I don't often contribute to the thread, although I often read it! (And the Dreary).
This 'I'm deaf' motif is really getting to me, though. One of my best friends really is Deaf - I know what that means! However, rather helpfully, she's just given me a book to read written by the daughter of Deaf parents, and the forward has a quote which Liz would do well to read and take on board when it comes to the difference between Deaf (with a capital D it's someone who's part of Deaf culture on a day-to-day basis) and Hard of Hearing (HOH) which is the kind of degenerative deafness Liz has. This is the quote:
"The word 'Deaf' is one of the most misunderstood, and misused, words in the English language. We do not call ourselves blind if we wear glasses. Those who wear a hearing aid, or cup their hand behind their ear, might say "I am deaf", but Deaf means 'without hearing', just as Blind means 'without sight'."
A person who has to wear glasses might have a dog as well, but it doesn't suddenly become a 'Guide dog for the Blind' every time they go out into the world with the dog by their side, does it?! Likewise, Liz - as someone who's only HOH, and not 'Deaf' - has a dog, but it's not a 'Hearing dog for the Deaf' just because it belongs to her and she takes it out with her! We have one 'Hearing dog' in Jersey, and she took a lot of fundraising to send for training! We're currently raising money for another one - if only it was as easy as saying "Meet my hearing dog" with any domestic pet!
Liz drives my Deaf friend nuts with her loose definitions of 'deaf'. Deaf is having no hearing at all in one hear because the auditory nerve didn't grow, and less than 30% hearing in the other 'good' ear, even with a hearing aid, as my friend has had from birth! (Or any similar reduction in hearing from an early age for any other similar reasons.) My friend also uses BSL a lot (and she's teaching me too - it's a fantastic language to learn!) and lip reads very well - you'd hardly guess if you met her. She certainly doesn't 'go on about it' to get attention!
Sadly, though, Liz's 'deafness' is used, and the concept of true Deafness is abused, just so she has something to add to her 'writing' - just as she uses everything, and everyone else in her life for the same reason.
Well said, jerseyporter. I understand there are amazing dogs that are trained to assist deaf people - they are taught to alert their owners if the phone rings, doorbell goes - and probably lots more very useful services ... Jones, in my opinion, makes a mockery of this by her stupid, ignorant comments about her 'hearing dog', as though it's going to 'hear' for her some outdoor opera or pop concert she goes to. Utterly ridiculous.
As for the death of her mother - my sympathies to the family, but I fear that now we can expect Jones fruitfully to mine this sad occurrence for a series of Drearies rehashing her deprived childhood, no nice clothes, no pony, no boyfriends, how Jones spent £thousands caring for her mother (but no doubt won't mention that she MADE money with that disgusting, disgraceful invasion of her mother's privacy in that odious feature displaying a photograph of the poor lady helpless in her bed).
Will make a change from the constant cutting 'n pasting of her txts. to and from The Baker and constant plugs for all those salons, therapists, purveyors of designer gee-gaws and schmutter (in return for lovely big discounts and freebies) that make up her 'Diaries' these days.
Still... at least she has a black dress and at least she will have to endure the sneering of the rest of her family at the funeral, together with their lack of gratitude that she has turned up at all...
"Everyone blathered on about Mother throughout the whole thing.
Did anyone take the opportunity to thank me for giving X Y & Z their iPods? for buying a house for an alcoholic relative and paying a bereaved relative's electricity bill? .. Or for coughing up squi££ions towards Mother's nursing costs?? Nooo! Poor me... wahh!" etc
I think LJ will find some feeble excuse not to attend (therapist's appointment for the 'blind lamb' or something).
"Everyone blathered on about Mother throughout the whole thing.
Did anyone take the opportunity to thank me for giving X Y & Z their iPods? for buying a house for an alcoholic relative and paying a bereaved relative's electricity bill? .. Or for coughing up squi££ions towards Mother's nursing costs?? Nooo! Poor me... wahh!" etc
I think LJ will find some feeble excuse not to attend (therapist's appointment for the 'blind lamb' or something).
