Dotty Is Friends With The Police Again (But They’re Coming For You, Clown)

 

The police called round to my house again last night.

It’s been a few weeks since I saw them last, on THAT night – see Dotty In The Darkness (with lots and lots of swearing) – and I must say I’ve missed their sweet little 12 year old bum-fluffed faces that always look so SERIOUS. And I’ve decided to forgive them for THIEVING MY LITTLE HAND-DRILL because after many, many, many hours of rageful thinking about WHY they STOLE MY LITTLE HAND-DRILL, it came to me one day that maybe the policeman who STOLE MY LITTLE HAND-DRILL needed it for himself because being a policeman must be a stressful job sometimes – I wouldn’t want to have to spend my days (or nights if I was on night-shift) climbing trees to rescue stupid cats. Who would? Let the fuckers fall and then maybe they won’t SHIT ALL OVER PEOPLE’S GARDENS, maybe they’d be too frightened to go out in case they fell out of a tree and they’d stay in their own house and shit in there instead. (Or is that Firemen who rescue cats? Same difference).

Two policemen came to see me.

1  Sergeant Sherlock

2  PC Plod

They’re not their real names. I can’t remember their real names so I gave them aliases. They were new policemen, I’d never seen either of them before and I know all the local bobbys.

I didn’t hear them at first because they came to the front door and knocked on that but bricking it up must have provided a layer of sound-proofing so I only knew they were here when I heard them battering on the back door. I panicked a bit at the sound of banging on the back door, I thought it was someone wanting to dump THE BERSERKERS on me again, but I answered it and it was the police and my heart gave a little skip (not a panicky palpitation) because I thought they’d decided to give me my STOLEN LITTLE HAND-DRILL back, but when I said ‘Have you brought my STOLEN LITTLE HAND-DRILL back, the STOLEN LITTLE HAND-DRILL that one of you Keystone fuckers THIEVED FROM ME,’ Sergeant Sherlock said no, they hadn’t, they were here about the noise.

Eh? What noise?

‘Singing,’ he said. ‘Very loud singing.’

‘Oh, that.’ Fucking nosey neighbours AGAIN. ‘It was me and Clown, we were singing duets and rounds. We were bored.’

‘Clown? Clown who?’

CLOWN, you clown.’

‘Surname?’

They’d tried to trick me with that one before, asking for my surname and when I told them it they said no, we mean the other person’s surname. But I was one step ahead of them.

‘Fire’

‘Where?’

‘No, that’s Clown’s surname, you knobhead. His middle name is On, but he doesn’t spell it with a capital O and I’m not sure if that’s because it’s spelt that way on his Birth Certificate or if he’s just minimised the size of the letter to try and look cool.’

‘Is Mr Fire still here?’

‘No, don’t be stupid. How can he be here? He’s at home.’

‘When did he leave?’

They were asking such daft questions I couldn’t help laughing. ‘HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. He was never here.’

PC Plod piped up, ‘Stop being unhelpful, Miss Headbanger. Mr Fire and yourself were disrupting the peace. We need to speak with him.’

‘It isn’t MISS Headbanger, it’s MADAME Headbanger. I have been married you know.’

PC Plod again, ‘So where is your husband? Is he here?’

‘No. I killed him.’

They didn’t say anything for a long time, they just looked at me. The silence was getting creepy so I said, ‘Don’t worry, he isn’t under the floorboards or anything. It was a long time ago and I was found not guilty.’ Bless their little rubber bullets, they each breathed out a long breath at exactly the same time, like psychic synchronised twins.

‘Where is Mr Fire?’

‘Do you feel each other’s pain?’

‘What?’

‘You know, like when one twin gets battered round the head, the other twin feels EVERY BLOW.’

‘Are you threatening us?’

‘No I’m NOT threatening you. I was just ASKING for fuck’s sake. Hoy, hang on, why are you looking at me like that? It’s police intimidation. I’ll report you.’

The Sergeant coughed. Well, it was more of a throat-clearing harumph. Actually no, it was a timely little bark. ‘Will you tell us where Mr Fire lives, Madame Headbanger?’

‘Yes, he lives in Canada.’

‘So he wasn’t part of the singing that disrupted the peace?’

‘Yes he was.’

‘I think you need to come down to the station with us.’

