Archive | Inspiration RSS feed for this section

An Unashamed Premature Ejaculation

3 Dec

Hurrah!

I try to keep my ejaculations appropriately timed—those who vociferate too early look over-eager and those who wait until others start cheering end up looking like sycophants.

But I’ve come over all excited by the opening of the Adelaide test!

When the first wicket fell, Christopher uttered a sudden loud cry and to be honest, I felt embarrassed for him. I’ve had experience with Australians going down quickly and they rarely bring satisfaction in the long run (which is why I no longer accept drinks from men at Walkabout). But when Ponting was out for a golden duck, I admit my face flushed and I could feel the dew on my forehead. Christopher poured me my second highball (I need the caffeine to help keep me awake), and, fuck me, if Clarke wasn’t out, caught in the slips.

Could this really be happening?

Today of all days, England needed a sporting boost. This could be it. I know it may be early  but thank you, my men in flannels, for an incredible start.

 

Christopher has now slipped into his jim-jams and curled up by the fire. But I can assure you: all night long, I’ll be awake—with bated breathe, racing pulse and slightly moistened thighs.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

To All The Saints I’ve Loved Before

18 Oct

The Pope had canonized six new saints.  That’s always nice to hear.

Although I myself am not a Catholic, I’m quite sweet on the saints due to an interesting relationship I had as a child with a Catholic family. When I was about nine, in an attempt to keep my brothers out of my room, I taped to my door a list of all the sins that would send you straight to hell. I thought it would give them something to think about before violating my sacred space. My mother, I fear, misinterpreted this as my interest in more spiritual issues. She spoke to a Catholic woman she worked with (New Jersey is thick with them), who agreed to start taking me to her church. Because she had a daughter my age, I was told to accompany her to catechism class.  The focus of the first lesson was the saints.

I was absolutely enchanted by the tales of ordinary people who could do extraordinary things. Seriously, anyone who can bilocate and levitate like Saint Padre Pio deserves more than just a pat on the back. And to top it off he was a stigmatist! I mean, was there nothing this guy couldn’t do?

At the time, I also appreciated the fact that so many saints were children. I was already growing increasingly aware of my own greatness, and it was good to see at least 22% of the American population recognised that children could be worthy of worship, even if not a single percent of my family did.

Finally, I was really intrigued by the concept of praying to a particular saint for a particular need. I encouraged my mother to call on Saint Zita when she lost her keys and told my father to pray to Our Lady of Fatima during that month’s gubernatorial race.  In art class, I sculpted a bust of Saint Matilda of Saxony, to counteract my falsely being accused of instigating a fight between John Gilbert and Kraig Hartley on the playground (surely no greater example of blaming the victim can be found). For my sister’s birthday, I drew a picture of Hilary of Poitiers on her card, as she is the patron saint of backward children. (It was about this time that my mother discontinued my trips to Mass.) Other saints I was particularly keen on were Nicholas of Maya (patron saint of boys), Elizabeth of Portugal (victims of jealousy), Catherine of Alexandria (girls and libraries, a perfect combination) and Jehoshaphat (jumping).  When I renamed my dollies after these saints and began referring to them as “my extended family in heaven,” my mom locked them in the cedar chest, booked me in to see a child psychologist and my excursion into the world of Catholicism was over.

One of the new few to be canonized was Mary MacKillop, Australia’s first Catholic saint, and people Down Under were rejoicing at the acknowledgment of her good work. She was a champion of the poor and of education. Some have suggested she become the patron saint of victims of sexual abuse by priests, but I can’t help wonder if there isn’t a more direct route the Pope could take in dealing with those crimes.

I would like to offer a hearty congratulations to Saint Mary of the Cross and all the other saints who recently became official. Well done all. No doubt you will be inspiring Catholics and under-appreciated child geniuses for many years to come.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Pogo Is, As Pogo Does

25 Aug

Today is the birthday of Walt Kelly, the most important cartoonist who ever drew breath. He knew how to use pen and ink to make a point. He wasn’t afraid to address head-on the problems of the day, whether they be political, religious or environmental.

His most famous creation was a little fellow called Pogo, with whom I have always related. If he weren’t a possum, I believe he’d have made a lovely husband.

There were rumours that one of Kelly’s characters may have been inspired by me, however there’s no way that could be true. I didn’t sleep with him until long after she appeared in print.

Today of all days, we should remember the power that words and pictures can have. Write a letter to your newspaper about an issue that’s been bugging your bear. Draw a picture of the world as a better place. Start a petition to make my books available on Amazon. Do something, for god’s sakes; sales have been down and I need a holiday.

