North Korea – land of shin splints and sports bras.

The headline news item last night was a piece about North Korea’s new ‘Dearest Leader’, Kim Jong Un and his lovely shiny military parade. And a most interesting parade it was too. We had nice shiny tanks in formation and big impressive trucks carrying huge green bombs. To be honest, you’re probably more likely to be killed getting run over by the trucks than hit by the bombs, given their attempt on Friday to launch a long range missile which started with a fanfare but ended with a fizzle and a big splash as it fell apart and landed in the sea. Still, that’s no reason not to flaunt big shiny bombs if you own them is it? The rest of the world isn’t to know they’re about as much use to your army as slippers are to an eel. Apparently diplomats are pondering the correct response to North Korea’s dismal attempt to launch a rocket – clearly they learned nothing in the playground at school. The correct response when someone makes a big song and dance about how great they are at something then they are proven to be shit at it is to point and laugh.

Still, the parade was very impressive. Lots of shiny uniforms and Our Dearest Leader made a charming speech about how the West no longer had military superiority. Well quite Kim, if war ever comes down to who is the best at making perfect squares with their soldiers and dressing them so that they make a picture of your national flag when viewed from a balcony, you are going to properly kick our arse. If it comes down to running anywhere though, your lot are probably fucked because if they’ve spent more than two years doing that goose stepping thing round the parade ground then they’re going to have shin splints and the knees of a 90 year old . I loved the ladies section though, that was something quite unusual, a collection of stern looking ladies in knee length skirts, goose stepping past the balcony, skirts raising to thigh level as they marched and headmistress expression never wavering. Marvellous. Send that lot marching at a battalion of squaddies and they’re going to be so busy pissing themselves and whistling the Benny Hill theme tune that you’ll have them overpowered in no time. And they came in a variety of colours too, army bog-green and navy white, complete with silly hat. Fabulous. North Korea must be congratulated though, they are either manufacturers or importers of the finest collection of sports bras I’ve ever seen. Those chests were even more impressively controlled then the facial expressions.

If you ask me, Kim Yong Un looks like he might be a bit odd, kind of like a small child stuck in the body of a large dumpy bloke with no chin and a dodgy under-cut hairdo. If his grandfather and father hadn’t been North Korea’s glorious leaders he’d clearly have spent his days at school getting bogwashed by the bigger lads instead of arranging brightly coloured soldiers with buggered knees into geometric shapes outside the house. One of the ladies interviewed said that he was ‘North Korea’s destiny’ and ‘she felt safe and secure knowing that he was behind North Korea. Either she has doesn’t have very high standards, because the low grade sociopathic, child-man son of an angry midget with a penchant for giant spectacles isn’t who would give me a warm fuzzy feeling of security, or she’s been made aware of the fact that the right answer to this question by international journalists leads to good fortune, the wrong answer leads to three decades of internment and your house and family vanishing in the middle of the night. Either way, it makes North Korea look even more batshit crazy than usual.

If you fancy having a gander at the parade with its impressive array of soldier-squares and goose stepping, take a look here!


Samantha bites back – and she’s still not quite got it.

She still thinks you're jealous

Since yesterday’s batshit crazy article, which earned Ms Brick the coveted title of Wanker of the Week, there has been a lot of interest in Sam’s views, most of it horribly uncomplimentary. This has brought Sam out fighting or more accurately whining, and she’s penned another article in the Daily Mail (which can be found here: ) to explain why everyone’s ire proves that she’s right.

So let’s have a look at her reasoning shall we?

Firstly she’s horrified that people have been mean about her, complaining that folk have taken umbrage with what she’s written. Now don’t get me wrong, there are some proper lunatics drifting round the internet and I don’t doubt she’s had some really unpleasant comments arrive in her inbox in the last 24 hours but let’s be quite fair, you can’t go public in a national newpaper and denounce pretty much every woman in the UK and France as uglier than you, jealous of you and being an insecure bitch whose husband will leave them following once glance upon your glorious visage then expect the female contingent not to answer back. I’m afraid that if you dish it out in public, you’ve got to be prepared to take it as well. Particularly baffling is her comment about the women she knows:

But far worse came from those I had considered friends. When I logged on to Facebook, I found a group of them had torn me to shreds. Some were asking: ‘What the hell does Sam think she’s on?’  Really? You’re actually surprised that the women you know are pissed off? Yesterday, in front on millions upon millions of people, you denounced an unnamed collection of them as far uglier than you, jealous harridans who refused to have you as a bridesmaid because you would outshine them on their big day. One poor woman who had the temerity to be concentrating on the road rather than the people wandering along the pavement was accused of being so jealous of your superior beauty that she deliberately blanked you. Some of them were accused of not wanting you around because they thought their husbands were going to pack their bags and do one after just one sparkling conversation with your good self. You’ve called them ugly, insecure, jealous and pitiful and accused them of making your life miserable and now you’re baffled because they’ve turned on you? Can you really be so self-centred that you don’t see how offensive to them your remarks were?