Oh fuck. I HATE going to the station because of my HERMITITIS AND PEOPLE PHOBIA.

‘Don’t you know I have Hermititis and People Phobia?’

‘What?’

‘Never mind. Do you want a Cumberland sausage?’

Sergeant Sherlock’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, you’re THAT Dotty Headbanger. The one with the Cumberland sausages. The lads down the station say you make the best ever Cumberland sausage sandwiches.’

‘Yep, that’s me, guv.’

And an hour later they left with their bobby-bellies full of Cumberland sausage sandwiches to go next door to arrest the noisy neighbours who won’t stop banging on my wall.

 

 

 

 

CUMBERLAND SAUSAGES TO THE RESCUE YET AGAIN? IS THERE ANY  FEAT OF SUPER-HERO-NESS THEY’RE NOT CAPABLE OF? NO, NOTHING CAN STOP THEM.

Dotty Book Review – Villette

 

Little Emily has asked me to review one of her sister Charlotte’s books. She begged me to do a hatchet job to get back at Charlotte for butchering some of little Emily’s poems after little Emily died. Yes, little Emily IS dead. Is that a problem for you? Are you a BIGOT who discriminates against dead people in blogs? You’d better not be.

I was going to opt for The Professor because it’s the thinnest of Charlotte’s books, not so many pages of DRONE to get through (I dismissed Jane Eyre because everyone knows Jane Eyre). Instead I chose to review Villette because of course it’s the one I’d choose, me being a she-hermit and knowing a bit about isolation and depression and all the shite that goes with them.

 

DEAD. DEAD. THEY ARE ALL DEAD.

This should have been the title of the book because although the mourning and despairing Charlotte does manage to hide herself adequately behind her main character, Lucy Snowe, she is still very apparent if you look for her – a half-solid shadow walking behind Lucy who every now and again peeps over Lucy’s shoulder and says BOO to the reader. Little Emily tells me that’s what Charlotte is like, a bit nosey, a bit controlling (little Emily is still SO fucked off about her poems) a bit attention seeking.

But Charlotte’s presence in the book doesn’t necessarily distract the reader, whereas the presence of SISTER AGONY AUNTIE DOTTY does – she crept into the book with the intention of SAVING Lucy but she was spotted before she could guide her to a happy ending; Charlotte punched her in the eye and wrote her out and tried to pretend Sister Agony Auntie Dotty was a man in disguise – not a good move, Charlotte, you could have come up with a more plausible lie as a cover-up.

How to describe Lucy? Ugly, mad, loser. Yep, that about covers it. And spinster, which IS a harsh and lonely word but it correctly describes her harsh and lonely life. Some people are frightened of the book because of the madness it contains – Lucy IS mad, nails through brains type of mad (HELLO!) which is why I like her, even though she doesn’t actually DO any trepanning in the book, probably because people would react in the same way as my sister Lottie reacted when she sneaked into my house that night. But nailing through to your brain isn’t good, it’s nothing but amateur over-enthusiastic trepanning –  LEARN TO DO IT PROPERLY, LUCY, OR YOU WILL GET AN INFECTION.

Lucy’s enemy is Reason, (which I understand all too well). She embodies the many conflicting thematic polarities that run through the book – on the outside she’s a bit of a cold fish, not very likeable, but her inner self is passionate and fiery. Fire and ice, life and death, imagination and reality, madness and sanity, fairytale and realism – Charlotte threw them all in, including a lot of red and white (Sister Agony Auntie Dotty’s BIG RED CROSS is left in even though Sister Agony Auntie Dotty got booted). There’s lots of imagery, lots of metaphors, lots of angst, lots of madness, lots of words and a few of Charlotte’s friends from Angria get a look in too (including the changeling with pygmy hands, Paulina, who steals Dr John, the man Lucy fancies JUST when Lucy gets him out on a date).

Poor Lucy never gets the man. She falls in love with M. Paul but everyone else conspires (didn’t I say it – they ARE out to get you) to keep them apart and he goes off to the West Indies. Lucy spends “three happy years” waiting for him while he sorts out a future for them both but when he’s on his way back to get her his ship sinks during a terrible storm and he dies. There are some debates about this ending because Charlotte purposely wasn’t very clear about it, maybe she couldn’t think of a proper ending so she left it open for the reader to decide, which is the lazy way out – (finish your fucking book, Charlotte, you spent a long time writing it) – but for me, he’s dead.

