Friday, 9 May 2008

It just gets better and better

Some time ago I wrote a mildly exasperated post about the joys of the OCD spectrum - and really, I shouldn't complain, because it's handy for the crossword ("Nope, it can't be 'iridescent' because that's 10 letters"). However - more and more lately I've been wondering about whether there exists, in a parallel kinda way, a Tourette's spectrum that we're all to some extent on. We all, I presume, have those voices that scream apoplectically "SHIFT YOUR STUPID SLACK-TROUSERED TEENAGE ARSE" when stuck behind a foot-dragging gangly iPod-festooned 14-year-old cretin on the tube escalator - but mercifully silently, so that you get the satisfaction of having vented your spleen without the possibility of being headbutted by someone 9 feet tall in trainers the size of breezeblocks. Lately I've found to my HORROR that my lips are moving when I'm doing this. It's only a short step from that to being the ranty old lady we all cross the road to avoid. The sad truth is, I have always had a vision of myself, perhaps an optimistic one, as some kind of minor-Redgrave-esque trendily attired doyenne of subculture, dispensing bookish wisdom like some glamorous sybil. The gap between this and the real truth is rapidly enlarging - the hideous truth that in fact I'm some bhaji-haired old crone lurching wildly up and down the road screaming "NO, REALLY, PARK WHERE YOU LIKE, YOU FILTHY CHISWICK WHORE" at the innocent Jimmy Choo-ed mummy mafia. Out loud. Counting the letters as I do.
Then again I haven't had enough coffee yet today.

11 comments:

Brother Tobias said...

Oh god, I've got the same problem. There was a woman practically shouting down her mobile as she went through CD racks in a shop the other day, and without thinking I remarked "Too loud" at her. She looked gob-smacked and I walked away in shock, realising I'd prematurely become a mad old fart. Or maybe the self-obsessed like that legitimately drive us to it.

lucyfishwife said...

I was sitting behind a woman on the bus the other day who was having the most fascinating conversation, and it was so loud I felt perfectly justified in listening - I think she must have been in the middle of a nasty break-up, and she was saying to the person at the other end "..AND THE NEXT TIME I HEAR SOMEONE SAY HE HAS INTEGRITY I SHALL LAUGH OUT LOUD, LIKE THIS HA HA..."

JonathanM said...

There were no filthy whores in Chiswick when I lived there. Mind you there were no bookshops either.

lucyfishwife said...

Oh Jonathan you SO never went into the High Road Brasserie on a Friday evening. Wall to wall slingbacks and everybody craning their necks to see if they could spot anyone famous who'd be drunk enough to snog them later. And before (*cough*) Waterstones there was Dillons, and before that there was the Fountains Bookshop, run by a really nice guy called Michael who looked exactly like Elvis Costello...

JonathanM said...

I remember the Fountain opening and buying a book at a Peter Blake signing session, but the closest the High Rd had to a brasserie back then was Micky D's.

And I once queued up behind a heavily sweating Elvis as he bought
121 albums upstairs at the Our Price in Richmond. I was buying Tin Drum at the time.

lucyfishwife said...

I recently bought "Tin Drum" and "Gentlemen Take Polaroids" on CD.. my vinyl warped in my mother's loft. The Brasserie was started by Ant 'n' Dec. I need say no more. Peter Blake's still around though!

JonathanM said...

Actually, when i lived there, I lived opposite Nick Lowe. Fact!

lucyfishwife said...

Nick Lowe used to come into Waterstones on a regular basis! Now THAT'S a silver fox.

JonathanM said...

In my day, he was The Jesus of Cool and Johnny Cash was his father-in-law.

lucyfishwife said...

He's still the Jesus of Cool. I think Johnny Cash stopped being his father-in-law some time before Johnny Cash stopped being Johnny Cash?

Rol said...

You're not alone. I have a similar reaction - AUDI SCUMBAG!!! - whenever I see an Audi driver... even on the rare occasions when they're not actually foing anything wrong.