Doctors are chancers.

According to the Independent ...

'Drinking alcohol, even in moderation - such as a large glass of wine or a pint of beer a day - can increase the risk of bowel cancer by 10pc, a Europe-wide study has found.

It found that drinking up to two pints a day or about two large glasses of wine can increase the risk by up to a quarter.

But Dr David Fennelly, consultant oncologist at St Vincent's Hospital in Dublin, said family history remained a much more significant factor.

He said drinking in moderation "makes sense" but it was very difficult to link a reduction in alcohol intake with a decrease in the number of cases of bowel cancer.

Ireland has a relatively high level of bowel cancer, with more than 2,700 new cases of the disease diagnosed, north and south, every year. As many as 1,500 people die of it annually.

On average it is estimated to strike one in 20 men and one in 18 women.

The study questioned almost 480,000 people across 10 European countries about their drinking habits as part of the European Prospective Investigation into Cancer and Nutrition, funded by Cancer Research UK, the Medical Research Council and other European agencies.

The findings, published online by the International Journal of Cancer, found that people who drank 15 grams of alcohol a day had about a 10pc increased risk of the disease.

Those who drank over 30 grams of alcohol increased their risk by about 25pc.

All the participants in the study were followed up for six years.

During that period, 1,833 people developed bowel cancer."

Eh? Wasn't there a report out last year that said drinking moderately and daily helps a body?

here, take a gander at the following...

"The French scientist who showed the world that wine is good for the heart has a new discovery: two to three glasses of wine a day reduces death rates from all ailments by up to 30 percent.

"I've always suspected this," said Dr. Serge Renaud, whose findings appeared in the journal Epidemiology . "Wine protects not only against heart disease but also most cancers."

Renaud's study of 34,000 middle-aged men living in eastern France supports what has become known as "the French paradox": Frenchmen who eat lots of saturated fat but still live a long time.

Results were the same for smokers, nonsmokers and former smokers, he said, and there were no differences between white collar and blue collar drinkers.

Recent studies in the United States found that a drink of almost any type of alcohol can lower death rates by reducing the risk of cardiovascular disease."

And then Science Daily adds..'Gabriella Gazzani and colleagues in Italy point out that previous studies suggested that moderate wine consumption has health benefits after reaching the stomach and digestion -- in protecting against heart disease and cancer. In addition, wine's antibacterial activity has been recognized since antiquity, when wine was used to treat infected wounds. Until now, however, scientists had not investigated whether wine could combat harmful oral bacteria, the researchers said.

Their study showed that red and white wine were effective in controlling the growth of several strains of streptococci bacteria that are involved in tooth decay, and some cases of sore throat. "Overall, our findings seem to indicate that wine can act as an effective antimicrobial agent against the tested pathogenic oral streptococci and might be active in caries and upper respiratory tract pathologies prevention," the study states, noting that tests now are underway to determine wine's effects on those diseases in humans.'

I'm just back from Valencia, where old folk are as plentiful as pigeons. They mill about, suck on cigars and drink wine with most meals and seem to live forever. The streets are positively teaming with short healthy looking old folk. Go for stroll around eight in the evening and there they are, vast groups of them, sitting around cafés, dosing themselves in beer and Bitter Kas. Robust I tell you. They walk a lot too. And eat more fish and less processed food. Gee, I wonder is there a connection.
I'm sick of these reports anyway. Butter is bad for you, salt is bad for you, diet drinks are bad for you...urgh.
Shove it up yer Ronson doctors, I'm going to go with the oldies on this one. A little bit of this and that and whatever your having yourself is the only way to live.

au mi Gawd, ee iz az radiant az a flow-er.

I like the way he works it,
no diggity,
I'd like to bag him up,
(bag him up)
I like the he way works it,
no diggity,
I'd like to bag him up.

Hasta proxima semana chumlies.Live the ginger dream!

bop-bop-bopping along.

Oh I wanted to give out this morning, I wanted to give out about...
The weather-raining,
Etheline- Insane,
Chewing gum tax-Government overlords! And I hate the stuff.
People who try jumps queues and then pretend they didn't see the line- idiot sneaks.
hairdressers-ill on a monday? Fake! NO I don't want Jacinta to do it, Jacinta hasn't even brushed her own hair today.
Hormones- hysterics.
People who don't wipe their sweat off the bench when finished- gross.
Car tax- expensive
I had it all at my fingertips, I even rolled my neck, ready launch my firey attack, I had typed...'Far be it from me to be guilty of omniscience, but...' Then my fingers froze and a wide beaming grin spread across my chops.
You see Chumliewarners. I cannot do it. I cannot be angry today. Oh the weather outside is frightful, but quite frankly my dears, I don't give a damn.
And why would this be?
Why it's because I am on holiday. Well, technically I'm not on holiday yet. I won't be traveling until tomorrow. And then chumlies, I will begin a whole week where I will eat my body weight in fresh seafood, partake of plentiful rum, and toast myself brown under a warm Spanish sun.
Bearing all this in mind, I will be spending the day running about like a blue arsed fly today, but it is a small price to pay for this feeling of bliss.
Now, I only I could stuff the smaller of the cats into his travel box without losing all the skin I value...

