The Year Of Living Rantily Pt.V

Still trawling through the archives of my first year of blogging.

December, 2006 seemed to consist of depression, parties and Marxism in equal measure.
Here it is in pictures:

Neil and Dive, the two most miserable bastards in Norfolk

The tool of my trade

Partying for 50 years of the Cuban Revolution.
!Hasta La Victoria Siempre!

"If it ain't STIFF, it ain't worth a fuck!"

Better than sex

Space, £19.99

Next summer's fashion essential

Splendid moustaches

Dodgy

A Happy Christmas to all my readers

Several more people crash landed on the Small Glass Planet during December.
Some bounced off, but two made HUGE impact craters:
Hugs and kisses to the utterly wonderful Kate and Ame! Yaaay!

And at the end of December I made my resolutions for 2007. Let's see how those are doing, shall we?

- Be less of a miserable old bugger; Well considering how depressed I was when I wrote my Christmas Appeal (below), I'm as happy as Tickle-Me Elmo, so that's one down.

- Stop kicking children in supermarkets; I don't use supermarkets any more so that's another one ticked off. I still kick children though.

- Get a girlfriend (Hah!); Quite astonishingly, I have a wonderful girlfriend now and we've been together since since early February. Six months tonight. Happy anniversary, darling. A happy Dive is a scary proposition, is it not?

- Keep blogging; Sorry, but I'm still here.

- Keep getting 100 percent in my Japanese exams; I did! I did!

- Take up a new hobby; maybe macramé, caravanning or puffin-frottage. I've taken up kissing. It's great! Much better than I remembered.

- Eat a dolphin; Dammit! There had to be one I've not yet achieved. But hey, it's only August. And I've eaten whalemeat so that's a start.

So let's start the retrospective festivities with "Dive's Christmas Appeal".
Reading it again I honestly can't believe I was that depressed. What a miserable bastard!
Here it is in all its gory glory, including a singalong Smiths song:

"Around this time of year we are bombarded with Christmas appeals. There are so many groups who are in need and it's nice to give something so that someone will have a less shitty time of it at the peak of the suicide season. I like to slip my Big Issue guy a twenty pound note for the Christmas Issue, and my big 'pennies' jar (£170 odd this year) has gone toward Motor Neurone research, which also goes toward making me feel less shitty about myself. And there are lots of others …

This year, when you set aside a moment to consider those less fortunate, I'd like to remind you of a group who get left out year after year; snubbed and ignored, especially around the "party season" when everyone else is so happy.

So Dive's Christmas Appeal for 2006 is:
"Spare a thought for the ugly this Christmas".

I admit to a special interest here as I am a longstanding and fully paid up member of this group.
Take it from one who knows: Christmas is a fucking awful time to be ugly. I mean, I'm not hideous (well not very), but when I walk into a party and people turn to see who it is, I can feel a palpable flinch from all the unattached women in the room.

We ugs are the people who put the "N" in "hello" … We say "Hello" to a woman and her mind forms it automatically into "Hell No".

And even if one of us somehow makes it into a relationship, we get the feeling that we're as sexually attractive as yesterday's washing-up …
You know, you see it all piled up and stinky in the sink and you know somebody's got to do it, but … (shudder). No way! Not even with Marigolds on …

And mistletoe. Fuck all round that.

And stupid drunk office girls in Santa hats snogging everything that moves … everything but an ug, of course.

And stupid "feel good" Christmas crap fucking TV. Where are the ugs? Nowhere. Except for "fake ug", like Ugly Betty … Listen, you TV twats: putting a brace and glasses on a pretty girl does not make her ugly. Ug is Ug. If TV used real ugs, nobody would watch. Just like real life … Bastards!

And "the youth of today", pretty girls binge-drinking 'til they puke, then fucking in their own stink and leaving pools of chlamydia wherever they sit. But even semi-conscious from booze, they won't go near an ug.

And sicky-sicky married couples with their "lovely" kids. Do we ugs get to be attractive married couples? Do we bollocks! So don't invite us over at Christmas; seeing you so happy only makes us more fucking miserable when we get home alone to our dark empty houses.

And girlfriends who are 'friends who happen to be girls'. I've got girlfriends coming out of my fucking ears, but they'd all puke at the thought of dating me. (Ugs make girlfriends as easily as gay guys do; we're "safe" … Hah!).

And Christmas parties? Don't get me started … really … don't. There's no love in our ugly lives and no prospect of any, so Christmas really sucks huge ass. We ugs even have our own anthem. The lovely Mister Mozza wrote it for us; How Soon Is Now (sing along):

I am the son
And the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and the heir
Of nothing in particular

You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does

There's a club, if you'd like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you
So you go, and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home
And you cry
And you want to die

When you say it's gonna happen now,
Well, when exactly do you mean?
See I've already waited too long
And all my hope is gone

You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does

So, this is Dive's Christmas Appeal: Embittered, lonely, rejected, heartbroken and self-pityingly miserable as we are, please spare a thought for the ugly this Christmas. Grit your teeth, pucker up and kiss one of us. You can have some chocolate after to take the taste away. And you can enjoy your Christmas knowing you've done your good deed.

Sorry guys; I tried, but the Grinch is back with a vengeance."

Highlight of the month was "National Drunk Blogging Day", to be resurrected this weekend by Vic (good luck, mate).
My menu consisted:
One bottle of chardonnay
One bottle of Rioja
One bottle of malt whisky (Macallan)
One bottle of vodka
Four cans of Adnams Suffolk Stong Beer.

Fuck!

Other spiffy parts of December included my "year in music", "little Dive" looking almost as cute as Robyn, acres of Christmas misery, Iraqtile Dysfunction and much, much more.

It also saw the launch of the only good meme ever made, which included:

"14. You have been given the opportunity to create the half-hour TV show of your own design. What is it called and what’s the premise?

It's called "I'm A Celebrity, Beat The Crap Out Of Me" and stars every "celebrity" on the planet. They are brutally beaten and tortured for twenty minutes in front of a live audience, then put to death in amusing ways by cute Japanese girls in bikinis."

Why has this programme not been made? I can't understand it.

Favourite "Dive" moment from December, 2006:

"Fuck America! Let's Party!"

Best comments:

Robyn:
""Fuck America?" You wound me, Dive. If this quote comes back to haunt me, I swear..."
You certainly did, young Robyn!
"I do love the naked starfish buttocks"
"Those Christians, I hate em."
"Spurty and jelly minded"
"Porn cookbooks"

Rich:
"An Indian guy with a small penis"

Sassy:
"By the way, you are cute."
"Dive is cute, single, and fantastic."
"I think you should take up macramé."

Old Knudsen:
"You lot are so ghey, you should see the knockers I posted"
"I'd swear that ugly wee shite winked at me"

Lynn:
"Darling, they don't have any SMALL ones! Shall I get these instead?"
"Oooh! I badly need one of those contraptions"
"Did I just admit to knitting?"

Ame:
"Orgasmic!!!"

Dear Prudence:
"Seductively smooth, almost creamy"

Utsav:
"One can never have too many guitars."

Ms.Mac:
"Hee hee. Farts!"

The Lovely Betty:
"The last thrupenny bit sized scab fell out of my nose yesterday."

Peahen (ever reliable)
"Spurting, spraying and gushing."

Thank God that year's over.