Taken When Jonty Cooked Dinner

Jonty’s not a good cook. He hardly knows anything about tofu and when he cooks my nut cutlets they always turn out horrid. That’s why this is no surprise.

He was cooking a steak (yeuch!) last night. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

As anybody that cares about the environment and the planet as much as I do would know; meat is murder! If Morrissey taught me anything (apart from how terrible it is for people in the north) he taught me that.

The only reasons a man should send an animal to sleep (and it’s always a man. They’re all rapists too) is because it’s gotten poorly or it’s too old or it’s made of fur. Certainly not because you want to eat it!

So to teach Jonty a lesson for being a murderer I decided to spice up his steak!

I found a bottle of methylated spirits (which is this wicked purple colour by the way and goes great with my new corduroy pants from Chanel!) and after sniffing it and nearly choking, I decided that it would make his steak taste really yucky and maybe make him think twice about eating steak again!

In fairness how was I supposed to know that methylated spirits would catch fire?

When the ambulance man had put out Jonty’s eyebrows he got really cross and said I could have killed him! What does he mean? I read the bottle and it said inflammable on the side – which clearly means the opposite of flammable, right? – if companies don’t label things properly what am I supposed to do?

It’s about time somebody did something to protect people like me from dangerous things. I might start a campaign.

Jonty’s due out of hospital tomorrow. He can make his own way home.


Taken When Jonty Was Getting Snowed On

It was so funny today!

I remember Jonty saying he was going out to the bin to throw my mango peelings away – for some reason he seems to think the sofa is a precious object – anyway I heard a loud crack and thought nothing of it.

Anyway it wasn’t until later – I was watching the last of my Sky+ recordings from over Christmas – that I noticed he wasn’t around. When I did though and saw him lounging around outside, boy was I giggling. Doesn’t he look so daft lying there in the snow!

He must have been gone for about four hours when I took this photo, look at his little face, it’s all blue.

It got me thinking his face is the exact same shade of blue as this amazing cardigan I saw for sale in Jigsaw the other day. It was so beautiful and only £125! Jonty in his usual mean spirited manner refused to get it. I’d “had enough” seemingly. Don’t know what his idea of enough is? £1,123.74? Humbug.

I think it’s important to get nice things. Goodness knows I put a lot of effort into coming up with brilliant, inspired fashion ideas all the time. It’s not as if I don’t work hard for the money my Daddy sends me every month.

I deserve nice things.

I am a bit cross though, Jonty hasn’t even come up to give me a back rub or anything, I’ve been sitting here typing this post and all the while he’s lazing about outside. Lazy Jonty.


Taken When Jonty Ruined Christmas

As a special treat I thought I’d let you all know what mine and Jonty’s Christmas was like. For a start look at my Christmas tree! That’s Jonty and a Midnight Maguffin doll I got from Ikea, sitting boozing underneath it.

You wouldn’t believe the rest of my Christmas though.

Obviously I had tonnes of presents, everybody was so very kind to me. Except Jonty he only got me a few bits!

Unfortunately Jonty is a bit of an old skinflint when it comes to getting presents and being Christmassy in general. I totalled up all the gifts he got me and it only just scraped over the £1,000 mark (£1,123.74, pathetic) which kind of spoiled the whole spirit of Christmas for me.

Ruining the spirit of Christmas was not the only thing Jonty did wrong. Oh no. He blew up our oven trying to cook a turkey. A turkey! I wanted everyone to have a Tofu joint or a nut roast but Jonty was insistant that everyone wanted turkey. In the end my Dad told Jonty to shut up, what’s even funnier is that he was so angry and flustered he called him Libby!

Exactly what I though would happen in the end, happened. Jonty was left red faced when we had loads of turkey left over. Clearly my mummy and Daddy only ate it out of pity, I could see them eyeing up my nut cutlets enviously all through dinner. They’d narrow their eyes and glare at me, clearly jealous!

Anyway for the sake of a quiet life I let them give him all their pretend praise. I could tell that he’d ruined their Christmas lunch.

Leaving aside the lunch debacle, after I’d had a small cry in the bathroom I decided to put on one of my outfits, go down to see everyone and watch the end of the Royle Family with them. I wished I hadn’t.

Looking at all those fat, poor people made me feel sick. And I hate Royle Family documentaries!

Completing the horrors of the day was a game of charades. Now I love charades normally, I was the queen of charades at Uni. Everyone was mean to me though and refused to get my charades on purpose.

Unfortunately that’s what Jonty’s selfish behaviour had done you see. Made everyone all upset.

Not one of them got my charade of Altar Of Narcis by Takato Yamamoto. They we’re being purposefully obtuse. Jonty told me after that it was because they were all annoyed at me for crying through the Royle Family. It’s not my fault if I’m emotional and they’re all nasty and spiteful, besides which it was him that made me cry in the first place!

To be fair though they did all gather round after and say sorry. I had to threaten to hurt myself before they did though. I think that tells you everything you need to know about them.

So that’s my Christmas. It was rubbish.


Taken When Jonty Was Avoiding Alien Abduction

Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve updated isn’t it?