Joe O'Reilly is guilty.

I posted about this man way back, after watching him claim his dead wife was 'sleeping' on the Pat Kenny show. http://fatmammycat.blogspot.com/2006/12/joe-oreilly.html
I knew that moment in my heart he was as guilty as sin. I have followed the case closely since. I winced when I read the emails sent between him and his sister where he described his wife and mother of his two children as a 'cunt'. I knew he had stopped thinking of her as a person in her own right and now regarded her as a creature of revulsion and an albatross around his neck.
I thought of the anger it takes to bludgeon a woman to death and leave her bleeding for her mother to find. I knew that kind of hatred was personal.
I knew he was guilty.

Today I was heartened to see I was not the only person who thought so.
From breakingnews.ie

"Joe O'Reilly has been found guilty of murdering his wife Rachel O'Reilly.

There was a scream of 'Yes' from her family as the verdict was returned.

Joe O'Reilly showed no emotion, whereas Rose Callely, Rachel's mother, cried uncontrollably as did other members of the family.

Joe O’Reilly, 35, was accused of murdering his wife Rachel at their family home in Dublin on October 4, 2004.

He denies killing the 30-year-old mother of two at Lambay View, Baldarragh, the Naul, Co Dublin."

JOe O'Reilly robbed Rachel of her life, he robbed his sons of their mother and her parents of a daughter, her siblings a sister, her friends a much loved one. He showed not an ounce of compassion and he has played a poker face ever since.
But tonight Joe O'Reilly is going to pay for his crime, it won't cover the cost, but I hope it brings some peace to the family of Rachel O'Reilly.
Nothing more needs to be said.
RIP Rachel.

Madonna and the armies of hell.

I like working out, there I've admitted it. I like going to the gym and doing weights. I get a stupid thrill out of upping a weight. or cranking out that extra rep.
I like it when my legs wobble and shake under the strain of that last rep. I like learning new moves, I like the push press, it's interesting. I don't mind sweating, I don't mind rows, I do mind dips, and I'm very bad at them, but I still do them. I'm learning how to do kipping pull ups, ouch. I don't mind pain the next day. I super like that I don't have bingo wings. I like seeing muscle develop. It amuses the hell out of me that I-Fatmammycat- am frequently the ONLY female in the free weights section of the gym and that sometimes teenage boys can be spotted counting the weights I am using and immediately match me (teenage boys are strong) I like that some of the guys in the gym who used to smirk behind my aching back and pink face now nod at me and say hello. I like that I can do lunges all around the place without any of them batting an eyelid these days and I was much pleased to notice two guys were doing the same moves I recognised from CrossFit (We're not worthy! We're not worthy!) the other day.
I feel a bit deflated on days I don't go.
So yeah, I'm a total unapologetic gym rat.
Where am I going with this?
Well I'm going straight over to Madonna actually and I am going to gaze at that photo again.
Madonna is a pretty strict yoga person and is as fit as a fiddle I'd say, but sweet Jesus, her arms? I know it's an unflattering picture, but sweet Jesus, her arms.
I believe this is what some folk call too much of a good thing.
I hope when I'm Madonna's age I'm in as good shape as she is, but I also hope I don't look like skeletor.
Looking like the walking dead, I'm very much against that.

A Hilarious Hot Hoffy! A new new dawn of hair worship!

Weeeeee, the sun just came out again and all is well with the world, I could burst into song I"m so happy, but no, I won't! Take it away Hoffliington... sing for de peeps, sing you leather wearing munchkin.
I dedicate this to Andraste and Finn. Don't thank me Bostonian buttercup and Philly Princess, just sing, sing of joy and weekend hooch. Let her rip Hoffy, release the rapture.

A glum Friday.

