Sorry about the horse and all that ... seems it had been in a lot of discomfort for a long time but at least it's not suffering any longer.
Now - my mind keeps returning to THE CRISIS. I am just wondering - I may be completely on the wrong track and I certainly have no inside knowledge - IF it could be anything to do with the fast approaching ITV's 'I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here' programme?
Lizard signed up for Celebrity Big Brother, apparently to fund paying off her Inland Revenue debt so who's to say she isn't now eager to make some more dosh, seeing that she's still wailing about her poverty? So maybe THE CRISIS she's now referred to several times might be about negotiations about 'I'm A Celebrity ...'? And, shamefaced, I have to say, were she to appear in it, I'd actually WATCH the rubbish. And run up a huge phone bill voting for her to do all the disgusting tasks- eating the testicles of unfortunate wildlife, chomping on live insects, being dunked in various crapulous liquids ... I LOVE it!
Message to Lizard - resolve THE CRISIS. Say 'YES'!
The old Hag can't do IACGMOOH on account of her strict veganism (holds aching sides). The only way she could get in would be if she was exempt from eating anything alive or animal based (the secret reason she's still with the Dirty Baker). I can't seee them agreeing to that, soooo... if she *does* go on, the GBP will see that she can't eat animal kind, keep voting for her and everyone will starve to death. Win - Win!
Bearing in mind THE CRISIS was all about her being wronged and her naming and shaming... there;s a distinct possibility that it's transpired that she hasn't got a leg to stand on and THE Cris... will turn out to be yet another damp squib.
Hmmm - I relished the thought of the Lizard on 'I'm a Sleb ... but you're probably right - eating bugs etc. seems to be de rigeur on that programme and Lizard even in the direst financial straits couldn't force down a wriggly critter.
No, I suspect the next few Drearies will be full of wailing about the Dear Departed Gee-Gee and the odd mention of The Baker and how unsupportive he is. And it's not impossible that THE CRISIS may be quietly forgotten.
The old Hag can't do IACGMOOH on account of her strict veganism (holds aching sides). The only way she could get in would be if she was exempt from eating anything alive or animal based (the secret reason she's still with the Dirty Baker). I can't seee them agreeing to that, soooo... if she *does* go on, the GBP will see that she can't eat animal kind, keep voting for her and everyone will starve to death. Win - Win!
.
I dunno - they have had whinging vegans on the show before such as (not doctor) Gillian McKeith who refused to do challenges and left the camp to starve although for herself she had smuggled in some vegan soup powder.
Hence the sudden writing of a novvul - cash required.
And as someone here previously theorised, the "cupboard" was indeed a perk of the job. Can't quite understand the simultaneous the loss of all her freelance work unless...
1 - the Wail editors sent out The Word, or (more likely)...
2 - everyone else realised how dire her writing had become.
"I could be wrong about this, but I think he believes I’ve gone cold on him"
Maybe because... that's exactly what you've been writing these last few weeks ? Nah, 'course not. What's not to adore about Elizabeth Ann Jones (aged 56) ?
Hence the sudden writing of a novvul - cash required.
And as someone here previously theorised, the "cupboard" was indeed a perk of the job. Can't quite understand the simultaneous the loss of all her freelance work unless...
1 - the Wail editors sent out The Word, or (more likely)...
2 - everyone else realised how dire her writing had become.
"I could be wrong about this, but I think he believes I’ve gone cold on him"
Maybe because... that's exactly what you've been writing these last few weeks ? Nah, 'course not. What's not to adore about Elizabeth Ann Jones (aged 56) ?
Can't quite understand the simultaneous the loss of all her freelance work unless...
1 - the Wail editors sent out The Word, or (more likely)...
2 - everyone else realised how dire her writing had become.
She has become more of a joke than a serious journalist these days. She has also clearly lost a lot of her credibility in the fashion world and no longer gets the same runway invites as she did a few years ago.
I can't help that think that some of her DM "fashion" articles might have sealed her fate - you know the ones where she "modelled" standing knock-kneed, pulling faces having chosen very unflattering clothes to model and then ripped the company to shreds in those "fashion therapy" articles.