Be inspired, dear hearts!

Tags: , , , ,

Society is All But Rude, To This Delicious Solitude

1 Jul

Now that both of my football teams are out of the World Cup, I’m going to take a short break from sports-related posts. Before doing so, though, I would like to clarify there’s little more satisfying than seeing one Mister Cristiano Ronaldo taken down like a Saddam Hussein statue (not literally, of course, I believe he has his Nike likeness placed prominently amongst the gladioli in his front garden). First he was a winker and now he is a spitter. I’m curious why he keeps choosing offenses that make The Sun’s headline writers’ jobs so easy for them.

If like me, you’ve suddenly got a lot more time to spend doing things other than watching men run around on the telly, you may be in the market for a new hobby. Some of you may also feel a bit guilty about all the additional bile you’ve released into the atmosphere after the last match and are wondering what you can do to counteract your carbon footprint. Look no further as I have a solution for you that will not only keep you busy but will also benefit the environment, and that hobby is gardening.

Before you pooh-pooh it by assuming that only old age pensioners are interested in gardening, I would like to assure you that it’s an ideal hobby for concerned citizens of any age.  Now that I’ve proved my point, let me discuss its benefits.

Clearly the first benefit of gardening is that it gives you something to do. It keeps you active, by demanding that you use both your body and brain power. It gets you out into the sunshine. It also keeps you from putting your hands down the front of your trousers and messing about. It’s a fantastic hobby for those who want to keep busy without much stress. After all, what kind of trouble can you get into in a garden?

Gardening can also be a way to save money. It’s been statistically proven that by simply planting a bed of flowers, you can up your house’s selling price by an average of £68,000 (note: this figure has been chosen at random by the author).  Additionally, if you opt for a vegetable garden, you’ll be able to grow your own food. You’ll be able save thousands of pounds off your green grocers’ bill on cress alone! Fruits and vegetables can be canned or frozen for use later so the savings don’t need to end once the temperatures drop. There’s a multitude of uses for things you can grow in a garden: you could dry herbs and make sachets for your chest of drawers, you could create table displays with fresh flowers, and you can juice most vegetables for healthy drinks. You’d be surprised what uses you can find for homegrown plants.

Finally, a garden benefits both the local and global community. Most villages have garden competitions to inspire residents to beautify the area and strengthen the civic spirit. Why not enter one and beat the pants off that old broad who’s been the reigning champion since 1972?  It’s about time someone did. Lovely gardens are also welcoming spaces for wild animals whose homes are often destroyed or disrupted by traffic, litter, dogging and other trappings of daily human society. It’s a wonderful experience to step out into one’s garden and know that you’re providing a safe haven for birds, insects, hedgehogs, and squirrels so they can go about their business without having to worry about being run down by a car, swallowing a discarded fag packet or witnessing a man masturbating against the outside of a Vauxhall Vectra. Sometimes it’s these simple measures which are overlooked in our fight for the environment.

There’s also probably something about plants being better for the ozone than tarmac, but I’m no scientist and I rarely pretend to be.

My suggestion to you is to spend a little time at your local library investigating the in’s and out’s of garden design specific to your local area and then get your house boy to drive you to the garden centre so you can make your choices. Trust me, it will be worth it. Why not do it this Saturday afternoon? God knows, your original plans for that day have been scuppered.

Tags: , , , , , , ,

A Much Relieved Match Report

23 Jun

Our moment came. England played a good game of football. It wasn’t the best game of football but it was a solid game; they played as they should have done in the first two matches.

Defoe’s goal was lovely and the tide had turned. Although we weren’t able to score another, we had some decent efforts. It was exciting and fun to watch (though it was also nerve-wracking, Christopher has bitten my nails down to the quick this afternoon). This is what the World Cup should be like.

Yesterday, Steven Gerrard said, “The fear of not winning drives you on.” Stevie, no. The desire to win drives you on. The desire to win, to be the best. We should not be motivated by any fear—fear of losing, fear of letting people down or being pilloried by the press. Have you ever seen a Will Smith film? Did he defeat the aliens because he was afraid? No. He killed them because he is one tough motherfucker; anyone messes with him and he is going to get all rowdy on their ass.  We need to stop being driving forward by fear. We need to get through the next round because we have that burning desire that fills our stands, our pubs and all too frequently our trousers but is so rarely seen on the pitch.