I don't want to sound provocative... but weren't they iPads rather than iPods ?
And what relative importance do deaths or alcoholics in the family have when compared to buttery-leathers, waxed nether-regions, hearing-dogs and - averted - bankruptcy ?
Thank God that her Mum is out of it... I just wish that I could find the moral-rectitude and fortitude to stop reading this 'shite' every week. I hope that everyone posting on here realises that we're all contributing towards Lizard's pay-cheque each month.
She's laughing all of the way to the Leeds Permanent, thanks to us.:o
Despite the above, I bet LJ has already been sought legal advice/instigated sibling fisticuffs over Mother's Will ..
Given she is the richest child by far, it wouldn't surprise me at all if LJ has been paying for Mother's Care all this time, even if she has been sitting by the bed like Patsy screaming "why don't you JUST DIE". And given how terribly middle class her background was, Mother probably doesn't have anything to pass on bar a well-worn knee rug, a never-unfolded M&S nightie that Liz's alcoholic sister bought for her in a rare moment of sobriety, and a set of false teeth.
Odds on the following:
Why I am not sad my mother is dead, by Liz Jones: blah blah died in my eyes years ago blah blah hideous shell of humanity blah oh the indignity blah at last release blah blah I have asked Daaavid not to allow anybody to put me on life support as I would rather die than be a cabbage blah Mummy's destroyed dreams blah I wanted to bury her with something special that she never had in life, like a pair of my Louboutins or a buttery soft cashmere sweater, but unfortunately since I sold all of my belongings bar one VB bodycon dress for charidee I could do no more than whisper "goodbye Mummy" as she was lowered into the ground.
And/or:
Why don't we euthanise our parents? We do it to our pets by Liz Jones blah blah died in reality years ago blah hideous shell of humanity blah oh the indignity blah I waited ninety years to put down Squeaky because I couldn't bear to let her go blah nobody loved me blah only animals truly understand blah my desperate rescue of the blind lamb blah a whole heap of inconsistent rubbish damning people for euthanising their pets or moving to Australia and leaving them and then complaining when someone who truly cares about animals gives them a loving home.
Not sure which aspect of the Dreary today is more dispiriting - how desperately badly written is is, or the utter lack of compassion. It's everything you'd anticipated, sadly.
Reading something like this, it's hard to feel she's writing how she does purely as clickbait. The evidence strongly suggests she really is a heartless, self-centered bitch.
There is something egotistical even in the title of this week's diary piece. Not "In which In which I lose the last person in the world whom I loved" but "In which I lose the last person in the world who loved me".
Her mother's death which, as we all know, she publicly wished to happen, is just another excuse for me me me. She pairs is it with the loss of her London flat. Because oh woe all these things happen to me me me.
I suppose it was too much to expect LJ actually to have any empathy or sympathy.
Amongst the usual drabbery today is a critique of a frozen yoghurt... comparing it to Ski in the 1960's which, I seem to recall, was about as achingly aspirational and middle-class a brand as one could find in those days (along with Habitat and G-Plan). How dear Edna gad the nerve to serve it in their cardboard box in t'middle o' t'road is a mystery...
My mother would shudder at the idea of yoghurt (so I didn't taste it till I was 19 - proper LJ territory there!) but I do remember Ski being marketed as something nice.
By the way, if anyone can make sense of this paragraph, please let us know:
Yogurt was, I suppose, vaguely healthy, in so much as it was too ghastly to actually eat – unless you went on your first press trip to learn windsurfing off Vasiliki – but it was never a lifestyle choice: fetid corners of something formerly fruit tipped into a goo then spooned in slow motion into the maws of women who have never experienced a real orgasm and to whom tasting a non-fat but sickly sweet pudding constitutes a rewarding, fun evening in, alone.
LJ probably did not supply the header, to be fair.