I always thought she was playing a dangerous game to mock the high street and therefore bite the fashion hand that feeds
- for the DM readers she cleary showed an inability to put together a flattering and affordable outfit or shop wisely - remember last year's Christmas present recommendations that included a Dipytique candle wick trimmer for £18, an i-pad case for £180, Bamford bath oil for £40 or cashmere sweatpants for £298!
- I doubt that many clothing companies would be happy to send samples for such a savaging by Liz
- it may have affected DM revenue if fashion companies didn't want to be associated with her and didn't buy advertising for her pages
The other REALLY big issue for LJ is that I always assumed she got paid a hefty product placement fee plus a lot of freebies from the high end fashion companies to plug their products - now she is no longer a DM fashion writer I guess this income has dried up.
Oooh yes - a 'benefit in kind' or something. Along with 'the cupboard', would also includes a car supplied by employer.
As for today's Dreary - told you she'd be on about The Horse. We can expect weeks more of this ... . Still, never mind - in today's farticle, Lizard wants to try out a new organic restaurant - in Paris (money troubles? What money troubles!) but cue a moan about handing over credit card details blah blah blah ... plus a swipe at Harrods. 'Rugby tackled' when she tried to get into a lift there with a bar of Jo Malone soap? Really?
As for the Baker, I quite admire him today - met her at the airport but didn't want to 'walk her' to the long stay car park as he was in the short stay car park. So, ever the gent, he put her on the bus!
I think there is something desperately wrong with a mature woman who says a horse was "everything" to her, when clearly she has people in her life who care deeply about her (though I have no idea why they do). Instead of concentrating on them and being grateful to and for them, she just whines about a horse who has been sick for ages.
My horse is dead. Stop all the clocks etc. I thought that Lizzie would last forever, despite being a notably sick horse for most of her life, but I was wrong. Fie on you who would point out that my mother's death might be a bit worse. She was old and crusty and had no mind any more. Lizzie cruelly left me when she was only a little bit middle aged and perpetually suffering. THE TORMENT can you feel it.
As for the Baker, suggesting that his girlfriend's death from cancer is in any way comparable to the death of my horse...
My horse is dead. Stop all the clocks etc. I thought that Lizzie would last forever, despite being a notably sick horse for most of her life, but I was wrong. Fie on you who would point out that my mother's death might be a bit worse. She was old and crusty and had no mind any more. Lizzie cruelly left me when she was only a little bit middle aged and perpetually suffering. THE TORMENT can you feel it.
As for the Baker, suggesting that his girlfriend's death from cancer is in any way comparable to the death of my horse...
My horse is dead. Stop all the clocks etc. I thought that Lizzie would last forever, despite being a notably sick horse for most of her life, but I was wrong. Fie on you who would point out that my mother's death might be a bit worse. She was old and crusty and had no mind any more. Lizzie cruelly left me when she was only a little bit middle aged and perpetually suffering. THE TORMENT can you feel it.
As for the Baker, suggesting that his girlfriend's death from cancer is in any way comparable to the death of my horse...
Dumb. And dumber. There is absolutely no way, ever, a normal person would be so shredded with "grief" about an animal that they mention the death of a parent as an aside. My father died in the summer: he was desperately ill, he was 90, there was nothing that could be done to make him better, so when it happened it was a relief/release. That said, It didn't, for one moment, stop the sadness and reality of finality. Alongside the death of my mother, there is nothing which will ever touch the hole which has been left. This from someone who cried for days when her beloved labrador "went to heaven", and I still miss her. But I know which missing and sadness is the more healthy.
Ms Jones really needs to get a grip. Yes: animals can be loved. They are loved. But they are not a faux family.
(Perhaps the Baker was being ironic) (if he ever uttered/wrote the words about his ex girlfriend, her death and knowing what LJ was going through)
I dunno - they have had whinging vegans on the show before such as (not doctor) Gillian McKeith who refused to do challenges and left the camp to starve although for herself she had smuggled in some vegan soup powder.
Anyone remember the fake faint?