 

 

ADDENDUM — A newly discovered revelation – this book is about Charlotte and little Emily’s sister, Anne. I’m surprised no one else has made this discovery because it’s not hidden very well. The name LUCY SNOWE is the key. Here’s why —

LUCY is the word LUNACY with the N and the A taken out. What does N/A stand for? NOT APPLICABLE – which means the character of Lucy is not applicable to the author, Charlotte.

So who is it applicable to? Take those two letters, N and A, and put them with Lucy’s surname, SNOWE, make an anagram of them and stick LUCY on the end of it and you get ANNE WOS LUCY.

FUCKING OBVIOUS.

 

 

Dotty Film Review – A Bronx Tale

 

 

I LOVE IT!

 

 

This is one of the best films ever made. I love it. I love it, I love it, I love it. I’ve watched it about 40 times over the years and I still love it. Nothing will ever take away my love for it.

I won’t tell you ANYTHING ABOUT IT because you need to see it and love it all for yourself. It has BRILLIANT MUSIC, a BRILLIANT STORY, BRILLIANT ACTING and I love it.

The only thing that puzzles me is why does Sonny have to die in all the Mafia films he appears in? He dies in The Godfather, he dies in A Bronx Tale. I’m not certain but he probably dies in Goodfellas too. And all the other Mafia films. I wasn’t so bothered when he died in The Godfather but when he dies in A Bronx Tale I cry. Always. Poor Calogero. And when the car burns with Calogero’s friends in it, I cry then as well because that’s a REALLY SAD BIT. And when Calogero is running to try and get there to warn them, I cry then as well because I know they’re dead but he doesn’t and that’s a REALLY, REALLY SAD BIT.

But there are loads and loads of bits that make me laugh – the bit where they lock the door of the bar and kick the shit out of all the biker gang, the bit where Sonny lends Calogero his car to go on his first date with Jane, the bit where they’re all sent into the toilet … there are too many funny bits to tell. I love it.

So if you’re looking for a film to love that will make you laugh and cry and want to watch it again and again, look no further, this is it. I LOVE IT.

 

Score — 100000 out of 10

 

 

Dotty Film Review – The Woman In Black

 

And today Harry the Plank Potter is wearing facial expression Number One

 

I have only two things to say about this film.

FIRST THING —  THEY’VE COMPLETELY SLAUGHTERED SUSAN HILL’S BOOK

and

SECOND THING —  HARRY POTTER CAN’T ACT – why would he even try to act, why would he want to put himself through the shame and humiliation when he doesn’t need to? HE’S A MAGICIAN, isn’t that good enough for him? He’s like these soap opera people who decide that because their CHARACTER is popular on a soap they’ll leave that soap because they’re too good for it, they want bigger things, better things and what happens after they leave is THEY ARE NEVER SEEN ON MY TELLY AGAIN. They disappear into the whirly voids of obscurity and spend the rest of their lives in deep despond about the GRAVE MISTAKE they made, and they watch their old soap and they see the people they used to work with IN STEADY EMPLOYMENT, ENJOYING THEIR STEADY MODICUM OF FAME and they cry and cry and cry. Sometimes they DO re-appear, like Ricky & Bianca & Mandy & David Wicks & Dennis Tanner and all the other old faces the telly companies hire back because THEY CAN PAY THEM LESS THAN OTHER ACTORS BECAUSE THEY ARE SO DESPERATE TO HAVE THEIR WORN AND TATTERED FACES ON MY TELLY AGAIN. Harry, you don’t need to be like them. A magician’s life is a good one. You can travel, you can have a laugh, you can do MAGIC and best of all YOU CAN BECOME FAMOUS like PAUL DANIELS. If VOLDEMORT could see you now he’d piss his pants laughing at your acting, in particular at your TWO FACIAL EXPRESSIONS (facial expression 1 – wooden / facial expression 2 – is it fear?). But why didn’t you use your magic on yourself? Or your invisible cloak, which actually is a brilliant idea – get them to remake the film with you wearing your invisible cloak over your head FOR THE WHOLE FILM. That would be a right laugh, they could still call it The Woman In Black or they could call it Headless Harry Potter in The Woman In Black Film.

