Bitch on the Blog

August 15, 2018

No Echo

This minute I am upset. What better shoulder to throw myself on than that of the collective blogging community?

Before you read on please do remember: I have the patience of a saint. I do bear with call center  staff, making allowances for the shit jobs they do, realizing that they are only mouthpieces of company policies.

But there are limits. And my limit was (nearly) exhausted.

Call center staff have their scripts. I appreciate that. Neither are they nor I robots. How many times do you actually have to plead with them to not read you the same shite again and again. Reminding them of what we covered yesterday and today, and then some. Suggesting a way forward. No, no. Not at all. Let’s go back over the past. I nearly lost it. Which is not my style. In the end I asked to end the conversation as it was going nowhere, resume same conversation later today when I’ll have regained my composure and, maybe, they will have taken time to think (outside their box).

There is something so dehumanizing, impersonal, about the world we now live in it has power to condense me into despair.



January 29, 2012


Filed under: Despair — bitchontheblog @ 19:05
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As the casting director of my life’s drama, this minute I am lying prostrate on my own couch. Sweethearts, loosen my corset, pass me some smelling salts, and a script.

In the wake of rich Nick pickings, and truly generous replies from the rest of you on my beef with censorship,  my fields are now lying bracken. Maybe Captain Tom could get his Wuenschelrute out and find me a fecund source of oil. As an aside: That’s the trouble with script writing: One moment you dream of riding on a hand granade, the next, with a mind of its own, the dialogue becomes all slippery. Was it Eddie Fisher who let his hand hang out of a gondola only to find himself that which Venice’s waterways were full of?

I rarely visit my blog’s dashboard since I don’t need statistics to sustain my happyness. However, whilst contemplating how best to deal with mounting back blog, I idled over there and what do I find under today’s four Top Searches: “Men with heaving bollocks”. No bull. Am resolved that, from now on, I will venture over to dashboard at short intervals. It’ll stop me mid stream, if not mid scream.

Whilst my inner Drama Queen is trying to regain some sort of exposure to the natural world, I have gone all Bambi when he first meets Feline. Bashful. My tongue is tied. Why not write my acceptance speech, as to your  “praise” heaped on me, first? Rough draft.

Ignoring the trophe handed to me I shall thank my mother for not having aborted me. I will thank Phil and consorts for many things as yet to be detailed, and now Angola lusts after me. The Goth giving me a leg up. My reputation upheld, my wit shot to bits, caustic and all other acid supplies running low, my well in need of refilling, my status as head of mind nunnery in jeopardy.

In Magnus Magnussum’s spirit I have started, not that that”ll finish me. Where there is fire there will be ashes to rise out of.

Talking of which, and to give the star of this week’s show first billing, never trust a man who will not only drop commentators but litter. I am outraged. Pet hate, John Gray? Make that my Hound of Baskerville:

Nick, I ask you: You, the always upright citizen, dropping litter because there are NO recepticles about and you can’t be arsed to take your garbage back home? Let me ask you a question: Who, the fuck, do you think is going to clear up after you? And if you are going to tell me that that is what you pay council tax for I’ll never talk to you again. Come on. I dare you.


February 6, 2011

That Woman – Take One

Synopsis: That Woman – CONsorted trials and tribulations of a sound box in urgent need of rewiring

Location: A  make shift court in a forest, preferably one with a clearing to receive echo (Note to sound technician: Echoes will never bounce back intact- so do allow for errors and omissions).

Props: A rope

In the dock: That Woman

Defence for the defendant: None

Witnesses for the defendant: Currently auditioning

Prosecution: Con and GM

Witnesses for the prosecution: GM and Con

Surprise witness for the proscecution: Barath whose testimony is hoped to squash That Woman faster and more efficiently than you can say balls

Gallery: Ashok. It’s his day off and he is hoping to learn something from proceedings dating back to the dark ages

Traffic warden: Looney

Jury: Outstanding

Stylist: Nick

Court Jester: BHB

On stand-good bye with get away car: Magpie

Administering last rights: Ramana

Understudy: Jean

gaelikaa: Bum job – court reporter (keep it short)

Cameo Appearance: Count of Monte Cristo

Other roles: Minor

Note to production assistant: Make sure Con and GM get full credits for original idea (Source: Fag end of R’s Walker comments)

Back to your trailers.


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