Sunday, 30 December 2012

Impossible (to tan)

I remember years ago
Someone told me I should take
Caution when it comes to tan
I did

And you are streaky, I am not
Your delusion, your mistake
You were careless, you forgot
To pat

And now get your exfoliation on
Make the shit stain tan go away
You’ll be fit
You can go ahead tell them

Tell them all you know now
Shout it from the bed shops
Write it on your timeline
All your skin will go brown

Tell them that you’ll pat it
And that you’ll use gloves now
Your fella’ll do your back now
Tell them that you hope tannings not
Impossible, impossible
Impossible, impossible

Tanning perfectly is hard
Having skin that’s pale is worst
Orange feet and orange palms
I know, I know ..
Thinking all you need is bleach
Gaggin hard on smell what’s worse?
Lemon juice to de-stink works
I know, I know ..

And now when 9hrs developings done
You can shower it all away
On your own you can go ahead tell them

Tell them that you’re tanned now
And you swerve the bed shops
Write it on your timeline
All your skin has gone brown

Tell them that you’re happy
And your skin is golden
For you no more mopin
Tell them that you know tannings not
Impossible, impossible
Impossible, impossible
Impossible, impossible!
Ooh impossible

I remember years ago
Someone told me I should take
Caution when it comes to tan
I did
Thursday, 29 November 2012

Open Mag - Autumn Edition

My agony aunt column for open magazine -

Winter edition coming soon.

We know it’s hard work being a scouse bird what with your fella getting grips of tramps behind your back and having to stink of biscuits all the time just to achieve the perfect tan – so we have enlisted our very own agony aunt, @ScouseBirdProbs, to offer you some words of wisdom. Caution: She will tell you straight!

Want That Old Thing Back?

Dear Scousebird Problems,

I got out of a long-term relationship earlier this year — I was completely in love with my fella, but he cheated on me repeatedly, and our breakup was long and ugly.

I had a couple of rebounds and got over it, but it took a while. Recently, I’ve been seeing this other lad, and he’s everything my ex isn’t. The problem is, I don’t feel as strongly for him as I did for my ex.

My ex recently contacted me, and he wants to get back together. It’s been almost a year since we broke up, and in that time, I feel like he’s grown a lot — shall I stick with the safer option or get back with my ex?

- An Ex and a hard place, aged 23

Girl are you high? If you’re enough of a divvy to go back to him then really you deserve all the heartache that’s comin to ya. Do us all a mazzy favour first though and delete any and all social network accounts. No one, least of all me is gonna wanna see the on/off borderline schizophrenic nature of your upcoming relationship. “OMG I love him so much, he’s my one.” Next day “OMG I FUCKIN HATE YOU YOU BAD PIG I CAN’T BELIEVE I EVER WENT BACK TO YOU” Next day, “Cuddled up on the couch with my one watching X factor. <3 <3” Gerra grip girl, seriously. My advice is, ditch them both, go buy the highest pair of platforms St Johns market has to offer and go swing round the poles in Pink with all the queens. You’re not allowed near a straight fella til you’ve developed some self esteem. Scouse Bird orders.

What Tattoo Should I Get Next?

Dear Scousebird Problems,

I currently have 4 tattoos & I’m looking at getting a couple more but I’m stuck for ideas. I’m not one of these people who gets them as it’s the current thing to do, each of mine has a personal, symbolic meaning to me and as such that is the reason it has taken me 6 years to get only 4. I was just wondering if you have any suggestions as to what I should get and where I should get them?

- Tattooed and horny, aged 24

This all depends on what you want out of life. For example, have you got a fella you’re desperately trying to swerve? If so may I suggest getting a tattoo of his name? It’s a statistical certainty that youse’ll split up within the week. The only problem is you’re left with a permanent reminder of that fuckin weapon for the rest of your life. As punishment you’ll have to cover it up with something wool like a dolphin jumping through a tribal symbol. As a side note, you pointed out to me that you are horny…this concerns me. I want to be clear, scouse bird doesn’t swing that way soz girl. Maybe a better tattoo would be a full tribal sleeve? You can then couple this with a semi buzz cut and start hangin out in the Lesbon, sorry Lisbon. I think you’ll like it there.

What’s His Game?

Dear Scousebird Problems,

I’m starting to suspect that my boyfriend might be cheating on me, he’s gone all weird on me lately and started acting like a proper arse hole. He literally jumps out of his skin if I touch his phone, he is going out every weekend for a ‘quiet one’ and lying about what time he gets in. He lives with his mum still so I don’t see what time he actually gets in.

What can I do to find out if he’s cheating?

- Suspicious mind, aged 21

Oh no girl, he’s probably just planning a surprise birthday party or proposal yano. HAHAHAHA! Sorry I couldn’t keep a straight face there. Have you seen “He’s just not that into you”? Right, ok well it’s basically putting it out there that all men are the friggin same but occasionally there’s an exception to the rule and you’re kidding yourself if you think you’re lucky enough to get that exception. He may be planning a surprise party or proposal but it’s unlikely. I’d go all FBI on his sorry ass. Buy the same phone as him and accidentally swap them then run away and lock yourself in the bog. Buy a wig and follow him out at the weekend. This behaviour isn’t at all cranky, it’s legit. Nah but seriously, girls have a spidey sense aba these things an if it’s bleepin, he’s cheatin. Go and get a fella who’s at least 3 out of 10 below you an he’ll be grateful to have you. Just use one of those Primark bags for his head when you’ve gotta do the dirty. It’ll be sound.
Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Facebook Mings

I’m probably already preaching to the converted here, if you’re reading this there’s a big chance you already use Twitter. But seriously what is up with Facebook lately and the fuckin creatures that inhabit it? I gave up on Facebook aba a year ago. I go on it occasionally like but I try to avoid it as a rule cos I know every time I go on it I’ll be lookin at people’s statuses and going “SHUT THE FUCK UP” over and over again – then despairin at the cretins I call me mates. Every time I go on I end up deleting at least one person, pretty soon I’m gonna have no one left. Don’t know the type of thing I’m on about? Let me break this down for ya.

Facebook ming type 1 – The person with kids.

These I think are my absolute WEEERRSST pet hate. These pushed me over the edge to join twitter. Listen right, I’m norassed aba your kid. No one else is arsed aba your kid. No one thinks it’s cute when you upload 324 pics of your womb spawn watchin telly with nutella all over their grid. Their Halloween outfit of a bin bag an a witches hat isn’t a) funny, b) cute, c) scary d) original, it is in fact e) offensive to my eyes. Even other people with kids don’t give a shiny shite aba your kids. Everyone has an element of self obsession and vanity and they just wanna go “OOOhh look what I did with me genes, isn’t it the most beautiful thing in the world?” Well actually no, it isn’t, and for the most part if I’m honest your kid is ugly and everyone’s onto it. Stop uploading pictures where your child looks borderline disabled cos it’s sly ok? Plus I have no interest in seeing it . The only people who MAY be interested in seeing it are you (so keep it to yourself) and paedos. So baby think twice before you lash your baby on my newsfeed.

Facebook ming type 2 – The person who loves food

These fall into kind of the same bargain bin as the person with kids. Ok I love food, everyone loves food, apart from maybe Victoria Beckham. However I KNOW what a chippy looks like, I know what a pizza looks like, I really don’t need a picture of it. Oh and dieters, you know that mmmm delicious plate of veg and cous cous you just made? It looks like something my cat just vomited up. You’re fooling no one. Just eat your gruel and go and compensate binge on 3 bars of chocolate and a family size bag of Walkers Sensations quietly will ya?

Facebook ming type 3 – The person who’s just had their nails done

Right ok, I love getting me nails done. I love staring at them for hours. They are fit after all. What I don’t need to see is pictures of your chunky disgusting nails with nail beds as wide as Sandra’s waistband in slimming class who’s been goin for ten years and is still the size of a house. They look like they belong to a giant witch. And they’re tacky. Pack it in.

Facebook ming type 4 – The do gooder

I say do gooder. They don’t do any good at all. They’re guillible and stupid and are easily emotional blackmailed by strangers wanting ‘likes’ for their own vanity. You know who I’m talking about…the sick kid/dead dog/brave soldier picture liker. There’s a picture usually of something horrific like a terminally ill child accompanied by a caption “1 like = 1 prayer” or “like if you care, ignore if you’re a heartless bastard who doesn’t give a crap”. 1. I’m not even getting into the whole prayer thing, let’s just say I’m an atheist and the more intelligent you are the more likely you are to be an atheist. 2. A like doesn’t mean anything! A like means all your friends news feeds are gonna be polluted with this horrific picture, thanks! 3. Check out the group that it’s been posted by, do you really think someone who started a group called “She’s too young for you bro” or “The awkward moment when you see Adele rolling in the deep” really has any care or affiliation with helping anyone? It’s shameful, morally wrong self promotion. Pack it in with the likes, you are thick and unfriended.

