Ariel Washing Machine Tablets, I Love You, You Are Beautiful

 

Have you ever been suddenly stricken and over-awed by a thing that is TOO beautiful? A flower, a picture of the Universe, a book, a painting – something so intricate with colour and detail you almost can’t bear to look at it but do you DO look at it, you stare and stare and stare at it, out of time, out of reality, you want to EAT it, gobble it up, stuff yourself with it but you can only take so much, it’s like trying to wolf down three bars of the richest, silkiest chocolate, it’s TOO rich, you want to eat it all, you NEED to eat it all, but you can’t.

I didn’t eat my Ariel Washing Machine Tablets, I was just trying to give you an idea of what happened when I took them out of the packet to put in the washing machine this morning – I’ve never seen them looking so lovely, so perfectly formed, so FINE, with the little blue bits SHINING OUT OF THE WHITE like sapphires in snow – the blue bits glistened when I held one up to the light, mesmerising, like all the love in the world packed into a little tablet-shaped glory, a tiny universe of soap. I don’t know how they made something so beautiful out of POWDERS. I didn’t put them in the washing machine drawer, I couldn’t destroy them, the thought of them breaking into millions of pieces made me cry so I thought ‘What to do, what to do, I don’t want to be a MINGER,‘ so I squirted a bit of Fairy Washing Up Liquid in the washing machine drawer instead and added extra Lenor Conditioner (with Febreeze) so my clothes won’t smell like plates.

 

 

Dotty The Cosmic Orderer Who Asked The Universe For £148m But Didn’t Get It

 

The £148m should have been MINE. It WAS mine, I asked the Universe for it – when Andy Murray won the Gold I dug out my Cosmic Ordering book because I thought if Cosmic Ordering worked for Andy it’ll work for me, and I’ve been Cosmic Ordering my arse off ever since with varying degrees of success. Here are my successes –

 

1) my Cumberland sausages haven’t burnt AT ALL since I asked the Universe not to burn them

2) my learning to fly injuries on my face are healing up nicely after I asked the Universe to help them heal up nicely

3) Lottie hasn’t been in touch since I asked the Universe to make her go away

4) life has been quiet and free of stupid fuckers since I asked the Universe to make my life quiet and free of stupid fuckers (this one’s a bit iffy, I only asked the Universe for it last night so we’ll have to wait and see)

5) I won the £148m Euromillions jackpot last Friday

 

Did you read #5? Eh? BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT SHOULD HAVE HAPPENED but somehow it didn’t, somehow my £148m WAS STOLEN FROM ME and found its way DOWN SOUTH WHERE THE RICH FUCKERS LIVE.

 

 

I need to go now and talk to the Universe to find out what happened.

Aha – a thought – maybe the Universe is teasing me, like it did with Andy when it gave Wimbledon to Federer BUT THEN IT GAVE ANDY THE GOLD.

Hmmmmm!

 

 

 

Little Emily Is Dying And Dotty Might Have Destroyed The Universe (If I Have – Sorry Everyone)

 

She’s had a relapse, a bad one. Branwell came last night, but they don’t need me to go up there because Charlotte and Anne are home again. I’m so worried about her I’ve done something I probably shouldn’t have done – I gave Branwell my emergency course of antibiotics that I keep for emergencies and I told him to sneak them to her at the correct times. Like I said, I probably shouldn’t have given them to him but I can’t stand the thought of her being so ill when the very medicine that could make her better is sitting in my medicine cupboard doing nothing. 

But the big question I’ve been asking myself since is – might I be fucking about with TIME and FATE and HISTORY? Might the universe POP or IMPLODE or TURN UPSIDE DOWN or FLOAT AWAY or something just as devastating if little Emily doesn’t stay ill and die when she’s supposed to? Who knows – I don’t know and you don’t know either, the only people who profess to know are the UNIVERSE BOFFINS and all they know is how to talk a load of SCIENTIFIC WORDY SHITE about their THEORIES. But really they don’t know any more than we do – they’re just GUESSING in their SCIENTIFIC UNIVERSE BOFFIN ways of guessing and getting paid a fucking great shedload of money to do so.

Why are there no UNIVERSE BOFFINS who specialise in COMMON SENSE? For instance, when they prattle on about the BALLOON THEORY – I’ve never heard one of them ask ‘What’s on the OUTSIDE of the balloon?’ because common sense says the balloon has to expand into SOMETHING. And what colour is the balloon? (I hope it isn’t yellow, I don’t like yellow balloons, they make me feel sick.) And why isn’t the balloon DEFLATING like old balloons do if they’ve hidden themselves behind the sofa for a week?

And WHO BLEW THE BALLOON UP IN THE FIRST PLACE?

And did who ever blew it up use one of those BALLOON BLOWING PUMPS or did they blow it up with their lips and their breath?

And WHY did they blow it up?

A birthday? A wedding?

And is there any writing on the balloon?

9 TODAY?

HAPPY 18TH BIRTHDAY?

CONGRATULATIONS (with a little picture of two horseshoes).

It’s all too complicated for my little addled brain to think about. But I’ve affected SOMETHING because WEIRD UNIVERSE TRICKS have already started –

TWO OF MY PENS RAN OUT OF INK THIS MORNING

What are the odds of that happening, eh?

TWO pens, the two pens I use – but I didn’t start using them at the same time, one was older than the other. I’ve left them both sitting on my kitchen worktop so I can try them again later to see if the INK HAS COME BACK because if it DOES come back it means TIME HAS REVERSED ITSELF and I’ll have to prepare myself for my front door de-bricking itself.

 

I’m going to have some Cumberland sausage sandwiches (my last?) and then a big swig of laudanum (my last?) and wait for Branwell to come and tell me how little Emily is doing. IF he comes.

Goodbye, my bloggy friends. It’s been nice knowing you.

 

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