Janey's Blogs - February 2007
Sunday the 4th
of February 2007
09:02:39 PM
Nottingham was
fun…
I love working away
at the weekends, this weekend was Nottingham. The club is fabulous and
the place is really cool. As usual the hotel had internet at £6000
a minute…ok that was an exaggeration, it was £15 but that
is still extortion as far as I am concerned.
The other downside of the hotel was that I clocked a look at myself
in the toilet mirror and saw a huge big fat woman staring back, so I
am on a diet AGAIN…yes again…I hear you say…well honestly
I am FAT.
I am at that stage
where I am not fat enough to be pointed at in the street- yet not thin
enough to wear jeans without feeling as though some medieval sexual
torture is being inflicted on me.
Nottingham has apparently a huge gun crime scene but I saw only lovely
people.
Although I did wake
up to the horrible news that bird flu is back in the UK…fucking
hell…I knew birds would kill me eventually, that’s what I
get for kicking pigeons in every UK high street.
I am finally home…it took ages as I stopped off in York. It is
absolutely beautiful in York and I was stunned at the wonderful architecture.
So amazing is York.
Husband and I pack
flasks of tea on our journeys and we do like those two old people at
the side of the road having tea sitting on deckchairs like loonies….but
we love it.
Oh and I did a pee
outside…yes we stopped in a lay-by and I pulled down my fat persons
trousers and peed…I was so desperate I had to. No one saw me but
a big horse that was standing in a field and I know it was disgusted,
but fucksake I had to go.
My daughter is horrified that I just wrote that…so deal with it…I
am off to eat less.
Monday the 5th of
February 2007
09:02:54 PM
Noisy Sex!
My daughter Ashley
and I were laughing as we were recalling the night in a hotel in Auckland
where we were staying when I was touring there last year.
We had a lovely
hotel suite and one night about 3am the room next door had banging noises
that soon woke us up and we immediately recognised the noises as SEX….we
giggled.
The sex got so noisy
and violent that plates fell from our kitchen shelf!
In the morning, as we left for breakfast we saw the room next door open…..we
stood and waited to see the sexy beasts emerge, expecting to see two
young fit healthy Kiwi’s, but what did come out of the room was
a pair of really OLD MEN!
Ashley and I pissed ourselves laughing…..the two old guys smiled
and shuffled towards the lifts.
I can’t even begin to imagine what they had been doing….I
just walked on and went for some coffee!
The same thing happened last week when we were in Nottingham in a Holiday
Inn.
Some incredibly
fit couple woke us up banging fuck out of the wall we shared with our
beds. We were separated with some cheap thin plaster and most of our
night was taken up with two people who had watched porn and thought
the best way to have a good time was to fucking scream their way through
sex….I thought a pigeon was being slammed off the walls!
Who are these people?
I don’t have the energy to shout and thrash that much during sex,
I am too old and fat!
Tuesday the 6th
of February 2007
09:31:19 PM
My daughter has
decided…
So Ashley has decided
that her dad and I are too old for sex. She told me yesterday “Mum
you and dad are middle aged and you should both give up having sex”.
I am stunned that
she has the choice over this, but to be honest she always did in a bizarre
way.
When she was a foetus she almost killed me in pregnancy, so therefore
sex stopped. When she was born she almost ended my life by taking 3
days to come out and I ended up getting 54 stitches in my poonanny…
so therefore sex stopped.
Then when she was
a toddler and very curious there was no amount of Vaseline on the door
handle to keep her out of our bedroom…so therefore sex stopped.
Then when she was
a teenager and kept banging about the house, we had no privacy…so
therefore sex stopped.
We were kind of
looking forward to her getting older so that when she left, we could
have sex on the sofa again…but she is still here and she has decided
that our sex life has to stop.
So there we have it….we wont stop, in fact we may start to do shouty
loud bangy sex just to annoy her. I think that will give her enough
psychological problems to keep her in therapy for a few years.
On another note, I was contacted through a website I was on the other
day.
A man messaged me
to tell me he and his wife (they were scarily ugly and very greasy looking)
like ‘cupples’ for sex. They live in Barnsley and have a semi
(I think that was a reference to his penis) and they like other cupples
to come over for dinner, music and sex. Videos of the event are optional
and can be ordered!
The thought of Chunky
chicken and chips, Phil Collins and greasy sex with Norma and Norris
made be heave.