It's one thing to be awakened by a clap of thunder so loud I thought my number was up, quite another to have to go out in it. But go out into it I must, as the gym won't do my weights for me.
Because of the never ending abuse I get on a Friday about my one true fetish, I have-with a heavy heart- decided to suspend all photos of my peachy nipply ginger lovegod until further notice. It's not right, I know, but what can I do? This way I know I'll win you lot over to his comely charms. You wait and see, first you'll wonder, 'what's wrong? I feel odd? Like something's missing in my life.'
Then you'll stop sleeping so well, the fitter among you will suddenly find it hard to dredge up your competitive spirit, beer drinkers will find their beverages bitter and metallic tasting, the mothers among you will find yourselves idly playing games with your children, but with one ear cocked for the ginger whipser on the wind. Men will whimper in their sleep. Maroon will drink Kir and sing a sad lament.
Oh ye feckless lot, you mark my words. It will only be a matter of weeks when the realisation hits you all square between the kisser.
What was once a beautiful Friday, filled with a ginger snowglob of bobbling manhood has now been reduced to nothing more than the start of another tedious drink filled weekend.
Where is the love? Where is the dream of peachy perfection.

I hope you're all happy!

The child, his mother, his father, their donor.

Okay I knew when I heard this yesterday that it was going to be an absolute mess of a case. I'll let you read it first. From today's Independent...
AN Irish sperm donor has secured an injunction against a lesbian couple to prevent them from moving to Australia with his biological son.

Two years ago, the man agreed to father the baby boy, who is now 14 months old. After the birth he had frequent contact with the infant, posing as his "favourite uncle".

But the relationship between the couple and the man soured when the two women complained that he had become "too close" to the child, known as HL.

They demanded a greater distance between the two, and the man only had two further visits with the child.

But when he heard they were about to go on holiday to Australia with the boy and were thinking of moving there, he brought a High Court action restraining them from travelling.

The case, the first of its kind to deal with the parental rights of sperm donors, is set to reignite a bitter debate about fathers' rights and the lack of regulation of the burgeoning artificial insemination industry.

Contact

In countries including Scotland, England and Australia, judges have ordered contact between sperm-donor fathers and their children. In Ireland, fathers have little or no legal rights to their children unless they are married or awarded guardianship or custody.

The Supreme Court ruled yesterday that the lesbian couple could not take the boy to Australia for a year, pending the outcome of guardianship proceedings here which will determine the man's rights. But in a stinging dissent, Judge Nial Fennelly rejected that the sperm donor had any rights to parent the child.

Earlier this year, the man secured the injunction from Justice Henry Abbott in the High Court, pending the outcome of his proceedings seeking guardianship and joint custody of the boy.

By a 2-1 majority, the Supreme Court yesterday dismissed the lesbian couple's appeal against that injunction.

Giving the majority judgment, Justice Susan Denham agreed with the High Court that the paramount issue was the boy's welfare; that a year was a long time in the life of an infant and the balance of convenience lay in his remaining here pending the determination of the man's rights.

The judge insisted that her decision could not be inferred as presuming rights for the father as those issues had yet to be decided. However, Justice Fennelly said the man's only relationship with the child "is as a sperm donor" and the injunction would inevitably alter the status quo in favour of the man.

This case was "utterly unique", but the course adopted by the High Court so far meant the man's right to have access would be established as a "fait accompli" before there was a full hearing. In his view, the High Court had mistakenly found there was a fair issue over whether the man had a right to guardianship.

In her judgment, Justice Denham said the lesbian couple, who have undergone a civil union ceremony in England, had wished to have a child. The man agreed to have a child with one of them by means of artificial insemination.

Relationship

Details emerged yesterday of the relationship between father and son. The man and the lesbian couple visited each other regularly after the boy's birth. The man took the boy for walks in his buggy, provided items to assist with the child and offered financial assistance, which was declined.

He had even opened a trust for the baby, but some months after the birth, the couple told the man that the parties were too close. The couple had made arrangements to visit a long-haul destination for a year from spring this year. The boy's mother was from Australia and wished her son to have an opportunity to get to know her family. The man secured an interim order under which the couple were allowed take the boy on holiday for six weeks and were restrained from taking him out of Ireland without the court's leave."