CONFESSION — I haven’t actually seen the whole of The Woman In Black, I saw three clips of it but that was quite enough for me, thank you. From what I gather though, the whole film is nothing but Harry Potter and his TWO FACIAL EXPRESSIONS, some CREEPY LOCAL PEOPLE, a few TENSE MOMENTS, and a lot of bad weather.

 

Score – 4 out of 10 (I’ve marked this up by two points because I’m soft, I still like Harry, he’s young, bless him, and he did TRY).

 

I Know I Said I Didn’t Want Pobert Rattinson’s Face On My Blog But ….

I COULDN'T HAVE SAID IT BETTER MYSELF.

Dotty Book Review – Wuthering Heights

 

My new best friend, little Emily, is the credited author of this book with a teensy bit of help from yours truly – Cathy Earnshaw has ginger hair and this was my doing because little Emily couldn’t make up her mind what colour hair Cathy should have so I advised her – ginger. Cathy runs around the moors a lot. I think she has a mental illness that makes her think she’s a ginger sheep she gallops about up there so much. I asked Branwell if he can sort her out with a little tot of laudanum to calm her down (his prices are very reasonable).

It’s Heathcliff I feel sorry for. Have you seen the state of his little house? It’s nothing but RUINS, a few tumbledown stones. I worry about where he sleeps in winter. In summer he’s fine, he sits drinking in the Black Bull all night with nice American tourists who’ve travelled a long way to visit him and when they find out he has nowhere to stay they very kindly stump up the cash for his Bed & Breakfast in the pub. It’s when the nice Americans go away that concerns me, what does he do then? Little Emily won’t have him in the house he’s caused so much trouble. He’s a moody sod at the best of times, so how anyone would put up with him lodging in their house I don’t know. I wouldn’t have him to stay with me, I couldn’t anyway because I HAVE PEOPLE PHOBIA and a moody man in the house would scare me. Having JUDAS to stay was bad enough and he’s my ex-brother, imagine what it would do to me having a relative stranger around all the time, especially one as morose as Heathcliff. No, he can’t come here.

Cathy should be the one to take him in but she won’t. She’s a bit of a bimbo, and she’s a bit slutty too. And she can’t sing. When she had black bushy hair (before little Emily saught my advice) she changed her name to Kate and she used to stand outside Heathcliff’s window singing a synopsis of the book. I’ll leave you to listen to her singing it, I don’t want to hear her again, I’ve got tinnitus and she’d do my head in. This is what she sings —

 

Out on the wiley, windy moors

we’d roll and fall in green.

You had a temper — like my jealousy,

too hot, too greedy.

How could you leave me

when I needed to — possess you?

I hated you, I loved you too.

Bad dreams in the night

told me I was going to lose the fight,

leave behind my Wuuuthering, Wuuuthering,

Wuuuthering-a Heights

Heeeaathcliff! It’s me, oh Catheee

I’ve come home I’m —- so coh-oh-oh-old,

let me in at your windoh-oh-oh-ohw.

Heeeaathcliff! It’s me, oh Catheee

I’ve come home I’m —- so coh-oh-oh-old,

let me in at your windoh-oh-oh-ohw.

Oooh it gets dark, it gets lonely

on the other side from you.

I pine a lot. I find the lot

falls through without you.

I’m coming back love,

Cruel Heathcliff, my one dream,

my only Master.

Too long I roam in the night.

I’m coming back to his side to put it right.

I’m coming home to Wuuuthering, Wuuuthering,

Wuuuthering-a Heights

Heeeaathcliff! It’s me, oh Catheee

I’ve come home I’m —- so coh-oh-oh-old,

let me in at your windoh-oh-oh-ohw.

Heeeaathcliff! It’s me, oh Catheee

I’ve come home I’m —- so coh-oh-oh-old,

let me in at your windoh-oh-oh-ohw.

Ooh, let me have it,

let me grab your soul away.

Ooh, let me have it,

let me grab your soul away.

You know it’s me — Cathy.

Heeeaathcliff! It’s me, oh Catheee

I’ve come home I’m —- so coh-oh-oh-old,

let me in at your windoh-oh-oh-ohw.

Heeeaathcliff! It’s me, oh Catheee

I’ve come home I’m —- so coh-oh-oh-old,

let me in at your windoh-oh-oh-ohw.