You have to see this man to understand why I am horrified. Not only
does this odd freakish looking man have a wife (trust me he makes Quasimodo
look like George Clooney) together in the picture they make a fucking
frightening ‘cupple’ and I cant imagine anything more scary
than being stuck in a semi with those two!
Who are these people that think contacting strangers for illicit sexual
encounters is a good idea? Do they actually get takers?
I live a very sheltered life and if Ashley has her way it will be more
closeted.
Friday the 9th of
February 2007
02:39:41 PM
Baby Abi and
I…
My baby niece is
three years old and has a vivid imagination, in fact it scares me the
stuff she says. Yesterday she told me this story…read on.
Abi- “This story starts in a church; don’t worry as it’s
a zombie church. There is me, Grandpa, two meerkats and baby. The baby
is dead. The mummy was sad and took the dead baby home, she gave the
meerkats two strawberry jellies and then in the night the dead baby
woke up and ate the mummy's’ face!”
I sat there with Abi’s mum and we stared at each other in horror….dead
babies eating their mummies face? YUK!
Apparently Abi loves
Tim Burton stuff, no surprise then!
On another subject…
I am sitting here watching a TV show about teenagers who are addicted
to porn. I mean for fucksake who would let their teenagers go on TV
admitting an addiction to porn…he is now a target for perverts!
He is going to get to 30 years of age and shoot his parents in the head
for allowing him to go live on telly and talk about wanking himself
to death.
Guess what they did to cure him of his sexual wanking addiction? They
handed him over to the church! Yes…of course give him to a priest
to help with a sex problem! That will work eh?
Husband told me that when he was a teenager porn to him was flicking
to the women’s underwear pages of Kay’s Catalogue, he would
spend hours ogling women in their knickers and bras!
This hasn’t
stopped. Last week the brochure for Bravissimo Bras came through for
me; it is a bra company that makes amazing bras for big boobed women
and he sat there flicking through it saying “mmmm nice boobs!”
Took him back to
his teenage years!
Porn can’t be all bad or all good…depends on how you use it
in your life, I think every teenage boy and girl possibly go through
a stage of misusing porn…though I can’t imagine what misusing
porn actually is! I think everyone knows what porn is for; porn can
be a good world to get into…unless you are Anna Nichole Smith.
Saturday the 10th
of February 2007
08:42:12 PM
My Mammy…
I had a great time
last night at East Kilbride Arts Centre, it was amazing.
The show sold out!
Loads of people
who had come had already read my book and that totally stuns me that
people are still reading my autobiography. I am very humbled.
I started talking about my mum; those who know me know that she was
murdered in 1982.
When I was telling
a really funny story about her I actually started to cry a bit, not
terribly noticeable to be honest. I have the video clip here and its
very funny trust me I was just emotional slightly when I remembered
her face, and the audience can’t really tell.
I really miss her
sometimes. My daughter is reaching 21 years old and that was the age
I was when my mammy was killed.
I was so numb at
the time and actually pretended that my mammy was still alive. This
was a huge emotional mistake; I had to face my mammy’s death eventually.
I can’t imagine
leaving Ashley behind at that age, to me she is still a baby and we
are incredibly close.
I wish I had been
that close to my mammy, I often wonder how she felt when she was fighting
for her life that dark night she was thrown into the River Clyde.
I torture myself
wondering if she lay there in the dark injured and flailing till her
life slowly ebbed away. We will never know. The police never made much
of an effort to charge her killer. Peter was his name, he was her boyfriend
and had previously been charged with trying to kill her two years earlier.
She thought he would change if she was good to him.
I miss her…if you want you can view the clip on YouTube - My Mammy
clip
I am going to sit and watch TV with Ashley today, I love our Saturdays
when I am not out of Glasgow. We both lie on the sofa and click through
chart shows, films and our favourite TV shows.
I am lucky to still have this time with her and trust me I know that!
Monday the 12th
of February 2007
03:00:33 AM
Time….
I have realised that time is a currency and I have to spend mine wisely.
I seem to spend
half my time asleep, in a world of mismatched people and frightening
faces that remind of a time that made my soul feel dark.
Why do these dreams
haunt me so much?
I am spending too much time alone, refusing to go out. When I do venture
out for supplies it’s not a pretty sight.