This is a huge quagmire. The ladies in question are in a stable relationship and have a right to travel with their son. The man in this case has clearly fallen for his biological son and wishes to keep him close. But at the end of the day-while I feel for his plight- this man willingly donated-and that should be the key word here- his sperm to another couple.
There is not doubt in my mind that the rights of fathers in this country is trampled on regularly. It is almost written that when couples break up the children stay with their mother, regardless of whether she is the best person to mind them or not. Access can be limited to weekends for fathers, and unless both the parents can be mature enough to genuinely put their differences aside and the children first, the outcome of family breakdown can be very grim indeed.
But that is another case.
In this case the biological father donated his sperm, knowing full well that his donation was accepted and used in the hope that a lesbian couple might have a child of their own. Of-their-own.
If he had donated a kidney to one of the women would he have a right to dictate to them where they could and could not travel with his donation? That's very glib of me, a child is not a kidney, but a donation is a donation.
The women also made a mistake-in my view- of allowing a relationship develop between the child and his natural father. There is a reason adoptive families do not keep biological parents in the picture as they rear their children. I do no see how it would be possible NOT to form a bond with your own flesh and blood.
No, this case is a mess. A horrible mess. If you want children without a father use a sperm bank. And if you are a man and you want children, don't donate your sperm to another couple and then demand to be included in their family.
It will be very interesting to see the outcome of this case.

Parsley!

Parsly is a filthy pond scummy herby green pox riddled poison crappy vile skanky overpowering spwan of a rotting flyblown corpse on a particularly humind Sunday afternoon in a town with no rum, and folk need to stop sprinkling it atop perfectly fine food, thus causing perfectly happy people to go 'Guuurrrghharrghhghgbleeeeeeeeparsleeeeeeeeeyyackgargglegargglespitspit.'

Parsley I'm against it!

Rugby League. Tough sort of chaps.

Bleeee, I heard Rugby League chaps were sort of tough, but, well read for yourself, from the BBC...

An Australian rugby league player competed for more than four months with an opponent's tooth buried in his head.
Former NRL prop Ben Czislowski needed stitches above his left eye after clashing heads with a rival on 1 April.

But Czislowski later suffered an eye infection and shooting pains until a doctor discovered the cause last week.

"I can laugh about it now but the doctor told me it could have been serious," said the 24-year-old, who now keeps the tooth on his bedside table.

Czislowski, who was playing for Brisbane team Wynnum when he clashed heads with Matt Austin, said he was prepared to mail the tooth back to its rightful owner but was holding onto it until then as proof of his bizarre injury.

Tweed Heads forward Austin lost several teeth in the incident and also broke his jaw.

In 2004, Widnes hooker Shane Millard also had an opponent's tooth removed from his head.

Two years earlier, Wigan's Jamie Ainscough's arm became so badly infected there were fears it would be amputated before the source - an imbedded tooth - was discovered."

Seriously, how banged up do you need to be NOT notice other folk's teeth are stuck in your body?
That said, I once has tooth ache for eight months, and people wondered how the hell I coped. ( copious amounts of Anadin ingested every 2-3 hours, very dangerous, very stupid, very big fear of dentists)
In the end I had to have emergency root canal done at 2 AM, by a not impressed dentist who had been at a party. Oh yes, I know how to go about things in a calm and sensible manner.

Carrot-top on TV!

OhmiGod, I just read on Dlisted the Carrot-top is to be in the next series of the Surreal Life. It's like God (so sorry big guy about the 'evolution' gag, my bad) saw that I was miffed today and decided to put cheer back into my black heart.
Yeaaaaaaaay!

It's just a theory!

After slagging the poor old pagans yesterday, I couldn't resist.

Upset pagans.

My favourite line was how they were going to 'pray/dance' for rain to wash the offence away. Pray for rain? Are they fucking blind?

Radical Honesty.

I was reading some article in the Indo a while ago about a person trying to follow Brad Branton's Radical Honesty theory. Basically the premise is that you tell the truth regardless of the outcome. So if your boss asks, 'Say Larry, did you finish up that report yet?' Larry gets to say, 'No boss, I"m nowhere near finished, it probably won't be finished before Friday.' or if your mother says, 'Do you like my new outfit?' You say, 'No, you look like a lilac couch.'
Think it sounds iffy?

Check this out.

"With his new book Branton is selling the notion that...
"Radical Honesty is direct communication that leads to intimacy in relationships. Then people can powerfully create their future together. This works for couples, families, communities and nations.
What is Radical Honesty?

Radical Honesty is a kind of communication that is direct, complete, open and expressive. Radical Honesty means you tell the people in your life what you've done or plan to do, what you think, and what you feel. It's the kind of authentic sharing that creates the possibility of love and intimacy.

The practice of Radical Honesty is based on the work and writings of Dr. Brad Blanton, a psychologist who found that the best way to reduce stress, make life work, and heal the past was to tell the truth.

What's in it for me?

People who practice Radical Honesty have healthy, free, powerful and joyful lives. Lying and protecting your image takes a heavy toll on your health and relationships. Telling the truth is less destructive than lying."

