The dangers of snot

Snotty noseTo respond to Dewi’s comment on yesterday’s post: “Wrong”. And as a quick aside before I start, I’m impressed (or dismayed, perhaps disgusted) to realise that this is not the first post on this blog to be tagged with the word “snot”. Get in there.

Well, I did say I wanted to encourage my imagination and yesterday I had the chance to do so. In the best of circumstances, to whit: winding up a 6 year old. Always fun, especially when they believe everything you tell them. Sadly, on this occasion, I faced resistance but I ploughed on regardless much to the unease of those around me, I’m sure.

Let me set you a scene… small boy and father getting changed after going swimming. Small boy has a runny nose and the first thing to hand is a pair of underpants. I am thankful to say they were his underpants, and not Dad’s. Especially as his instinctive reaction was to wipe them across his nose and drag out a lovely, shiny, watery bogey which quickly soaked into the elasticated band.

“Ooh, you shouldn’t do that,” I warned, “You’ll give your bottom a cold.”

He stopped and looked at me, head cocked to one side as if trying to judge if I was telling him the truth or not. He quickly made up his mind. “No it won’t!”

“It will,” I insisted. “You know when you pump? That’s your bum sneezing.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Really, it is. You know how girls don’t use handkerchiefs like boys do? What do you think they use instead? Spare underwear. That’s why girls smell so bad. Mummy’s always pumping isn’t she?”

“Yes, but…”

“So there you go. Bottom cold. And you want to make sure you don’t get a really bad one, because then you’ll do really big bottom sneezes and it won’t be bogies that come out…”

At this point, I was getting some really strange looks from a family sat nearby and was getting concerned that we’d be banned from the pool. In the tradition of Sun reporters of your, I made my excuses and left.

Ensuring that my own undercrackers were nose-drip free.

P.S. I hope you all appreciate the fact that I spent ten minutes staring at pictures of dribbling noses before picking one (erm…) that suited this article.

Joys of Parenthood: number 73 in an ongoing series in no particular order

Trying to remove dangling, dried bogies from a baby’s nose while she sleeps is like real-life Operation. One slip of the fingers/tweezers and you risk waking her up. And believe me, that screaming is a whole lot scarier than a buzzer.

Selfish footballers

Nostrils by David Shankbone

We all know how tasty and satisfying a good sniff is. Or a lovely delve into the nostrils to howk out a sizeable bogey to chow down on as an aperitif. So it really annoys me that with all the starving in the world, the likes of Ronaldo (both of them), Rooney, Beckham – hell, even our own dear Shearer – can be guilty of a horrendous waste of snot.

Many is the time I’ve seen a professional football player snorting a nostril or two full of sticky nose-juice onto the ground during a game. I know they’re rich and I know they drive stupid cars and wear suits that cost more than I earned in a year. I know they can wipe their arses with gold credit cards and use a fresh condom every time they have sex. But to be seen on TV throwing good food on the ground when there are millions starving in the Third World is nothing short of a disgrace.

A campaign should be started to force them to blow it out into a bag. After the game, it could be shipped to a needy child in Ethiopia or the Sudan who can’t generate enough bogies of their own for a good snort. Think of the children! Please, will someone think of the children? And the bogies.

Zemanta Pixie

Byeeeee (again)

GMM 10th Anniversary Ticket
GMM 10th Anniversary Ticket

Well, folks, this is your lot for a few days. Tomorrow morning, I drive down to Dawn’s and we panic trying to figure out how to split no more than 30kg of camping equipment and strong alcohol between us (silly Ryanair luggage limits). Then, off to Belgium via Holland.

I’ll try to convince her that it’s important I get back in one piece. Mainly because I’ll be the one driving us home from the airport. I’ve been checking the insurance policy and it excludes “claims arising from any activity which requires a degree of skill or involves a greater risk”. Does this include moshing? If anyone asks, I fell down some stairs…

Coursework 1 is almost done. Work’s dead today, so I’ve been pulling together most of the stuff I have to do and, when it’s all in one place, it’s not that much. I’ll panic over the maths when I return.

Gym at 12:00, lunch straight after, head for site at 1:30 and – if I’m lucky – home a little early depending on how things go there. Holiday is so close!

Before any of you ask, no you can’t have a postcard. 1) I’ll be on a campsite. 2) the last time I was on hols and sent postcards, two out of the 18 I posted actually arrived. You can, however, sit in your offices and homes and wish you were there with me. That is allowed.

Clippings

Don’t you hate it when you’ve just clipped your fingernails, they’re all lovely and neat… and then you realise you can’t reach that huge crusty snotter right at the back of your nose? Your finger just seems to glide over the top, pushing it deeper and liquefying is so it either goes down the back way or mushes up and makes a mess of your hanky.

Just me, eh?

Leave them alone!!!

There’s a story on BBC News today about a former prostitute being stripped of her earnings. Now, don’t get me wrong – I’ve never used a prostitute, nor do I think I ever will.

However, why on earth can’t they do their job and be left in peace? This girl came over here as a kid, set herself up and bought a flat with nearly a £500,000 deposit. In cash. She went on to set up “escort” services employing at least 45 other women at one time. They reckon she’s got upwards of £1.2 million stashed away that they’re going to try and get back.

Now… why? My only quibble (assuming the girls themselves made a decent living and were safe) is that she might not have paid tax. Thing is, if she did they’d be asking where she got the money from.

Will someone explain why prostitution is such a difficult job to have? As far as I’m aware, being a prostitute in and of itself is not illegal. It’s a woman’s right to do what she wants with her body, and if a man (or another woman) wants to pay to make use of those services then so what?

The thing is, everything surrounding prostitution is illegal. Kerb crawling. Soliciting (i.e. advertising). Living off immoral earnings (so if you’re out of work and your partner earns a living on her back, you can’t live off them or you are in trouble). Running a brothel.

The last one’s ludicrous. A “brothel” is described as any premises where more than one prostitute works. Prostitution is not a safe job, and this stupid rule prevents “safety in numbers”.

When the hell will the UK wake up and realise that a legalised, taxed and certified prostitution business (like that in some continental countries) will reduce drug problems, STDs, violence towards women and have the added bonus of bringing in some income to the treasury and reducing the load on our police and courts?

Bollocks to it. I’m off somewhere foreign. If only for a few days.

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