Let It Go Rewritten

Our house was recently infested with a flu, sickness and diarrhoea (what a silly spelling) mother of all bugs. Whilst in the process of watching Frozen for the 150th time, I was left with 2 options: I either slit my wrists and end the misery or channel the misery into something creative. I chose the latter and rewrote the lyrics to the now loathsome song Let It Go.

frozen-lyrics

The snot grows green like kryptonite,
Mountains of tissue can be seen,
A house with poorly children,
I could do with morphine.

The sofa has vomit on the top and down the side,
They couldn’t keep it in,
Not that they tried

I want to eat,
I want to sleep,
I want to be alone when I pee,
I’ll go relieve,
Won’t let them know,
They’ll never let me go!

Let it go, let it go,
Can’t hold it in anymore,
Let it go, Let it go,
I’ll ignore the slams on the door,
I don’t care
If I cut your toast the wrong way,
I’ll take my time,
You’re just going to throw it up any.

It’s funny how much mucous
Can come out of one so small,
And the face that mesmerised me
Is now the grossest thing of all.

It’s time to see
If I can do
(Between cleaning bums with runny poo)
The vacuum, the dishes, the laundry,
Stop wiping your nose on your sleeve!

Let it go, let it go,
Don’t bother seeing the GP,
Let it go, let it go,
“It’s just a virus” obviously!
They’ve looked like hell
And screamed all day,
But will make a sudden recovery,
And I’ll look like I made it up anyway!

Ridiculous Things People Say to Asian Women

comic-funny-muslim-lol-hijab-girl-gorgeous-hot-favim-com-717422

Not long ago, the fixed term on our mortgage was due to expire and we had arranged for a mortgage broker to come to our house to discuss our options. The gentleman was very friendly and perfectly pleasant, and I don’t know whether it was the sight of an obviously Muslim couple (man with a beard down to his armpits/woman wearing a headscarf and a sleeping bag) that made him uncomfortable or whether he was just one of those people that try so hard to make conversation that they forget to think about what they’re saying, but he just kept saying the most ridiculous things. After he left, my husband and I had a good laugh about it (yes, contrary to popular belief, Muslims do laugh about things; even the multilayered beardy ones), so I thought I would make a compilation of all the comedy gems he came out with.

NB: As I am still a blogging novice, I don’t know what the correct etiquette is about naming people on blogs and I can’t actually remember the name of the aforementioned mortgage broker, but for the sake of not writing mortgage broker (which I’m not even sure is his title) multiple times and, in line with making assumptions based on racial stereotypes, I will call him Bob Smith or BS for short – see what I did there?

1) “Have you been to Manchester and seen all the different curries you can get from the Curry Mile?”

When my new pal BS said this, I found it hard to keep a straight face. He literally said it as soon as he walked through the door. As he was clearly trying hard to make conversation, I didn’t think it was fair to say anything to him, but the very idea that he saw two Asian people and thought that the only way he could put them at ease was by discussing all the curries available in Manchester was hilarious.

Yes, curries are eaten in a lot of South Asian households (and probably not as much as you think), but it’s not a particularly interesting topic of conversation and we are capable of talking about, and eating, other things too. It’s like when the fire-safety people were doing checks in our area one morning and, like the classy girl that I am, I had just finished eating the English delicacy that is beans on toast. He sniffed the air and asked, “Have you been frying samosas?” The two things don’t even have a similar smell, but if it wasn’t curry that he could smell then naturally it must have been samosas!

2) “You have a boy! Yay for you!”

When BS arrived, I was on my way to put our then newborn son down for a nap. When I returned, he asked if the baby I had been carrying was a boy or a girl. After being told it was a boy, he celebrated on our behalf, as though, because we are Asian, we must have been longing for a boy after having had a girl. I’m surprised he didn’t ask us if we were tempted to bury our daughter alive in the desert when she was born. Yes, centuries ago, and perhaps still in remote, poverty-stricken parts of the world, boys were coveted more than girls for tribal and financial reasons, but, surprisingly enough, the love I have for my children is not determined by their genitals.

3)“How good is your written English?” 

He was only asking me to sign a few forms. Even the very eldest members of our community who don’t speak a word of English other than “Fucking bastar” know how to write that much, whereas I had been talking to this man for the past hour!