Weeeeeeelllll, it all sounds like wooo and mumbo jumbo to me, but what the heck. I've decided to try out some woo for the day, after all I'm injured, why not indulge in a little radical honesty. God help me and anyone who comes across me today.
As an experiment I want everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, to try out a burst of Radical Honesty today too. We can meet here and see how it went. It might be a small burst, it might be a whopper, but let us give it a woo whirl. It's healthy right?
Right, I'm off to ring my mother.

You're 'aving a laff.

Morning chumlies and a busy day ahead. I see Bawbwa Streisand fans are fuming over poorly handled car parks and ever poorlier handled seats. Can't say I blame them. If I'd payed the astronomical prices Bawbwa charged I want a magic carpet to bring me from my car to my gold and velvet chocolate and champers laden box, but that's just me. MCD are apologising. I hear a dog barking somewhere.
Speaking of astronomical prices. I was in town yesterday with the paramour and family. We had a very nice meal and then walked/hobbled to a bar to have a drink afterwards. I was driving so I was not partaking of the deliciousness that is hooch. Instead I had a coffee with round one and a soda water and dash of lime with round two.
Get this. MY drink cost 4 euros 50 cent! A soda water and lime !!
We checked the bill. Aye! 2,60 fro the soda water, fair enough, but 1,90 fro a dash of lime? A thimbleful of lime cordial!!
Outrageous.
The paramour's Pappy wandered up to the bar as we were leaving and questioned the bill. The barman looked sheepish and then said that it had been a mistake, that lime was free of charge with soda water. But we suspected this was a bit of a porkie-pie as the cash register is computerised and has very different button for each item.
Either way, they returned Paramour's Pappy's lolly and we went on our way.
But I wonder how often bars get away with that? I wonder how often this bar gets away with it? Where is the incentive to not drink if soft drinks cost so much anyway?
If you order a rock shandy it costs more than a pint, if you want a dash of something they're going to charge you a fortune and hope you don't notice.
For shame Dakota, I hope it was a mistake, but if it wasn't it won't take long to find out.
Have you been ripped off recently and challenged it? Enquiring minds want to know. I want to know as well.

Dance on a sunday.

I'm crippled, and it appears I will have to 'take it easy' for a few days. My paramour says this likes it's nothing. But I am like Rainman when it comes to my daily routine. Taking it easy to me means having nowt to do. I"m going to freak out. So to combat the stress of 'taking it easy' I have decided to douse myself liberally in movies.
Here, I hope this brightens your day as much as it brightened mine.

Pain.

No seriously, this picture made my eye scrunch up and my ass clench in way it has never done before. Not even eating bad melon made me suffer this way.

A Sumptuous Serving of Sexy for Sam!

'Brad, I'm tired of wearing this stupid square jawed brunette mask all the time.'
'I know, but we're nearly into the private room, my burly wurly of delight.'
'I'm taking it off.'
'Don't my ginger pie of awesomeness, you'll burn the retinas of every man and woman with your unnatural beauty. I won't share you! I won't!'
'But it's so hot!'
'No ginger pumpkin, you're so hot, oh god, every time I think of that hat...'
'Brad?"
'Jezzz, okay, come one, quick, I don't think there's any photographers around, oh quick quickly, ditch that squared jawed brunette thing you're wearing.'
'Hold on, it's caught at the back-'

RIPPPPPPPPP

'Oh great Brad, you ripped it. How am I supposed to sneak out of here now? I....uuppbbummmppsst'

Slobber slobber kissy kissy.

'... ummmph wait wait! Do you like my visor?'
'OH god, yeah, it's so hot, so so...just hot.'
'Wanna see me push more curls through it? I can make my tongue touch the tip of my nose. Wanna see?'
'Oh god.'
'I bet Jennifer never had a visor like this.'
'Who the fuck is jennifer?'
'Exactly, come here my little pony, I've got sugar lumps for you...guess where they're hidden.'
'Filthy foxy ginger temptress.'
'Oh Brad, speak to me, tell me how to make soap, tell me the rules of Fight club, nibble my freckly lobes.'
'Oh........baby!'

Popeye.