“Women I’ve supported emotionally and financially taking the first opportunity to declare I had it coming.” Yes, women who counted you as a friend and who have quite possibly just been utterly denounced in a national newspaper are properly pissed off. Who’d have thought it?

“Without doubt, this is a gender issue. For not only is it mostly women who are attacking me, it is also because I am female that I am being attacked for acknowledging my attractiveness” No Sam, it isn’t. It’ s mainly women who are attacking you because you attacked women. You launched the salvo, this is the fallout. If you’d stood up and had a go at men, believe me they’d be biting back too.

“If Brad Pitt were to say: ‘Yes, I’m a good-looking fella,’ then the world would nod sagely in agreement. But if Angelina Jolie uttered something along those lines, she’d be subject to the same foaming-at-the-mouth onslaught hurled at me yesterday. ” If Angelina Jolie were to stand up and say ‘I am beautiful’ I, as a not unattractive but definitely in the average bracket, woman would smile and say ‘yes Angelina, you are’. Because she is. If she stood up and said ‘I am beautiful, much more beautiful than you and because of that you’re jealous of me. You won’t let me speak to your husband because you’re so insecure in your relationahip that you believe your husband will want me instantly if he sees me. You’d never let me be your bridesmaid because you’re so pathetically shallow that you wouldn’t allow anyone pretty to be part of the bridal party in case they outshone you’, I would smile and say ‘Angelina, you’re a fucking nutjob’. The problem is not acknowledging your beauty, I’m sure Angelina does, when I get tarted up for a night out I know I can look good, my friends are aware from comments and reactions they’ve had in the past that they are pretty women. No one has a problem with someone acknowledging she’s pretty when she is. What we have a problem with is pretty women either getting their own attractiveness WAY out of proportion or using it as a stick to beat others with.

“I’m the first to give out compliments when someone I know looks good or has made an effort. I don’t understand why other women don’t do the same.” Has it occurred to you that maybe, if you’ve spent all this time marvelling at how attractive you are, they think you don’t require compliments? Women do compliment each other, I compliment my friends when they look nice, when they’ve had their hair done, when I like their nail varnish colour or shoes, when they’ve written something clever or funny, I compliment my friends on a variety of things and they do the same for me. It’s perfectly normal. But then maybe it’s only perfectly normal for us because I dont’ think my friend’s husbands are even vaguely interested in me and I would be perfectly happy to leave Mr V alone in the house with any one of my friends. I trust him and I trust them. If one of my friends started suggesting that I was jealous of her and that my husband fancied her believe me she’d be getting told the truth in no uncertain terms.

“While I was tearfully dealing with the emails and calls outside the supermarket, a young man approached me, offered to park my car and even get me a coffee.He could see I was having a tough time — and yes, my looks had helped me out again.” For the love of all that’s holy woman, that’s not because you’re beautiful, it’s because the young man has been brought up well and taught that if you see someone in distress, you ask if they’re ok and you try to help if you can. I carried a pram up the stairs of the tube station for a young mum the other week. I helped an old lady get a cab in London and I picked a small boy up who had fallen on the floor and found his mum on the promenade in Brighton. I didn’t do any of these things because I thought the person was beautiful, I did it because they were people who needed a bit of a hand and I was able to help. It’s simple compassion that leads people to do these things Sam, not lust. The world would be a sad place indeed if the only time people helped each other in life was if they fancied them.

