8 reasons why dejected England fans should now be supporting Ghana with all their heart and flag.

1. I was supporting Ghana from the start, and I am wise. Follow in my ways.


2. They are the only country with a marked link to the UK left in the tournament: Former colony, LOVE the Queen. One might argue the British weren't always incredibly nice to the country in colonial times, so It'd be a nice peace offering, if a paltry one.

3. It would really suck if we lost our world cup spirit in wake of the Ger-turmoil. I'm not gonna lie, it bought a massive lump to my throat when I saw some Japanese guys crying at the end of the match, and kissing their England shirts goodbye (no, I dont get it either).

4.  Brits can learn a lot from their shameless self confidence. To quote Asamoah Gyan: "I asked God to make me the greatest striker in the world, and he did".


5. Celebration at a Ghanaian foot ball game is awesome. Celebration after a Ghana game is awesome. To quote Marcel Desailly (ITV Commentator from Ghana)
"I can imagine now, there will be dancing, beer, and singing, and there will be a goat just there *points* "

6.They are in the quarter finals, i.e still in the contest.


7. THEY KNOW THEIR NATIONAL ANTHEM!



8. Entertainment factor: Scraps, drama dives, praying on the pitch, yellow cards agogo, more gestures than P-diddy at a night club doing sign language. 



 seriously....wouldn't you rather look like this...






than like this?




(incidentally my fave pic that I have taken so far this summer)

I can only think of 2 reasons why life sucks right now....

.....so everything must be going swimmingly on average. However:

1)It's 3:28, and I'm sat up waiting for the police to come round on account of an attempted burglary at my dear abode about 15 minutes ago. The scary thing is I was due to move out tonight, and as my bedroom window was the port of call for their attempted entry, they might have just skulked in unnoticed.

2)Yesterday, after frolicking in the park and playing basketball, I got on the bus. Whenever I get on a bus, It is guaranteed that the drunk,disheveled, mentally unstable bloke will accost me. Today, It went something like this:

*Bloke sits next to me*
"F****in hell, your nails are disgusting!! I CLEAN mine."

I would like to point out that my nails are not THAT dirty, and it must have taken some fairly close inspection for him to observe the feint, bohemian traces of dirt under my fingernails, which were only there due to park-frolicking and basketball twirling.

Man.

Misfortunes: The International Years. Chapter 1: VIVE`BRASIL

Often in the process of working a 6 day week, I manage to find the time to daydream. Today, I found myself recounting previous travel mishaps, and wondering why I didn’t publicize them more. I know, everyone has funny, ‘This one time, in Africaaaaa, I like, drank water and it was SO not purified ’ stories.

Mine are more just a mockery of my general misfortune.

Chapter one: Vivé Brasil

I’ve always had a problem of needing to pee whilst on public transport. One time, in another very hot country, I almost didn’t go on a trip of a lifetime because I was so scared I’d pee myself on the 14 hour coach ride. Luckily there was one bathroom break on this occasion, and was sweating so much there was no need to pass water.

Ahem.

On the incident in question, I was traveling from Trancosco (a), to Caraíva (b), a coach trip of around 6 hours. Which, in somewhere the size of Brazil, is pretty much the equivalent of popping over the road to buy some toilet roll.

Not hard to not need the toilet on a journey of such relatively small proportions, or so one might think. We nearly missed the bus, (due to my obsession with ‘cheesebread’ and just HAVING-TO-GET-SOME-FOR-THE-JOURNEY), but after running along a dust track and some Portugues expletives (from the driver, not us) we boarded.

The problem with Cheesebread (bao de Quejo) is that

a) its addictive, probably on account of the salt

b) due to the salt content it cannot be consumed without liquid. Seriously, that stuff is powerful.

After 3 weeks in Amazon land, I had become a bit cocky and convinced myself my bladder had the super-powers of your average giraffe.

So alongside my cheesbread for the bus, I had purchased its very best liquid- friend, 2 cans of Cola tZero (no that’s not a mistype, portugues pronouncing).

My friend Josie fell asleep, and people came on and off the bus, and we went though what I can only assume was rainforest with INSANE hairpin bends… as the 'crow flies' the journey should have taken 25 mins.

Major crisis. After 2 hours, and 2 cans of Cola tZero, I unsurprisingly need the toilet. I try to compose myself, with thoughts such as

‘I am a strong, confident woman. My bladder does not control me.’