I dunno, I feel sorry for the old bitch to be perfectly honest. This is the first time I have read her dreary and actually felt for her. Yes, she remains an egotistical self-centred hag BUT if you can't feel sorry for yourself when your parent dies, when can you? I think she presents quite a strong account of the reality of her mother' s anticipated death, in its earliest and rawest phases. (Though I claim my ten pounds for "should have died 20 years ago" and "we were wrong to prolong her life").
And hell, if all Daaaavid can do in this situation is be defensive about the size of his rubbish bin, she is well rid of him. If nothing else, the LJ of this week has realised that "the love of her life" is a passive aggressive user and has kicked him to the kerb. Let us hope this has given her some self-confidence. It won't though,. I imagine the flowery "I love you and only you, I was wrong not to clean out my flat for you, please marry me" texts will resume next week.
I do find the reference to how the ambulance people couldn't understand her mother's amazing carer's accent rather hilarious. Because in other circumstances, Liz herself would be the one bellowing at the person who "couldn't speak English well enough". Can we hope that this will make Liz understand that a person with an accent is not put on God's earth to screw with her personally (for she is deaf you know and people who don't learn to speak English properly are simply lazy)? We can. But I don't like our chances.
BUT if you can't feel sorry for yourself when your parent dies, when can you?
True. But she suffers from the Woman Who Cried Wolf syndrome. We are implored so often to feel sorry for her that when a genuine reason occurs I'm afraid I can't summon much pity.
True. But she suffers from the Woman Who Cried Wolf syndrome. We are implored so often to feel sorry for her that when a genuine reason occurs I'm afraid I can't summon much pity.
You're right. I do still find her piece poignant, but when you consider that her entire oeuvre is centred around how awful her life is, or how insufferable everybody who touches it is, when something genuinely distressing happens to the old trout it's not going to be surprising if nobody cares.
I wonder if the Baker's behaviour was as bad as painted. Surely he would have offered her SOME attempt at comfort?
Well he didn't tidy it up for six months so she's not going to, allegedly.
ETA: I'd skipped over it the first time I read, but it is interesting - by which I mean horrendous - that she manages to get in some digs at her sister possibly stealing stuff from their mother. Who knows, maybe all the gaps on the walls etc are due to her selling her things off, albeit not for charidee.
Well he didn't tidy it up for six months so she's not going to, allegedly.
ETA: I'd skipped over it the first time I read, but it is interesting - by which I mean horrendous - that she manages to get in some digs at her sister possibly stealing stuff from their mother. Who knows, maybe all the gaps on the walls etc are due to her selling her things off, albeit not for charidee.
In my experience,when your mother dies, it's devastating. But you are so distressed, that you turn to those closest to you and cherish them, and you don't take the opportunity to take swipes at them. Later, with the benefit of hindsight, maybe. But your immediate thought is not the price of a taxi. Eighty quid is nothing to her. Why spell it out?
In my experience,when your mother dies, it's devastating. But you are so distressed, that you turn to those closest to you and cherish them, and you don't take the opportunity to take swipes at them. Later, with the benefit of hindsight, maybe. But your immediate thought is not the price of a taxi. Eighty quid is nothing to her. Why spell it out?
What I thought too - she just couldn't resist mentioning the eighty quid taxi fare, or sis helping herself to some of mum's bits and pieces.
She's lost her 'cupboard' flat, too? Oh dear, never rains but it pours ... so where's she going to stay when she's in London - assuming the Baker's place is an insanitary no-go area? I suppose I could clear out my tiny junk rook for her - nice blow-up mattress on the floor, cosy, buttery-soft polyester filled duvet (not that many stains) I bought from the local charity shop. She'll love it because I live in Islington, Jones's old stomping ground, so handy for Space NK, Abigail Ahern, Ottolenghi. I can see it now, lovely girlie nights in over a wine-box of Blue Nun and a tin of Quality Street, while we watch the SATC box set again and again and all the while texting each other (because she's deaf, you know) about The Baker and does he really really love her and why did he say that stuff about her split ends and will he ever propose ...?
