And then Gordon Ramsay came along and made everything horny again.

You know how I wrote a while back about the beauty of the John Lewis ad? Well…

Gordon Ramsay did a spoof version. And it’s hilarious. I’d say Google It, but unfortunately I can only find this:

Damn you Channel 4.

Now, anyone who has known me long enough, knows of my stalker addiction knicker wetting love of admiration of cookery skills for mild love of Gordon Ramsay. I absolutely LOVE this advert, I found it fucking hilarious. The Mr and I were all confused when it first started, wondering if John Lewis had tried to out-do themselves by creating a sequel (please don’t, John Lewis, I can tell you now it would not be a good idea).

I, personally, would love to have Gordon Ramsay boss me around in the kitchen (maybe while I flounder around with a big piece of meat Christmas ham), and obviously, I started tweeting about it.

And then this happened.

To say I damn near wet myself is an understatement. But yes, there may have been a moment or two taken to refresh my knickers.

Obviously.

The Mr and I both have crushes on Mr Ramsay; he, a healthy man-crush; me, a dirty, fuck-me-sideways, say-my-name-and-make-me-call-you-daddy, I-want-to-hump-you-senseless kind of girl crush. In a pair of FMBs.

I still stand my ground about what I said, re Gordon Ramsay. “He’s going to make sure he does the job properly. And then will want to do it again, just to be sure. And then, probably again, just to prove a point.” You know it’s true, right?

And then, as if to prove my point, the fucking awesome Kat of 3 Bedroom Bungalow tweeted this.

As if I wasn’t laughing hard enough, The Mr then suggested I “slap him with a piece of bacon”. Cue “laughing til I nearly puked” and The Mr reduced to hiccups.

Needless to say, Mr Ramsay hasn’t tweeted me yet (mind you, the real heckling hasn’t started yet, though I’m hoping to not go down the same route as #TweetMeStephenFry). Maybe I should tweet him while wearing an awesome push-up bra, super cleavage and maybe a photo of my arse.

Win.

Blognonymous – My Brother

This post was written anonymously and submitted to Blognonymous for publishing on this blog. Please feel free to leave your help and support should you wish, in comments below. Many thanks.

oOoOoOoOoOo

BlognonymousToday is my brother’s birthday. He is older than me and we are not in touch. I always feel sad on his birthday, because despite everything that’s happened he is my big brother and I love him.

It is very difficult as my parents and other siblings know we don’t talk but I cannot tell them the real reasons why, but I am absolutely insistent with them that I will not be in contact with him. It is for my own wellbeing and I know it is for the best but I do not want to make his relationship with my family difficult.

I find myself wanting to talk about it but cannot do it openly so the discovery of Blognonymous is great. I need to get these thoughts out of my head and I need to know whether I am being fair or whether I am being entirely selfish with my actions.

I am not holding off stating the issue between my brother and I for dramatic effect, it’s more that I don’t know how to approach the subject. So I’ll just come out with it.

When I was a child my brother sexually assaulted me. For years I wondered if I had a false memory of the incident, I also wondered if it had happened more than once.

This is what I remember. I was playing in my bedroom and my brother called me from the bathroom, asking me to get him a towel from the airing cupboard. I remember feeling nervous (which is why I suspect it wasn’t the first time, why would I be nervous of my brother?) I didn’t want to do it but I took the towel to him. He pulled me into the bathroom and trapped me behind the door. From a child’s perspective all I remember is seeing a huge erect penis, I was incredibly frightened and begged him to let me go. He made me touch him, I remember crying and then being shoved from the bathroom.

That is it, a few moments. I’m not even sure how old I was, maybe 9 or 11. He is 7 years older than me. I don’t know how long I was trapped, it felt like an eternity at the time. It had a huge impact on me and my confidence, I remember feeling confused and scared. As a child I adored this brother, absolutely idolised him and I simply did not understand what had happened and why.

When I grew up it had a huge impact on my relationships and how I was with men. I was unable to touch a partner’s genitals without getting flashbacks. For years I had very unhealthy sexual relationships and was messed up beyond belief. I’m not saying it was all just this incident, so much else happened that impacted on me; my parent’s divorce, an absent father, a further sexual assault as an older teenager.

It was about 20 years before I spoke to anyone about what happened, still believing it was probably a false memory I spoke to a counsellor about it. I was told it was probably in my head and it was best not to think about it, such memories were best suppressed. I didn’t go back to the counsellor but I did try to forget about the ‘memory’. I continued to be self-destructive. A few years later I worked up the courage to try counselling again, I had separated from my husband and knew I couldn’t continue to live my life the way I was.

It took me 6 sessions to broach the subject, I had thought about nothing else for a week before. I didn’t sleep, I didn’t raise the topic until near the end if the session, I shook the entire way through the session. My fear was that she would confirm it was probably a false memory, my bigger fear was that she would confirm it wasn’t a false memory and it would be true that my brother had damaged me in the way he had.

My counsellor was brilliant, she talked it through with me and said she really couldn’t tell me whether the memory was true or not. She recommended I talk to my brother, saying he needed to acknowledge it had happened and apologise in order for our relationship to move on. She didn’t stick up for him but she explained what a confusing time it is for teenagers and she doubted there was anything sexually deviant in his behaviour (I worried for years as he had a daughter of his own).