Or when good weights go very bad.
As most of you are bored rigid hearing, weights, me likey. Today I"m going to be hitting the bench, performing some painful back extensions (me no likey so much) some hideous pull ups and quite possibly-if I have any strength left in my right little finger- some dips, which will kill me in a spectacular fashion making the drive back from the gym a teeth clenching journey of ouch.
I won't be doing any running today as I am doing the Adidas five mile in the park tomorrow at 10-am, this also mean I have had to postpone my date with mister Rum tonight. But no matter, Rum was upset but he's a fine chap and he'll see me tomorrow no doubt.
Anyhoo, as much as I like doing weights and so on, there are some folk who should really ask themselves why oh why they do it? I do it to make my body stronger, to burn fat-even when resting, muscles need energy to maintain- to avoid osteoporosis later in life and you know, to keep healthy and shit.
Some people clearly do it to look like cartoon characters.

Common Sense mght just prevail.

Woo hoo. For once some common sense is beginning to rear it's rare head.

"THE DSPCA has offered to microchip and neuter at cost all dogs banned by Dublin City Council as an alternative to forcing dog owners to get rid of their family pets.

The Dublin Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals said providing a microchipping and owner-tracing service was a far better solution than an outright ban on specific breeds.

It is offering to microchip all 10 breeds and cross-breeds on the list for a nominal €6 fee and maintain a database of microchipped dogs and their owners on behalf of Dublin City Council tenants.

Each dog will also be given a collar disc that includes details of the microchip implant so that dog wardens supplied with a microchip scanner can immediately identify any potentially dangerous dog that is roaming around or is otherwise a threat to the public, said DSPCA general manager Jimmy Cahill.

The service, which would normally cost more than €50 through a veterinarian, will be provided through the DSPCA's mobile clinic, which will also provide a subsidised neutering scheme for the listed dogs. "I think it's a reasonable solution. The offer is there and we're willing to help," Mr Cahill said.

The controversial ban has led to the DSPCA and the Irish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals being flooded with calls from angry and distraught dog owners who are devastated with the prospect of having to get rid of their family pets or face eviction.

Both animal welfare groups, as well as the Irish Kennel Club, are opposed to the ban and have requested an emergency meeting with Dublin City Manager John Tierney to either reconsider the ban or consider their microchipping offer.

They are also urging dog owners not to put down or give away their dogs until a compromise can be reached.

They argue that while vicious dogs are a threat to the public, the ban on specific breeds will do little to prevent irresponsible owners from continuing to use fighting dogs as weapons.

The microchipping scheme, coupled with mandatory registration of dog owners, would allow dog wardens to trace all potentially dangerous dogs to their owners.

The scheme would also readily distinguish responsible pet owners from the thugs who purposely train or abuse their dogs to be aggressive in order to use them as weapons, he added.

Yet despite the public outcry that has followed the ban, the city council is sticking to its guns despite some reports to the contrary, a council spokesman confirmed last night.

All existing and new council tenants who own a dog on the list are required to put down or rehouse their dog as a condition of their tenancy, he said.

"The dogs are banned and where we receive complaints the dog warden will be summoned," he added.

The banned dogs include: American Pit Bull Terrier, Staffordshire Bull Terrier, English Pit Bull Terrier, Bull Mastiff, Doberman Pinscher, German Shepherd (Alsatian), Rhodesian Ridgeback, Rottweiler, Japanese Akita and Japanese Tosa."

The ball is your court Council Dude Tierney, make sure you lob it back.

Teenage kicks.

Or, Life Lessons, 1-never give keys of parent's house to friends.

OOoo, I laughed up tea when I read this a while ago. I can imagine the panic this young one must have felt, feel the sheer weight of 'what have I done' she must have suffered. As frequent bouts with TLGK have proven, sometimes logic is not a teenager's strong point.
Of course that's nothing to what her parents must have felt, I can only imagine the guantlet of emotions they ran through. I wonder will that kid be getting any pocket money for the rest of her teenage years.

Observe, from today's SUN...

THE schoolgirl whose £1million home was trashed by partying teenagers sent desperate text-style messages for the mayhem to stop.
Frantic Camilla Davies, 14 — who lent pals a key while she was away with her parents — used her computer because she had forgotten her mobile phone.

One message to a chum on internet site MySpace begged for details of the rampage, pleading: “Tell me what the f*** has happened.”

At one point she threatened to call the police — fearing her stepdad’s £50,000 silver 730 BMW car and her mum’s gold Chrysler would also be wrecked.

As the full horror of the trail of damage at the seven-bedroom mansion dawned, she declared: “i wont b in trub cos like its nt my fault.”

But she then added ruefully: “i might have to sleepo at yours, this is too much to handle.”

Her furious stepdad Robert Bowles — a 45-year-old property company director — and mum Elfrid cut short the family’s trip to London after neighbours in Harrogate, North Yorks, phoned police the next morning.