Is she still with DM? If so her profile is very small there
I think she is just Mail on Sunday now - she doesn't seem to have had the weekday stuff since Big Brother - of course there is still the "novel" she is writing to come
Good news, ladies and gentlemen! That most desired autobiography, The Girl Least Likely To, is now available in Tesco, in the Special Purchase aisle for £1.
I resisted easily but had a quick glance at a couple of pages - the ones where she tears into VB and her designs.
This Sunday's Dreary ... I honestly don't know where to start! I just LOVE The Baker describing her as a 'typist'. Ouch!
As for her other farticle, anguishing over 'stealing' a glass of Prosecco (as in: they forgot to include it on her bill). For god's sake, woman, get a grip. Hardly the Brinks-Mat crime of the century and probably the restaurant GAVE it to her as a freebie.
Honestly, she gets worse and worse ... according to the Dreary, the Baker might be toast now, but where have we heard this before? Still, the introduction to the Baker's family went well ... not.
And another dig at disabled people, as in her eyes - a fuss is made about wheelchair access/disabled parking bays - but nothing is done for someone who is deaf - I think you will find that the majority of public places will have the induction loop system, which is available to people who use hearing aids, and if she really had this need, she should know that it exists.
I love the fact that the Baker's family seem to have got the measure of her already, that they do read, and are annoyed by what she writes in the Dreary
The (even more than usually) Dreary seems to have been typed by an infinite number of monkeys during their collective lunch break. Reading it is like watching A Year In Provence: you only keep on doing it because you don't think it can get any worse.
Liz is friends with Sue Needleman, did you know? Sue Needleman, you can look her up on Google if you haven't heard of her. Sue Needleman. They are FRIENDS.
Isobel made me laugh by going round saying, ‘This desk is beautiful! And these chairs! And that 70s coffee set! You must keep them, Liz. Don’t let them be lost.’
Why is that funny? Unless of course Liz's friend Isobel (she has no friends, but she has two! Sue Needleman and Isobel!) is poking fun at Liz's mother's stuff and actually thinks it's naff. Ha ha how hilarious. HOW the lower classes live, guffaw. No Conran or Ralph Lauren in this house. Sentimentality, what is that? Sorry, I cannot hear you, for nobody is PROJECTING for my DEAFNESS.
"Issy" has given Liz a piano. Where on earth will she PUT it? She has no room for such things and nor does she have time. What with typing a million words a week, she's going to have horrific OOS and her piano lessons from the lady at NatWest (what?) will just make it worse.
The Baker does an absolute ton of really obnoxious things. Despite this, the fact that "he loves her" is supposed to be a reason for her to want that proposal, still.
Comments
Well said, jerseyporter. I understand there are amazing dogs that are trained to assist deaf people - they are taught to alert their owners if the phone rings, doorbell goes - and probably lots more very useful services ... Jones, in my opinion, makes a mockery of this by her stupid, ignorant comments about her 'hearing dog', as though it's going to 'hear' for her some outdoor opera or pop concert she goes to. Utterly ridiculous.
As for the death of her mother - my sympathies to the family, but I fear that now we can expect Jones fruitfully to mine this sad occurrence for a series of Drearies rehashing her deprived childhood, no nice clothes, no pony, no boyfriends, how Jones spent £thousands caring for her mother (but no doubt won't mention that she MADE money with that disgusting, disgraceful invasion of her mother's privacy in that odious feature displaying a photograph of the poor lady helpless in her bed).
Will make a change from the constant cutting 'n pasting of her txts. to and from The Baker and constant plugs for all those salons, therapists, purveyors of designer gee-gaws and schmutter (in return for lovely big discounts and freebies) that make up her 'Diaries' these days.
"Everyone blathered on about Mother throughout the whole thing.