I am not wearing a bra under my winter anorak, and I am no longer caring
that I am wearing trackie bottoms that I wear to bed as I shuffle along
to the shops. No make-up on, hair in a tangled ponytail.
I must look like those women who I remember looking at as I walking
to the shops years ago, letting themselves go….no longer caring
about their skin or hair.
I would mock them
to myself and think “Surely a bit of make up or a decent hair brush
would make all the difference, I will never let myself go”
I think I have.
I can’t be arsed doing anything right now, except getting onstage.
I am like a junkie waiting on my next hit…a crack whore waiting
on her next rock.
I will get dressed nice for a gig, then let myself go tatty till the
next time…
It’s all downhill from here….I fear.
Time is a currency and I am running on empty.
Monday the 12th
of February 2007
01:20:14 PM
My Latest Nightmare
The door opens a
tiny slit, the light slashing through. I am scared, yet unaware of what
is beyond the door. I am small again, maybe 6 years old. I know this
because I see my feet, tiny and dirty. I feel wet in my knickers and
I know I have peed myself again.
I hear footsteps
outside, I stare at the door, and my eyes seek every bit of light that
breaks the darkness. A small dark figure is dragged along the floor
beyond the door, it flashes past the crack that opened. I see the small
dark head, then shoulders, torso then legs being slid past the opening.
It looked dead….who
was that? What was pulling the dead toddler along the floor? What is
that smell?
I curl up tighter,
I try to make every organ and bone crush into a small package the way
I see adults crush milk cartons into a small ball. If I go small then
I will be invisible.
The door is banged
open, it slams off the wall. I see the legs of a man standing before
me. I don't raise my eyes; I don't want to see the rest of him. I know
who he is.
He bends over and
pulls me up with the hair; the pain sears through my scalp….yet
I can't scream…words are not coming out.
I see the knife glint as the light catches it….I feel it plunge
into my stomach. Acid feels as though it is seeping into my organs.
The blood spurts down my legs, the warmth of it is strangely comforting.
He plunges again
into my face this time. The pain in my jaw is incredible, I never knew
a pain could be so disabling, my face feels stiff and I can't move my
mouth. The knife has gone through my tongue.
It reminds me of
that pain when you crick your neck and your tongue goes crampy and numb,
but worse.
He drops me on the
floor. I lie there and feel blood, sticky all over me. I wait for the
pain to subside but it stays….a voice in my head reminds me that
it's a dream….come on Janey get up …wake up Janey it's a dream….embrace
the feeling, that's what the psychologist told me…embrace it and
face it…then it has no power.
The man laughs bends
down and puts his face right up to mine and says quietly “It's
a dream but you are staying here with me Janey, you can feel this cant
you?” he shoves his boot into my face. I feel the horrific bang
of bones crushing, white flashes in my eyes, I can't breathe as the
blood chokes me…I hear him laughing and I try to get out of the
dream.
I don't wake up…..
Saturday the 17th
of February 2007
05:02:06 PM
Yet Again I am late!
Sorry for being
so damn crap at the blog lately. Just to keep you updated, I am in London.
I flew here yesterday to do the radio thing.
The radio thing
happened this morning; it was BBC Radio 4 Fi Glover's "Saturday
Live"!
The show is awesome
but it did start at 9am, which meant I had to get up at 7am and get
ready for the cab.
Now I am staying
in Point West flats, they are situated behind the main houses in Cromwell
Road, now the problem there is…Point West claims to be ON Cromwell
Road but its not really…the people who made this building decided
that’s where it will be placed and the address will be Cromwell
Road …and taxi cabs can never find it. Despite being a huge building,
it’s hidden by the huge houses ON the Cromwell road. You can see
the problem here cant you?
So I had to call
the BBC driver and locate him, negotiate my way to HIM as he would have
needed to seen through brick like Superman to find me.
I do love the flat, it is beautiful…I mean stunningly beautiful
but even inside this huge block we have problems.
For a start if you
are on the 4th floor, you have to take the main lift to floor 3 then
walk right round the floor and take a single lift up to floor 4!
That’s not
too confusing is it? Except all the halls look identical, all the doors
are uniform and there are six banks of elevators and three sets of single
lifts!
It’s like Narnia
once you are in here. You can get lost for days.
Last night a young journalist came to the flat to interview me and got
lost inside the place until I had to go find him, the poor guy was running
round hopping on lift after lift and going up and down floors like a
hyperactive child. I had to give him tea to calm him down before the
interview.