Vegans would not go on I'm a Celeb, full stop. Vegan is a belief system, not a plant based diet, which was the beginning and end of Gillian "poo" McKeith's supposed "veganism". And she was only claiming to follow a plant based diet to get attention, and cause a fuss on the show.
Vegans would not go on I'm a Celeb, full stop. Vegan is a belief system, not a plant based diet, which was the beginning and end of Gillian "poo" McKeith's supposed "veganism". And she was only claiming to follow a plant based diet to get attention, and cause a fuss on the show.
A bit like lizzard then - whose supposed "vegan" diet somehow includes Pret a Porter egg sandwiches and omlettes
A bit like lizzard then - whose supposed "vegan" diet somehow includes Pret a Porter egg sandwiches and omlettes
And her obsession with clothes, boots, shoes and handbags made of 'buttery soft leather'. In the expensive Paris restaurant article she is planning again to order an omlette. She may have awoken her dwindling supporters by flogging a dead horse story but surely she is on borrowed time now at the MOS. The 'CRISIS' had better be a good 'un or she will have a real one to deal with.
In Which I Might Actually Tell You About the CRISIS
My life is so awful. I lose everything. And the Baker didn't love me thirty years ago, did I mention that? All those years of love I lost. My darling, darling horse around whom everything revolved died. She died. SHE DIED. And I will never, never get over it. But that is not the CRISIS, oh no.
I have discovered that I have a severe infestation of threadworms. I do not know how this happened, as I never put anything in my mouth, but there was such an itching in my waxed regions that I thought the Baker might have given me a special present. Angling a mirror into my nethers, I noticed a happy little squirming bunch of threads.
I will, of course, have to be completely fumigated. I will not be allowed at fashion shows in case I worm on the little chairs. Even my puppies are avoiding my wormy self.
I awoke as if from a horrific dream, to the nicotine-gilded magnolia walls of the Baker's rental. His polyester blend sheets scratched unpleasantly at my skin, which I noticed, to my horror, was beginning to flake. I only noticed it on my legs as due to my body dysmorphic disorder, I have never slept naked in my life. My ancient Katherine Hamnett CHOOSE LIFE T-shirt, almost transparent with wear and careful handwashing in vegan surfactant, seemed somehow skimpier than it did when I bought it in a futile attempt to turn the Baker's head away from his confident squash companion, but that couldn't be possible as I have not eaten since 1984. I suspect Nic put it in the hot wash with darling Lizzie's overcoat - darling Lizzie - but I mustn't think of her. My face can't afford to lose any more moisture.
I stumbled to the Baker's gloomy bathroom, which has no lightbulb, and rummaged in the cabinet for my pot of Creme de la Mer. Empty. It was my sole luxury. I am too poor to buy moisturiser any more. What shall I do now? I wiped the inside furiously with my finger, hoping to catch some precious dregs, and that was when I noticed that there was something wrong with the pot. It looked somehow,... less exclusive. I turned it in fingers that now trembled with distress. The label was there, clear enough for me to read even with my ageing eyesight and need for four hearing dogs. "GARNIER" it read.
I flung it away from me. Surely this was some thoughtless joke on the part of the Baker, who adores me, but who so often gets it wrong. But as I rummaged in the cabinet some more, I found to my horror that everything had changed, subtly, as if seen through water. The labels.... the labels... were high street. My beautiful shampoo, switched for Garnier Fructis! The nerve! And what was that box... Clairol Darkest Brown? The locks on the cover looked like glossier, bouncier versions of my own midnight storm tresses. I sniffed them, noting their dry ends. The smell was unmistakeable.
With a cry I rushed to the wardrobe, where I found not one VB - just a ripoff I'd probably bought in a market. M&S from wall to wall. Synthetics. FLATS. And in the silence, I realised there was not one woofy muzzle pressed close to mine. My dogs. Where were my dogs?
I heard the door open. The Baker, carrying a tray laden with eggs and toast and some sort of non-Illy hot drink. "Happy anniversary, darling," he smiled - he was mumbling, but I could hear him quite distinctly. How? Given that I am profoundly deaf? "Can you believe it's been 30 years?"