Did anyone take the opportunity to thank me for giving X Y & Z their iPods? for buying a house for an alcoholic relative and paying a bereaved relative's electricity bill? .. Or for coughing up squi££ions towards Mother's nursing costs?? Nooo! Poor me... wahh!" etc
I think LJ will find some feeble excuse not to attend (therapist's appointment for the 'blind lamb' or something).
I don't want to sound provocative... but weren't they iPads rather than iPods ?
And what relative importance do deaths or alcoholics in the family have when compared to buttery-leathers, waxed nether-regions, hearing-dogs and - averted - bankruptcy ?
Thank God that her Mum is out of it... I just wish that I could find the moral-rectitude and fortitude to stop reading this 'shite' every week. I hope that everyone posting on here realises that we're all contributing towards Lizard's pay-cheque each month.
She's laughing all of the way to the Leeds Permanent, thanks to us.:o
Despite the above, I bet LJ has already been sought legal advice/instigated sibling fisticuffs over Mother's Will ..
Given she is the richest child by far, it wouldn't surprise me at all if LJ has been paying for Mother's Care all this time, even if she has been sitting by the bed like Patsy screaming "why don't you JUST DIE". And given how terribly middle class her background was, Mother probably doesn't have anything to pass on bar a well-worn knee rug, a never-unfolded M&S nightie that Liz's alcoholic sister bought for her in a rare moment of sobriety, and a set of false teeth.
Odds on the following:
Why I am not sad my mother is dead, by Liz Jones: blah blah died in my eyes years ago blah blah hideous shell of humanity blah oh the indignity blah at last release blah blah I have asked Daaavid not to allow anybody to put me on life support as I would rather die than be a cabbage blah Mummy's destroyed dreams blah I wanted to bury her with something special that she never had in life, like a pair of my Louboutins or a buttery soft cashmere sweater, but unfortunately since I sold all of my belongings bar one VB bodycon dress for charidee I could do no more than whisper "goodbye Mummy" as she was lowered into the ground.
And/or:
Why don't we euthanise our parents? We do it to our pets by Liz Jones blah blah died in reality years ago blah hideous shell of humanity blah oh the indignity blah I waited ninety years to put down Squeaky because I couldn't bear to let her go blah nobody loved me blah only animals truly understand blah my desperate rescue of the blind lamb blah a whole heap of inconsistent rubbish damning people for euthanising their pets or moving to Australia and leaving them and then complaining when someone who truly cares about animals gives them a loving home.
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Reading something like this, it's hard to feel she's writing how she does purely as clickbait. The evidence strongly suggests she really is a heartless, self-centered bitch.
Her mother's death which, as we all know, she publicly wished to happen, is just another excuse for me me me. She pairs is it with the loss of her London flat. Because oh woe all these things happen to me me me.
I suppose it was too much to expect LJ actually to have any empathy or sympathy.
I dunno, I feel sorry for the old bitch to be perfectly honest. This is the first time I have read her dreary and actually felt for her. Yes, she remains an egotistical self-centred hag BUT if you can't feel sorry for yourself when your parent dies, when can you? I think she presents quite a strong account of the reality of her mother' s anticipated death, in its earliest and rawest phases. (Though I claim my ten pounds for "should have died 20 years ago" and "we were wrong to prolong her life").
And hell, if all Daaaavid can do in this situation is be defensive about the size of his rubbish bin, she is well rid of him. If nothing else, the LJ of this week has realised that "the love of her life" is a passive aggressive user and has kicked him to the kerb. Let us hope this has given her some self-confidence. It won't though,. I imagine the flowery "I love you and only you, I was wrong not to clean out my flat for you, please marry me" texts will resume next week.
I do find the reference to how the ambulance people couldn't understand her mother's amazing carer's accent rather hilarious. Because in other circumstances, Liz herself would be the one bellowing at the person who "couldn't speak English well enough". Can we hope that this will make Liz understand that a person with an accent is not put on God's earth to screw with her personally (for she is deaf you know and people who don't learn to speak English properly are simply lazy)? We can. But I don't like our chances.