Facebook ming type 5 – The attention seeker

Oh these are just a barrel of laughs. They go on and on and on about how crap their life is. Statuses may be along the lines of “Can’t wait for 2013, it’s got to be better than this year. This is the worst year of my life.” Right I’m not bein funny but I could swear down you said the same thing last year and the year before. What makes you think 2013 is gonna be any different? What are you getting a personality transplant for Christmas yeh? Your life is shit this year and it will be shit next year unless you get off your fat, boring arse and do something about it. Secondly the realisation that your statuses are doing everyones head in and no one actually gives a crap that your life is a load of bollocks probably isn’t gonna do your self esteem any favours now is it? In fact does someone you very rarely speak to ‘like’ it everytime you post a ‘woe is me’ status? Yeh? That’s cos they hate you and they’re made up. Soz aba you.

Facebook ming type 6 – The schizophrenic relationship

OH MY GOOOODDD I can’t cope with your life! You hate him one day, he’s utter scum and the next you two are having a cosy DVD night and he’s ‘the one’. Then you’re ‘splitting up for good this time’ – meet someone on Friday night, get into a FB relationship with them on Saturday and then break up again with them on Sunday once he’s nailed and bailed and had his full English off you. Do you then take a step back and assess what’s wrong? Maybe work on your self esteem and what you want out of life? Do you shite, you go running back to scumbag number one and make sure the whole of Facebook knows about it. Girl you are an utter utter crank. Just cut your losses and go join a nunnery, you’re not cut out for relationships…or life in general.

Facebook ming type 7 – The bore

I’m having me tea. Just going for a shower. Been the gym, feel tired. OMG I’m soooo entertained, thank for the update, you’ve made me day. Yano what, just stay where you are, don’t bother with twitter.

Facebook ming type 8 – The pyaaaa slag

She’s got 1083 friends and at least 73 mutual friends with everyone in Liverpool. She’s banged half of them. She uploads semi naked pictures of herself in a full face of make up and a curly blow sayin “Soz aba me I look a total SHEEEOOOWW!” in a blatant attempt to get likes. Love a lad likes anything with tits even the three titted alien prostitute from total recall, your personality is about as exciting as a tesco light choices chicken cup a soup. Yano in aba 5 years when your face is the consistency of arl leather and you’ve shagged your way round half of Liverpool where are your confidence boosts gonna come from then? Assess your life or you’ll end up doin special MILF lapdances in X an the City til your nose falls out from all the beak cos there’s nothing else in your empty life. Either that or you’ll have aba twenny kids and be a regular on Jeremy Kyle. In your head you reckon you’ll be a WAG – dream on.

Facebook ming type 9 – The googler

Does anyone know when the lights are getting switched on? How long have you got to take stuff back to topshop? What films has Val Kilmer been in? Facebook isn’t google! As another Facebook friend of mine put it so succinctly the other night, “Google’s right there, it’s fuckin right there!!” Use it.

I don’t even know why I’m on facebook at all anymore other than it’s a handy place to store your photos. I’m private up to the max, I’m not searchable (as far as I know) and I dread new friend requests. How do I say “yeh I’ll be your friend in real life but I don’t use Facebook in the spirit in which it was intended so I don’t wanna accept” without being impolite. Arr ay. I hate Facebook yano. I’m on the network but I’m anything but social. The only people on there who don’t do me swede in are people I also have on twitter. There’s maybe one or two people who post amusing statuses who DON’T have twitter but I just despair that they’re wasted on ‘Facey’. Generally it’s just full of idiots.



Tuesday, 6 November 2012



So ... My summer was to say the least an actual ball ! Leaving for ibiza in may everything seemed like it would go amazingly well out there ... Bit of hair .. Bit of make up charge a few euros, but I was home after 12days I'd had enough of sweating like a porn star mid shoot and decided to come home to where the eyebrows are thick ...only to go back after 13days because I apparently couldn't live without ibiza I HAD to go back and I loved losing a stone in less than 2 weeks (honest if you wanna bang a stone off its the only way to do it) Who the fuck does that ? Indecicive prick me ! Anyway ... The next 2 months where filled with allkinds of madness in various well know ibizian establishments that I won't go into for fear of being arrested.... soz abar me! Moving swiftly on I have the same loathing for cleavage tops as my homegirl @scousebirdprobs but what's even more irritating than seeing a lads only messing pecs through a cut up tshirt posing as a vest is the amount of onlymessing joey essex's that where out there .. Urrrghhh the boys hot pants (coz that's actually what they thought they had on wen infact they where rolled up addidas shorts ... Soz abar them) where more reveling than the girls who where all bad BAD shows and even the girls shouldn't of been wearing them with the amout of cellulite hanging from there thunder thighs ! Teamed up with said cleavage revealing garment that tourments me so with a dodgy pair of their younger brothers off white converse... Fuck off mate your a a tit ... Have a seat!! And if your a scouser act like one !
in the middle of all this disgusting cunt-ness was me ... Flying the flagg high for scousers everywhere ! Eyebrows on and perfectly waxxed st moriz slapped on (everyday was blorange wednesday as I'm a pale prick who won't tan .. Fuck my actual life) and kept the cleavage tops to the boys from essex in linekars! Soz abar yous ! Job done in my eyes there pat on the back for me .... The girls where allways a mess and looked like they had never learned how to use a hair brush its rediculous what I saw out there ... It hurt my eyes to see it ... Horrible when your used to seeing beautiful women with nice hair on a regular basis and all you see around you is chu-fuckin-bacca ! Jogg on !

While in ibiza I met one of the most amazing person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting lyds AKA nan and have came home to start up REDCARPET LIVERPOOL ! A team of highley skilled hair stylist makeup artist and body painters avaliable to you mobile for pamaerparties and nights out ..nights out meaning secret missions to make wools feel inadequate in there pale skin and kittens oh and the odd denim skirt (why don't they just stay home they should have learned by now) follow us on twitter and that ghastly facebook for all enquiries !

anywaythe morals of the story is go to ibiza to lose weight ...make sure you have stmoriz ... Don't be joey essex if your actually not joey essex ... And book in with redcarpet for a curly blow

Traaaaaa x
Tuesday, 30 October 2012

Scouse scared probs

Well my my my hasn’t it been a while? I could come up with a million an one excuses why I haven’t blogged like going on holiday blah blah blah but seriously I just couldn’t be arsed. Soz aba me.

Anyway here’s the weekend round up a la scouse bird style. We got invited on Friday to Miss F Couture's pop up boutique. The idea was not to drink much cos I knew we’d be out Saturday and I’m getting old, I just can’t hack the 2 day hangovers no mo. This lasted until halfway through getting ready when a tricky eyelash application required a vodka and grapefruit juice to calm me down. Pyaa stress. Cue me standin outside the Newz bar at 1am cryin at me fella that he doesn’t love me no more and we should just split up. Vodka Cranks R Us.

The pop up event was fab, me and Lizzy left our fellas chattin footy to Lee of @btoxclinics while we browsed Francescas collection like kids in a candy shop. “Eeee I want this one, and this one, and this one!!” They were all gorge. We went to go try a couple on behind the screen in the make shift changies. Just as Lizzy was getting her dress back on she knocked the screen, we watched in horror as it fell over in slow motion exposing us both (but me fully dressed might I add) to the whole packed room. I was in stitches while poor Lizzy was crouched in the corner clutchin her boobs and dignity. Luckily, enough vodka had been consumed to blunt the machete of embarrassment this would normally cause and we just brazenly strutted out “An wa?”
Why do I leave a trail of drama and destruction wherever I go ay?
Lazzy Mash aka Lambo won the raffle prize of 5 kaftans which was hard graft tryin to split between 2 of us – we ended up doin a little fashion show in the bogs to decide only for Lizzy to leave hers in a bar. Freebie error girl, freebie error. We also met the girls at Converse By Gem and Millionhaire. It’s dead nice putting faces to the twitter names. After months without stennies I can’t wait to get my Millionhair extensions like, they’re deffo some of the best I’ve seen….fingers crossed they’ve got the dip dyed ones like cos then I’ll be tossin me mane around like a Loreal pony. Cos I’m worth it, neeeiiggh.