Comments
Now - my mind keeps returning to THE CRISIS. I am just wondering - I may be completely on the wrong track and I certainly have no inside knowledge - IF it could be anything to do with the fast approaching ITV's 'I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here' programme?
Lizard signed up for Celebrity Big Brother, apparently to fund paying off her Inland Revenue debt so who's to say she isn't now eager to make some more dosh, seeing that she's still wailing about her poverty? So maybe THE CRISIS she's now referred to several times might be about negotiations about 'I'm A Celebrity ...'? And, shamefaced, I have to say, were she to appear in it, I'd actually WATCH the rubbish. And run up a huge phone bill voting for her to do all the disgusting tasks- eating the testicles of unfortunate wildlife, chomping on live insects, being dunked in various crapulous liquids ... I LOVE it!
Message to Lizard - resolve THE CRISIS. Say 'YES'!
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2060766/Im-Celebrity-2011-Liz-Jones-pulled-Higher-Being-understand-why.html
Bearing in mind THE CRISIS was all about her being wronged and her naming and shaming... there;s a distinct possibility that it's transpired that she hasn't got a leg to stand on and THE Cris... will turn out to be yet another damp squib.
No, I suspect the next few Drearies will be full of wailing about the Dear Departed Gee-Gee and the odd mention of The Baker and how unsupportive he is. And it's not impossible that THE CRISIS may be quietly forgotten.
Maybe we should ask D'Scrace...
I dunno - they have had whinging vegans on the show before such as (not doctor) Gillian McKeith who refused to do challenges and left the camp to starve although for herself she had smuggled in some vegan soup powder.
Anyone remember the fake faint?
http://youtu.be/QuMhDwVsjDM
I do so hope Lizard is on it this year
In which she finally admits she lost her job as a fashion editor and freelance supplier of dross
And as someone here previously theorised, the "cupboard" was indeed a perk of the job. Can't quite understand the simultaneous the loss of all her freelance work unless...
1 - the Wail editors sent out The Word, or (more likely)...
2 - everyone else realised how dire her writing had become.
"I could be wrong about this, but I think he believes I’ve gone cold on him"
Maybe because... that's exactly what you've been writing these last few weeks ? Nah, 'course not. What's not to adore about Elizabeth Ann Jones (aged 56) ?
BIB: For which there would be tax implications...
She has become more of a joke than a serious journalist these days. She has also clearly lost a lot of her credibility in the fashion world and no longer gets the same runway invites as she did a few years ago.
I can't help that think that some of her DM "fashion" articles might have sealed her fate - you know the ones where she "modelled" standing knock-kneed, pulling faces having chosen very unflattering clothes to model and then ripped the company to shreds in those "fashion therapy" articles.
I always thought she was playing a dangerous game to mock the high street and therefore bite the fashion hand that feeds
- for the DM readers she cleary showed an inability to put together a flattering and affordable outfit or shop wisely - remember last year's Christmas present recommendations that included a Dipytique candle wick trimmer for £18, an i-pad case for £180, Bamford bath oil for £40 or cashmere sweatpants for £298!
- I doubt that many clothing companies would be happy to send samples for such a savaging by Liz
- it may have affected DM revenue if fashion companies didn't want to be associated with her and didn't buy advertising for her pages
The other REALLY big issue for LJ is that I always assumed she got paid a hefty product placement fee plus a lot of freebies from the high end fashion companies to plug their products - now she is no longer a DM fashion writer I guess this income has dried up.
Oooh yes - a 'benefit in kind' or something. Along with 'the cupboard', would also includes a car supplied by employer.
As for today's Dreary - told you she'd be on about The Horse. We can expect weeks more of this ... . Still, never mind - in today's farticle, Lizard wants to try out a new organic restaurant - in Paris (money troubles? What money troubles!) but cue a moan about handing over credit card details blah blah blah ... plus a swipe at Harrods. 'Rugby tackled' when she tried to get into a lift there with a bar of Jo Malone soap? Really?
