A Mother's Love

When I find myself in times of trouble, my mother Mary comforts me; speaking words of wisdom, such as:

"Don't rise to it. Turn a blind eye" - Her sound advice to a bullied colleague who, incidently, has a glass eye.

"Ooh she's gorgeous. I bet that's what Jesus' mother looked like." - Her reaction to he entrance of new girl Maysoon in BB and possibly one of the strangest complements I've ever heard.

"Morrocco would be nice. Ooh you could try and find Madeline McCann while you're there. Then you'd get a job." - Her support for my holiday plans was marginally dimished after comparing the likelihood of me finding a job to that of finding Madeline McCann.

Let it be, Mare. Let it be.

FYI

The term "legend" can be ascribed to people like Elvis, Ghandi and Yoda.

It usually entitles the holder to speak about themselves in the third person and for their lessons to live on in the minds of those whose lives they have touched forever.

If you sink ten pints then walk home with one shoe on while singing the complete back catalogue of Spandeau Ballet you are not a "legend."

You are a twat.

Every time your friends describe your antics as "legendary" they are usually euphemistically stating that you have embarrassed yourself and everything you stand for.

Judging by my sore head this morning, I was clearly somewhat of a legend last night.

BBlog

There are a few things which guarantee you success in life. I'm sure having the surname Beckham must help; as would genetically modifying the mating process so you inherited his looks and not his intellect.

I can honestly say, however, that I have never met anyone who has achieved anything of note if they have chosen to end their name with an "i" instead if a "y".

I've no doubt that "Becki" and "Vicki" are naturally much more fun, cool and interesting than their duller peers, "Becky" and "Vicky" - but would you trust them to run the country? Would people have preferred Toni Blair to that boring square Tony?

Similarly, the construction of "kki" over the seemingly more mundane "cky" usually means the owner is guaranteed popularity and wild antics. Unfortunately, this also often entitles them to a life of teenage pregnancies and asbos. "Bekki" and "Vikki" drink cider on the park and pull boys; "Becky" and "Vicky" sit at home and watch Friends re-runs on E4.

We can witness the importance of name spelling in the new series of Big Brother. It's not enough for loud and proud Rebecca to be known as Becki....not even a well placed "kki" can fully describe how ker-azy she is. No, after much deliberation, she has shortened her name to the ubiquitous, "Bex".

Are we to assume that the addition of an "x" to an otherwise fairly boring name helps to enforce the fact that its owner is zany and bubbly? Are these the sort of people who describe themselves as "mad" but really just wear badly matched clothes in primary colours?

Or, is it that they're so dull that the only thing that could possibly pique interest in them is a rarely used letter that's worth a lot of points on the scrabble board?

I couldn't possibly comment. My name ends with a "y" and I keep a blog.

I'm clearly a loser.

Inappropriate appointments

Throughout the year I have been studying for a Masters in broadcast journalism. It's something that I hoped would better my mind, my soul...and my job prospects. Not once did it enter my head that it would be a fantastic opportunity to: out myself as a Gypsy; uncover Rotherham pensioners so rabid for a Nintendo Wii that they would put themselves through a death defying (well, hopefully) triathlon (plus battle with the tremendous urge to link together "pensioners" and "Wii" in a way entirely disrespectful to people who fought in a war and essentially allowed me to exist); not to mention investigating the abuse of a long overlooked minority...the gingers.

Now you may be thinking: "they're so cutting edge I almost cut my eye reading about them"; or "sweet jesus, her finger's so firmly on the pulse those stories have got heartbeats." But what's more likely is: "bloody hell, what a fantastic waste of five grand."

Well, dear readers, you'll be pleased to hear that my latest project maintains the grand traditions I set out this year...

Breastfeeding.

So, after a year of pitching stories to my tutor about my unique selling points (ginger and a Gypsy...hasn't god got a sense of humour) only to receive silence and an arched brow, I now had to tell her that I wanted to spend the summer filming boobs. Marvellous.

There was one thing that cushioned the blow, however; the fact that the spokesperson for encouraging women to breastfeed is none other than....

Theo Walcott.

Yes, sweet, baby faced young Theo hopes to boost the number of women in the UK who feed babies from their bosoms.

I'm confused. Was the boy hoping for a free lunch? Is this the most inappropriate appointment ever? What next - OJ Simpson as ambassador for justice? Osama Bin Laden as judge for the nobel peace prize?

I shall keep you updated over the next few weeks which I am now only referring to as "Mammary Month."