Dotty Was Dying Of Double Pneumonia But I’m All Right Now


I haven’t been able to come online much in the last few days because I’ve had Summer Double Pneumonia and I felt like SHITE. I lost my voice too so there wasn’t much point trying to write a post because you wouldn’t have been able to hear me, my voice was so FUCKED I thought I’d turned into THE CUMBERLAND SAUSAGE WHISPERER every time I tried to coax my Cumberland sausages to hop up onto the grill and cook themselves so I could have something to eat.

You don’t know what it took for me to do the Shitey Sunday Picture Post yesterday – the SHEER AND ABSOLUTE SUFFERING involved, the BRAVERY and the SELFLESS PUBLIC-SPIRITEDNESS (is that a word?? spiritness?? spiritidness?? – see how ill I am?). I crawled from my bed, crawled down the stairs, pulled myself up onto the chair and DID A POST, all while I was DYING. Now that’s what I call DEDICATION. Too fucking right it is.

Guess what? I’ve passed the 500 followers mark. 502 to be precise BUT NO FUCKING BADGE FROM WORDPRESS – AGAIN!! Also, since the week before last, they’re not putting my posts in the TOPICS or TAGS or CATEGORIES or whatever the fuck they call them. They don’t like me. They HATE me. They wish I had DIED OF DOUBLE PNEUMONIA so they could have their nicey-nicey Blog World back again without ME in it to spoil everything. It’s DISCRIMINATION AGAINST MENTALS. Actually, that’s true because I’ve just had a thought – HOW MANY MENTAL BLOGS HAVE BEEN FRESHLY PRESSED? None, that I know of (correct me if I’m wrong). I don’t mean ME, (that’ll never happen, I’m too much of a gobshite), I mean the GOOD mental blogs, the serious ones. Hmmm.

I’m going to lie down again. I’m still dizzy.




P.S. If you hear a croaky sound when you’re reading this don’t think it’s your computer that’s about to blow up, it’s only my voice starting to come back.

DISCLAIMER – If your computer DOES blow up after you ignored any odd sounds IT’S NOT MY FAULT so fuck off with your solicitors and your ‘I’ll sue Dotty,’ and your ‘I’ll be rich for the rest of my life,’ – IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN, YOU FUCKING NUMPTY – the courts will end up giving ME all of YOUR money because you’re STUPID.


Wordy Block Lurgy – Have You Caught It Too?


Over the last few days, as I’ve been skipping my way round the blogs making a few inroads into the massive pile of post notifications in my email, I’ve encountered a VERY STRANGE THING – I’m not the only one with WORDY BLOCK. An exceptional amount of bloggers have it. Bloggers who are normally prolific and reliable are struggling for words. They can’t think of what to write. Their mojo has turned into noflo.


What’s going on?

Is it a nasty lurgy? A WORDY BLOCK flu?

Are we all infecting each other?


The blogging atmosphere is RIFE WITH WORDY BLOCK GERMS.




Who started it? Who was THE FIRST TO BE INFECTED?

It wasn’t me.

I use PALMOLIVE ANTIBACTERIAL HANDWASH that kills 99.9% of BACTERIA (the blue stuff – it’s good).


So it definitely wasn’t me.

Was it YOU?


And what if it turns into WORDY BLOCK PNEUMONIA?

What if we all DIE OF WORDY BLOCK?

You’ll wish you’d washed your hands then, won’t you, you FIRST-INFECTED SPREAD-THE-LURGY FUCKER? Because you’ll be left with NOTHING TO READ when we ALL DIE.

And you’ll wish you’d used a hanky. FUCKING SKANK.

And when you’ve killed us all off I hope WordPress sues the arse off you and you have to declare yourself BANKRUPT.





If I could be bothered opening up Photoshop I’d make you a sign to hang round your neck to let people know WHAT YOU ARE.











Dieting Is Shite And I’m Not Doing It Any More And It Doesn’t Work Anyway


I haven’t been on the laptop to do today’s post until now because after my breakfast I COULDN’T FUCKING MOVE because of all the food I had to eat. And I COULDN’T FUCKING MOVE last night either to do the comments – that’s two nights in a row I haven’t answered comments because of THESE STUPID FUCKING DIETS. And I’ve put on FOUR POUNDS in a day and a half. And I can’t afford all the food for the twelve diets I was on – THEY’RE A FUCKING RIP-OFF – so I’m going back to eating what I normally eat, I’ll just cut it in half. But not today, today I’m not eating ANYTHING ELSE.



Dotty Diet Day One


It’s Day One of my new diet and I’m reporting in, like I said I would. I’m doing BRILLIANTLY so far. I’ve just had my breakfast, Cumberland sausage sandwiches, and there’s no fatty shite left in the house because I ate it all last night – well, I do live in Yorkshire and I am three quarters Scottish, what did you expect me to do, throw it away and waste all that money? As if.

