Showing posts with label BMW's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BMW's. Show all posts

Sunday, 3 May 2009

A Beginner's Guide to Essex and Daawn Saarf




On Friday night NB took me to see Doves at the Brixton Academy, because he is a lovely, lovely man. I'm not sure how NB's son felt about taking a middle aged auntie out on his birthday treat but he is a gorgeous and polite boy and I loved him.

The South is a strange place to me, it may be to you yourself, have some handy hints from your auntie, they may help you prepare.

It is the law that if you live in Essex you either have to be blonde, orange or have fake nails, it's better if you have all 3, they give you a discount on your council tax if you do. I truly saw a black man with a blonde mohawk, I am not making that bit up.

It can take a ferocious amount of time to drive anywhere, it took us 90 minutes to go 12 miles. This is not uncommon, apparently, this is why many people in London are grumpy or stone mad or both. There is a lot of beeping, an awful lot.

If you drive a BMW you are exempt from any traffic laws or codes of common courtesy that others may follow. You can be even more cavalier with the rules of the road if you drive a soft top BMW. There will be no raising of eyebrows or smart arse remarks from me about the men who drive these cars because NB is my friend, a lovely, lovely man and I want him to ditch Chloe's mum and take me to Kings of Leon, I am his proper friend.

You can't leave a soft top BMW in Brixton. You have to drive for an hour and a half, park in a safe place and then get 3 tubes to get there. This may account for the people being grumpy and stone mad as in point 2.

People in Essex judge you on how expensive your car is and how bling you are, don't think it works the same in Edinburgh, it doesn't, we don't do that, millionaires drive beaten up old Volvo estates and buy clothes from charity shops. This may be why they have money.

London was fantastic and I was overgiddy with delight to see The Gherkin and Tower Bridge, I actually did ooh noises and I believe I may have clapped my hands excitedly in the manner of a small child who's had too much sugar.

Doves were amazing and the Brixton Academy was my kind of venue, I loved it. It has so much character and it made me miss the Glasgow Apollo RIP.

Middle aged bald men can and will dance, some of them will even take their (middle aged) stripey shirts off to do it. Fair play to them, sure where's the harm ?