drive me mad.  So this is what I am doing, and this post is purely for my own benefit.
I woke up this morning to the news that Robin Williams had died.  I am ashamed to say that before this morning, I probably hadn’t thought about Robin for a longer than a few seconds at most, for years.  It’s always hindsight that makes you wish you had watched his films and laughed at his stand up and in a way felt more connected to him at the time when something like this happens.  It might sound like I am being dramatic, but Robin Williams was literally one of my childhood heroes and I didn’t realise how much of a loss I would feel  for someone I didn’t know personally. 
I grew up with his films, watching Ms Doubtfire continuously, LOVING the bit where he smushes his face into the cake so it looks like he’s wearing a face mask and secretly thinking it looked nice when the cream dropped into the coffee and wanting to eat the entire thing.  I LOVED Hook, undoubtedly one of the all time greatest childhood films.  I remember watching Jack the most, over and over again and even though I was young when it came out, the quality of his acting meant that I would sit there with tears in my eyes when Jack delivered his valedictorian speech, about how life is short and that you have to ‘make your life spectacular’.  How correct he was, and it’s a testament to him that he can touch a 10 year old in that way, move them to tears, when normally the deep and meaningful aspects of films like that normally go over the child viewers head.
I think the circumstances of Robin’s death are particularly hard to take.  Long battle with alcohol abuse and a history of severe depression.  It’s unfathomable to me that someone that spent his life bringing such joy and happiness to others, someone so mad and full of laughter was unable to see it for himself.  You could tell that Robin Williams was as wacky and zany in real life as he was in his films, and it’s wonderful to read all the stories that people are coming out with today about meeting him in real life and the funny things he did.  There’s also a thousand stories about how kind he was, a ‘normal down to earth’ person described by his neighbours, someone who desperately wanted to make other people happy but just couldn’t make himself happy.
Part of me wishes that something had set this all off a week ago, something happy had caused us all to share our mutual love of Robin Williams on twitter, talk about all his amazing films, share personal experiences of him, photos, things that he did and will continue to do through his films that will continue to have us laughing for the rest of our lives.  He wasn’t just a comedian, he was a joy to watch and every kid’s dream grown up.  I remember watching him in films and wishing he was friends with my parents or something, just because it would be fascinating to watch and interact with him in real life.  The thought of him dying alone and desperately sad in his house is heart breaking.  I wish he could have seen the entire world discussing how much he was loved, like we’re doing today.  Maybe it would have been different.
I truly feel like we're all suffering a loss today, so my thoughts go out to the family and friends who really knew him.  For just his admirers and fans it's a kick in the gut, so the pain they must be going through, I can't bear thinking about.
The world is a worse place today.
RIP Genie.  You’re free.
"but only in their dreams can men be truly free.. it was always thus and always thus will be"

Monday, 20 January 2014

Scaredy Morsh

Following on from my blog post of last week regarding having strange random impulses to drive into oncoming traffic and throw myself in front of trains, I have another topic of discussion that has been interesting me of late... readers, let’s get weird.

Today’s topic is strange fears.  Everyone is scared of standard things; the dark, spiders, serial killers, having to watch Mrs Brown’s Boys... I want to know if any of you have any weird, totally unfounded fears.  I have 2 relatively normal and 1 random, as follows:

First up is Ornithophiba, the fear of the dirty rat winged bastards we all know as Pigeons.  I know that most people are a bit wary of them, but if I am walking down the street and there is one standing in front of me I have an internal dilemma that only ceases when I am as far away from the pigeon as humanly possible or the pigeon has taken pity on me and flown away.  Walking to work in the city I see a lot of pigeons and most of the time I manage to remain calm and just cross the street, like it’s some avian Mexican gang lord that is going to steal my purse if I go anywhere near it.  I don’t really know what it is I am wary of, perhaps it’s the fact that pigeons in Central London are FERRAL and literally do not give a shit.  Most pigeons or birds would fly away if you go near them, but the ones round here actually offer you out if you continue walking towards them.  The amount of times I have seen men striding purposely up to one, refusing to be bullied by the flying rats only to be attacked by a low flying pigeon at the last minute, resulting in the bloke looking like he’s shat himself whilst break dancing in the middle of the street.  They are dirty, intimidating and they must be eradicated.  DEATH TO ALL PIGEONS.


