Bitch on the Blog

February 21, 2011

The chattering classes

One of these days I will take Daphne by the hand and totter off with him – into the sunset… far far away from bloggers’ world.

I am battling my impulses, believe me: I do. Maybe Con will stoop so low as to carry my case. And, the Titanic leaving my harbour, GM will be good enough to serenade me to the tune: “May you sink”. Grannymar, your wish is my command: I am sinking faster than you can say “stop behaving like a three year old not yet in charge of your destiny”. I am sorry. I am not three, neither am I in charge of destiny, neither do I resist urge to stamp my feet every so often (in the dark).

What to say? As little as possible that’s what. A few hours into the day, going about my business, and accessing many a random blogwriters’ output glum has descended on me like a mushroom over Nagasaki. Whatever you may say,  BHB: Before Con set me on path of  Bitch on the Blog I was perfectly happy to just make a nuisance of myself, like your good self, in the comment boxes of other people. Now I am part of a village buried by avalanche.

What do I learn:

There is one thing not so good about me: I am so damn critical it’s ballast. I do NOT believe how much rubbish is out there. So what, some of you might say.  And you are right. So bloody what? But it gets (remember, Jean?) my goat. If I could find that gene in the back of my hypothalaMUSH that has made me thus I’d stamp on it and descend into similar oblivion as all those wannabe writers out there are already in. “Tragedy ….” Remember that song? Neither do I.

Why is there so much ambition in the world? If you want to write: WRITE. Don’t make yourself into the next bloody Tolstoy. Why not become Proust instead? You will stay in bed most your life, pampered by your mother and no one will finish reading your novel because it’s too long. I have to be careful now since there are things I could say which would make me an outcast – once more. But, as Con has so rightly observed, in his own obscure way: I toy with delight being an outcast. Let’s see the wordcount: 413


PS And leave adverbs to procreate amongst themselves rather than using them for your own purposes



  1. I’ll quickly warn Daphne!
    Perhaps I’ll do it hastily!

    Sorry to tease. No! I’m not. I absolutely enjoyed it!

    Comment by Magpie 11 — February 21, 2011 @ 17:36 | Reply

  2. I love my adverbs almost as much as I love my smiley faces. 🙂

    Which doesn’t mean you should stop your ranting. It reminds me of a poem about Columbus I learned in the 6th grade. The refrain was, “Sail on, sail on, sail on and on!” In your case I say “Rant on, rant on, rant on and on!” It keeps your circulation going. I myself prefer laughing. That works too.

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — February 21, 2011 @ 21:29 | Reply

    • Jean, there is something you fundamentally misunderstand about me.

      I rant, oh yes, I RANT if that is how it comes across the written page. I don’t call it ranting – but that’s my own affair. Yet, Jean, and this is an important distinction: RANTING doesn’t mean I am NOT laughing. I hazard a bet that I laugh far more than any of you do – at myself, at anyone. No joke. True.


      PS Adverbs need to be kept on a tight rein. So many people spoil perfectly(!) good copy by overindulging. Believe me, I know – just this once. 🙂

      Comment by Ursula — February 21, 2011 @ 21:49 | Reply

      • I’ve always assumed you enjoy the ranting. That’s why I say, “Rant on, rant on, rant on and on!” Of course another version might be, “Rant cheerfully on, rant cheerfully on, rant cheerfully on and on!” In this case I agree with you about the adverb. 🙂

        Comment by Cheerful Monk — February 21, 2011 @ 23:50 | Reply

  3. Is that the reason I write so hackily? I wondered!

    I agree there is a lot of crap out there, but perhaps some islands of sanity and quality can be preserved. It won’t always be windmills at which we tilt.

    Comment by Conrad — February 21, 2011 @ 23:24 | Reply

    • Con, I am in a blooming quandry now. Obviously I know what a hack is; and since both you and I are worryingly fond of ‘definitions’ I reached for the Shorter to look up ‘hackily’. Whatever you do: Don’t. You’ll immediately regret it.

      Two and a half columns on hacking; mostly occupied with agriculture and toiling the soil. Why is one made to read and write at tender age to add to torment later in life?

      Insert a pause and a sigh.

      I am very fond of Don Quixote, and his side kick. On Dulcinea the verdict is still out.


      Comment by Ursula — February 21, 2011 @ 23:47 | Reply

  4. We had a soft toy donkey called Hotey (or Xote)and a Fox called Talbot!

    As for ranting….you want to see real ranting go to the N.E. of England……

    Comment by Magpie 11 — February 22, 2011 @ 16:36 | Reply

    • That is so sweet, Magpie: Did you also have a rabbit, hardened to the deceiving ways of a tortoise?

      Dictionary (Oxford English) tells me that “to rant” originates from Dutch “ranten” which means to talk nonsense. The German relative to ‘rant’ and ‘ranten’ might be ‘randalieren’. No idea. However, ‘randalieren’ is most definitely making a noisy unruly nuisance of yourself. Not so much to do with thought processes eagerly expresses as with copiuous amounts of beer. Might earn you an ASBO in the UK.

      On reflection have just realised that the furthest North on the East side of the island I have been to is York, and there they do NOT rant; on the West side Lake District and Carlisle. Family connection father of son – though FOS grew up in refined Surrey to which he has now returned; thinly sliced cucumber sandwiches galore.

      One of my nieces and goddaughters went to Newcastle University. Don’t you just love it the way they pronounce Newcastle? I don’t think I could live with anyone from Newcastle not having shed the accent. Though would love to have a friend from Newcastle to drop in occasionally to keep me amused.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 22, 2011 @ 17:37 | Reply

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