Here’s what I’ll be having for my dinner –



some other leafy shite

tomatoes (I like baby plums)

beetroot (not pickled – bleaarggh!)


a good squirt of extra-light mayonnaise


I wanted to grate some Double Gloucester over it all but I can’t because THIS PERSON put me off it for life. I’m going to miss my cheesey treat but the thought of eating it makes me feel SICK now. Thank you very much.


Salad requires a lot of EATING doesn’t it? On average a gobful of mixed salad takes around 32 chews whereas a big bite of Cumberland sausage sandwich takes 15 until it’s masticated enough to swallow without choking yourself. I don’t think I’ve invented this theory, I think it was discovered by an Edwardian who used it as the philosophical basis of THE 32 CHEWS DIET, a diet that says you can eat ANYTHING as long as you chew it 32 times. So now I’m on TWO diets, DOTTY’S FUCKING FAT ARSE DIET and THE 32 CHEWS DIET. Brownie points to ME!

There are other diets I’m considering. That one where you eat lots of meat – THE GREAT PILE OF MEAT ON YOUR PLATE DIET, I can’t remember its real name, it might begin with D. Or the caveman diet (again, I can’t remember the name, fucking STIG OF THE DUMP DIET or something), where all you eat is what cavemen would have eaten, and that’s all good and well because they must have had a healthy diet or we all wouldn’t be here now but what I want to know is if we have to eat what cavemen ate, is this BEFORE or AFTER fire was invented? It makes a big difference – I don’t mind the odd raw Cumberland sausage if I’m too desperate to wait for them to cook, but RAW RATS and RAW INSECTS with a side-dish of BERRIES don’t really appeal to me that much. And what about FAT? During summertime cavemen ate ALL THE FAT THEY COULD GET and stored it on their arses so that in the depths of winter they had a warm cushion between their arses and the cold stone floors of their caves. I might be a She-Hermit, but I don’t live in a cave. Hmmmm.


So that’s four diets I’m on if THE STIG OF THE DUMP DIET is intended for AFTER FIRE WAS INVENTED, if it isn’t then I’m only on three. I’m off to look for others – common sense dictates that the more diets I’m on, the more fat I’ll lose. I’ll be swinging my skinny arse round the house in no time.


Enjoy your dinner.


The Hidden Horrific Horror Of Hermititis


There are some things in this world a woman should never have to see and her own fat arse is one of them. I saw mine. In a mirror, two mirrors to be precise – not because my arse NEEDS two mirrors to be seen (it’s fat but not THAT fat) but because with two mirrors you can do that looking-back thing to see what everyone else sees and I wanted to see what my new combat pants look like (the internet sent them) so I rang Lottie to tell her to bring round the mirrors.

Eight panic attacks (severe enough for two heart attack scares) later and I realised I should have just stayed curious.

Listen to me, She-Hermits – Hermititis is BAD FOR THE ARSE. Very bad. If you’re in the early stages and you’re still able to go out of the house, GET IT SORTED OUT NOW before it gets any worse or your arse will spread like a fucking HUGE blancmange and after a few years it will SUFFOCATE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP. I’m about a year away from having to have scaffolding erected to hold the fucker up when I walk.

And that’s what’s done it, not WALKING. I used to walk all over the place, I loved walking, but now I can only walk round the house so many times before I’m LITERALLY bouncing off the walls with boredom – walk, walk, walk, walk, BOING, walk, walk, walk, walk, BOING, walk, walk, walk, walk, BOING.

So I’ve made a decision (HALLELUJAH!) and what I’ve decided is that from tomorrow I’m putting my arse ON A DIET.

This is my diet (below)



No more McCain’s Chippy Chips

No more Hobnobs (when I’ve scranned the two packets in the cupboard)

No more Double Gloucester cheese (which is FUCKING LOVELY when grated over a plateful of McCains’s Chippy Chips and thick Bisto gravy (beefy).

No more Goodfella’s Thin And Crispy Twelve Cheeses Pizza (AHA! Betcha didn’t expect me to eat Italian cuisine – I do have SOME secrets I don’t tell you all (y’all)).


I think that’s it.


As for exercise, I haven’t been able to do my own invention exercise (which you can find HERE – CLICK IT CLICK IT) because I can’t hear the Jaws music properly so I can’t tell when Jaws is circling close to my table. So I looked up arse exercises on the internet and found some that I’ll have a go at, but one I WON’T BE DOING is the one where you have to get down on all fours and cock your leg like a dog pissing on a lamp post. I might have a fat arse but I still have my DIGNITY.


I’ll let you know how it goes.



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