“While I’ve been shocked and hurt by the global condemnation, I have just this to say: my detractors have simply proved my point. Their level of anger only underlines that no one in this world is more reviled than a pretty woman.” Wrong Sam, the level of anger underlines that your article was a quite staggering lapse of judgement on your part, not only because you’ve pissed off half the women in Britain but also because you’ve pissed off your friends by slating them in public. And following it with this article has underlined that you have very little regard for anyone’s opinion but your own. There is so much more to a woman than how she looks and frankly, your looks are not strong enough to compensate for the lack of personality. You’ve spent two articles blaming every flaw in your personal and professional relationships with other females on them and have at no point given any time to thinking that some of the problem may lie with you. I have many beautiful friends, who I think the world of and who I trust. All these women are gorgeous, smart, funny, and popular, with lots of male and female friends. The world has fallen for Kate Middleton good and proper, actresses like Jenifer Aniston, Carey Mulligan, Amanda Seyfried sell out cinemas, women don’t have a problem with beauty, what we have a problem with is women who think they are better than us for no good reason, who use their looks as a weapon or an excuse and who think they’re irresistable. Character counts for a lot, in theory, Dawn French who is terribly overweight shouldn’t be beautiful but she is, she’s funny and she’s confident and it comes through. Never forget that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and what we’re all beholding at the moment is a woman with an overinflated sense of ego who has no social skills and no ability to recognise their own flaws. Most of us aren’t judging you on what you look like, we’re judging you on what you said and what you said was unattractive. Your relationships with women won’t improve with wrinkles and grey hair, the only way it’ll improve is with a good long look at the way you behave and act. Given this article I doubt that’ll be happening anytime soon.

Wanker of the week – Samantha Brick

It’s not often I come across a wanker of the week candidate so worthy as today’s charmer. Nicholas Cage was without a doubt a worthy winner however Nicholas Cage has spent years with sychophantic pillocks fawning on his every word and feeding his delusions of acting prowess. Today’s wanker doesn’t even have this excuse. Get yourself a coffee and a slice of cake, make yourself comfortable, put your feet up, this could be a long one.

Let’s get acquainted with today’s wanker shall we? Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to…Samantha Brick. Never heard of her? Well here she is in all her technicolour glory:

Ladies,lock up your husbands, Samatha is out on the town....

This is journalist and producer Samatha Brick. I’m sure you’ll agree, Samatha is quite a pretty lady, she’s not Elle MacPherson’s jaw dropping sister but neither does she resemble the hairy hindquarters of a badger. In reality she is, as most of us are, somewhere in the middle ground.

In her head however, it’s quite a different kettle of fish.

For those who want to read her article in full, you can find it here:

For those who can’t really be arsed, let me pick out the salient points for you.

The article is headed “There are downsides to looking this pretty – why women hate me for being so beautiful”. Who could resist an opening like that? Especially from a woman who looks like pretty average? Let’s see why Sam is so determined that her staggering beauty is a curse shall we? Oh yes, let’s…

She starts with a woe filled tale of how her spectacular beauty is noted once again – “On a recent flight to New York I was delighted when a stewardess came over and gave me a bottle of champagne. ‘This is from the captain – he wants to welcome you on board and hopes you have a great flight today’ she explained. You’re probably thinking ‘what a lovely surprise’. But while it was lovely, it wasn’t a surprise, at least not for me. Throught my adult life I’ve regularly had bottles of bubbly sent to my table men I don’t know.” Ok Sam, here’s the thing – I don’t want to burst your bubble but on the pre-flight run up the Captain does things like checks the instruments, has a brew, chats with the co pilot and goes through the safety checks. What he/she doesn’t do is check print outs of everyone’s passport or do a tour of the cabin to check out if there’s any buff women on board. The captain’s priority is getting the big shiny metal tube with the wings on that contains several hundred people across the Atlantic in one piece, it’s rates slightly higher up the food chain than ensuring your beauty is heralded in the form of fizzy plonk.  What is far more likely to have happened is that someone has tipped off the airline that there’s a tabloid journo on the flight and that a bit of buttering up may result in some good PR for the airline. And getting bought a drink by a stranger at a bar has happened to pretty much every woman everywhere by the time they get to your age. Men the world over are quite happy to ply women with booze in the hope of a cheeky snog or a bunk up, it’s really not as unusual as you might think, even for us mere mortals. Still, let’s not let reality get in the way of a bit of navel gazing shall we?

What other trials has Sam had to endure I wonder? Oh hang on, she’s going to tell us! “Even bar tenders frequently shoo my credit card away when I try to settle my bill”. Well that must make life interesting for their accountants. How on earth do they ever make any money if they don’t take payment from anyone who ranges from average upwards? Unless poor Sam has been so busy lamenting her ravishing good looks that she’s not noticed the event in question had a free bar. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. Still, onwards and upwards, Sam has a bigger problem to tell us about.

It’s the sisterhood. Ladies, shame on you, every one of you, you are blighting the lives of Sam and her fellow goddesses. “But there are downsides to being pretty — the main one being that other women hate me for no other reason than my lovely looks.” Are you quite sure it’s that?