It reminded me of an incident when I was on placement during my PGCE. It was my first week so I was just shadowing the teachers of the classes I would be taking over. The TA was a little late to this one particular lesson, so wasn’t present when I had been introduced to the class. After the teacher had set the task for the class, the TA came up to me and asked me to write my full name on a piece of paper, which I assumed she needed for her own records and so happily obliged. She then gave me the worksheet that the rest of the class were working on and began to instruct me on how to fill it in before asking, “Can you speak any English at all?” When I explained that I was a PGCE student, we both laughed and I didn’t think too much of it, but it later occurred to me that it didn’t make sense, on any level, for her to assume what she did.

Granted, the genuinely confused look on my face and my enthusiastic compliance to write my name on what turned out to be an attendance register, combined with the fact that I can imagine that I looked terrified (it was one of those classes that you see on TV and think As if kids actually behave like that at school), probably didn’t help matters, but I was 24 at the time. I am a little overweight and have a generally haggard appearance, which means that when I tell people my age I’m often met with the response, “You look older than that!” Why anyone thinks it’s a good idea to tell someone that is  beyond me, but the point I am trying to make is that it was impossible to mistake me for a 14-year-old and the only other time someone did that was when I was 10!

I am not badmouthing the TA in any way – she was an entirely harmless and amicable person, but sometimes the stereotypes some people have of Asian women, particularly those wearing headscarves, are so engrained in their thinking that when they see a 24-year-old one that’s professionally dressed and taking notes sitting at the front of a class because she’s training to be an English teacher, they would happily assume she is a Year 9 unaccompanied child refugee that doesn’t speak English before ever thinking that she might just be there in a professional capacity.

4)“You’re probably related, aren’t you?”

I can’t give BS the credit for this one, but felt I had to include it. My daughter has issues with her eyes so we have regular appointments with the ophthalmologists at the hospital. Our latest appointment was with the consultant who was enquiring about my daughter’s medical history at the end of the consultation and, while I am laughing about it now, I found him massively irritating at the time. I’m not even going to provide a commentary for this – the conversation speaks for itself:
Consultant: Does anyone in your family have this condition?
Me: There’s no one in my family, but I think a few of my husband’s cousins have similar issues.
Consultant: Is your husband your cousin?
Me: No, we’re…
Consultant: But you’re probably related though, aren’t you?
Me: No, he…
Consultant: But you’ve got family links. That explains it, as these things tend to be genetic so it makes sense that it would be in the family. Anyway, I’ll send you a follow-up appointment for three months time. See you then!
Me: Bye!
[smiles insincerely and leaves the room mumbling, ‘His husband is probably his cousin! That explains how socially impaired people like him find someone to marry, as it makes sense that they need to keep it in the family too! What a silly man! Arse!’]

Little Red Riding Hood and the Dad with Manflu

diary-of-a-cartoonist-man-flu-picOnce upon a time, there was a little girl called Little Red Riding Hood. One day, her mum said, “Please can you go upstairs and give this tray of toasted soldiers, extra-strong pain killers and a pint of squash to your dad? He has a cold.”

Little Red Riding Hood thought this was strange, as everyone else in the house was poorly too, but wasn’t getting anywhere near as much attention, but, being a good little girl, she did as she was told. She was on her way, when she spotted a large, dishevelled creature wearing little boys’ pyjamas, chuckling at something he was reading on his phone. Upon seeing Little Red Riding Hood, the creature spontaneously burst into a fit of coughs, seamlessly pulled out a tissue from his sleeve and held it to his nose, before hobbling into the bedroom like Quasimodo.

Little Red Riding Hood knocked on the door.

“Come in, dear,” came the frail sounding reply.

Little Red Riding Hood placed the tray at the foot of the bed and then examined the creature in the bed, soon realising it was her dad.

“Daddy, what big eyes you have!”

“All the better for rolling them at your mum while I’m sulking and feeling sorry for myself, my dear.”

“Daddy, what a big nose you have!”

“All the better to sniff with every time someone tries to talk to me, just in case they don’t realise how ill I am, my dear.”

“Daddy, what big ears you have!”

“All the better to hear everything that’s going on, but pretend that I am so ill that I have no idea about anything that is being said or done, my dear”

“Daddy, what big hands you have!”

“All the better to check my ‘swollen glands’ every five minutes, my dear.”

“And Daddy, what big teeth you have!”

“All the better for reluctantly chewing on food that was made at my request, so I can feel hard done by when it doesn’t taste as good as when my mum makes it, my dear.”

And with that, Little Red Riding Hood’s furious mother barged into the room, red in the face and out of breath.

“Mama, what a big axe you have!”

“All the better to cut off your dad’s man bits once he actually finds them, my dear.”

THE END.