But today, in the end, we did it. Was it down to a coach, who successfully motivated his team, (possibly Sopranos-style)? Was it down to the players who remembered that it’s three lions they’re wearing and made it to the back of the net? Was it down to the media whose constant pressure finally paid off? Or was it down to the good old English fans, who woke this morning believing that for fuck’s sake, in a week where we’re facing the Budget, a Tube strike and the news that Jordan has doubts about remarrying Alex Reid, something good has got to happen to this country?

Thank you, boys.

Thank you, England.

Tags: , , , , ,

A Sobering Match Report—18 June 2010

18 Jun

By far, Algeria were the better looking team. The chiseled jaws, dark locks, strong noses and golden skin contrasting with the electric green, I’m afraid, put our boys to shame in the fanciable department. Thank Christ, David Beckham was looking pretty sitting, legs crossed at the knee, on the bench. I absolutely adored the shade of their goalkeeper’s jersey, though I’m not too keen on the fitted cut.  I was particularly taken by the dusky features of Karim Matmour, whose eyes brought to mind a gorgeous fella I spent a summer with in Strasbourg a few years back. Goodness, it must have been nearly twenty five years ago. Wait a minute . . . I’d better check my old diaries . . . could it possibly be that Matmour’s the son I never knew I had?

As far as the football goes, when the best thing I can say about our star player is that he managed not to lose his temper every time his touch was off, which was coincidentally every single time he got a touch, well, that really says it all, doesn’t it?

England, listen to me. You are no longer an empire. That’s okay. It really is. The world’s moved on, but thanks to your stubborn pride fuelled by the English media, you’ve not been able to. Football matches—win or lose—are not testaments or denials of a once-strong empire. Don’t put the weight of your entire history on a few dim but athletically talented men. Stop basking in old glories of a great empire and be a great nation. It will still be exciting when we win and it will still be upsetting when we don’t, but for god’s sake, focus on the now. Which granted today isn’t much to write home about. But I think you know what I’m talking about. Please, just stop.

Boys, Wednesday is make or break day.  Forget about the empire—it’s not England v. the rest of the world. It’s England v. Slovenia. Pull up your socks (not you, John Terry—socks should stop below the knee) and win a fucking match, will you? Eleven men in England shirts have won the World Cup before.

That was then, but it could be again.

Tags: , , , ,

The Anniversary

17 May

Thank you to all the well wishers who wished me well this week. The eighteenth of May is a day that will forever stand as a testimony to the good that one woman and the Internet can do, as it marks the one year anniversary of Everyone Needs an Algonquin. I was going to do a rather extensive retrospective on Tuesday, but then I remembered I have a life and I have to live it.

Thank you especially to the lovely (I’m assuming young) man who sent the bouquet of violets. You must be a very close reader to know that I simply adore the scent. I was a bit disappointed to find you neglected to include honeysuckle, lilacs and freesia. Surely, expecting fans to be thorough is not that much to ask and mixed bouquets aren’t too expensive if you really care about a person.

We’ve had a very exciting year, haven’t we, readers? Many of you have been struggling with an uncertain future regarding political, social and financial issues and I’ve been documenting it all for my own literary acclaim and monetary reward. We’re really quite a good team, you and I. I have been mightily moved by the many letters of support I’ve received (both electronically and the normal way). I especially treasure those notes of thanks for the advice that I’ve provided on these pages (note: free of charge). While it’s touching to be considered such a benefactress, please remember that my gifts to you come in the form of knowledge and inspiration (read: stop with the begging letters, that’s not my scene).

So a slightly belated Happy Anniversary to you all. Without me, none of this could have been possible.

Tags: , , , , , ,

World Weariness and How to Overcome It

1 Dec

I am feeling rather low today, dear readers. I’m not sure if it’s the heat or simply my incredibly busy schedule catching up with me, but I am overcome with a feeling of malaise. I don’t find it a coincidence that I first noticed this as I was sipping my tea and toast this morning while reading over the newspapers’ headlines.

First off, there is not a single headline which contains my name. While this may seem simply personally disheartening, what it made me realise is that thought-provoking writing by fascinating people is not deemed as “newsworthy” as it once was. While I certainly understand that it is important to sympathize with the plight of the mentally ill or be outraged at the extent of governmental abuse, it is also essential that the media covers great culture so that young people can learn about my affect on the world we live in.

In addition to newspaper editors’ refusal to cover the lives of intriguing and attractive members of the literati, they seem hell-bent on only featuring stories which reek of doom and gloom. Quite frankly I am a bit fed up to here with it. All of us have felt down at some point in our lives and, regardless of our family backgrounds or history of methamphetamine abuse, we run the risk of “relapsing” into depression when things look bad. What we could really do with is some good news for a change, and therefore the media should be required to print some occasionally, if only to temporarily supply us with a “hit” of optimism.

