Sex Without Love Is As Hollow And Ridiculous As Love Without Sex

That Time Twitter Suffered From A Bad Case Of The TMI's

What The Buzz: #NewCarryOnMovieTitles

It has been too long, dear readers.

My apologies for that but it has been my summer holibobs (read as: one week off from work in which I hope the sun will shine but, in fact, the weather stays better at home than abroad and I pout about wearing jeans instead of my horrendously short shorts).

More on the summer holibobs later.

This week I have actually been looking at two hashtags; the first being #NewCarryOnMovieTitles (pretty self explanatory following the announcement that this franchise will be returning in 2016 after a 24 year absence) and #ThingsIYellWhenICum.

Sid James knows it.

...yes.

The reason this Blog Post is not dedicated to the second hashtag is because a) surely there is only so much you can really say about the hashtag, b) my fingers feel a bit dirty even typing it and c) my Mother reads this.

However, because I care deeply about entertaining my readers, here are some of the better ones for your perusal.

#ThingsIYellWhenICum AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMM

GONNAAAA SWIIIIIIIIING

FROOOOMMMMM

THE CHANDLIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRR

— lee (@derNullmeridian) 17 May 2016

#ThingsIYellWhenICum
"CAN YOU FEEL IT MR.KRABS" pic.twitter.com/uC05uABgCj

— ugly boy (@4AMJAY) 16 May 2016

10 points to Gryffindor!
#thingsiyellwhenicum pic.twitter.com/WtN2mdL3R3

— David Armstrong (@tiggtag) 16 May 2016

#ThingsIYellWhenICum omg I'm gonna come
I'M COMING

OUT OF MY CAGE AND I'VE BEEN DOING JUST FINE

— Derek Nelson (@ProdigyNelson) 16 May 2016

And this one made me laugh:

#ThingsIYellWhenICum IM DIRTY DAN

— tess (@TRILLTESS) 17 May 2016

Well, don't say I never give you anything, dear readers!

Anyway, back to the actual hashtag for this week: Carry On films are making a return!

Ooh, matron!

 Very exciting stuff indeed.

And despite the first title being leaked as Carry On Doctors (back to bed pans and surprise thermometers, I'm sure), the Twittersphere were keen to provide some suggestions of their own which seemed to overwhelm Jonathan Sothcott (producer of the new films and CEO of Hereford Films which is behind the project).

Totally overwhelmed by all the messages about @carryonmovie - I promise we'll do it justice!

— Jonathan Sothcott (@sothcott) 17 May 2016

It has been confirmed that two movies will be produced (and presumably more will follow should they be a commercial success) but, sadly, Dame Babs Windsor DBE will not be making a return (which also means her nipple tassles won't be dusted off for another spin).  Cast have yet to be announced but it looks like the producers are after new, young, British comedic talent rather than impersonators of the original cast.

So stop practicing your Kenneth Williams' faces in the mirror.

No, really.

Stop it now.

Alright, Blue Eyes, calm down.

In any event, Mr Sothcott has confirmed that Carry On Doctors is not a remake or an 'attempt to reinvent the wheel' but it does seem like a safe premise to start with.

And, to think, we could have had such titles as:

Carry on items can be stored in the overhead bins #NewCarryOnMovieTitles

— Dan Jordan (@danjordan) 17 May 2016

Carry On Rehashing Long Dead Movie Franchises #newcarryonmovietitles

— James Cook (@jamesecook) 17 May 2016

(Ouch.)

#NewCarryOnMovieTitles Carrie on bleeding pic.twitter.com/NCJ1s4V52G

— neilneil orange peel (@kearns_neil) 17 May 2016

Carry On Working Until You Die Because The Tories Will Never Let You Retire #NewCarryOnMovieTitles

— Waldorf Sixpence (@WaldorfSixpence) 17 May 2016

...on second thoughts, given the public's track record with naming things, maybe we were better off leaving this one to the professionals.

...too soon?

&&Fin.

The Greatest Gift In Life Is Friendship, And I Have Received It

That Time I Discovered Reason #46783 To Be Thankful That Sam Archer Was My First True Love

Sometimes in life you stumble upon people that genuinely care about you. When you find these people, dear readers, hold on tightly.

Whether they be friends, family, co-workers, people online you will never meet.

If someone cares about you, is happy for your happiness and sad for your sadness; cherish them. They are important. And rare.