We’d gone to Ottersghoul on the Wednesday for the press night (I’m not press like, I’m er just spesh) to get into the Halloween spirit. None of us could actually go on the death drop (a 50ft jump off the side of building) cos I had me mazzy bun ring in an therefore couldn’t get the helmet on (scouse bird problems) and Lizzy and Lambo were just shithouses in general. We decided to create our own fun and snuck off to the maze before it was strictly open. We got busted when Lambo ran on ahead to scare us, we screamed and then the Ottersghoul police/management came and told us to get out. We had to skulk back like naughty schoolchildren in front of everyone. The sheeeaaamme. We were finally allowed back in with everyone else and got chased round the maze by the usual cast of Halloween characters (not a sexy cat in sight) and we had a ball screamin all over the show. It’s only on 30th & 31st Oct so if use fancy it deffo get tickets! Click here for Ottersghoul on twitter & links to tickets

Saturday night was the big dressing up night. You can either use Halloween as a chance to have a bit of fun or go out dressed 10 x slaggier than you usually would as a sexy cat, witch, devil, vampire etc etc. Ah Halloween, the sluttiest time of the year. I prefer to be a bit more original and went as the mother of the antichrist and Lizzy went as “scouse bird”. We along with Joe-Ann Randles (cereal killer [sic]) won Halloween, we deffo had the best outfits.

The look on peoples faces was priceless when they saw my face in horror make up, then their gaze dropped to my humungous pregnancy bump, then the sheer horror when they saw the creepy doll attached to realistic umbilical cord dangling from underneath my dress. THAT’S a horror outfit.

We went to Mosquito first and nearly went flyin down the steps – er WHY is the middle step slightly bigger than the other steps please? Pya death trap! Lambo & Paddy were unimpressed by the lack of dressed up people in there. Me fella was already on a para cos he wanted to get the nurses outfit the joker wears in The Dark Knight, but left it til the last minute and ended up with a micro mini sexy nurses outfit. Seein no one else in fancy dress had him flappin it. To be fair the only other people in there at this point was a hen party from wigan. What is with wools? They’ll dress up any other weekend of the year when it’s blatantly not ok to, in fuckin tutus an leg warmers, but Halloween when they have cart blanche? Nah we’ll just (attempt to) be classy yano. Wool fail. I’d won a free bottle of Chase vodka in Mosquito….arrr yano what I’ll stick to Glenns. It tasted like the blag tequila vodka that they give you in Mexico. We swerved it and went to Mojito and Moniques instead. A far cry from this time last year when I ended up in the Raz with it’s stench of sweat and chlamydia.

We had a great night in Moniques like as per. The queue for the girls bogs was mazzy though so we had to try and get in the mens. It’s like tryin to play a computer game where you’ve gotta get past the toilet attendant to piss before he can chuck you out. It took us a few lives before we were finally able to ‘level up’ and get past the baddy and lock ourselves into the toilet cubicle. Ha ha scouse birds 1 – toilet attendant 0.

One the way out we met a fella who had a passing resemblance to JesusChristFTM so we took him upstairs to meet him. Unbeknownst to me this lad had told me fella somethin along the lines of he was takin me home tonight. Er nah lad, genuinely nah tho. This scouse bird is dead happy ta….even if I am a crank after a vodka or 10. Aren’t we all tho?

The taxi queue outside moniques was mazzier than me xmas list so we had to walk all the way to Dale Street and do battle with the taxi drivers. The first one told us he wouldn’t take us round the drive thru cos he was tryin to earn a living. Er mate the meters still runnin round the drive thru so what’s ur beef eh? I even offered him a big mac….can’t get beefier than that. But he was havin none of it the little arlarse. So we had to do a quick swap to the one behind where we proceeded to spend twenny quid on quarter pounders and a chicken nugget sharebox and lived happily ever after. Til we woke up the next day like the living dead. Sly.

In other news I'm raising money for North West Cancer Research by staying in a haunted house on 10th November. If each of my followers donated just £1 (the price of a tacky hairband in Primark) then that's over £45,000 to charity. Maj!! Please please help if you can, I'm getting the first £750 matched by a bank too so even better. You can donate here or txt SBPS52 £(amount) eg SBPS52 £5 to 70070 - Thanks :-)

Inabit everyone.

Til next time….

Sunday, 23 September 2012

GUEST BLOG Confessions of a Psych Nurse

Guest blog by @jenren87

So its half 7 on a thursday morning and i've already seen more genitals than a back alley brass but its all part of the job right? WRONG!

When i decided to become a nurse I imagined cute little uniforms, prancing round curing people with a smile. But then i turned to the dark side. Psychiatric nursing.

Now a lot of people think mental health is all straight jackets and people spreading their own shit on the walls. Its not. Its far worse. Is full people who if they say something, they say it a thousand times. People who if you ask them to have a wash, its like you've asked can you throw acid in their face! And dont get me started on when they go out... These people can dress in the most "normal" of outfits, tell em you're taking em to the asda and its full on bright pink hotpants, socks, and peeptoe kitten heels all topped off with a tshirt 2 sizes too small with a picture of a wolf on or something cringey like "am i bovvered?!" obviously not love, dressed like that. The shame!

Dont get me wrong i love my job, and most patients are sound but you get these types who just want a reaction and my reaction is "the bus to st helens is thatta way!"

So yeh, if you're think nursing is glam: its not! Your days off are used to catch up on sleep and wash your hair!

Well thats my blog. Hope you enjoy. Lotsa love @jenren87
Thursday, 13 September 2012

GUEST BLOG - Female driver problems

So if you're a girl i have almost no doubt you've gone around the block to allow pavement spectators to fuck off before you attempt to reverse parallel park.. Or park or reverse in general. I get a bad case of shame when I'm holding up the high street trying bleto 'squeeze' my tiny car into a space large enough for rooneys range rover. I just cannot judge distance, is it just me?! I also have two settings for driving down a road with the dreaded parked cars on my side.. Wing mirror swiping distance, or so far on the other side of the road people are waving their vile hands at me and im forced to scream OH CHILLL AAAAAUT. Id honestly rather go the long way and avoid such roads, the stress causes me to sweat up a storm on my top lip n ruin my perfectly painted on MAC concoction of foundation (at least 3 diff types) , i question how i passed my driving test every week.. If not every day.
Which brings me to my next point. FUCKING cyclists!!!! My accute rage for them stems from the fact they are complete arrogant mugs AND i am certain the reason im gonna get banged up and made some lesbo haired jail bird is cuz one day their gonna ignorantly wobble infront of me and im going to squash um dead cuz im far to busy flicking thru my ipod looking for a cool enough song to blast out my windows as the high street fast approaches. So yeah, their blatant disregard for the people in giant solid boxes of machinery pisses me off... Who do they think they are to run red lights and not stop at zebby crossings? Please don't even get me started on when they wobble past your stationaty shiney new car on their 'vintage' rusty pile of crap. Do. Not. Touch. If you steady yourself using my bonnet.. I'll give you a lift home ....... On my bonnet you cheeky cow.
I suppose i myself am a menace to the roads along with cyclists buses and mopeds with less power than my blowdryer (just get the bus cuz thats embarrassing mate) but im pretty sure getting arrested cuz i couldn't wait till i was home to tweet about the latest story iv read on the mail online is worth it right?? RIGHT???!

By @caitlinwynters
Monday, 10 September 2012

Why Christopher Maloney won't get my vote

Saturday night I lay zombified on the couch after a heavy Friday night on the Sambuca in Moniques until X Factor came on. Suddenly I was all alert and my blood was boiling. “Oh my god it’s that cunt Christopher Maloney!”

Now I'm sure you're all fully aware that there are two sides to every story but MY experience of Christphopher Maloney is the black to Saturday night's X Factor's white. They might as well be two different people. Maybe he has a Jekyll & Hyde split personality I don't know.

I sat there seething as he shook like a shittin dog and fed the nation a (in my opinion) cock an bull story about him bein a little victim. Alright he probably does love his nan, I’ll give him that, who doesn’t love their nan? But the rest of it? Fuck off mate! I’ve watched him make a grown woman cry, now this is a woman who can hold her own and you wouldn’t necessarily go up against in an argument and he MADE HER CRY. He didn’t know this person, she was a complete stranger and somehow the bile that came out of his mouth was enough to make her break down sobbing in her place of work. No one should ever make anyone feel like that, let alone in their place of work. He was like a playground bully. This was back when I worked in face to face customer services and unfortunately he'd crossed my path on many occasions, each time he was just as consistently poisionous and vicious as the last without any real cause.
The day he made my colleague cry I'd actually seen him come in and thought "Fuck that!" and gone the toilet. The old nightmare customer dodge tricks. Unfortunately I still had to take over and serve him when she was unable to serve him any longer. I politely told him to fuck off cos no one wanted to serve him and the manager refused to allow him in again. That's fact, I was eyewitness to that.

