The 2004 Kid Dictionary

Words that you said if you were at school in 2004.

Words, I hope to good God, you no longer use. 

The 'I was a teenage fool in 2004' Dictionary. 

Blaps

The act of hitting somebody. Usually without reason or cause. 

See - 'she just got blapsed up in the face' for reference. 

Shubz

A party or gathering that nine times out of ten only ever played the first ever So Solid Crew on repeat. You probably drank your first WKD Blue at one of these. If you are from South London, the police got called to at least one of them. One of your close friends may have lost their virginity at another. 

Grinding 

The word used to describe the art of dancing, somewhat like a slag, up against a boy who went to the shit school up the road. Often happened at a shubz. Often resulted in a teenage pregnancy. 

Choong ting

Attractive female

Buff ting

Attractive male.

Butters ting 

Unattractive person. Mainly just because they had braces. 

Shotgun

A bully's way of ensuring that they sat on the back row of the coach on your ghetto trip to Hampton Court. You wouldn't mess with him because a) he had the Adidas stripes shaved into his eyebrows and b) well...he shotgunned it. 

Llow it 

Please don't allow that to happen. See 'detention? Miss. LLOW IT!' for reference.

Spud

The word used straight after punching the class geek in his BCG scab to justify your mildly harrassing behaviour. 

Rush! 

The word screamed just before 400 puberty struck humans charged towards in the corridor outside Geography. RUSH! 

Skying it

The art of drinking a beverage from a can or bottle without your lips touching the container. Almost certainly perfected by only drinking Panda Pops. 

Blennie

Fat, basically. Word used to describe somebody not even that fat, but unable to fit into size 8 clothes from Clobber. 

Mashing

The act of having sex. Which, at 14, is a hot topic for all and sundry. 'Did you hear that they are mashing?! No way - she's so blennie!'

Breathalised

The hilarious act of breathing hard into a bag of crisps after offering them out to a friend. Endless hours of entertainment. 

Shook

Frightened, alarmed, generally put ill at ease. 'Bare shook bruv, bare shook'

& my all time favourite

Jinx

Oh me & my friend just said the same thing at the same time? Now, I've been peer pressured into remaining silent until someone far cooler than me says I can speak again. Sure thing. 

The Girl's Guide To The World Cup

I was born the second daughter to a football nut father. The second of two girls. The second non boy to not take to Sunday 5-a-sides and to not bore to death with the story about the time he nearly trialled at Charlton. 

The lack of male offspring caused our dear old pops to teach my sister & I to have an appreciation for the beautiful game. Alongside our Take That & Spice Girls posters sat the Man United team photo, fixture lists & pull out A3's of Gary Pallister. Yep. I was totally obsessed with Mr P. Still am truth be known.

I owned the infamous black & yellow away kit and wore the collar up like I was Cantona. My sister to this day still reads the paper back to front. We still enjoy a Jipp Japp Stam chant & hold the Sherringham years fond in our hearts. 

Over time we may not have always been interested in the match on the TV, or even United's current league position, but we've learnt the rules. The rules one must abide by in the presence of a football watching man.

With a month of late nights, tears, screams and rage ahead of us, I thought it was about time my sister & I, with the help of a couple of male mates, imparted some of our wisdom. A little list for the unassuming females of the world who have significant others to deal with during this very special time. 

So here it is....

The Girl's Guide To The World Cup.

- Don't make plans. Any plans. Don't assume that if he's booked time off work it will be to spend time with you. Wrong. Also don't think that he'll only be interested in watching the England matches so you'll only loose him for 3 nights of the tournament. Again, wrong. All matches. Everyday.

- When they don't want to partake in the plans you have already made, don't ask them what's more important 'Football or Me?'.  This month, nobody wants the real answer to that question. 

- Every match is vital. And not just the match. The lead up show is just as crucial and will require just as much silence and lack of distraction. He'll use this time to get half cut on his World Cup beers.

- Never under any circumstances speak when Ian Wright is speaking. Join in abusing Adrian Chiles. 

- Don't think it's OK to judge a team based purely on attractiveness of players. Yes, the Italian side are a pretty bunch but come Saturday night your head needs to switch from "shag" to "kill" mode almost instantly.

- Feign slight interest. And don't just ask dumb arse questions like,"Where's Beckham?". It's painful for everyone....he's not bringing up the time your family dog died is he? No. So don't mention Sir Becks. Not now, not ever.

- Sit back and relish in watching him fill in his Panini sticker book. Got, got, need. 