I am lucky enough to have several of these people in my life.

One of whom I have had the pleasure of knowing for 23 years. And he turned 26 this year.

In celebration of this fact, I suggested that we attend a silent disco which was being held in the Shard in London. This suggestion was met with such enthusiasm that before I even had time to 'like' the event on Facebook, I was being informed that a ticket had been purchased for me and I should therefore organise my life sufficiently to attend on 12th February.

And thus began the rather bizarre (but awesome) weekend of Amy Jay and Sammy Ay (2016).

Looking pretty respectable at the start of the night...it went sharply downhill from here

We trundled off to the Shard (well I tottered in my ridiculous AmyJay patented heels) and boogied our little bums off!

Plus the view was pretty epic. (Exhibit A)

It was an amazing night and I would recommend it to anyone - it was busy but not heaving, the drinks were actually decently priced for London and there was always something that we enjoyed singing or dancing to on one of the three channels.

(Admittedly, we spent the majority of our night listening to the cheesy red channel but I have photographic proof that we listened to the blue and green channels at least a little bit. See Exhibit A, above.)

In any event, the night was epic - we stayed until it closed - and then we headed back to Sammy Ay's flat. Sadly, this was something of an adventure all by itself as we struggled with Uber drivers trying to pick us up from outside London Bridge train station.

But we made it home eventually! (And promptly ordered pizza. London, dear readers, is open for anything at any time; including pizza at 4 in the morning. Epic.)

After eating an entire pizza to myself, I snuggled up with Sammy Ay and went to sleep, safe in the knowledge that I would not have a hang over in the morning thanks to my beer (prosecco, darling) sponge.

...not quite as dignified now!

...and then came the adventures of Sam's actual birthday.


NB: Some of the following circumstances and conversations may have been dramatized (slightly) for humorous effect.

AJ (Me): It’s your birthday today, Sammy! We are in London and I want to take you out somewhere. We can do whatever you want so have a think and let me know.

(SA ponders this prospect very seriously for several quiet moments and then gives me a Look.) 

SA: Okay…(pause for dramatic effect) Since you found out your ex was cheating on you, have you had a sexual health check up?

(AJ, blinks owlishly, laughs heartily and wonders where this swift change of topic has come from) 

AJ: Err…no actually I-

SA: That’s what I want to do today then.

(AJ gapes unattractively at SA) 

AJ: What? No it’s not! We can do anything at all – museums, touristy things, a nice lunch, cocktails…

SA: You said anything and that is what I want to do. Look, I’ll come with you and get it done too so you won’t be on your own. It will be over really quickly and then you’ll know for definite that you are okay.

AJ: But I don’t even have any-

SA: DON’T YOU DARE SAY YOU DON’T HAVE ANY SYMPTOMS, YOUNG LADY! You might have something and not know it and then you could be infertile. INFERTILE. (SA goes on a caring, Nurse-like rant about STDs and INFERTILITY whilst AJ still gapes unattractively). 

AJ: OKAY! Okay, okay we will go.

SA: Thank you. …it’s only because I care, you know.

AJ: …I know.

(SA and AJ share A Moment. Lights go down.)

~*~*~*~*~*~


So we decide to begin our day in a small, independent, in no way chain-y coffee shop whose name may or may not have rhymed with Sharstucks because caffeine, London and reasons.

Inside there is probably a 10-15 minute wait for hot drinks and there are 7 or 8 people queuing up on this drizzly, Sunday morning.

I receive my chai latte (oh, yes, dear readers, I’m one of ‘those’) with no drama and we move to exit the coffee shop.

I am safely through the door, as is the front half of SA, when I hear behind me ‘oof-blop-splash’.

Turning around, I take in the sight with horror.

SA has knocked someone’s £4.50 coffee out of their hands and it is now trickling down the street like the blood of a fallen soldier.

This is the number 1 reason why people get shanked in London. (Jointly tied with snarky Blog Posts probably.)

SA is frantically apologising to the devastated patron and offering to buy him a replacement coffee when the most London-y response of all Londoners is uttered:

Sad Coffee Man: I don’t have time for this!!

And that was that. We scampered away with our tails between our legs and my chai latte cradled protectively to my chest.

Ain’t no fool knocking this one out of my hands.