My best mate Monica and I went out last night to Groucho, we ate some
chips, had a few drinks and went upstairs and played some snooker…well
I say snooker…I am too small to play it and the table was huge
so we just potted balls for a while.
That was until two guys arrived and we knew we couldn’t be that
crap in front of people…so we gave up. Being shit at snooker is
only something you can do without an audience.
Back to this morning…Oh, I located the taxi at 8am and made it
to broadcasting house in time. The radio show went great and Fi Glover
is a wonderfully funny host. I really loved the show.
Just thought I would
let you know…my videos on various websites including YouTube have
received some funny death threats…apparently you are not allowed
to take the piss out of Jade Goody or George Bush!
I don’t care…I love that attention…I mean it's not like
some Brazilian or crazy American is going to actually come over to the
UK to find me…especially if I hide in the flats at Point West…they
will take days to track me down and probably get lost in the process!
Monday the 19th
of February 2007
07:20:12 PM
No More Smoking
You wake up and
know you can do it
Your body twitches but you stay strong
Everything everyone says makes you grind your teeth
You gnash your back teeth till they hurt
Every cup of tea reminds you that something is missing
You are missing a fag
You sit down in the bar and you know you can do it
Your fingers itch and feel empty
Your drink tastes funny without a gulp of smoke
Everyone talks shite as you focus on your hands
People smile and congratulate you for avoiding cancer
You are missing a fag
I woke up today and smiled
I didn’t have to run to the cupboard to check my supply
I don’t have to spend £70 this week on inflammables
I missed the smell and my breath felt good
My husband can’t stop kissing my clean mouth
I am missing a fag!
And it’s great!
Tuesday the 20th
of February 2007
04:12:22 PM
Janey’s weird world…
I have had a really
sore tummy and slept last night with a hot water bottle. I woke up this
morning and stood on the cold wobbly-ness of the water bottle that had
fallen on the floor and screamed.
I was half asleep and it felt like standing on a dead toddler’s
cold belly beside my bed, and trust me with my nightmares that could
be possible.
I am into day 3 of no smoking and it feels good-ish.
I have stopped before for almost a year! Ashley has stopped also but
we both are actually ill; she has a throat and ear infection and I am
suffering the worst period pains and womb cramps since an Australian
midwife stuck two big metal spoons up my vag and pulled out a child.
So I am hoping we both feel better soon.
I met an old pal yesterday and she had stopped smoking two years but
she was so fat as she had gained three stones in weight…holy Fuck…I
hope I don’t swap fags for pies?
Wednesday the 21st
of February 2007
08:08:26 AM
It always happens on buses…
I sat on the bumpy
bus going to see my niece Ann Margaret today.
Everything was fine,
baby Abi was funny. She told me she killed her pet mouse because ‘She
standed on it’ then she told me her hamster died because it ‘had
a cold and embarrassment’ I knew that no rodent could die of shame,
so we concluded that ‘embarrassment’ was actually the word
for ‘Exhaustion’ in Abi’s wee head. Funny!
Late afternoon came and I jumped on the bus home.
As usual there was a crazy man behind me on the bus. I could hear him
practically breathe on my neck as he leaned close, then I heard him
whisper ‘Fuck you’.
At first I thought
he was on a mobile phone. Then I realised he was actually whispering
to me.
I looked across the bus aisle and there was a drunken man in big metal
crutches looking at the neck whisperer behind me. The bus was full of
fucking nutters.
I leaned round and faced the breather behind me and said “Did you
just say ‘fuck you’ into my ear a minute ago?”
The dark haired
shifty eyes man looked down and said “No”
The one thing nutters
hate is confrontation and I LOVE doing that.
I turned back round and immediately he leaned over and whispered again
“Fuck you”
This time I snapped round in my seat and said “Yes you did, you
just said it again”
The man in crutches across the aisle said “I saw him saying it
and he was near your neck”
The whispery man just dipped his head down. The man in crutches stood
up and shouted “I will stick this crutch up your arse if you don’t
stop annoying that woman you weird fucker”
At this the bus bumped, crutches man almost fell and the bus driver
shouted “What the fuck's going on back there?”