- Don't mock the roller coaster relationship he will have with Roy Hodgson. He will go from despising him, to worshiping the ground he walks on, to wanting to put his own dad up for adoption and take Roy on instead. Oh and before you ask, Roy Hodgson's the manager. 

- Don't you ever DARE say "It's only a game". 

- Don't pass comment on, what may seem over exaggerated, reactions to a "beautiful pass" or 'wonder goal' or a nut holding tackle. They might be sitting on a sofa in Streatham, but in their heads they are in Rio. Appease them.

- Start drinking beer. Trust me. It will help.

- Begin to understand the importance of replays. Yes this might be the 8th time he's seen this corner be taken,  but seeing it in slow motion, and from that angle will make everything So. Much. Better. 

- Take note of the fact that this is the only occasion he'll be able to multi task. He'll be able to watch the match, join in a twitter debate and have cheeky bet all in unison. Mind. Blown.

- Don't pass judgement when England are 4-0 down with 12 minutes to go and he utters the infamous man line 'Well, we never play well for 90 minutes, I fancy we'll still do them'.

- Don't think that because you got Cameroon in the sweepstake at work, they actually stand a chance. If you didn't pull Brazil, Argentina, Germany or Spain, kiss your quid goodbye. And don't constantly ask how Cameroon are doing. 

- Try & avoiding asking what the offside rule is during the match - here's a diagram I've drawn for you. Learn it. 

- At last but not least - here's this little classic. Today I asked some old mates Dean & Steven what they would most like to add to the list. This was my favourite. By far. 

'Don't attempt to engage us in sexual activity whilst a game is on, when Chile are playing Holland I am much more interested in the rampaging full backs than I am in a half hearted attempt at a blowjob'.

Classic boys. 

Thank god it's only once every four years!

LL x

The Way To Spot A Londoner

"You mean, you were actually born here?"

The words that every actual Londoner who is still living and working in this damn town has grown so accustomed to hearing.

It seems shocking to many that somebody didn't actually want to flee their place of birth the minute they obtained a national insurance number.

For 6 years I have worked with people predominantly 'non-London'. I've grown used to requests to "run up the apple and pears to make a Rosie Lee" as well as frequent references to my very cockney accent (for starters I'm from South London - distinct difference. Secondly, we are in London so who's got the accent mate?!)

Whilst explaining to somebody that, whilst the pie & mash cliché is funny for some, it is actually what I'm having for dinner (and I'm not being ironic), it dawned on me that people who are non-Londoners may need a checklist. A checklist of  symptoms and "what to looks fors" to help spot if somebody is actually from London.

Here's my first draft;

- The speed in which the person in question walks will differ greatly from that of a non-Londoner. It's known as "GetOutOfMyWayMotherLover" speed and is just shy of a jog. London born females can achieve this speed in a heel of approximately four inches. And when pissed.

- A true Londoner will still think to look in the Evening Standard for a job, and remembers when you had to pay for the paper. And when it was better than it is now.

- They will always make their Oyster card accessible prior to leaving the office/home/gym. The sight of a backed up barrier or 'transport virgins' bambling about in stations will result in something known as "Red Rage".

- This person will never have been to Nobu or similar. They will deem restaurants with a four week waiting list as 'ponsey'. The same applies to Mayfair clubs that require a minimum spend for a table. Londoners will also rarely queue for a bar/club. Only in the event of a close friend's (non-Londoner, obviously) mile stone birthday.

- They will call it the West End. Not 'up London'.

- They will call it the pictures. Not 'grabbing a film'.

- The will call it indoors. Not 'at home'.

- They will have been brought up around blokes who have an argument about who's paying first and who cannot tolerate a stand back. They will have been brought up to instantly judge anyone who is not quick to get up the jump*.

 *jump being the bar.

- A Londoner will often use the word 'fuck' as an adjective or a filler in an everyday sentence.

- They will not be fazed by the 'C' word. In some cases they will use it affectionately. A major symptom of true Londoner-itus can be spotted if they answer the phone to their dearest friend by calling them the C word. See 'Hello you ol' C' for reference.

- The person in question will, under no circumstances, be able to achieve a 'Lambeth Walk' and may only know one single verse to 'Knees Up Mother Brown'. They will pronounce it Muvva.

- Only a small majority of these real Londoners are actually related to a Pearly King or Queen. It's not advised to start any conversation with 'So, is your uncle a Pearly King then?'.

- They will call everyone mate. Boss/Bus Driver/Grandparent. They will call you mate even if they don't like you. They will call you mate even in the middle of an argument. See 'Alright mate, let's take this outside' for reference.

