August 8th, 2011

Better living through chemistry

every time I read the words 'little conceptual art joke' I reach for my revolver

Thanks to bonsai_human I now know that the knobjockey who robbed me of several minutes of my precious life talking about counting his sneezes was merely reading out his effing webpage.

He reads aloud very badly*. He isn't funny. He isn't good to look at. He can't write.

You can see where this is going, can't you?

Perhaps I could make a tiny bit of money reading the funnier bits of my LJ out on stage wearing a low-cut top.

I really wish I'd heckled him now. I was tempted to shout 'Speak up love, we can't hear you. Your voice is too muffled by having YOUR HEAD UP YOUR ARSE'.

*My reading aloud at various weddings has been much complimented. My speaking voice has been described as 'a mixture of Margaret Thatcher and Joanna Lumley' and (when I was briefly a station announcer at Colchester Rail station) 'like someone giving one's ears a blowjob'. Also when I'm angry, 'like having the wrath of god in the room'.