“I’m not smug and I’m no flirt, yet over the years I’ve been dropped by countless friends who felt threatened if I was merely in the presence of their other halves. If their partners dared to actually talk to me, a sudden chill would descend on the room.” Sam, you’ve just spent 6 paragraphs telling us about how men fall at your feet and insist on paying for everything wherever you go. You’ve said 3 times how attractive you are. Is there some definition of smug that I’m not aware of? Is this a street thing that I’ve missed because I’m not down with the kids? And in all honesty, I suspect that most people reading this would be wondering if perhaps your friends have dropped you for reasons more connected with your personality than your looks. No one wants to spend the evening with someone who bangs on about how fit they are all night, it’s boring. And I think the chill might be in your head – it’s probably the breeze flapping round the empty space where the section of brain that contains modesty is located in ordinary people.


And most poignantly of all, not one girlfriend has ever asked me to be her bridesmaid.You’d think we women would applaud each other for taking pride in our appearances.I work at mine — I don’t drink or smoke, I work out, even when I don’t feel like it, and very rarely succumb to chocolate. Unfortunately women find nothing more annoying than someone else being the most attractive girl in a room. No one wants you to be their bridesmaid? Get out, surely not? And I’m sure you’re right, I’m sure it’s PURELY because you’re far more gorgeous that all your mates and they don’t want you there because everyone will be looking at you all day long. Including the groom, obviously. And the vicar. And the photographer. In fact if you’re there, no one will even notice when the bride arrives because they’ll all be too busy jostling to buy you drinks and gaze upon your heavenly visage. But surely, SURELY the selfish girls should have been prepared to take one for the team and make you a bridesmaid so that you could have your time to shine? Mean girls, what were they thinking? The cruelty of these women is beyond compare.

“Take last week, out walking the dogs a neighbour passed by in her car. I waved — she blatantly blanked me. Yet this is someone whose sons have stayed at my house, and who has been welcomed into my home on countless occasions. ” Sam, is it at all, in any way, even vaguely possible that she didn’t see you? I drive round on auto pilot most of the time, on my way to work I could be waved at by a giraffe wearing a clown costume and juggling balls of fire and I wouldn’t notice. I think perhaps you’re being a little over sensitive, or as it’s also known, massively narcissistic, taking some poor lass’s preoccupation with her inner thoughts as a sign of the fact that she’s consumed with burning jealousy over your traffic halting good looks.

Sam then goes on to tell us in great detail about how all her female bosses and colleagues have hated her and been mean to her because she’s s ravishingly gorgeous but it’s a bit long winded and frankly very tedious so we’ll just gloss over it. Suffice to say that all the problems she’s encountered with work based relationships have been someone else’s fault and related to the fact that women are jealous of her beauty and terrified that their husbands are going to have one conversation with the siren that is Sam and be smitten for the rest of eternity. Yawn.

Anyone out there female and over 30? Apart from me that is. Because apparently older women are the most hostile to beautiful women, “perhaps because they feel their own bloom fading”. Ouch, shot across the bows from Sam to the more mature lady. Still, nice to see her momentarily showing some balls instead of just whining like a petulant child.

Well at least her husband takes it all in good part.

.As a Frenchman, he takes great pride in hearing other men declare that I’m a beautiful woman and always tells me to laugh off bitchy comments from other women. 

Ah the old ‘as a Frenchman he likes to hear other men calling his wife beautitful’ thing. Can’t beat a good national generalisation, well done for slipping that in there Sam. As we know, all Frenchmen are exactly the same.  All we need now is a comment about stern Germans, randy Italians, pissed Irishmen and Polish plumbers and we’ve completed the stereotype tour of Europe. Cracking.