He’s the type of person in my opinion who walks round like the world owes him something. He's always been horrible from the word go every time I've met him and for no reason at all. If you try and help him don’t expect a word of thanks. If you’ve ever worked in retail or customer service and you have that one customer who comes in and everyone is suddenly busy doing something else….in my old work that was Christopher Maloney.

In my experience he's not a shy man. From what I've heard since Saturday he’s worked in and hogged the mike in many a karaoke bar. It seems I’m not the only one who’s had this experience with him either I’ve had my opinion backed up by quite a few people on twitter who’ve worked with him or had the unfortunate luck of havin to serve him. The irony is his twitter bio says he works in customer service. His twitter that seems to only recently have been set up as he’s never tweeted off it. I'm only speculating but could this have been set up by the X Factor machine in readiness for his X Factor journey? Call me a cynic. It's been alledged by one twitter user (I wasn't there so I can't say whether this is true or not) that he never got a standing ovation at his Echo Arena audition and instead was brought back on at the end by producers and then had the standing ovation. Why would that need to happen if the audiences reaction had been genuinely so elated?

This isn't anything to do with jealousy or putting Liverpool down. I've rooted for every scouser going, from Eaton Road to the gorge Rebecca Ferguson and the fab Marcus Collins. I'm genuinely thrilled to see scousers doing so well. Christopher Maloney is just one man I can and will not get behind.

Make your own minds up, you've seen the X Factor and you've read my blog. Think whatever you like, I'm not going to tell you what to think. Just take it all with a pinch of salt.


Thursday, 6 September 2012

GUEST BLOG - Kitten Prins

A guest blog by @georginaribenax

Right, so im not sure how you do this bloggin thing, so as this is my first blog, im gonna just take the piss out of a topic close to my heart… A scousers hatred for kitten heels.
Its blatantly a scouse thing cos wools proper love them. Strappy kitten heels, wedge kitten heels, shiny kitten heels, the fuckin lot. An they always manage to match their shoes to their equally as bad fish net vest tops an pink demin skirts. Soz abar you.

So anyway, I think I began to absolutely despise these disgraceful AWFUL disasters when my bezzie pal, Shay, kindly posted a picture on my facebook of brown SUEDE coco pops an I went sick abit in me mouth. Dunno whos lyin to these girls when they ask how they look before they leave the house but they defo need to have a word.
I AM NORRASSED HOW BAD YOUR ANKLES ARE!!! Im norrassed if your shoes are Dior. I am certainly norrassed if blind nuns bbm’ed Lady Gaga an made her piss in them shoes, your still a fuckin weirdo for wearin them. I see wools who got the northen line from whiston to liverpool of a weekend an continue to humiliate themselves an cause visual noise around town every weekend with no concern about anyone elses feelings. Bein funny or nothin, but your shoes offend me now fuck off out me eye.
An another thing, you can prance round liverpool for years, you can bathe in fake tan, backcomb your hair to the high heavens an draw your eyebrows on, but as long as youve got them kittens on your pips, youve blown your cover an now everyone knows your from st helens an sleep with your cousin. IYA JEZZA!
Right, im off to give meself an arabian glow AKA st moriz,
Follow me on twitter if your proper fit @georginaribenax
Wednesday, 29 August 2012

The Slaggy Bird Anthem


Give me a second I
I need to get my story straight
My friends have all been wondering
Why the hell I'm gettin in so late
Me fella hes just dumped me so I'm
Proppin up the bar
My seat's been taken by some skinny bitch
The fuck dya think u are?
just saw that lad I was meetin months ago
What was his name? I forget
but between the drinks and shotty things
He looks more like a 10 than 3
you know I'm trying hard to give a fuck
so if by the time the bar closes
and im almost falling down
You can take me home

I'm a slag
So let's set our sex on fire
don't normally do this either
Swear to god

Im a slag
Ur single? Pants on fire
U look like a liar
Gerra johnny on!

Now I know I'm easy
A lil bit sleazy
I guess that I
I just thought that maybe we could make me ex fella jelly
But youll never call
So let's have a ball
An blame the vodka that ur takin me home


You're a slag
Don't blag that ur a nice bird
An u don't do this
All the time

Ive got the clap
If you don't want ur crotch on fire
Then I can do you
Up the bum?


Carry me home tonight
Just carry me home tonight
Carry me home tonight
Fallin over on cobbles tonight


Ay bird ur deltas outside
You're just a nail an bail
Sorry love you've got no channy of stayin the night
If ur period doesn't arrive
I'll be at the airport in 5
Soz aba u not goin home tonight


I'm a slag
Give me taxi dough but I'm no whore
me thongs on ur floor
Where's me shoe?


You're a slag
By the way girl I've got pyab lice
But u can't catch aids twice
Lucky for u


So if by the time the bar closes
and I keep on falling down
You can probly take me home tonight

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Thursday, 23 August 2012

The life of Riley

Yeh ok so that Rileyy69 or whatever is indeed a bad meff. A bad meff who craves followers and notoriety so badly he's willing to pay for it. Seeing as he's from a large family, one of about 300 kids, that's a pretty large proportion of his benefits he's paid out there. Mind you, his mum probably earns a bit on the side givin tours round her cavernous fanny. Mind your head.

Either way, he wants followers. Now I've been amused the same as anyone by Ponder and Jesus leathering him, he has well and truly been owned. I mean his comebacks are so awfully generic it's really not worth gracing him with a tweet, so I won't. [insert swearword here] + [up the shitter here] divide by [we hate scousers] and you have yourself the Riley comeback formula. I've had many tweets asking me to wade into the fray (urgh why does wading remind me of his ma's fanny tours), but I won't. Yes I'm outraged that he's gone there with Rhys Jones....he'll be at it with Hillsborough next, he's predictably boring like that.  So what's his game? What's he trying to do? Like I said in my blog about keyboard warriors all they're after is a reaction and exposure, so I'm being the bigger person here and not giving it to him. The little blurt does NOT deserve it. I'm fumin that I'm even having to blog about him. BUT I won't link to him and I won't @ him or give out his username. I mean come on, he's trended in the UK about 5 or 6 times this month. I can guarantee his followers have sky rocketed - and he hasn't even had to fork out for them. His holey, stained, 3yr old Primark undies must be rock hard with jizz by now. Stop tweeting him! Just stop! Look what what we're doing for him, he's loving all this.

He's even done a little Youtube rant where he cries that people said his belt's from Primark, "well it's not its from TJ Hughes", so get told. That's the sort of calibre of idiot we're dealing with here, kicking inanimate objects and rantin to his camera nearly in tears.

Let him think he's won if that's what it takes, the little prick is so arrogant and retarded he doesn't know when he's been had off for gods sake. Please just let him fade back into obscurity, where he was before Sky News and Tom Daley did him a huge honour and made him famous. Famous for being a skinny, council estate smackrat, but famous none-the-less. Right I'm done talkin about the little prick now. Fumin. Tra.



You can now download my blog for kindle here:

Not currently available on the iPhone/ipad kindle app. Soz aba that.