To no avail.

I considered asking the bus driver to stop so I could pee, but having upset him earlier I was afraid he would either drive off and leave me, or watch and laugh.

Time passed.

I had no strength left.

It had to be done.

The window was open….but there was no way I could bend that way/not be seen, plus, WHO does that?!

My friend was still asleep and the people behind/in front were occupied/asleep, with the exception of one guy who was definitely AAE (alive, alert, enthusiastic). Then, in an epic must-be-divine intervention, his stop came up, and he departed.

The plan? The plastic carrier bag that I had bought my cheesebread and Cola tZero in. Fortunately rural Brazil doesn’t seem to have cottoned on to the ‘putting holes in carrier bags so small children don’t suffocate’ extravaganza

So, without leaving my seat, waking my friend, drawing anyone’s attention, or, ahem, ‘spillage’, I did it..

I’m sorry Brazil. I love you and your people and your crazy long bus journeys sem banheiro.

Ich muss mein Pferd verkaufen

I always think ts polite, when calling a foreign country, to at least say "Good morning, Do you speak English please?' in the appropriate language. 

I work in a government travel agent, so am familiar with this phrase in many tongues.

If you are an English speaker, in the UK, and an incoming phonecall began like so:


 'Guten Morgen, Ich muss mein Pferd verkaufen'

 or even " Доброе утро, вы продаете сыром?" (that's Russian by the way, which i don't try to speak, as I cant read the pictures, but I do begin Russian-bound emails with "Доброе утро")

You'd be like.....


*nervous shuffle*
"....errrr, I don't think they're in the office today. or ever. please don't call back."


However one day I got a bit too big for my boots, and decided to expand from the above, to 'Hello, Please may I speak with reservations?' upon a call to Paris......
















He was Scottish.

And I'm pretty sure I translated 'Reservations' wrongly.

Most influential politcal Quotes.

"We can't possibly vote for the green party. their supporters have such untidy gardens"
: My Granny


"We wont tell you what to do" : Local UKIP manifesto.


"It does not appear that Nick Clegg likes the Labour Party" : The Times

"My love of hunting stags is eco-friendly,as it keeps the population at sustainable levels, venison is very tasty if it's properly hung" : UKIP leader Lord Pearson



                                                                    !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Third Leg...ey?

After seeing the above headline, and the picture of the nervous legs of Brown and Clegg (look closely)...


I could only assume this was the sequel to the televised debate:



PS: Any likeness between Cameron and a Vampire in this pic is purely accidental.

PPS: Yes, I could have made a very rude third leg joke. But I didn't. Respect n'stuff.

xxx

Poem for my blackberry

Dear Blackberry,

I like you.
Sometimes when you ring,
I ignore you.
Please don't take it personally;
I just know its probably an email from Frank Rumbunkasisi.
I don't know who he is,
but I'd like it if you could filter him out.
I find it disconcerting that you're made by a company called RIM,
But I'll let you off,
as you help look occupied in awkward situations,
and sometimes make me look professional,
at least that would be the case,
If I'd brushed my hair today.
Please try and make your battery last a bit longer.

The End.

PUBLIC TRANSPORT IS DANGEROUS

So, on Tuesday, I left my friends house about 10pm, and went to get the bus. At the bus stop i bumped into my friend Johnny, which was of course lovely, but was also really fortunate for me, for reasons below.
Johnny and I had a bit of banter about the Election, and then boarded the bus.

Until the on the near deserted bus, a woman threw herself on the floor, and started fitting, banging her head and trying to choke herself.

Jonny, authoritatively, instructed the bus to stop, the bus driver whips out his phone and calls an ambulance, or so we think.

Actually, he was calling the bus depot to let them know he was running late.













So, My blackberry got to call 999 for the first time in its life. I didn't actually make the call, Johnny did.

I can't deal with that kind of pressure. I dread to think how a 4 month old piece of plastic felt.



So Johnny spent 10 minutes trying to explain where we were (My thoughts.....For goodnesssake were a massive bus pulled over on a hill, its not that hard!) whilst I tried to pad the bars the woman was banging her head on and stop her trying to choke herself. She was really strong and I couldn't move her hand, so I just made sure she was still breathing, whilst trying to reassure her. I actually surprised myself, normally in those situations I'm a complete awkward idiot, but I imagine from a Birdseye view I could have been on a cool medical drama like House. Or maybe something more low-budget, like Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman.

