It’s Christmas, time to hang out with the mother. She’s a smart lady and I don’t think realizes how funny she is. So it’s time take note of all the bizarre and strangely insightful things she says over the festive period, then publish them on my blog, cheers mum xx ….
My first night down there, while watching Northern Exposure …
Mum: Ahhh yes Jewish doctors. Why can’t you find a nice Jewish doctor?
Me: I don’t know mum.
Mum: No … shame. You should.
Me: Right …
I get ready to go out, admitidly looking a little odd , complete with my new tweed grandpa hat ….
Mum: Oh. You look like a latter-day Annie Hall, crossed with Madonna’s ex-husband.
Me: Guy Ritchie?
Mum: Yes him.
Christmas Day, mum looks whistfully out the window at the snow and silent streets ….
Mum: It’s so lovely and quiet out there – there’s a lot to be said for the neutron bomb.
Doing the Observer Boxing Day quiz, trying to find the answers to the questions about songs …
1) Observer Clue: We meet a young lady recovering from an abusive relationship. Confused and lonely, she seeks solace in an all-too-familiar cycle of sexualty and victimhood, inviting back into her life the very man who left her blinded.
Me: That’s …
Mum: That’s life darling.
Answer: Britney Spears ‘Baby One More Time’
2) Observer: This plucky chap was born during a spell of terrible weather and it’s all downhill from there – he’s abused by his bearded toothless mum and nobody cares when he nearly drowns. But, with irrepressible spirit, he can look back at the hard times and laugh.
Answer: Irrelevant after that clanger.
I ask mum to heat up my coffee, she huffs about it ..
Me: There’s no need to looks so pissed off.
Mum: I don’t look pissed off this is my natural face now.
Mum looks up from making an omelette ….
Mum: I’m an anorcho-syndaclist.
Me: What’s that?
Mum: Look it up.
Me: Why are you talking in a German accent?
Mum: What’s R Kelly?
Sitting down, watching a wildlife documentary – one humming bird is eating nectar but another larger one turns up, the smaller one must stand his ground. Mum’s words of encouragement to the little hummingbird …
Mum: Go on babe, don’t let him piss on your parade.
Mum buys a copy of Life of Brian from a charity shop, it was £1.99.
“I can’t believe it. £1.99, for such genius!”
In reference to God ..
Yes, well, I haven’t seen much of this heavenly compassion lately mate.
Mum has the camera, I strike a pose ..
Mum: Try not to look so arrogant in photos darling.
Mum talking about someone useless she knows …
Mum: He couldn’t slide shit down a shovel.
Just about to leave the house I am asked out of the blue …
Mum: What country in Europe has the highest crime rate?
Me: I don’t know …
Mum: The Vatican City.
Me: Really? Are you sure?
Mum: Yeup. And the youngest age of consent.
Me: How young?
Me: That’s pretty odd.
Mum: It’s very odd.
Mum: Loyalty, it’s a great quality – not just in spies.
Mum: If in doubt – call an ambulance.
In reference to me braking things …
Mum: Like that bloody computer you had that Jack chose, that was over a grand … Didn’t last three years.
Me: It lasted from before college to my third flat it Brixton.
Mum: You could’ve got a car for that money.
Me: No I couldn’t and that was 7 years, it lasted 7 years.
Mum: Car would have lasted longer.
Me: What car of yours has ever lasted 7 years?
Mum: This one.
Me: No it hasn’t.
Paolo Nutini comes on …
Mum: Oh this is Louis Nutini!
Me: Paolo Nutini?
Mum: Yeah – I thought he was a shrivelled old Jamaican.
Mum: The fruit looks good, I hope you noticed I picked lemons and limes, Caravaggio would’ve liked that.
Mum: What would Bob Marley do?
I try to steal my mums name for her website for my blog (couldn’t change the name in the end … )
Mum: Yeah, great. Everyone takes my ideas. Leonard wrote a few things on napkins.
Mum: The Nazi’s had good tailors. Terrible really isn’t it …
Mum: Fuck Father Christmas, I want candles and choirs.
Mum get’s her fill of choirs while watching the young boys choir at Kings College …
Mum: That’s the thing about choirs and tv – the close ups. They sound like angels and you don’t want to see they don’t look like them.
The coca-cola advert with Father Christmas is on …
Mum: John (*my father) grew a beard once, he looked like the man on ‘Captain’s Full Players Cigarettes.’ Beards are distractions. It’s a displacement tactic, like mopping the floor.
Later in the day when another beard has been thrust in mums face …
Mum: It’s the time of year for men with beards, every time I look up there’s a man with a beard. I blame Jesus.
Mum: Walking does seem a purposeless activity unless you’ve got a dog.
Mum eating stilton and crackers …
Mum: Oh chutney. Yeah man.
A friend has contested that I go to the loo more than is normal. I put this to my mother.
Mum: Well darling, I think it’s the same as with everything, you’ve got to get it while it’s there.
Mum loses the pepper …
Mum: That’s the trouble, you’ve got to know where you’ve put things.
Me furiously tidying, try to force mum to join in …
Mum: Haven’t I told you I’m an anarcho-syndaclist?
Me: I’m an anarcho-syndaclist on facebook now – ner.
Mum: You didn’t even know what an anarcho-syndaclist was!
Me: Doesn’t mean I wasn’t one.
Mum: You’d never stand up in interrogation. Your knowledge of the unions is very dodgey.
Me: So is yours.
Mum: No its not, I used to hoot for the firemen.