Taken: Samantha with her French husband Pascal Rubinat. Ten years her senior, he takes great pride in hearing other men declare that she's a beautiful woman and always tells her to laugh off bitchy comments from other women
Sam with her husband Pascal. Sporting the scariest moustache I’ve seen in while. Pascal that is, not Sam, Sam is FAR too gorgeous to EVER have a moustache. Or leg hair. Or underarm stubble where she just couldn’t be arsed to deal with it because it’s winter and everyone is wearing jumpers anyway. No, that is behaviour for normal women, not goddesses recently descended from Mount Olympus.
Samantha Brick on her wedding day
Sam on her wedding day. Or given her comments and view of others, maybe someone else’s wedding day.
But it’s not just weddings that cause a problem for Sam, it’s ordinary social occasions to. No do is too small for the jealous women in Sam’s locality to make things difficult…Yet I dread the inevitable sarky comments. ‘Here she comes. We’re in the village hall yet Sam’s dressed for the Albert Hall,’ was one I recently overheard. As a result I find dinner parties and social gatherings fraught and if I can’t wriggle out of them, then often dress down in jeans and a demure, albeit pretty, top.” Might I suggest Sam, that the women in your village may possibly be of the opinion that you overdress  somewhat? You appear to have confused ‘jealousy’ with ‘mockery’ here and you do know that wearing jeans and a ‘pretty top’ to a social occasion is pretty normal, right? Not everything requires a sequinned ballgown and a pair of Manalos. Still, it must be hard for you when every social gathering is blighted by other women’s jealousy, the issues being not at all to do with you being a vapid narcissist with all the social skills of an elderly asparagus stalk.
Still, there is hope for Sam because perhaps in her 50s things will improve,So now I’m 41 and probably one of very few women entering her fifth decade welcoming the decline of my looks. I can’t wait for the wrinkles and the grey hair that will help me blend into the background.Perhaps then the sisterhood will finally stop judging me so harshly on what I look like, and instead accept me for who I am. Oh Sam, here’s the problem you’ve got, things are never going to get better because believe you me, the sisterhood is already judging you on who you are rather than your looks. Your looks are average but your character is a car crash. Beautiful women the world over, far more physically attractive women than you are, are surrounded by good friends, both male and female because they are entertaining, funny, intelligent and kind. They are not navel gazing, self-obsessed, vain, airheads who blame all their problems and issues on others rather than taking a good long hard look at themselves and spotting the vast flaws running through their own characters. Samatha Brick, if you can tear yourself away from the mirror for 5 minutes, your Wanker of the Week trophy has been delivered by courier. I didn’t dare give it you in person in case some remnant of your beauty remains inprinted on my eyeball and Mr V, on seeing it, packs his bag to find this vision of entrancing beauty. Always pays to be cautious.Incidentally, if you google this woman, you get links to all her other articles, some of which are quite disturbingly appalling. If you’re a feminist of any variety, I’d recommend not doing this. Perhaps we ought to have a regular section, Sam Says, where we can have a look at some of her other thoughts on the world. Such as the fact that her husband says if she puts on any weight he’ll divorce her and she thinks this is fine. Or the fact that she blew £25k on tarot readers. Or the fact that she apparently used her sex appeal to get where she is. Absolute blog gold.

Militant cyclists and why they need a slap in the chops.

When driving back from walking the dog last night, I came to a mini roundabout. Nothing was coming at me from the right but a cyclist, dressed head to toe in fluorescent yellow spandex like a giant psychedelic canary, was coming towards me from the left. I started to pull out and swung into the corner wide to give plenty of room should he accelerate, because to be dressed like that he had to be a lunatic. As I suspected, I pulled out, he sped up, looked me straight in the eye and as I drove off down the road, he flicked me the bird. Angry doesn’t even begin to describe it. Let’s get a couple of things clear here and now, you lycra-loving asshat:

  • The rules of the mini-roundabout in the UK are thus: give way to traffic coming at you from the right or coming straight at you indicating right. They are not “anyone on a fucking bicycle dressed like a twat has automatic right of way”. I was in the right, you were in the wrong. Just because you’re only on two wheels, doesn’t mean the rules of the road don’t apply you and yes, I do include traffic lights in that. You’re only a poor man’s motorbike and where would we be if all our motorcyclists suddenly decided they could do whatever the fuck they liked on the roads?
  • I don’t give a tiny flying rat’s ass if you think you have right of way, you don’t.
  • Sometimes you have to slow down or even stop at a junction. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles. You may think you have a divine right to sail merrily across a roundabout, set of traffic lights or level crossing as you see fit but believe me, eventually this will end badly for you. And it’ll fucking well serve you right you cocky prick.
  • No matter what you may have read in ‘Cycling Weekly’, pitting yourself against the business end of a tonne of metal with an engine in an attempt to prove your roundabout superiority is not a good idea. There is no question that you WILL come off worse. You may think you’re clever and cool, flicking the bird and cycling up the tailpipe of my car but had I stamped hard on the brakes, you’d have looked like a giant parakeet as you sailed up and over my roof. Not so clever then eh? Your canary yellow outfit may make you look like a comic book character but be assured that it does not give you super powers, if I smack you with my car you will still break.
  • Lycra is terribly unforgiving, in your case wearing it was an error.

Militant cyclists. They all need a slap in the chops. And a lesson in appropriate clothing to wear in public.