As for the Baker, I quite admire him today - met her at the airport but didn't want to 'walk her' to the long stay car park as he was in the short stay car park. So, ever the gent, he put her on the bus!
Better get used to buses, eh, Lizard?
As for the Baker, suggesting that his girlfriend's death from cancer is in any way comparable to the death of my horse...
Yeah. It all makes me want to vomit too.
Dumb. And dumber. There is absolutely no way, ever, a normal person would be so shredded with "grief" about an animal that they mention the death of a parent as an aside. My father died in the summer: he was desperately ill, he was 90, there was nothing that could be done to make him better, so when it happened it was a relief/release. That said, It didn't, for one moment, stop the sadness and reality of finality. Alongside the death of my mother, there is nothing which will ever touch the hole which has been left. This from someone who cried for days when her beloved labrador "went to heaven", and I still miss her. But I know which missing and sadness is the more healthy.
Ms Jones really needs to get a grip. Yes: animals can be loved. They are loved. But they are not a faux family.
(Perhaps the Baker was being ironic) (if he ever uttered/wrote the words about his ex girlfriend, her death and knowing what LJ was going through)
Vegans would not go on I'm a Celeb, full stop. Vegan is a belief system, not a plant based diet, which was the beginning and end of Gillian "poo" McKeith's supposed "veganism". And she was only claiming to follow a plant based diet to get attention, and cause a fuss on the show.
A bit like lizzard then - whose supposed "vegan" diet somehow includes Pret a Porter egg sandwiches and omlettes
And her obsession with clothes, boots, shoes and handbags made of 'buttery soft leather'. In the expensive Paris restaurant article she is planning again to order an omlette. She may have awoken her dwindling supporters by flogging a dead horse story but surely she is on borrowed time now at the MOS. The 'CRISIS' had better be a good 'un or she will have a real one to deal with.
My life is so awful. I lose everything. And the Baker didn't love me thirty years ago, did I mention that? All those years of love I lost. My darling, darling horse around whom everything revolved died. She died. SHE DIED. And I will never, never get over it. But that is not the CRISIS, oh no.
I have discovered that I have a severe infestation of threadworms. I do not know how this happened, as I never put anything in my mouth, but there was such an itching in my waxed regions that I thought the Baker might have given me a special present. Angling a mirror into my nethers, I noticed a happy little squirming bunch of threads.
I will, of course, have to be completely fumigated. I will not be allowed at fashion shows in case I worm on the little chairs. Even my puppies are avoiding my wormy self.
Why me?
I stumbled to the Baker's gloomy bathroom, which has no lightbulb, and rummaged in the cabinet for my pot of Creme de la Mer. Empty. It was my sole luxury. I am too poor to buy moisturiser any more. What shall I do now? I wiped the inside furiously with my finger, hoping to catch some precious dregs, and that was when I noticed that there was something wrong with the pot. It looked somehow,... less exclusive. I turned it in fingers that now trembled with distress. The label was there, clear enough for me to read even with my ageing eyesight and need for four hearing dogs. "GARNIER" it read.
I flung it away from me. Surely this was some thoughtless joke on the part of the Baker, who adores me, but who so often gets it wrong. But as I rummaged in the cabinet some more, I found to my horror that everything had changed, subtly, as if seen through water. The labels.... the labels... were high street. My beautiful shampoo, switched for Garnier Fructis! The nerve! And what was that box... Clairol Darkest Brown? The locks on the cover looked like glossier, bouncier versions of my own midnight storm tresses. I sniffed them, noting their dry ends. The smell was unmistakeable.
With a cry I rushed to the wardrobe, where I found not one VB - just a ripoff I'd probably bought in a market. M&S from wall to wall. Synthetics. FLATS. And in the silence, I realised there was not one woofy muzzle pressed close to mine. My dogs. Where were my dogs?
I heard the door open. The Baker, carrying a tray laden with eggs and toast and some sort of non-Illy hot drink. "Happy anniversary, darling," he smiled - he was mumbling, but I could hear him quite distinctly. How? Given that I am profoundly deaf? "Can you believe it's been 30 years?"