Friday, 17 August 2012

TIK TOK - Scouse Bird Remix

Wake up in the morning lookin like P Diddy
Had my St Moriz dark on and my sheets look shitty
Before I leave, do my brows so they’re big and black
Then remember oh fuckin ell I aven’t tanned my back

I'm talking lookin extra fierce, fierce
Eyelashes won’t stick; tears, tears
Getting ready for years years

Slut - dropping, playing our favorite beats,bass
Get a Delta to that Moniques place
Trying to get a little bit shit faaaacccced

Slut drop, booty pop
DJ, Turn Avicii up
Tonight, give a shite
Gonna start a bitch fight
Snap snap, kitten pap
Girl you deserve a slap. yanoooo

Don't stop, this beats heavy
Lad u buyin me a bevvy?
Tonight, where’s Mr Right?
I bet he’s got a bird, that’s tight
Got Glenns, Am on the vod
An the fist pumpin don't stop, noooooo

Ain't got a care in world, cos I’m lookin scouse
Ain't got no dough in my pocket, I live in me ma’s house
And now, the drinks are linin up cos u know I'm a top blagger
Posin for facebook pictures, my duck pout like Mick Jagger

I'm talking about lads tryin on their luck, luck
That wool better fuckin duck, duck
Gonna smack him cos I’m a crank when drunk, drunk

Now, now, we go bouncers kicked us out, out
The cobbles make me fall down, down
Cobbles make me fall down down
Cobblesh makesj m,eemcf

Next stop, kebab shop
Gimme pizza or I’ll strop
Chicken wings, is right
Can you fuck have a bite
Call a cab call it a day
But I ain’t walkin all that way, nooooo

Delta's here, home mate
No ur not sorry bout the wait
Tonight, seen my shoes?
I got blisters thanks to use
Tick tock where’s me keys?
I’ve got mayo down me knees, noooo

Vodka, you build me up
You break me down
My heart, it pounds
Yeah, I got the shakes

When the suns up
Give me scran now
Large maccies sound
DIET coke please

Now, the party don't start 'til I walk in…
Tuesday, 14 August 2012

Keyboard Warriors

Keyboard warriors, we've all seen them, we all feel badly ashamed for them. Whether they're tweeting a celeb with millions of followers saying "I hate you, you're a slag." thinking they're actually gonna read it and be cut to the core or it's someone announcing they're unfollowing you cos they don't like something you've said. Either way, no ones arsed lad. Just do it quietly.
I mean if you're gonna tweet a celeb with something funny, I'm all for that. I actually don't mind Gemma and Lydia from TOWIE but I will rip them for the sake of comedy. Generic insults that could be used for anyone are shit and meaningless though. "You're a slag" - Bad, "Lydia you were obviously shit at colouring in as a child judging by ur inability to stay within the lines, sort your fuckin lippy out." - Good.

Most of these melts are only after one thing, a reaction. So then they can gain publicity and followers. Seriously you're as see though as a fuckin freezer bag from home and bargain, do you think I'm fuckin soft? 9 times out of 10 I'll just ignore these people but if I feel they're especially gimpy I might reply to them on my personal account, which doesn't have nearly as many followers by the way, and stage a hostile takedown.

I find most people don't have the wit to go toe to toe with me in a keyboard duel but it's funny watching them have a go. I mean there's a few I fear, I wouldn't like to meet @ponderthepoint or my brother in a dark cyber alley or anything. I'd deffo get stabbed with a cyber knife.
I remember gettin into a duel with some cocky little slag once on my @boobleyboo account and she started bragging to ponder sayin "I'll win." Will ya love yeh? I fuckin owned the bitch within 3 tweets and ponder was DM-ing me buzzing off her. Sit down and shut up. She now follows me on @scousebirdprobs....soz aba u child.
Then there was the time I had observed a twitter war going on between some girl and a woman cos the girl had been shaggin the womans fella. A few weeks later I made a joke to @TinheadFTM regarding blowjobs and this bint tried to front me sayin I was wrong - well a quick "If you knew how to give blowies ur fella wouldn't be bangin the bird from the pub" soon shut her up. Boom love. Take a seat.

Then you've got the unfollowers. These people think you're genuinely arsed about them. These people seem to think that you will take a personal affront to the fact that you will now no longer have them invisibly following you. Tweets usually go along the line of this, "Unfollowed. You are boring me." Right for a start you don't employ me. You don't PAY me to be funny. You don't HAVE to follow me. You have no right to demand anything from me. If I'm boring you, it's sound, fuck off. You just worry about entertaining your 7 followers and I'll worry about the other 36k of them. I'm sure you have enough problems going through life as an egg anyway.
Another one I get occasionally is "I've heard you're actually such and such from round by ours therefore I'm unfollowing you." I mean what's that got to do with the price of fish? I could be some bad wool from Runcorn sittin off with me greasy side pony and me Kappa tracky and crop top but if you find my tweets and blogs funny then what's it matter? I'm not by the way. *Runs outside and checks she still has a purple wheelie bin* Plus the amount of these 'guesses' are way waaay off the mark anyway so see ya later, hater. If you're really that bothered by who you 'think' I am, unless we've got beef in real life why would you be arsed anyway?

So basically what I'm tryin to say is if you unfollow me, I won't miss you. I'm norassed, so do it quietly. However by the same token to all my followers who love my tweets and blogs, you're all sound and may your tans never go streaky.


@boobleyboo AKA @scousebirdprobs

Tuesday, 7 August 2012

Diet starts Monday

Here we are again. It’s Monday morning. Fellas everywhere are lamenting the start of the working week, they think they have problems? Us girls are lamenting the start of our diets after no doubt falling spectacularly off the wagon over the weekend, or rather falling out of Mr Chips with a pizza in one hand and fried chicken in the other. We know full well we’ll probably only last until Monday lunchtime, maybe Tuesday night if we’re feeling particularly wilful, but either way we will start in earnest chasing the perfect bikini body as soon as we’ve waved goodbye to the weekend. All the while cursin them skinny slags eatin an XL double whopper meal goin “Oh I can’t even put weight on, it’s a pain.” Yeh that’s cos as soon as everyone’s backs turned you’re runnin the bogs to vom it all up you lying little cow.

I’ve been on more diets than you can shake a stick at. In fact I’d go as far as to say that I’ve been on a diet since the age of 12, that’s most of my life. I’ve done Atkins, The South Beach Diet, Anorexia (lasted an hour), bulimia (well I gave it a go but the only vomming I like to do is after a shot of sambuca), Alli, diet pills, Slimming World, Weight Watchers. I consider myself an expert. Those who can’t do, teach eh?

One time when I was giving slimming world a bash, I woke up Sunday morning after a heavy night on the vodka diet cokes, passed out on the couch (hadn’t made it up the stairs) and I found SW home-made chocolate mousse spread out all over the floor. What the…? Ah well, I thought, at least I didn’t get a pizza. That’s a first! I lay there on the couch dying and watching the Hollyoaks omnibus, made up with myself and feeling pretty smug at how boss I was at dieting. Then I noticed the teeniest tiniest sliver of tomato sauce sittin off under my fingernail, winking at me. Er, what are you? How did you get there? I rang my mate, “Hiya, did I have pizza last night?”

“Are you messin?”

“Er no, I woke up with chocolate mousse all over the floor. I don’t remember having pizza.”

“Girl, you had a pizza, 2 pieces of fried chicken while you were waiting for the pizza and you had your stopwatch on your phone out givin the pizza man a countdown cos you wanted your pizza RAAAR NOW.”

“Oh FFS!”

Spectacular fail.

Then there was the time when my thirst for pizza nearly burnt the house down. You may or may not remember earlier on in the year when a certain scouse messiah had his birthday party in bar red. Yeh I got home from that night, whacked a pizza in the oven, fell asleep on the couch and woke up to this. A cookie size piece of charcoal – it was 12” when it went in. The place stunk for weeks. On the bright side, at least I didn’t get to eat it.

With regards to diet pills there’s only 2 ways they can go. You can either be bouncing round like you’ve had a spoonful of speed for breakfast and have the constant worry that you may in fact be having a heart attack in your twenties…or there’s Alli. That’s a class all of its own. It works by stopping your body from absorbing any fat in your food. Where does this fat then go? They don’t tell you this. They leave you to find out for yourself. I remember the day after I started taking it I went the toilet for a wee, did a sly lady like trump and BANG toilet full of red oil! I did not know what was happening. I would’ve shit myself had I not been terrified of the consequences. Oh the glamorous side of dieting eh? Sorry. Too much info – but people need to be warned!!! We've all got our dieting horror stories to tell.

The only thing so far that’s worked is getting regular exercise. Sorry I know I’m telling you what deep down you already know but there’s no magic cure to our terminal heffa-dom. We are greedy bitches and the only way to combat is to sweat it out. May I recommend Zumba.

Good luck girls and remember your diet mantras!

Sexy for Mexi

No pizza before Ibiza

No carbs before marbs

Like a rake for Sharm el Sheik

Skinny for Domminy

No ham before the dam

Lots of poo-ey before Koh Samui

No grease before Greece

Etc etc


@boobleyboo AKA @scousebirdprobs


Ps Startin Weight Watchers today.