I followed her advice, I spoke to my partner about what had happened and he agreed to be in the house when my brother came to visit. When my brother arrived I explained that we needed to talk and we went into the next room. I told him what I remembered, I told him I needed to know if had happened and if it had I needed him to apologise or I couldn’t continue to have him as part of my life. He told me he didn’t remember and that he remembered very little of his childhood. But the moment I told him what I remembered I knew it hadn’t been a false memory, there was a flash of panic across his eyes that told me everything I needed to know. He remembered, he knew what he’d done and I think he hoped I had forgotten. I explained that I could no longer be part of his life.

My brother left the house and we haven’t spoken since. That was a couple of years ago, I have since had a child, I didn’t tell him, I knew he would find out through my family. My family know we don’t talk but I don’t tell them the real reason why, I know it’s hard for them and I know they don’t understand. I cannot tell them, how could I tell my mum that he did that? I worry about the impact on my mum, I worry how she would feel about not protecting me or that it would ruin her relationship with her son.

The counselling had a huge impact on my life, I dealt with a lot of ‘issues’ and was able to move forward in a better way. I don’t regret for a moment having the counselling or confronting my brother about what happened. I have felt happier since he has stopped being in my life, simply because I rarely spare him a thought these days. I wish he had felt able to talk about it with me, I am not angry with him but I need it to be an issue that is dealt with in order to be around him, otherwise it’s just our own elephant in the room that no one else can see.

So, I haven’t sent my brother a birthday card, but I am thinking about him today and despite everything I still love him. In fact I love him so much it breaks my heart that he’s no longer in my life, but I only think about it today and tomorrow I shall put it away again.

Silent Sunday

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Silent Sunday

Dear So and So…Wicked Week Edition

NOTE – had a wanky week? Read this.

Dear Little Small

OMFG you know the phonic sounds for half the alphabet already? Please don’t be more intelligent than me (although not difficult) because I will never keep.

You should also remember you’re only 2 and a half, you have plenty of time. And please put that book down and stop looking like a smart ass.

Love, Your Mother (insanely proud and a little terrified.)

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear Big Small

Knowing all your phonics sounds AND being able to read more than 10 words AND repeatedly being complimented on your school behaviour, is actually the bomb-diggedy. Given your speech stress we had, and the constant wonder in my mind if we would ever have a conversation with you, well, you’ve pretty much blown all that shit out of the water. In fact, we pretty much can’t get you to STFU and your questions…well. I don’t think I need to buy Isaac an encyclopaedia, because quite frankly, he’ll have you instead.

Love, Your Mother (insanely proud and planning to do more GCSE’s and A Levels.)

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear Work*

ZOMG. Just as I’m on the verge of writing a really fucking whiny post about how life sucks and how I have no energy to do any more and how start-up business is quite possibly the one thing that will kill me, I get my wedding photography featured on TWO BLOGS in ONE DAY, get an order from a client which involves 130 prints (yes, from one client), plus asked by the school headmaster’s wife to photograph people for the school fayre and Santa’s Grotto, plus kicking SEO and Google Adwords in the BALLS (cahoonas, testicles, nuts, plums, crown jewels, happy-sacks, scrotes, two-veg, ,  , , , , , , , , , , … you see what we did there?), plus finally being set on all my logo designs, plus more client enquiries, plus omg I have done all of this from scratch with the help of some people whom I would sleep with in a heartbeat (and one of them I actually do sleep with)…

Yeah, you’re pretty sweet right now.

Bittersweet-exhausted love, Jay Mountford, Birmingham Wedding Photographer

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear The Mr

Happy 5 years of marriage. I fucking love you, I do. Maybe we will have sex tonight (or not, depending on how much champagne we get through during our fancy meal tonight. Drunken fumblings, I suspect. Our two gorgeous children pretty much exhaust me).

Much, MUCH love , The Mrs xxx

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear Finances

C’mon people, c’mon…I just need you to place those big orders you’re talking about in the next week so I can afford to buy a Christmas card…c’mooonnnn….

Yours, truly skint, Jay

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear Readers

FUCK YEAH.

* Yes I know it’s riddled with SEO. Fucking obvious, innit? Duh.

 

Dear So and So…Wanky Week Edition

NOTE – had a wicked week? Read this.

Dear Little Small

We’re all pretty much done with your whining and shit now.

Make it stop.

That is not a request.

Love, Your Mother (who knows for how much longer)

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear Big Small

As my mother used to say, “Yuh ears hole nuh bore?”

When we ask you to do something, it would be lovely if you did it first time, rather than ignoring us for the umpteenth time.

And then staring at us blankly. I vowed never to do the whole “am I speaking another language?!?” thing, and today you made me do it.

Not cool.

Love, Your Mother (plotting your eBay sale as we speak)

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear Illness

What. The. Holy. Fuck.

Are you shitting me? Like, seriously? It’s time to move on. I don’t even know what you are, but seriously. Piss. The. Piss. Off.

I’m not even going to give you the joy of closure here. Just piss off.

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear The Mr

I have absolutely no money, or strength, so I’m afraid our 5 year wedding anniversary today may be a tiny bit shit, whilst I try really hard not to complain.

The sex is going to be really dull, I’m afraid.

Love you though.

The Wife x

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear Finances

You are actually making me cry. A lot. Please stop it.

Yours, truly skint, Jay

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear Readers

Whatevs. Go find Miss Kat and read stuff. Meh.

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