True. But she suffers from the Woman Who Cried Wolf syndrome. We are implored so often to feel sorry for her that when a genuine reason occurs I'm afraid I can't summon much pity.
You're right. I do still find her piece poignant, but when you consider that her entire oeuvre is centred around how awful her life is, or how insufferable everybody who touches it is, when something genuinely distressing happens to the old trout it's not going to be surprising if nobody cares.
I wonder if the Baker's behaviour was as bad as painted. Surely he would have offered her SOME attempt at comfort?
ETA: I'd skipped over it the first time I read, but it is interesting - by which I mean horrendous - that she manages to get in some digs at her sister possibly stealing stuff from their mother. Who knows, maybe all the gaps on the walls etc are due to her selling her things off, albeit not for charidee.
In my experience,when your mother dies, it's devastating. But you are so distressed, that you turn to those closest to you and cherish them, and you don't take the opportunity to take swipes at them. Later, with the benefit of hindsight, maybe. But your immediate thought is not the price of a taxi. Eighty quid is nothing to her. Why spell it out?
What I thought too - she just couldn't resist mentioning the eighty quid taxi fare, or sis helping herself to some of mum's bits and pieces.
She's lost her 'cupboard' flat, too? Oh dear, never rains but it pours ... so where's she going to stay when she's in London - assuming the Baker's place is an insanitary no-go area? I suppose I could clear out my tiny junk rook for her - nice blow-up mattress on the floor, cosy, buttery-soft polyester filled duvet (not that many stains) I bought from the local charity shop. She'll love it because I live in Islington, Jones's old stomping ground, so handy for Space NK, Abigail Ahern, Ottolenghi. I can see it now, lovely girlie nights in over a wine-box of Blue Nun and a tin of Quality Street, while we watch the SATC box set again and again and all the while texting each other (because she's deaf, you know) about The Baker and does he really really love her and why did he say that stuff about her split ends and will he ever propose ...?
I think she is just Mail on Sunday now - she doesn't seem to have had the weekday stuff since Big Brother - of course there is still the "novel" she is writing to come
I resisted easily but had a quick glance at a couple of pages - the ones where she tears into VB and her designs.
As for her other farticle, anguishing over 'stealing' a glass of Prosecco (as in: they forgot to include it on her bill). For god's sake, woman, get a grip. Hardly the Brinks-Mat crime of the century and probably the restaurant GAVE it to her as a freebie.
Honestly, she gets worse and worse ... according to the Dreary, the Baker might be toast now, but where have we heard this before? Still, the introduction to the Baker's family went well ... not.
I love the fact that the Baker's family seem to have got the measure of her already, that they do read, and are annoyed by what she writes in the Dreary
But it does...
Liz is friends with Sue Needleman, did you know? Sue Needleman, you can look her up on Google if you haven't heard of her. Sue Needleman. They are FRIENDS.
Isobel made me laugh by going round saying, ‘This desk is beautiful! And these chairs! And that 70s coffee set! You must keep them, Liz. Don’t let them be lost.’
Why is that funny? Unless of course Liz's friend Isobel (she has no friends, but she has two! Sue Needleman and Isobel!) is poking fun at Liz's mother's stuff and actually thinks it's naff. Ha ha how hilarious. HOW the lower classes live, guffaw. No Conran or Ralph Lauren in this house. Sentimentality, what is that? Sorry, I cannot hear you, for nobody is PROJECTING for my DEAFNESS.
"Issy" has given Liz a piano. Where on earth will she PUT it? She has no room for such things and nor does she have time. What with typing a million words a week, she's going to have horrific OOS and her piano lessons from the lady at NatWest (what?) will just make it worse.
The Baker does an absolute ton of really obnoxious things. Despite this, the fact that "he loves her" is supposed to be a reason for her to want that proposal, still.
The Baker's family sound AWESOME.
Odds on her actually dumping him? Bad.