Friday, 3 August 2012

The Fine Line

A guest blog by Ponderthepoint

You may not agree with a lot of my views because, while you are a girl who likes to keep up on the latest fashion trends and one of the most important things for you is to look good for your mates as much as anything (so they don't call you a meff behind your back), I'm a lad who couldn't give a fuck what Gok Wan said on his latest TV show, I just want to nail you and I want you to look good while I do it. The closest I come to talking about fashion is taking the piss out of the new Man United home kit because it looks like a table cloth, but that doesn't mean my opinion is invalid; animals look attractive to get the attention of the opposite sex, resulting in mating and humans are no different. You might think you're dressing to look fitter than Jenna the fat whale because you don't want to become the grenade of your group of mates, but in reality, you're dressing in an attempt to get slotted by most attractive male who will do it. It's very simple science.

Scouse birds know more than most how important the eyebrows are, I've even seen them described as the nipples of the face and I agree, nicely shaped and maintained eyebrows do look good. What doesn't look good is when birds take this too far and go ultra '"scouse" brow, scouse is in quotations because this look is not fucking scouse, scouse birds are known as being some of the most attractive and when the inside of their eyebrows are about 34 times wider than the outside, it's not attractive. The alternative "scouse" brow is also not attractive and is best described by Jodie Lundstram when she called them "monstrous", you know what else is monstrous? A fucking monster, and that's what you'll look like when half of your forehead is an eyebrow. If they were the nipples of the face they'd have them nipples that cover most of the boob and make you look like you had a solid 20 years of breastfeeding on your CV.

The first thing I think when I see a girl in the public eye with rollers in is, "fucking hell, going out tonight are we? Well in". If girls only went out with their rollers in when it was absolutely necessary, the fact is that we wouldn't see even half of the amount that we do every weekend. Sadly, it has become the cool thing to do, stop being a meff and get your pint of milk earlier in the day. It wouldn't be okay for a lad to get three quarters of his head shaved, tell the barber he'll be back in a bit, go and have a look at some clothes and do a bit of grocery shopping, then go back to finish it off, because he'd look like a tit and so do you. If you were getting ready to go out and the house went on fire I'd let you off for walking the streets in rollers, but I wouldn't be surprised if some of these birds went shopping in the day only to come home to a night of Corrie and flicking their bean with curly hair for no reason at all.

Night-out-footwear is split into 3 categories, flats are worn by gimpy indie girls who are too cool to dress up, like it or not, feet are more of a sexual part of the body than you would expect, have you ever seen a porno where the woman isn't wearing heels? If you have it was probably shit. I don't know what it is about kitten heels, I can't pin down the actual reason why they are so fucking disgusting but I can only imagine myself penetrating the wearer's skull with them when I see them. If you're going out, put some high heels on, they're sexy, it makes lads want to bang you, I'm not even arsed if you're 6 foot 6, that's not an excuse, just don't be necking anyone smaller than you.

There's not much left to say from a lad's perspective, unless I was bent then I'd bring up all sorts of shite about styles and brands or something I equally don't give a fuck about, so here's where I'll cap it off. I like natural beauty, but on the flip side I also like fake tits, fake nails, fake eyelashes, fake lips and fake-non-wrinkles (botox), as long as you don't glue one of them little fake gem things to your forehead for a night out then I'd probably smash you.

I told you you wouldn't agree with a lot of my views.


Tuesday, 31 July 2012

Open Magazine Interview

Many of you have been asking me where you can read the interview I did for Open magazine recently. Well here it is! Open magazine is available free in restaurants, hotels, shopping centres, coach and bus stations around Liverpool. You can also check out their website and sign up for their city-wide discount card here cos a scouse bird loves a dizzy

People say you are Liverpool’s answer to Bridget Jones, what do you think about that?

It was a title I coined myself. i had the worst luck with fellas, even my best mate said "You've been out with some weirdos you!" I had a bit of a quarter life crisis when I turned 26 and wasn't settled down or married - I totally blame Bridget Jones for this, that film convinced me that if I wasn't married by the time I'm 30 then I've basically failed at life. So I resigned myself to choosing vodka, Shaka Khan (or something more up to date) and dying alone gettin eaten by alsations. I thought I'd start a blog to poke fun at the misadventures I landed myself in on my journey through spinsterhood. If you don't laugh, you'll cry.

How does ScouseBird prepare for a night out?

Preparation for a night out begins on a Wednesday if you want to achieve true blorange (black orange) nirvana. Ideally you need a layer of St Moriz dark left on overnight on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights - basically you need to resign yourself to the fact that at least half your life is goin to be spent smelling like biscuits and you'll never be able to buy white sheets. (We wonder why we're single??)
If you're crap at hair and make up then a visit to the hairdressers is essential on Saturday itself where they will put your hair in rollers for you and sort your smokey eyes and lashes out otherwise there's a very real danger of looking like a meff. I prefer a more DIY approach as it allows me to have a disco nap in the afternoon and I'm like Bagpuss for napping. Bath, sleeprollers, disco nap - usually woken up by a vodka and diet coke.

What does ScouseBird look for in a lad?

Scouse. End of. No excuses. None of these Justin Bieber combover tits wearing Toms and flashing their cleavage at me. I like my men to have a short back and sides, a sexy accent, a round neck t-shirt which showcases their guns and not be a bad ming. On the sly I'd prefer if he didn't have commitment issues, be a serial womaniser and could be a top gooser but on a purely superficial level he must be scouse. I suggest lads bring out a picture of their purple wheelie bin as ID.

What would be ScouseBird’s ideal night out?

 I've been going out to town for proper beards now and the price of drinks is a joke. I remember when a blue WKD used to be aba £2 and you could get pissed, a pizza and a taxi home for £30. I remember that because it was last week. I'm a huge advocate of handbag vodka, I've been spending £30 on a night out forever - in your face inflation! I mean I get some funny looks when I go the bar and ask for 2 diet cokes and 2 shots of tequila but I'll just slur something about trying to pace myself or "I'm driving!". Who drives to town like??

Has ScouseBird ever had a bad date?

Oh have I?? I've been on far too many than I care to remember. I did a whole blog in fact dedicated to some of the worst ones. For example:
Last August I split up with my ex just before the Mathew Street Festival. I was made up if I'm honest. He was a whole world of hassle.
So of course me and my best mate went the festival and had Bubba Kegs (like giant flask cups) the size of our heads filled with vodka and cranberry juice and a decent few cans of cider. We were trawling the streets hammered and causing a general nuisance of ourselves.
We got talking to a fella who was cracking the funnies left right and centre. He had a certain look of Jimmy Carr about him sure, but in my vodka buzz I could deal with that. Funny men really do it for me, well more than fitties, I quite liked him. Next thing this fat mess bounced over screeching, "JIMMMMMYYYYY, U SWORE YOU'D NEVER CHEAT ON ME JIMMY!" and proceeded to eat his head. Or maybe she was trying to neck him. I don't know. Time to make a swift exit.
The next day me and my mate decided to sign up for internet dating, yano cos we never learn. The next morning rather freakishly I woke up to a message off him. I messaged him back saying, "Did I see you at the Mathew St festival?!" This was fate. This was destiny. We HAD to go on a date. Well destiny can fuck raaaaar off!
He turned up, he looked more like Jimmy Carr than Jimmy Carr does. Damn you vodka haze. His sense of humour was weird. He proceeded to tell the barman we were here on our first wedding anniversary as I stood there, awkwardly cringing and having some real 'fight or flight' instincts. But I decided to stick with it and he ordered me a small wine. It was awful. Just awful. The date not the wine. My cheeks ached from politely fake smiling. I checked my exits, there was no way out without being seen leggin it. I went the bar for my round, because despite spending the last half an hour telling me how rich he was and me being quite clearly out of his league he let me get the round in.
As I ordered the wine the barman asked me, "Small or large?"
"Better make it a large mate."
"So it's not your first wedding anniversary then?"
"Is it shite. It's the date from hell."
I got a bit more pissed and he got a bit more bearable but it was certainly not enough to get a second date. I couldn't watch 8 out of 10 cats for weeks.

What could ScouseBird not live without?

My scousebrow pencil definitely. I've looked back on pictures of myself pre-scouse brow and I reckon I've deffo got albino genes in me somewhere. There's no need.

What is great about Liverpool right now?

Scouse is so hot right now. It's the new black. It's so "on trend". I think watching shows like Geordie Shore and TOWIE makes everyone realise how boss we are. Desperate Scousewives only never got a second series 1. Because I wasn't in it and 2. Everyone was jealous that they're not sound like us. Scousers are just boss at everything, twitter for example - we're funny and everyone wants to be like us but they're not allowed because you have to be born this way.

What is not so great about Liverpool right now?

