Ask Me Ask Me Ask Me

My brother got married on a cruise ship this weekend. As of Sunday, I have my first official sibling-in-law. (All the rest of them are brother or sister-in-commonlaws.) The ship docked in Melbourne briefly so there was an informal lunch. I got to meet my Sister-in-Law's child who is Cherub's age.

Cherub got to share his toys (which he mostly did) and display his excellent table manners.

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I was really, really tempted to ring up a radio station this morning because they had one of those call us if this has ever happened to you discussions which struck a massive chord with me. The only reason I didn't was that my mobile (cell) phone is a pre-paid and I doubted my credits.

The topic was : have you ever felt insulted because of an unflattering comparison to someone famous?

And so even though I was driving the kids to school and it's illegal to use your mobile whilst driving, I got as far as locating and plugging in the dodgy hands-free attachment because I wanted to share.

Because YES!!!

Fortunately common sense got the better of me. That and the realisation I could share it with the internet! For free!

There was this English tourist called Mike who met a drunk girlfriend of mine whilst on the plane to Australia and she gave him my number (without ringing me up to say she'd done so) and he called me when he got to Melbourne. So after he'd explained who the hell he was and how the hell he had my number I met him for a drink. And we got on quite well. I was going through my Anglophile stage then. So we hung out for a bit and we kept in touch. During one of his Australian visits he dossed down in the grouphouse I lived in then. And we communicated variously over a few years, via letter and emails. He had a bit of a thing for me, which I half-knew but I was always attached and he was a bit ... uptight... and patronising. And needy. And he didn't really 'get' me. I remember sarcastically & jokingly telling him I'd learnt something at the school of hard knocks and his face dropped and he shook his head in admiration and said something like but you're so brave about it. But he was alright apart from that I suppose.

My main beef with him was that he always tried to fix things for me that needed no fixing.* Did I mention he didn't understand me? At all? So I told him this idea I'd had for a play and he went away and wrote a script (which sucked, may I say, and totally missed the point). I told him I was teaching tapdance and he sent me a mixed tape of 'good tap songs'. I told him my computer was old and out-of-date and he stole a disused computer (could have been broken, I never found out) from the storeroom at his work and posted it to me. From England. What can I say? I guess I just inspire this behaviour in men, I have this strange power...

Mike and I are no longer in contact (at his request) because I eventually said stop metaphorically waving your metaphorical screwdriver at my life and he got really insulted and probably cried and told me NEVER to contact him again. Ummm, okay.

But during one of our epistolatory exchanges which would have been over 10 years ago now, I sent him some pictures of me taken from a tapdance show. And his response to the photos was to tell me that I looked like Yootha Joyce. Whom I knew only as the nagging sexually-frustrated middle-aged housewife from Man About the House, and George and Mildred.


Oh.My.God. I was so insulted I think my mouth was hanging open for a week. One of my dearest gay friends nearly wet himself when he heard, he was rolling round on the floor laughing for days. He still occasionally likes to call me Yoofa. Just don't think the rest of you can get away with that.

But this is the sad part. Mike meant it as a compliment. A really subtle one, designed to show me what a sensitive and trendy guy he was. Because the image HE carried in his head of Yootha Joyce was the cover photo on a Smith's single Ask:

Which is not too hideous but I had not seen this picture.** I had only seen Man About The House and George & Mildred, and I can't think of any chick in her late 20's who would appreciate being told she looks like Mildred.


I hope you all went and followed the links. Poor old Yootha died from liver failure - apparently she drank half a bottle of brandy every day. I want you to see how I'll look the day after my birthday party.



*Unlike my Mr Fixit who is a legend with things that are actually broken
**I just googled it today so actually despite this diatribe I now feel slightly forgiving of poor old Mike.

PS. He also said I looked like Chrissie Hynde from the Pretenders. Which is just rubbish.