The Sun told yesterday how the family faced a £15,000 bill for redecorating and replacing stolen TVs, DVD players and jewellery.

Holes were said to have been smashed in walls, bleach spilt and furniture wrecked after Camilla’s pals held a party — and more than 100 gatecrashers turned up. Cash was also nicked.

Camilla’s FIRST message to her chum showed she was in jokey mood hours after secretly handing over the key.

The public school pupil wrote to the pal, who was in touch with the partygoers: “how was my house? haha what happened? is everything a messs?”

She was told there was “bad news”. As the evening wore on Camilla became increasingly frustrated — and her messages more urgent.

As the youngster remained in the doghouse yesterday, her family was tightlipped.

Police confirmed they were hunting two men who chased away the last few partygoers — and who are feared to have then ransacked the house.

A spokesman said: “We are still trying to identify who was at the party.”

Eep!

Did you ever do something as a teenager you instantly regretted it?

Emergency Contraception.

"If you have unprotected sex, or you think your contraception method did not work (e.g. burst condom) emergency contraception is a safe and effective way of preventing an accidental pregnancy. It may also be used following instances of sexual assault.

The morning-after pill is the only form of emergency contraception licensed in Ireland at present. These pills contain a form of the hormone progesterone, which works to prevent pregnancy if taken within 72 hours of unprotected sex.
The pills are not effective if a woman is already pregnant.

Emergency contraception should not be used as a regular form of contraception; while they can help prevent an unplanned pregnancy, they are not as effective as other forms of contraception such as the pill or condom and do no protect against the risk of sexually transmitted diseases."


I"ve just had an interesting email exchange with a gal I know who has just had a bit of a pregnancy scare. She's not pregnant, but the condom burst when she and her boyfriend were having sex last weekend and naturally-as she doesn't want children just yet- she had to jump through hoops to get a prescription from her GP-who does not work weekends- for emergency contraception.
Because I'm am obviously a moron I did not realise Emergency Contraception or 'the morning after pill' is not available over the counter.
This has mande me very very coss.
Why is it not available over the counter, does anyone have any idea?

Petition against the dog ban.

No point in me waffling on about it if I'm not prepared to put my beautifully shod foot where my big mouth is. So here.


"Dear Friends,

I have just read and signed the online petition:

"Citizens against Dog ban "

hosted on the web by PetitionOnline.com, the free online petition
service, at:

http://www.PetitionOnline.com/anvil999/

I personally agree with what this petition says, and I think you might
agree, too. If you can spare a moment, please take a look, and consider
signing yourself.

Best wishes,

fatmammycat"

Plastic Surgery.

As you can see from the ungodly hour, I am up and about to leave for a meeting. So my question today is this.
If plastic surgery is so fantastic and stuff, why does Demi Moore look like Ozzy Osbourne?
No wait, I have another. Would any of you ever consider going under the knife?

The stiletto 'workout'...It's ba-ck!

Remember that post I did on the stiletto workout. No? Here, refresh yer memory...

http://fatmammycat.blogspot.com/2007/01/high-heel-fat-burning.html

Well, slap my thigh and shiver me timbers, because it's back, only this time... there's a video!

http://www.thesun.co.uk/article/0,,2007310627,00.html#cid=OTC-RSS&attr=TheSun:Woman


Seriously, I mean seriously, I'm not going to say anything this time. What is there to say?

Diabetes.

It doesn't surprise me in the slightest to read the following gloomy prediction in the Indo this morning, not in the least, my only surprise is that the figures are not higher.
Observe.

"NEARLY 200,000 people in Ireland will suffer from diabetes by 2015, medical experts predicted yesterday.

Obesity is the main factor being blamed for the estimated 37pc increase expected in the disease over the next eight years.

The stark figures are contained in a new report published by the All-Ireland Institute of Public Health, which says that by 2015 around 193,944 people in the Republic will be diagnosed with diabetes - up from 141,000 two years ago.

In the same period, the number of those diagnosed with the disease in the North will have increased by 26pc.

Most of those affected will develop Type 2 diabetes, which is linked to such lifestyle factors as overweight and lack of exercise.

Commenting on the report, Dr James Kiely, chief medical officer of the Department of Health, said: "We are facing a dramatic rise in diabetes. This is largely due to the sharp rise in obesity and stresses the importance of well-organised and sustained efforts in prevention."

The report calls for a comprehensive All-Ireland system for monitoring the prevalence of excessive weight and obesity here, as well as the factors causing the problem.

"High-quality diabetes registers should be urgently established and maintained on the island of Ireland, North and South, with a view to creating an All-Ireland Register."