The influx of Tom wearing, "awkward" & "random" saying students who actually think they belong here. I was in a changing room once listening to some birds NOT from Liverpool and I was actually physically cringing, put me right off my shopping.

Is ScouseBird getting away on holiday this year?

There are really only two or three acceptable holiday destinations for the discerning scouser. I'm off to Cancun - my third time. I went to Dominican last year and honest to god don't bother, it's a hole. If you go to Mexico everywhere else will just seem a little bit shit. In a few weeks time while you're all working I'll be fist pumping round The City (the largest club in Latin America) to Swedish House Mafia, with a table full of vodka and some UV clad gymnasts doing acrobatics from the ceiling. Tanned to fuck. Soz about you.

Any holiday experiences good or bad you would to share with us?

Oh god yeh, in Mexico a couple of years ago I was coming out of a club and I fell off my own foot. Not the kerb, not my heels (I was wearing flats....NOT KITTENS...flats), my actual foot. I sprained my ankle quite badly - to this day I'm not sure I may actually have broken it. Rather than go home, the copious amounts of tequila I'd consumed acted like an anesthetic and I partied on all night, dragging my leg behand me like Quasimodo. "The bells! The bells!"
I woke up the next day and actually couldn't move, like seriously couldn't get off the bed. I ended up swerving going the hospital cos after speaking to my insurance company while hungover it all sounded a bit complicated. I got the seedy lifeguard to strap it up for me while batting off indecent proposals from him and joined the legions of other people with party medals in the 'crutch club'. The bandage seriously fucked up my tan, I was fuming.
Now two years on I've still got one fat ankle which clicks....a permenant souvenier I reckon.
Saturday, 28 July 2012

Neighbours - everybody move out


Neighbours, everybody needs good neighbours as the song goes. Unfortunately I have not been blessed. I have had a conveyor belt of the strangest, noisiest and annoying bastards ever since I moved in 6 years ago. The main culprit has been the rented house next door but it's by no means the only source.

Scally Karen

I don’t know that her name was ever Karen but she reminded me of a character Alan Carr described in one of his sketches. Now she bowled up one day after the house next door had been vacant for a few months (a family who thought buying their kids a drum kit was a great idea had just moved out) looking like she'd come straight from the Jeremy Kyle studio. She had greasy ginger hair, a shellsuit circa 1989, heavily pregnant with a fag hangin out her mouth and a sprog already in tow. Made up. At first it was just her and the sprogs, that was bad enough seein as she let her (no more than) 5 year old run round at 3 in the morning screeching, but give her a few months and it was like an episode of the Waltons. These are 2 up 2 down tiny little houses in Walton and she had herself, 2 sprogs, her sister, her mum and dad, 2 fellas (she had more than one) and a dog living there. They were always drunk and always fighting. The dog would be left out in the back (a tiny space) day and night with no food or shelter just barking constantly. I called the RSPCA twice and they didn't even bother turning up, you ain’t gettin my £2 a month no more that’s for sure. I was at my wits end. I ended up goin on the benefit fraud website an shopping her for benefit fraud. I didn't know she was like I just thought I'd take a stab in the dark at it, she’s gotta be frauding something somewhere. Anyway a week later the police turned up and she was gone. Victory was mine. In your face you greasy ginger.

It’s Britney Bitch

A few months later and the memory of Scally Karen faded away into no more than a bad dream. One Friday night, in those dark days when I used to work on a Saturday, I was woken in the wee small hours by music booming through the wall. It started at 2am and it finished at 5.30am. Get to bed you! It was so loud that I could sing alone to it. My new neighbour had no shame, this was no Jay-Z or Swedish House Mafia they had on, no, it was Britney’s greatest hits. On repeat. For 3 and a half hours. I mean when you get in from town at 2am on a Friday, quite possibly to stay up getting twisted, is Britney anyone’s first choice? This happened every Friday for 6 weeks and I was fuming.
One Saturday night I rolled in at 4am and my friend and I decided to hammer, yes actually raided my toolbox, on the wall and sing ‘hit me baby one more time’ at the top of our voices. Revenge is a dish best served pissed. The weekly late night pop concerts stopped for a while but unfortunately not permanently.
I went round knocking one Saturday morning to plead with them to shut the fuck up as a 90’s music assault has gone on since 2.30am and it was now 7am. A woman, easily well into her thirties opened the door and she was having a party! Just her and about 20 lads. No mess. What the hell was even going on? Britney at a party where the birds are outnumbered 20 to 1? What sort of party is this?? In the end the council issued her with a noise warning letter and Britney was never heard again. I just had to deal with her sex noises instead which sounded not unlike a tiny yappy dog. “Yis! Yis! Yis! Oh yis! Yip Yip Yip”
18 months that went on for.

The Drug Dealer

I have no proof whatsoever that my new neighbour opposite is a drug dealer. I just call him that. He has a vast array of people coming in and out his house at various times of day and night who go in, stay for 10 minutes and leave, never to be seen again. What throws me is that this fella seems to be unable to have a conversation that isn’t held in the middle of the street and isn’t at 100 decibels. Mate – SHUT THE FUCK UP! I just thought a drug dealer would be more discreet in general really. I often hear him and his girlfriend arguing until the early hours, usually over some girl called Danielle. The jist is that he’s been texting her and his bird is NOT happy about it. They then have noisy make up sex. It’s like a real life soap opera. I always intend to stir things up by posting some sort of note like “Hi I stopped by but you weren’t in, thanks for last night. Love Danielle xxx” but I normally plan this on the way out to town and I’m normally pissed with chicken and mayo all over me by the time I get in and Danielle’s been forgotten about. One day though, one day!

The 50 year old virgin

Another one of my neighbours is actually really nice. He’s about 50-60 and lives with his mum. The only problem is that the houses in my street don’t have gardens so when it’s sunny people sit out on their front steps. Proper scouse. My neighbour takes things too far though. On any day there’s even so much as a hint of sun he’s straight out in the middle of the street on his sun lounger, stripped down to his budgie smugglers and oiled up. I dread sunny days as much as I look forward to them because I know full well that if I leave the house or indeed want to soak up some rays myself I’m going to be visually assaulted by aging nipple. Sly on me that.

So you see, I have a veritable smorgasbord of walking bad habits living in my street. It is about 30 seconds walk from the Bargain Booze though so it’s really not all that bad. I like it here for the most part!

Enjoy your weekends and if you have the type of neighbours you can borrow a cup of sugar off (does that even happen these days?) then I’m jelly.


@boobleyboo AKA @scousebirdprobs

Monday, 23 July 2012

What happens in Cancun....goes in a blog

Well apologies it's been so long since I last updated. When I left you hanging I'd just arrived in Cancun and had made some vague commitment to try and blog every day....well instead I drank pina coladas every day. Soz! Plus a week and a half later I've only JUST got over the jet lag - so now here I am. A lot of you have been asking me what went down in Cancun, so here's the highlights...

One night we went to Senor Frogs. Now this is a bar with a tattoo parlour and a water slide in it. Yes they're THAT responsible. Last time I was there I ended up with a tattoo, a gash in my leg and a waterlogged watch. I was determined not to repeat that mistake so instead I egged Susie on cos I'm a boss mate like that. She ended up shitting out of the water slide cos of the ladder but she fucked off to get a tattoo in the tattoo studio next to the bogs. Safe. While I waited for her downstairs I looked across the lagoon. Bad move. Girl standing alone merely attracts attention of the hotel entertainment staff AKA sexual predators. The tall lanky one sidled up beside me:
"Why so lonely?"
"I'm not lonely, me mates gone to get a tattoo. What's your name?" (diversion tactic)
"Horny Leonardo." (diversion tactic failed)
I politely explained that I wasn't interested, expecially in him showing me his cock and decided to teach him scouse instead. Five minutes later I had him walking up to people telling them he had a mazzy lash. I caught him a few days later telling someone by the pool that he had a massy lash, a few days later he was nowhere to be seen. We asked the entertainment manager where he'd gone and he told us Leo had been sacked for saying inappropriate things to guests. No mess. bad!
This is what I think of Americans
Anyway back to Senor Frogs and we all piled on the dancefloor cos they were doin a competition on stage where 3 lads had to break a tshirt out of a block of ice, put it on then down a beer. First contestant: "Jason from Washington STATE!!! YEEEAHAAHH". Oh fuck off. Second contestant, "Randy from Jacksonville!" Now Randy was in full on 'American bellend psyching himself up' mode. I mean he was licking his lips, jumping up and down, cracking his neck and generally fidgeting. Calm the fuck down you little wankstain. He was the embodiment of why I hate Americans. Seriously, they may be alright on telly but in real life they're proper beauts. The third contestant was from Brazil, so naturally by default we were rooting for him. Unfortunately Jason from Washington STATE won and as the DJ held his hand high for a victory cheer the crowd went nuts, cheering and waving. Except for 2 scouse birds. As he stood there wooping at his own ice cracking prowess his eyes locked in on one solitary bird giving him the finger. Me. Then his eyes moved next to me where Susie was telling him to fuck off. His face fell and he started trying to front us from the stage "And what? And what??" So we took the abundance of limes out of our drinks and started pelting him with them. Liverpool 1, Washington State 0.
On the short walk back to the hotel a million taxi drivers stopped askin us if we wanted a lift. One of them screamed "Fuck you" when we said no and me and Susie screamed in unison "Chinga tu madre!!" (Fuck your mother) and a group of Mexican workies burst out laughing. Swearing is the first thing you should learn in any language.

