Tuesday, January 11, 2005

Verbal Abuse

I have recently become aware of a somewhat upsetting fact. Before I moved into the lovely, if rather shabby home I am now in, the boys made a bet with each other to see who could make me cry first. Aoife, in her usual perceptive way, found this out and called a halt to it before any damage could be done. All the same, I worry that there has been some kind of unofficial recommencement recently. In the past week, I have fled the sitting room five times in an effort to avoid extremely explicit banter. This, admittedly, was unwise. Sensing my discomfort, the boys have stepped up their antics and expanded their vocabulary considerably. Both are already committed fans of the seedy underworld of porn, human perversions and extremely criminal behaviour which features frequently in The Sun and other such rags but the last few days has tested even their limits of imagination and experience.

What began as lewd and demeaning comments whenever a female came on the screen or was mentioned in conversation has degenerated into a foul onslaught of curses, obscene suggestions, gratuitous toilet humour and the passing of gas. 'I love it when she puts her fingers to her temples and sighs, don't you?' chuckled Burt last night at my response to his description of exactly what he would do to Angelina Jolie if he ever got a chance.

This cannot go on. I am not cut out for situations like these. I'm just too much of a lady.


Mossy said...

Unconvincing Transvestite, Emily Howard is doing a bit of light reading.

"I am a Lady. No, I am a lady. I like petticoats and all things flowery, for you see, I am a lady", says emily.

Lucy said...

The nerve of you, sullying my site with the ultimate in unoriginal cliches, the Little Britain quote! Get back in your box, you populist whore you!

Linus said...

Buy an airhorn, and any time some unladylike conversation goes on, give it a couple of toots. In this way you will train your housemates. Or set fire to them as they sleep. Either way, problem solved.

johannes said...

If you’re smart then you'll be able to outwit a couple of little Britains. Keep your cool, slip LSD into their drinks, psycho terrorise them for a few days and irreparable damage what's left of their free wills and mental faculties. Once you've completed this little LSD mission successfully, you can make them do whatever it is you want them to do. Train them to become gentlemen?

Anonymous said...

Loud, detailed comments about periods, and what exactly you'd like to do to Brad Pitt/Johnny Depp/Whoever takes your fancy usually puts a stop to that sort of behaviour.

Misspent Life said...

Rather boorish behavior, if you ask me. They could certainly learn a thing or two. A true master would be able to make you cry without saying anything tawdry or vulgar. Once, when I was in college and a much more talented person than I am today, a friend and I made a young lady cry by simply staring past her at the dinner table and carrying on our own conversation as if she wasn't there. The key was to ignore her comments to us and then a few minutes later make sly reference to them. By the end of the meal her quiet tears had turned into a torrent and she took her food and flung it at us and stormed out of the room. We rolled on the floor covered in gravy and juice for quite a long time, convulsing in laughter. It is one of my most cherished memories.

(Aside: Nice blog.)