It's been almost a year since I've written a blog post but now it's summer, so once again the internet will be subjected to someone's bollocks opinions shoved down its massive throat. But that's enough about Jeremy Clarkson.
Okay, so it turns out that the previous bad joke doesn't work in every context, but that's enough about Jeremy Clarkson.
So recently, while I was staying with some friends in Dorset, someone mentioned a not-very-recent pooh sticks weekend in the south of France. This was a weekend in which a large bunch of 'eccentric Englishmen' went to the south of France, drank champagne and dropped sticks off a bridge. I found the use of the word 'eccentric' interesting, as my idea of the word 'eccentric' is more that if someone were to have a brain scan and the results proved their brains to function totally normally, the doctor would be surprised.
Therefore, these people who hand around the South of France with twigs and expensive alcohol in custom made champagne flutes are not eccentric; they need a new word. With a new definition.
For these people are often perfectly sane, they are just something else: posh. So posh in fact, that they can do whatever they like. They don't need to show up for work in order to afford to pay their taxes. They can go abroad when they feel like it. They can drive at suicidal speeds because their cars can handle it,
As a result of this poshness comes a whole different mentality. A bored mentality. A mentality in which there are fewer worries, no financial aims, in which fun must be made and risks must be taken all the time.
There's a queue? Cut it. There's a no entry sign? Didn't see it. Tickets ran out? Bollocks they ran out; find one. Cheers.
In other words, they don't care. Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. They're just too posh to give a shit.
Actually, typing (Yes! On the ball!) of the fact that you are one of the... one people who read this blog, have you considered telling all you friends about it? Not in a grotesque marketing way, but in a You scratch my back, I scratch your back kind of way. It comes in the form of a handy tip – next time you find yourself in an awkward silence as you and a stranger wait for the mutual friend to return from the toilet, why not fill the silence with the following words?
Hey! Have you heard of Gaby Made Me Do It? No of course you haven't, I'm its only reader! [Cue laughter.] Anyway, you should so check it out. It's totes amaze [cue reentry of mutual friend].
If mutual toilet friend is taking a particularly long time, you may have to try
So, what are your views on euthanasia?
But let's hope it never comes to that.
Well that's about all I have to say until next time, whenever that is. Remember, this blog is never dormant, just having a lie in. So, if I don't post until after next February, Happy Chinese New Year.