Heeeaathcliff! It’s me, oh Catheee

I’ve come home I’m —- so coh-oh-oh-old,

let me in at your windoh-oh-oh-ohw.

Heeeaathcliff! It’s me, oh Catheee

I’ve come home I’m —- so cold.

by Kate Bush (Cathy’s stage name)

 

Short Dotty Film Review Of All The Twilight Films

I'm not putting a picture of ugly Pobert on my little blog so you can look at the book instead

 

 

Pobert Rattinson (see Dotty’s Consonant Swap Game) is one of the ugliest fuckers ever to show himself on my telly. His face looks like someone smacked it repeatedly with a gravestone. He resembles Stefan Somerhalder (see Totty On The Telly), my lovely Ian Somerhalder’s ugly brother from THE VAMPIRE DIARIES.

In the films Pobert is a vampire and he has a girlfriend who is human. Ring any bells? Yes, of course it rings bells, a BIG fucking ding-a-ling of bells, because IT’S A COMPLETE RIP-OFF OF THE VAMPIRE DIARIES. And yes, I HAVE read the books, the first three anyway, and putting aside THE VAMPIRE DIARIES rip-off issue the books are a zillion times better than the films for these four reasons —

1.  Pobert’s ugly face isn’t in the books.

2.  Pobert’s ugly face isn’t in the books.

3.  Pobert’s ugly face isn’t in the books.

4.  HALF THE STORY IS MISSING.

So don’t bother watching these films, they’re shite. You should read the books instead – PROPER books with PAPER PAGES.

 

Score  – 0 out of 10

 

Dotty Film Reviews – The Day The Earth Stood Still

 

 

The other day I watched a film I’d recorded onto my telly-box library. It was called THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL which was a stupid, inaccurate title because the earth didn’t stand still – HOW COULD IT, YOU THICK SHITS? In fact there wasn’t much standing still at all and when Jennifer Connelly DID stand still a soldier on a winch dropped out of the sky and oiked her up into a helicopter. A better title is THE DAY THE EARTH CONTINUED TO SPIN – still not absolutely indicative of what the film is about, but a hundred times more accurate than the one they came up with. A PERFECT title is THE DAY KEANU REEVES DECIDED NOT TO DESTROY THE HUMAN RACE.

Don’t you think Jennifer Connelly looks like a young Demi Moore? I do.

Keanu Reeves is an alien. I never realised this but I should have because it explains his extraordinary abilities in THE MATRIX SERIES, which is a three part documentary about people who wear nothing but black clothes. I don’t think Sandra Bullock realised he was an alien either or she might have thought twice about falling in love with him when she lived in THE LAKE HOUSE.

Something else I find totally unbelievable in this film is how DOLORES CLAIBORNE got to be PRESIDENT MR BARACK OBAMA’S right-hand woman after what she did in her past when she was so sadistic to that poor author. AMERICAN PEOPLE, LISTEN TO ME – SHE MANGLED HIS LEGS UP, YOU KNOW SHE DID, YET YOU STILL HAVE HER IN A POSITION OF POWER. Why? What if she does it again and this time she does it to YOUR PRESIDENT, MR BARACK OBAMA? Don’t you care about him? Don’t you care what happens TO HIS LEGS?

And while you’re thinking about YOUR PRESIDENT, MR BARACK OBAMA’S legs, you might also want to think about Prince Will Smith of Bel-Air’s parenting skills because here in this country he’d be had up for CHILD NEGLECT for allowing a little kid like that to run round with AN ALIEN WHO WANTS TO DESTROY THE HUMAN RACE. Somebody needs to have a word with Prince Will Smith of Bel-Air and tell him you can’t just foist your kid off onto anyone who happens to pass by just because you’re royalty and you can’t be bothered with the little brat.

There ARE some good bits in this film though. The GREAT BIG BALL WITH A SWIRLY CLOUD INSIDE IT is a good bit. So is the GREAT BIG TRANSFORMER ROBOT except when he changes himself into A GREAT BIG SWARM OF INSECTS because I don’t like insects, they frighten me and I don’t know why Keanu didn’t just smite all the insects and creepy crawlies here on earth before he left to go back to his own planet. He could have at least done that for the human race – in the end he did fuck all for us, I don’t know why he bothered coming.

 

 

Score – 2 out of 10

 

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