- This person will be very adverse to moving to the opposite side of the river from which they were born. Only in extreme cases, falling in love or needing to flee a sticky situation, will cause this to happen. They will be the one person in the cab who will not object when the cab driver says 'don't go South of the River, mate'. They will understand.

- They will have grown up in a pub surrounding. If their dad or uncle didn't own one, someone's best mate did and they would have spent EVERY Sunday there. This will also be the place that their first big tele came from.

- The person in question will not understand why people would choose to live in Bethnal Green or go out for the evening in Dalston. This even applies to people who were born in Bethnal Green and Dalston.

- They will mock when the neighbourhood they grew up in becomes trendy. When the market turns into a 'village', when the pubs start holding artisan fairs and when they open a Waitrose. They will mock, and also thank the sweet baby Jesus as they are now safe in the knowledge that the two-up- two-down they bought in 1975 is now worth a million pounds.

- If the person is a true Londoner they will understand the distinct difference between a night out and a beano.

'Babe, I'm going for a night out with the boys'. 'Cool, see you tomorrow'.

'Babe, I'm going on a beano from the pub'. 'Cool, see you a week Tuesday'.

And last but not least, the one fail safe way of spotting a true, born & bred Londoner.

They will be the only person in your central London office who will point blank refuse to drink Yorkshire Tea.

Oh.

And there will probably only be one of them.

LL x

Social Media

A few weeks I discovered that my personal Twitter account, the one I keep for friends & safe humans, decided to just change my security settings. An iPhone update later and bam! My well crafted, witty one liners are available for the world & it's Mum to see.

 

 

It would also appear that changing it back is near enough impossible. Well impossible is pushing it, but I have the technical capabilities of a frog with no thumbs.

 

 

Whilst attempting to fend off the crazy masses & instantly becoming phobic that the same thing had happened to my Facebook, it suddenly hit me that there are many things wrong with the wonderful world of social media. It sure is a world I enjoy to partake in, in small portions and responsibly (and mainly to let you lot have access to this blog), but there are several things fundamentally amiss with it. And here are some of them; 

 

 *

The invention of the 'pasty, patchy haired chested, I'm in my Mum's bathroom & the tiles need re-grouting' selfie.

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 The acceptance of saying 'hashtag' in everyday, spoken conversation. See 'Hashtag Awkward' for reference. It sure will be Hashtag Awkward when I #throwmywineoveryou.

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The fact that 'following' people is now socially acceptable. Not a tad stalker like and murder-ey, like it was 10 years ago.

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The need for people to feel obliged to share their involvement in the most mundane of activities. See 'Simon is having breakfast #yum' for reference. Simon is, in fact, a boring bastard. #trueshit.

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 The posting of profound, 'look into the distance with glazed over eyes' statuses. My top 3 so far.

Feeling lost :(
One day...one day you'll realise.
#revengeisabitch - karmas coming to get ya.

(this was the most sinister of the 3 but brilliant nonetheless)

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The commonplace ritual of taking a photo of a paving slab. Putting a sepia tone on it. Calling it arty.

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 Pictures of nail varnish. Daily updates of nail varnish.

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 The feeling of deep down rejection when the girl from primary school, with whom you've had no contact for 15 years, forgets your birthday.

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YOLO. I need go no further.
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 The culture of tagging. Good examples;

Jo was tagged at The Crown & Anchor. Here's a photo of her with a jaegerbomb doing a two-step. Tag. Hmmm. Jo was hoping to call in sick tomorrow due to the bomb induced headache. No such luck.

or

Jenny is with Mark at The Ritzy, Brixton *feeling excited (heart in the eyes smiley)*. Strange, Mark & I were due to go to the cinema one night this week. I don't know Jenny. But I hate her & sure as hell won't be returning his text. (this hasn't actually happened (yet) but you catch my drift.
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The regret hangovers induced by the tagging culture. I DID WHAT?! Yes, yes, you did. Here's 15 photos, 3 tags and an inbox message from your disapproving Aunty Jan, to prove it. 

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 The way people you would rather forget, and are in no way professionally connected to you, are able to see your current employment status. Oh, and you can see that they've seen it.

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Pub conversations that start 'oh my god, did you see her status, what on earth did she mean?' To be followed by a 5 minute conversation about what the girl you all used to work with, and hate because she never made tea, meant by her badly structured rant at her boyfriend.

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 And at last but by no means least, the fact that at a click of a button you can see how skinny you used to be. 15 times over.

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LL x

 

 

Effra Social - My New Favourite Watering Hole

My little review on Effra Social, Brixton's answer to chilled out, vintage pinting.

 

 

http://theladyoflondon.blogspot.co.uk/p/reviews.html

Credit Urban75 for the imagery.