My salad dressing days

Every day is like Sunday
January 13, 2008, 11:09 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Is anyone else missing Dolly Mixed-Up and Ally McBile’s delightful deconstructions of Observer Woman (aka A Thinly Veiled Excuse For Plumping Up The Observer’s Flagging Advertising Revenue Figures)?

It’s been MONTHS, gals! Where ARE you?

I only retrieve the damn thing from the recycling box so I can fully appreciate your loving dissection of La Vernon and La Flett’s latest interview/column.

Hey ho….Prosecco and chips anyone? (This, according to OW, is what we should be consuming on the Lord’s day. Uh-huh. You heard it here second.)


A little nugget (mechanically recovered chicken, natch) from Gordon Ramsay’s autobiography ‘Playing with fire’:

“A picture began to emerge, and he already knew that Edinburgh was not for us [as a location for a new restaurant]. Edinburgh makes money and keeps it. They spend it carefully and primly on school fees at Fettes or antique fireguards. There is no joy here, nothing that drives people out to get rat-arsed on a Friday in Armani suit with a midnight call to the wife to hand supper to the dog.”

Yep. We’re as dull as shit here, Gordon, and weirdly under-concerned about ostentatious designer tat and unreconstructed notions of manhood.


Place your bets, folks. How long before The Son and The Daughter ask one of their nursery school teachers what “a pimp and his crack whore” are?

Before you call social services, please understand that I don’t always remember to sing loudly over inappropriate song lyrics when I’m driving. And Lily Allen is their favourite artiste (Bob The Builder coming a close second).


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Ha! That brings back memories of Daisy, aged about 5, singing “I’m horny, horny, horny, horny…”

Right, I’m off to beat Gordon Ramsay to death with my antique fireguard.

Comment by marshaklein

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