Another night we ended up in Coco Bongos. Right here's the deal with Coco Bongos, everyone bangs on aba it like it's the best club in the world. It's not even the best club in Cancun. I blame couples who go on holiday to Cancun and only go out once (to coco bongos) cos compared to the clubs in england it is somethin a bit special like, but all the clubs in Cancun are the same. Coco's is nothing amazing, but what makes it THE WORST is the fact it has a 1200 person capacity and they pack 2000 people in every night. Rammed is not even the word. So there we were standing on a bench, gasping for a bevvy (NO channy of gettin near the bar and the waiters took a good half an hour to get the bar an back with ur drinks) and some Mexican SenWHORErita starts knockin her stool into Susie's legs. She asked her nicely to stop and could she put the stool under the table cos she wasn't sitting on it and the bitch drops down like she's at a kids party and the musics just stopped and started screaming at her in Spanish. Susie turned to me an goes "Av a word will ya?" I swapped places with Susie and asked "Que es su problema?" (What's your problem?) to which she replied "EVERYTHING!". Oh bitch it's on!!! I asked her to stop bumping into my mate only to turn round a minute later and find she's stood there with one arm held unnaturally high, holding her elbow in Susie's face. "Arrrr swap places with me raaaar now!" So I stood next to the slag and started doin the vicious elbow dance. Bitch didn't like that. So we started a Spanish slanging match and fronting each other. For the record I'm not normally a scrapper....
Anyways long and short of it the locals got kicked out. I explained to the hotel entertainment staff what had happened and he laughed and said "Who taught you Spanish??" 
"Me. But I learnt the swearwords from Mexicans."
"Why haven't I seen you round the pool? You're hot!". Oh for the love of god! Haven't you seen a scouse bird before? We're hotter than everyone.

There was a few nights that we didn't go out. Not through any fault of our own like! Ish. I sunburnt my fod one day an when I got in the room that night my nose and eyes had swollen up with all the fluid and I looked like a fuckin Avatar. Although obviously not blue. The next week Susan decided it would be a boss idea to eat pink in the middle pork from the restaurant (which I cleverly swerved) and ended up with food poisoning. WTF.
We went back the same restaurant the next week but we'd been kicked out the room by the maids a few hours before and thought it'd be a boss idea to get bladdered in the bar beforehand. I knew I was pissed when I went the toilet and started talkin to the China dog in reception. I can't really remember much of the meal except that we bailed halfway through and I went to the waiter "Ay mate, can I have my pork cooked tonight??"

One day we were sat round the pool and some couple was shaggin on the balcony totally unaware that the WHOLE pool area was watching them. In the end some security guard came up an shouted them and the bird darted inside. The fella came out and gave a bow the fuckin stud and the whole pool cheered. The. Shame.

Towards the end of the holiday we ended up goin out to Bulldog and got sat on the same table as some Geordie lads. These were the same bellends from the VIP lounge on the way who'd been playing the Baywatch theme on loudspeaker. They turned out to be sound though. Geordies and Scousers are on a similar wavelength when it comes to banter. We were windin them up askin them if they were a fridge or a freezer then goin "AAAAAHHHHHH UR A FRIDGE!!" when they said fridge. Proper mature behaviour like. Then we went back to the sports bar to play pool an they regaled us how one of them who wasn't exactly the brightest spark once tried to defrost a salmon over a candle and a lasagne in a conservatory. Hand to fod. Then we were assured roughly 300 times that we were "Good lasses."

All in all we had a boss time but we were ready to come home like cos we missed our fellas. How times have changed eh?


@boobleyboo AKA @scousebirdprobs


Wednesday, 27 June 2012

The Cancun Diaries - Day One

I'll be honest so much is probably gonna happen on this holiday that I'll need a blog entry for every day. I can't promise I'll keep up with that but I'll give it  a whirl like.

We landed in Mexico at about 3pm their time, 9pm our time. We were knackered and Susie's ankle had swollen up pretty badly on the plane. I don't think it could even be classed as a cankle as her whole leg was basically a massive thigh. It was a thankle, there's no two ways about it.

We briefly napped and then decided to face the jet lag head on and get right on it. Apparently tonight we were all gon to the beach party....on the beach. We got on the coach to the club (the coach which for some reason despite the clubs being a 5 minute walk away deffo took at least 40 minutes to get there) and were subjected to the worst American I had ever seen. Snapback clad (worn backwards obviously) and chatting up some birds from Birmingham by telling them he was Mexican. Listen mate, you're a whiter than white bellend from Texas, the closest you're gettin to bein Mexican is if your da licked a Mexican bird out in Tiajuana Spring Break '82. He was 20 and made up to be havin his first legal bevvy. Proper merry and doing his best shit English accent impressions. Fuckin fuck off, you're makin me snarl an wreck me make-up.

We got the beach party and my immediate reaction to all the idiots was "I'm gettin too old for this shit." but then I got a grip of meself and poured myself a stiff vodka. Yes poured MYSELF a vodka cos it's a bottle of vodka on the table out here - open bars everywhere. We looked fabulous as we'd had our curly blows done the day before and only just took the pincurls out. Yeh we looked fabulous for all of 5 minutes. As soon as my hair got introduced to the humidity it went flatter than a witches tit and seriously frizzy. Devastated doesn't even cover it. 

Despite the wool hair we were havin a boss time, the DJ screamed "All the alcoholics put your hands in the air!!!" and our hands couldn't BE higher, then he added "If your hands not in the air you're not gettin laid tonight!!" and we swiftly withdrew our hands and hid them. Eeeeee we've got fellas yano!

The tithead American walked past us and we made loud vomming noises at him, the poor bastard turned around and give us the thumbs up. We gave him the finger. No less than he deserved. He best stay outta me way the rest of the holiday or we may come to blows.

After some serious fistpumpin to the likes of "Hey I heard you got them scousebrows OOOOooooOOOO" and "I throw my hands up in the air sometimes singing aaaayyyyoooo I am lego!" I decided that seeing as this was a beach party we'd jump the little fence over to the beach and go for a swim in the sea. No sooner as I did this than the party police were all over me trying to take my entry wristband off. "Woah woah woah mate worra ya doin there ya cheeky Mexican??" He told me that now that I'd left the party I wasn't allowed back in and I'd have to walk all the way round to the front again. The front. Really? Walking round the front was like a good couple of miles walk cos it was back to back clubs and hotels and no way off the beach. I stormed away from him and tried to climb over the fence further down to get back in but I was stopped by another party policeman. OOOh the BAStards. As he beadily eyed me I casually strolled along beside the fence "Yeh sound mate, I'll just walk round I'll be there in a minute." Will I shite! I vaulted the fence before he could do anything and Susie grabbed my hand an we legged it back into the party to hide. FTM.

Eventually at aba 3am the tiredness caught up with us so we decided to walk back the hotel. We ended up bartering with a street pizza vendor to get a whole pizza for a dollar. Joke was on us though cos it was raw so we ended up givin it to a policeman in return for him puttin his lights on. Worth it.

We got back the hotel bar an had burgers an an nachos instead and ended up playin pool with some Geordies (who we only gave the time of day to cos they weren't wearing cleavage tops) and I discovered I'm a much more accurate pool player when I'm pissed. On the way back to the room we befriended a Glaswegian couple then ran to the lifts and made sure they shut before they could get in cos we're proper arlarses. 

Thinking it was a boss idea I got into bed and text me fella. I text me fella a load of shite. Incomprehensible. Why do we do this girls? 

I woke up fully clothed and drooling. Good night I reckon!


@boobleyboo AKA @scousebirdprobs