My other ‘irrational but unfounded’ fear is Coulrophobia, or the fear of clowns.  I think I can remember how this started and it was in Macro of all places – you know that giant warehouse shop that sold everything wholesale?  I remember they did bulk boxes of sherbet fountains which was literally the greatest thing ever.  Anyway, I was young enough for all of the clothes stands to be taller than me, so when I ran off on my own I couldn’t see over the top of them to find my parents.  This was initially a fun game as my parents couldn’t find me and it was like I was in a maze.  This all instantly stopped being fun when for SOME FUCKING REASON, Macro decided to employ a clown ON STILTS to walk around the shop and scare the living shite out of all the kids.  I remember seeing the clown,  instantly browning my pants and trying to run away but everywhere I went I could still see the bloody thing because it was so tall.  I ended up hiding behind a bulk box of crisps on a shelf in the food section, thus giving my parents a heart attack because they couldn’t find me for about 20 minutes.  Ergo, my fear of clowns was born.  


I decided to write about this subject because yesterday I encountered a clown at high speed.  I was innocently driving down the M25, sunglasses on, S Club 7 blaring when I glanced to my left and my blood ran cold.  Some masochistic pervert was DRESSED AS A CLOWN and driving along in the car next to  me.  I shouted fuck, dropped my cigarette on my lap and didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.  I did the only thing I could do and floored the gas pedal, panting and whimpering while his red wig thankfully disappeared further and further into the distance, but not before I had given birth to approximately 1 million cows.  He probably doesn’t know the horror he caused and was more than likely some kind old man who earns a living entertaining brave kids, but even so.  He could have easily been a psycho serial killing NUTJOB couldn’t he?  Yes, yes he could.

Look at this unhinged bastard

My last fear and probably the one that people understand the least is Globophobia, which translates to fear of balloons.  First things first, I don’t mind helium balloons because if some bellend decides to pop one in your face, it just deflates like Meg Ryan after the Oscar nominations are announced.  It’s the normal balloons, the ones that are full of peoples mouth breath and float around the place, antagonising you by throwing themselves into sharp bits of furniture and ‘accidentally’ landing on cutlery, and if popped, make you jump so much you attempt to punch your grandmother.  I think it’s the bang that I am fearful of, but worst than this is the anticipation of waiting for it to bang.  When you walk into a restaurant and you see a table full of idiots celebrating a birthday with extra long balloons tied to the back of their chairs, bouncing around precariously close to a hot light on the ceiling, I struggle to relax.  Appetite is lost, conversation is strained, and I spend 95% of the night looking around to stare at the balloon, just willing it to hurry up and pop so I can go back to my evening.  Balloons are forever banned on birthdays etc in my house and if anyone has one I cannot relax until they put it down.  I remember going with my sister to ‘baby sensory’ once when my niece was small.  The kids are all there, doing stupid shit like eating sponges and putting pegs up their nose when all of a sudden the lessons grand finale was announced and a shit load of balloons fall down from a folded up bed sheet and all the kids proceed to bite, lick, scratch, climb and sit on them.  I panicked like Lionel Blair had walked into the room in his gimp mask and had to run out and spend the rest of the lesson waiting in the car, imagining the next 10 minutes to sound like I was in narm while the kids all take it in turns to burst the stupid balloons in their faces and not even bat an eyelid.


Anyway, I can’t write anymore because talking about all these fears is putting my nerves on edge.  I am going to have an nice hot chocolate and a lie down and in the mean time I want you to tell me what your fears are please?  After enquiring on twitter i’ve had the following responses and because I am nice, I am going to tell you the scientific phobia name so you can sound intelligent like me when you are talking about the stupid shit you are afraid of:

Cotton wool (Bambakomallophobia)
Dying alone (thantophobia or thanatophobia is a fear of dying in general – specifically for Michelle you morbid freak!)
Tissue (closest is papyrophobia – fear of paper)
Escalators (Escalaphobia)
Scorpions  (arachnophobia)
Waxworks (automatonophobia)
Cucumber (closest is fear of vegetables, lachanophobia)
Stickers (Pittakionophobia)

To be honest I think I have a slight fear of escalators (getting worse as I am getting older weirdly), waxworks and standard things like scorpions, spiders etc.  I am a particular type of pussy though and am basically scared of most things in life – I’m surprised I even leave the house sometimes.  Anyway, if you would like to share please comment below, spread the world and let’s all huddle together in a warm cocoon of safety, while we shit eye the things that make us scared.  I’m here for you all.