So, then the ambulance mooches up, ambulance men walk on....

'Oh, hi Phyllis'
Apparently this woman throws fake fits all the time for attention.

It was quite scary seeing her be strapped down and wheeled off, and really really sad.

Cue *somber mood for rest of journey*
The thing I found most sad about it was how troubled one must be to let yourself be patronised like that.

On Wednesday I started using my bike, far safer. I think.

Is this a good idea?

So, because my blog doesn't have a particular theme, I end up rambling about my life and views on the world. Which may be entertaining for some, who knows.
But due to the fact I am not anonymous in the blogosphere, I feel as though I must severely edit what I write, because I may ruffle someones feathers.

I would never purposely insult ANYONE.

Maybe if I want to be honest I should keep it to a diary. But I do love to write, and get feedback.

Hm.

NB: This was written in relation to a post I have since deleted. Nothing  exsisting on here is THAT contaversial.

What do you DO?

This question haunts me for many reasons. Most of the below conversations are factual, the internal monologue that I have given other people are not, it just goes to emphasises my neurotic nature.

Circa 2008-..Me= age 20.

*conversation dries up*'so....are you a student?'
Me: "Yep, I study worldwide famine solutions (read: International development)"

'What year?'

Me: 'First year'

This then either results in said person saying....
a) "Oh, i would have thought you were older than a first year"
 (subsequently making me think 'DAMMIT! ARE YOU SAYING I CAN'T PASS FOR 18??)

b) "oh, right."
 (making me think WHAT THE HELL? THEY THINK I'M 18? AM I THAT IMMATURE?






Circa 2010.....Me age 21 3\4

"So....youre a student then?" (which subsequently makes me think....Why would you assume I'M A STUDENT? is it because I look like I don't shower. Because I do. So there.)

Me: "No...I...er...work ...er...part time in an art shop'

"Oh so you have kids then?" (because obcviously thats the only reason for part time working, nothing to do with the jobs vortex that surrounds Leeds.......
I look like Ive had kids? Is it my baby bump? because that's the product of too much wine.)

Me: "er, No"

"But youre married, right?" (******* IMPORTANT NOTE ...most Christians believe in, aside from the bible, the doctrine that you must marry once you are no longer a student.)


Me: "er, No...I was engaged but not anymore"

*AWKWARD SILENCE* (In which i laugh heartily in my head for purposely making the other person feel guilty.




How to bring my age related complex into balance? Slather on the anti-wrinkle cream, pour vodka on my cornflakes...but also get myself a subscription to The Peoples Friend and a bag of werthers original for a dose of maturity.

Google fail.

"We found no matches for "mke poverty histry" . Below are results for "mike" "

BEEE PREPAREEEEEED

It's basically the same picture.

I heart everyone

A hotbed topic, according to the Daily Star*
Immigration. Whats the big deal? The daily star says 'THIS COUNTRY IS FULL' (In bold lettering, crap, they must mean business)


Seriously. Go for a drive in the country.Not only will it do you good to get away from drinking Stella and wishing you were Peter Andre, but you will realise that there's plenty of space!

Now, obviously, I'm not saying it'd be good for the whole of England to become some kind of battery farm.
Actually, I plan on emigrating as soon as I'm qualified to do anything so I don't care.

But, when considering that, apparently, the non English speaking world considers the English to be pill popping, obese weirdos with an unhealthy obsession with our ex- prime minister (please see previous post, or click here ), i think we should take it as a compliment, that a few, educated, probably more attractive than us, enterprising people take it upon themselves to get to England by any means possible.

The length some people go to to get here is heartbreaking, and the fact that some people get kicked out is also heartbreaking. I'm sure I don't need to comment on the dodgy boats, drug smuggling, trading in your life savings and goat farms that people are prepared to go through. I think the effort deserves a reward.

My boss thinks that it should become like a game show....'Overcome Sharks, hurricanes, malnutrition, scurvy and CUSTOMS...and win a lifetimes supply of ENGLAND!!!!!!

Ill leave you to decide whether that's funny or immoral.

I should probably point out that all my best friends are foreign, and probably wouldn't have been able to live in England if the daily star had had their way.