For those of you that were worried, things have calmed down a bit for Jonty, after intervention by David Bowie (I’ll tell you about it all very soon!), Bono’s calmed down a bit and more or less stopped threatening him. Which is nice.

Of course we still get the occasional phone call late at night. You know what Bono’s like, he has a few pints of Guinness and then starts ranting down the phone about wiping out third world debt and having sexual relations with the Corrs.

Unfortunately though I think Jonty’s been a bit, well, damaged by the past few months of harassment and it’s opened the door to forces beyond our control.

I suppose, for the record, I should recount the events of Thursday night. It was very odd and very unlike Jonty.

I’d just finished watching all the episodes of Strictly Come Dancing and X Factor I’d Sky plussed last week and Jonty was sitting beside me reading a book. Anyway I was just about to start watching the last four weeks Hollyoaks and I asked Jonty to pop off into the kitchen and make me a cup of tea and then it happened.

He stood up and started shouting and swearing!

The language was terrible, he was saying things like leave me the F alone, why can’t you do it your F’ing self and I just want a bit of F’ing peace!

It was this outburst that convinced me he was being interfered with by aliens and they were obviously making him do things he didn’t want to. Once I’d thought about it I started remembering all sorts of incidents where he’d had similar fits.

There was the time when we’d been out shopping on the Saturday and I was trying on dresses. It was just as I asked him whether he preferred this (gorgeous All Saints) dress in grey or black. He was very reticent to answer, eventually I dragged out of him that he thought the grey one was nice – which was clearly wrong, can you imagine me in grey? Please!

I told him that I thought the black one was clearly better and it was then he went all weird, his eyes glazed over and he started muttering under his breath. In hindsight he was clearly being communicated with then because it wasn’t soon after that – when I asked him whether I should get a three inch heel or a four inch heel in fact – that he screamed at me.

It’s obvious now but at the time I just didn’t notice it.

There was another time, one of my busy days, where I’d been non-stop all day. I mean really non-stop. I’d had a brunch meeting at 11:00, a lunch meeting at 1:00 and then I’d had to go and have my nails and my hair done at 3:00! I didn’t get home ’till gone 5:00!

Anyway when Jonty eventually came home that day – at around 8:00 – I was having a little lie down because of all the stress. I heard him come in so I shouted down for him to get me a cup of tea and come and give me a foot rub.

Well! You’d think I’d asked him to climb Mount Everett! The swearing and such was crazy! Once again he was clearly being brain tinkered.

Anyway after a bit of research on the Internet I discovered that the best thing to do if you’re being got at by aliens is to put a cork up your bottom and wear a hat made of tin foil. Or even better a tin foil suit!

Don’t worry I used Bacofoil so it’s still a label.


Taken When Jonty Had A Visit From Bono’s Friends

Oh dear. It seems people don’t say no to Bono very often.

We’ve been away for a couple of weeks – we’ve been in hiding after the whole Bono thing blew up – and no sooner were we back when that happened.

This photo was taken earlier today and shows Jonty – in jeans and shirt by The Gap – soiling himself at our front door when two of Bono’s friends came around to persuade him to go to Africa and ended up smashing his twelve string.

Since Jonty told Bono to get bent a couple of weeks ago he’s been getting non-stop answerphone messages from him. Some of them were quite explicit. I’ve transcribed a couple, just in case the police get involved.

To be sure will you not come out to Africa, think of the craic. Bob’s (Geldof) coming. We’ve hired a mini-van and I’ve booked you seats on the ferry. It’d be a real shame if I wasted the price of ticket and had to break yer fuppin’ knee caps now wouldn’t it?

Me again you fupping baxter. I’m getting really tired of getting your voicemail. You’re streesing out The Edge, he’s worried for all them little brown babies that yer lettin’ slip into the wrong hands. He’s hardly touched his Weetabix, and you know how much he likes his Weetabix and stabbing up Scotsmen. Call me.

Pick up the phone you dirty fecker. I know you’re there. (pause) I know where you live Jonty, remember that.

And most bizarrely he got this one at two AM:

I know the Pope.

Anyway once the men left the door Jonty went to the police to report Bono.

Turns out they said they couldn’t do anything without evidence, Jonty played the policeman the voicemails – which he’d saved, clever Jonty.

After he listened to the voicemails the policeman said that he still hadn’t found what he was looking for – which Jonty thought was an odd thing to say – and that he’d need to get a colleague to listen to them.

So Jonty waited while another policeman listened to the voicemails. After the second policeman listened to them he said that Bono moved in mysterious ways and that he could be so cruel sometimes. This policeman then ushered in two more policemen.

When they’d listened to them one said that if Jonty wanted to be safe he should stay faraway, so close then the other one said he should go somewhere where the streets have no name or the city of blinding lights.

By this point there were four policeman all at the front desk laughing like idiots. It wasn’t until another policeman came through and said that it was a kind of magic that they all stopped laughing. No wonder this country is in such a terrible state.

Jonty says he thinks the police are being paid off in drugs by Paul McGuinness but I’ve not to worry as he has a plan! He’s going to call Bono’s arch nemesis; David Bowie.

Clever, clever Jonty.

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