The driver wasn’t worried about trouble, I think he felt left out,
so I stood up and shouted “OK the man behind me keeps whispering
‘fuck you’ into my neck, he denied it when I asked him and
then this man with crutches saw him do it and he said he will stick
his crutch up that whispery man's arse” I sat back down having
been confident that my news bulletin reached the drivers satisfaction.
Then the whispery man leaned towards me and the crutches man leaned
over and whacked him on the leg with a thin metal crutch and screamed
“Don’t fucking whisper sweary words to that woman ya cunt”
“What’s happening now?” shouted the driver.
I stood up and shouted “Well the whispery man did try to do it
again and the man in crutches hit him with his metal crutch and everyone
back here is watching it” I sat back down.
Other passengers
on the bus tried hard to look way and pretend they weren’t part
of this ensemble. I love it when people get too embarrassed to deal
with a public situation….makes me giggle.
Crutches man growled
at the whispery man and they all sat and stared at each other as I kept
relaying the scene to the driver.
Then I got off at
the Underground station.
I don’t know
what happened next as crutches man and whispery man both got off and
went separate ways at the same bus stop as me.
The tube ride went without incident…that was sad!
Saturday the 24th
of February 2007
08:54:55 PM
Saturday in Glasgow…
Last night I was
dreaming that a huge tidal wave flooded my home and I was carried away
on a giant gulf of water. The dream was so scary and I woke up terrified,
then strangely when Ashley came into the living room she said “Mum
I dreamt a Tsunami came and drowned us” that freaked me out, we
both had the same dream. What does that mean? I don’t know.
Today I got ready and headed off to the Mitchell Theatre and did a talk
on my autobiography. I was onstage with Ian Pattison, the famous Scottish
writer; we were taking part in Aye Write – the Glasgow Writers
Festival.
It was lovely to see people come along and chat about the book, I read
some passages out and then they asked questions. I loved it.
I wish I had something more to tell you, but I have still kept off the
fags and am grumpy and I think I may be eating my weight in chocolate.
Tuesday the 27th
of February 2007
12:00:06 AM
Beggars and Thieves….
Sitting in the calmness
of a wee coffee shop sipping a latte is great for me, no smoking cravings
or anything, just me some coffee and a garibaldi biscuit.
That was until a
glossy dark haired woman in a fancy leather jacket came over to me holding
up a laminated card that said “I am from Romania, I am poor please
give me money to feed my kids”
She had a designer
handbag and smart heavy leather winter boots. I know this woman; she
is always in and out of a big BMW car that cruises up and down the West
End where I live. Then I recalled how I know her, she is part of the
gang of beggars that work the west end and have been photographed and
targeted as fraudsters.
She thrust the card under my nose again and looked at me with a nonchalant
glance.
I stood up and shouted at the coffee counter staff “Excuse me are
professional beggars supposed to be in here to annoy us” Remember
I have stopped smoking and am not easily negotiated at most times anyway.
The young waitress shook her head and pointed at the door.
At that moment a
woman in a bright red head scarf sitting behind me said loudly “That’s
awful, the woman is trying to feed her kids”
“Really?” I snapped “Outside is a BMW waiting to pick
her and the other two girls that go round the shops and pubs begging,
do you have a fucking BMW waiting on you outside?” I asked.
The Romanian woman butted in “It’s not a BMW it’s an
old Mercedes”
“And she can fucking speak English, so the laminated card is defunct”
I shouted.
The Romanian woman sneered and turned her back to me and carried on
going round the café.
“Well” said the posh red scarved woman “Maybe she is
forced to beg and the men are holding her hostage”
“Ok, you call the police then if you believe that” I shouted
and saw the Romanian woman give me the finger then leave the café.
The red scarf woman, two waitresses’s and myself rushed to the
window to see the Romanian woman get into a big blue Mercedes car and
speed off, I stood smugly and pointed at them saying
“My niece lives on a minimum wage, she doesn’t claim
benefits and for two days a week due to the low wages of her husband
she cannot afford gas to heat her water, if she came in here with two
wee Scottish babies and begged for gas money you would shout at her
to go get a job, yet a well dressed Romanian manages to get her car
repayments from a middle classed guilt ridden mung bean -salad - eating
Lefty, aint the world fucked up?”
The people in the café pretended I wasn’t there and they
all went back to drinking posh coffee as the Romanian Begging gang drove
up further into the West End where posh people feel guilty enough to
help fake beggars and poor Scottish people are scared to complain in
case it looks like racism.