Blimey! Did you read in the paper about those insane women in America who have been injecting their arses with an illegal mixture of silicone and superglue in an effort to achieve rear ends that look like Buster Gonad’s gonads?
Sadly, one of them – a British girl, who flew out with three of her mates to the good ol’ US of A especially for the procedure – has now ironically achieved the five minutes of fame she was undoubtedly hoping to achieve via the surgery by dying under the knife on the operating table just a few hours after receiving treatment. Well I say, ‘knife’ but obviously I mean hyperdeemic nurdle / turkey baster, and when I say ‘operating table’ it’s more likely to have been a grubby towel lain on the bare floor tiles of the hotel bathroom where the procedure took place.
Actually, thinking about it, even that is probably an overstatement – chances are she would have breathed her last bent double over a tatty sofa with her arse sticking out in the breeze like an over-inflated soufflé while some evil bint with the morals of a snake prodded and poked at her from behind with all the care and consideration of a Rentokil operative disposing of a poisoned rat. Continue reading “HEY FATTY BUM BUM, LET ME TELL YOU SUMT’ING…”
Apologies in advance to anyone anticipating the usual mix of waffle, rant and, hem-hem, “humour”. Today’s blog falls more into the category of ‘getting it off my chest”, and is a bit long-winded too at almost 2000 words. If you have no interest in the subject of autism then this is not the post for you and feel free to just pass on by. I’ll try to remember to post something a bit lighter tomorrow to make up for it – probably in the “Hackenthorpe Book of Lies” section.
For those who might be interested:
As the parent of an autistic child I am increasingly worried by the number of ‘woo’ therapies and interventions being promoted these days as alternatives to good, old fashioned, sensible parenting. The best of them at least encourage aspects of sensible parenting along with the rubbish elements, but can cost thousands of pounds and hundreds of hours only to take all credit away from the children and sensible parents whose combined efforts have actually achieved the results.
The worst kinds of therapies and interventions can, IMO, actually do harm, both physically and psychologically, to parents and children alike, further disabling autistic children by enabling dependencies and accommodating potentially manageable antisocial behaviours in ways that work to further isolate the child from the real world. Other therapies seek to ‘normalise’ children by forcing them to adhere to rigid medical models of neurotypical excellence that are often wholly inappropriate or unsustainable for autistic people. Watch a video of a DAN rally ‘stage parade’ if you want to see normalisation in action.
Of course there are many things that can help autistic people – PECS, for example, is a great communication tool for those who haven’t developed language or need to augment their speech – but even useful tools like this need to be used with caution lest the means to social communication become a strategy for social withdrawal. When used properly the benefits of something like PECS can be clearly seen, but sadly for every PECS there seem to be half a dozen alternative interventions where people claim evidence of a connection between strategy and outcome that is wildly subjective to say the very least.
I’m not going to write about any specific intervention here because there are far too many to cover, but the following can be generally applied to most of them… Continue reading “CHIP THERAPY: A Cure for Autism?”
Today’s blog probably falls into the ‘mawkishly self-indulgent’ category. Hopefully I’ll manage a couple of jokes along the way, but you have been warned…
Regular readers (there are a few!) will be aware that I’ve a bit of a soft spot for duk-duks, or ‘ducklings’ as they’re more commonly known… Today’s blog was prompted by the arrival of several new duk-duks (or ‘little fluffy dumplings of love’ as they are sometimes known when both duckling and duk-duk fail to satisfy) on Holden Pond. From the looks of it, there are two new clutches (are the contents of eggs still counted in clutches after hatching or is there another collective noun? Don’t answer that – I’ve just Googled and two options are ‘fleet’ of ducklings and/or ‘brood’ of ducklings. Brood is far too gloomy a word to describe such a lovely sight but fleet sounds very apt), or (hem hem) ‘fleets’, of duk-duks doing the rounds, one a veritable armada of five + mum and dad and the other just a teensy-weensy flotilla of two + two.
Continue reading “All The Ducks Are Swimming In The Water…”
I thought this deserved a wider audience. Not that it’ll get many views from appearing here, but if one read here begats 2 down the road etc… Our lovely Tunbridge Wells.
A bits and bobs blog this week, I think…
I just got around to watching the final episode of Grayson Perry’s In the Best Possible Taste on 4oD. This was the episode focussing on the upper classes, and my reaction to it was, unexpectedly, a strange combination of loss and regret. Towards the end of the programme Grayson presented his tapestry to the people who had inspired it, and there was one particularly poignant moment where aristo ‘Rollo’ looked at an image of himself depicted as a felled stag being torn apart by hounds and muttered, somewhat shamefacedly and unconvincingly, ‘you know, there are occasions when the hunted stag arises…’ Continue reading “Grayson Perry, Paralympics & Bog Rolls”