~*~*~*~*~*~


Upon arriving at the clinic in Soho, it is immediately apparent that I Do Not Know What I Am Doing when the friendly chap behind the counter smiles at me and I look blankly at SA and say (OUT LOUD) ‘What do I want?’ in a manner not dissimilar to that of a toddler ordering McDonalds with Mummy.

SA, rather despairingly, informs the man that we would like a check up each and we are promptly given a time to return in about an hour.

This leaves us with enough time to find somewhere to have lunch so we toddle off.

And eat in a small, independent, no way chain-y Italian place that may or may not have rhymed with Schmizza Exschmess.

When we return to the clinic, I have to register my details online which takes less than 5 minutes and am then handed an ominous looking tube. The friendly chap behind the counter must have taken in my wide-eyed expression of panic and taken pity on me for he was very gentle with his explanation of what would happen next.

I was to take myself off to one of the private rooms, take a quick swab (the location of which I will leave to your imagination although probably not very hard to figure out given the circumstances in which this tale is told) and then I would have a blood test.

This, all in all, did not sound too bad; I didn’t even have to pee in a cup! (Something of a disappointment given that I had held in my chai latte and elderflower fizz from lunch in anticipation of needing to provide a sample.)

SA, however, was not as lucky.

Multiple samples, a blood test and a finger prick later…

SA: You okay?

AJ: Yeah, wasn’t as bad as I thought. Just the one swab and the blood test.

SA: (anger begins to cloud SA's face)…what?

AJ: What?

SA: That’s it?! …you bloody breeders *grumble grumble* (SA puts still bleeding finger into mouth in the most dignified way he can but definitely appears to be visibly pouting).

AJ: (Trying to lighten the mood) Maybe they just didn't like the look of you?

SA: .... (Is not amused)

AJ: Okay, well, I got blood all over my new shirt though because I couldn’t stop bleeding after they took my blood test. …make you feel any better?

SA: (Mumbles around finger still in mouth) …a bit.

AJ: Good! Now, come on, let’s go buy you a plaster from Boots!


~*~*~*~*~*~


The reason this is a shining example of a true friend is thus; Sam wanted to spend his birthday doing something that solely benefited me and my health. There was nothing for him to gain in doing this, no benefit and it would not effect his life in any way whether I got checked or not. And yet, despite all of this, he was so insistent that we go because he cared that much about me and my well-being.

That is a true friend right there.

TL;DR – My friend made me go for a sexual health check up on his birthday. Hilarity ensues.

&&Fin.

Be Careful When You Cast Out Demons That You Don't Throw Away The Best of Yourself

That Time A Demon Tried to Crawl Out From Inside of Me

Eurgh.

I am suffering with a case of mild food poisoning, dear readers.

This is what you get for ordering an Indian takeaway from Just Eat in the middle of Leicester city centre.

It honestly feels like some evil creature is trying to escape - rather forcefully - from my poor, broken body.

This.  Right Here. #perfect

I was at Law School this weekend and had to suffer through all of Sunday with my stomach making suspicious gurgling noises and sharp pains in my side.  This did not make it easy to focus on my revision lectures (on a side note exams are now less than a month away - don't know how that happened!).

Instead of listening to what was, undoubtedly, fantastic exam advice from my knowledgeable and patient tutors, I was exercising all of my brain and will power to prevent any explosive incidences in the back of the classroom.  My stomach actually aches from all the clenching.

I made it through 5 hours of lectures and that was no mean feat, let me tell you.

...I then had a three hour drive home.

This was somewhat harder as the gaseous build up had been so intense that my stomach was now painfully bloated.  Each and every bump in the road brought me one step closer to disgracing myself.

There comes a point, dear readers, in every adult's life in which they have to admit that they are unsure whether the pressure they next feel in their nether regions is purely gas in formation or whether there may be more substance than first indicated.  It becomes a personal choice as to whether the risk is taken but I was less than 50% sure that I knew the answer and did not want to risk ruining my beloved jeans and/or driver's seat.

Besides, we all know the phrase 'farts are a bit like love...if you have to force it, then it is probably shit'.

See?!

...no? Just me? Ah.  Moving swiftly on then!

You may be relieved to hear that I did not have any embarrassing incidences on the journey home.

But my house mate did give me a somewhat strange look when I arrived home only to barrel past her throwing 'hi, talk later, bai' over my shoulder before holing myself up in the bathroom for the better part of 20 minutes.

Sweet, sweet relief.

This has been part of the Firstflier: TMI series.

You. Are. Welcome.

&&Fin.