I’ve no doubt that journalists will argue that their job is simply to provide information about whatever is going on in the world, regardless of whether it is seen as good or bad. To some extent, I agree. However, a recent report examining the correlation between the high suicide rate and the viewing figures of Fox News makes for some interesting reading, to say the least.

So what are we, the innocent public, to do when this feeling of lassitude sweeps over us? We could write letters of protest to news organisations, insisting that they cover some happier news stories, which I am sure do exist out there somewhere. Or we could create our own news: go out into our communities and do something good and then hound our local media until they cover it with the appropriate headlines, tone and background musical accompaniment it deserves. Or we could disregard the whole industry and investigate good news ourselves by touching base with friends or relatives to whom we have not recently spoken and share in their celebrations of prize-winning vegetables, impressive divorce settlements or negative biopsy results.

Or we could take our gin and tonic slightly earlier than usual and then go off for a short nap, which is what I intend to do now.

Smiles all round, darlings!

Tags: , , ,

Reflections on The Year 2009 Thus Far

26 Jun

As the month of June draws to a close, I realise how much has changed in 2009 already. We are now half way through the year, little birdies, and I suggest we all take this time to reflect on how we have helped make our world a better place in the last six months. Remember, while many believe that no man is an island, I feel that it’s more helpful to acknowledge that, while we are each individually islands, we all make up part of the Channel Islands and therefore bear the responsibility of keeping our shorelines clear of rubbish, our children’s homes free of unmarked graves, our governments guided by freedom and democracy and our carbon footprints as dainty as possible. Otherwise, we can negatively affect the entire world, particularly the whelk population (and goodness knows how that would influence prices at our local chippy).

I note many of us have already done so much. Some of us are doing our best to keep the promises we made on the campaign trail. Some of us are helping the environment by providing darling duck houses and muck-free moats. Some of us are avoiding further debt by dramatically dying on the eve of a fifty-night tour we knew we were unlikely to complete. Some of us are going so far as rescuing children from their families and homelands purely because we are so certain our lifestyles would be preferable to them. While not all of us can achieve such acts of courage and self-sacrifice, as Marks and Spencer says, “Every little bit helps!”

To provide you with a guideline for your self-reflection, I have listed below the ways in which I have humbly attempted to help humanity so far this year.

1. Socially
On a global level, my contribution to society is unparalleled. As you know my social calendar is rarely empty. My primary motivation for this is because I am well aware that my presence at social events provides others with inspiration, one of the greatest gifts anyone can give in our quotidian, humdrum world.
On a more personal level, I rang my mother on Mothering Sunday, despite the fact that doing so put me in a foul mood for the rest of the day, and I continue to support Christopher in all of his creative endeavours, most recently encouraging his newfound interest in Greco-Roman wrestling.

2. Environmentally
I have recently had to change the birdseed I put out in my feeders as my previous brand is no longer being stocked at my local shop. The birds seem to enjoy this new food immensely. Chalk up yet another eco-system improved by me.

3. Financially
We are all suffering in the current financial climate, charitable organisations even more so.  Although I prefer to keep these contributions as anonymous as possible, I must confess to recently making a rather large financial donation to a well-respected charity in exchange for a large consignment of left-over chocolate oranges which I intend to distribute to admirers overseas this Yuletide.

4. Politically
Every time I dine with our MP, I insist upon leaving the gratuity thereby relieving my Right Honorable friend of any temptation to inappropriately fiddle with his expenses.

5. Creatively
Of course, as I have done every year of my adult life, I painstakingly continue to improve the world of art and literature through my copious amount of publications.  This year, however, I have gone even a step further by conquering the Internet and therefore reaching readers who may previously had been unable to afford to frequent the types of shops which sell my books (they don’t come cheap, I can tell you). While inevitably this means a loss of income to me personally, I am prepared to make this sacrifice as I care more about the world as a whole than I do my bankbook and besides a few hundred pounds here and there means nothing to someone of my substantial wealth.

Dear readers, I beg you to please take this opportunity to reflect on your own contributions to the world in 2009 thus far. By acknowledging your previous accomplishments, you will be able to plan how you can continue to do good for the latter half of the year. Keep the list limited to one side of A4 paper though as being too self-congratulatory makes one appear frightfully unattractive.

Each of you, regardless of your insignificance, must matter in some way to the world. I can at least confirm you matter a little bit to one Miss Agatha Whitt-Wellington!

Tags: , , , , , ,

Newer Entries →