The days in between the years are usually spent watching a lot of crap TV chez Met Mum. And when I say crap, I mean CRAP. It’s Clarkson and his retarded friends for Big M and catching up on *gasp* The Only Way is Essex for me. You missed it? Whaaht? Missed it, hunney? Shu’ uuup! Oh mah gaaawd, de only way’s Essex was like Sooo Funney! Wif all de geezas and de birds…
My favourite bird by far is Amy Childs, the personification of ditzy bimboness.
Complete with fake tan, fake boobs, caked on make-up and fake eyelashes. Don’t be mistaken by her chestnut brown mane – she is a true blonde at head. She famously asked two lads from North London where North London was. I am still nursing the bruises from falling off the sofa laughing. And it got even better when she went on, reminiscing ‘…so we are in South London, yer…’ Erm. Nope. You are in Essex, luv.
But you don’t have to look like a tangerine after a nuclear catastrophe to be geographically challenged. You might just as well be a well-travelled, well-educated individual who knows her St Tropez from her Gstaad but still say things like ‘Ah, Islington. So you guys moved out of town now.’ Or ‘Aha, Islington. That’s very suburban, right? Lots of leafy roads, family villas and countryside, I heard.’
Words of the so-called Eurotrash, not mine. Tsk.
So. If you don’t want to sound like you’re from Essex (sorry, dear Essexians, but your reputation is rather… on the low scale of things) , don’t say things like ‘The person who’s done the dictionary, who is it?’ or any of the above. Much rather leave a comment, win a copy of Amazing People of London and impress your friends with the knowledge of why police officers are called bobbies. Or peelers.
I was given a copy of Amazing People of London to review and another one to give away. It’s an easy and entertaining read and exactly the kind of thing that you want to read to make up for far too much car crash TV over the holidays.