It also stresses the need for more studies to be carried to to examine the level of Type 1 and 2 diabetes among people up to the age of 19 and also the prevalence in older age groups.

Efforts also need to be made to look at the ethnic origins of people who are diagnosed with the illness, it says.

The report predicts that more men than women will develop the disease due to their higher rates of obesity.

Type 2 diabetes can cause serious complications, including heart disease and stroke. It is also responsible for kidney damage and eyesight problems which can result in blindness. The danger is that many people have no outward Type 2 symptoms and can go years without being diagnosed.

Symptoms include being unusually thirsty, having to urinate often, feeling hungry all the time, losing weight, blurry vision, feeling very tired or frequent infections.

Services to treat obesity here are under severe strain and currently the only specialist treatment service for adults is the weight-management clinic in St Columcille's Hospital, Loughlinstown, Dublin. It continues to have a huge waiting list.

There are plans to open weight-management clinics in the Mercy Hospital in Cork and University College Hospital in Galway. But it will be the end of the year before the services are up and running, with the necessary staff in place."

In the last year alone I know of three folk diganosed with diabetes, the Paramour's uncle, a man in his fifties, a chap I know, a man in his forties and a girl I used to work with, who is-get this-thirty. In all three cases the trigger is surely lifestyle, rich food, lack of regular exercise and increasing weight.
Because diabetes is a controllable disease people don't seem to give it the respect it deserves. Lets have a gander at those complications again. Having type 2 diabetes increases your risk of heart disease (cardiovascular disease), blindness (retinopathy), nerve damage (neuropathy), and kidney damage (nephropathy). In severe cases it can lead to amputation.
Not so cuddly a disease.

Diabetes is the fifth leading cause of death by disease in the United States. Nearly 21 million children and adults nationwide suffer from diabetes and another 41 million are at risk for the condition. If present trends continue, one in three Americans, and one in two minorities, born in 2000 will develop diabetes in their lifetime.

According to the American Diabetes Association the first treatment for type 2 diabetes is often meal planning for blood sugar control, weight loss, and exercising. weight loss and exercise, two relatively simple life style changes that can have far reaching implication to a person's over- all health.
So why are we as a nation growing fatter? Why are we piling on the pounds? Why do we not address our expanding waists, our diet of convenience, our soft drink addictions ( we were 4th in a recent study of soft drink consumption in 15 years olds, behind USA 3rd Israel 2nd, and Northern Ireland romping how the clear winner with 71% of it 15 year olds drinking a soft drink daily).

Why are we choosing to ignore the rising epidemic in our midst? Is it laziness? Head in the sand? What?
People need to take care with what they eat, people need to get moving. People need to stop making excuses. 'Oh I never get time to exercise' is nonsense, make time. Cut out an hour's television and walk, get up earlier and go to the gym. Don't eat so much packaged food, swap water from a soft drink. Notice your pants getting tight? Don't buy a bigger pair, or blame the washing machine/dry cleaner, (my mother's favourite) it's a sign. Give the bus a miss once or twice a week and walk to work (I know it's raining. Swap from white bread to wholemeal and eat less of it, cut down on the booze, eat smaller portions.
Everyone can do something to limit their chances of getting this disease, and they should, because once you have it is yours. Don't wait for a doctor to tell you that you've got to start eating right and exercising to control your diabetes, do it before you need a doctor, do it before diabetes take a foot hold.
It's the greatest service you'll ever give yourself.

Dog ban.

Your home may be your castle but your pet is under a death sentence if it is unfortunate enough to be on Dublin City Council's hit list.
From today's Irish Times.

"Eleven breeds of dog, including Rottweilers, Bull Terriers and German Shepherds have been banned from all Dublin City Council properties, including houses, flats and estates, with immediate effect.

The council has said it will give tenants an opportunity to rehouse the animals but if alternative suitable accommodation cannot be found for them they will be destroyed.

The council has taken the step to remove all "dangerous breeds" due to the increasing numbers of complaints from tenants and because of the legal implications associated with an attack taking place on one of its properties. The ban initially applies to council housing and all public areas within council estates.

However, the council plans to amend its bylaws to include public parks in the ban. This would mean that anyone owning a dangerous dog could not walk it in a public park, even if they lived in private housing.

The council has also written to the Minister for the Environment asking him to ban all breeds of fighting dogs nationally. The 11 breeds are not banned for general ownership in Ireland but must be muzzled, kept on a special leash and be under the control of a person over 16 years old.

The breeds are: English Bull Terrier, Staffordshire Bull Terrier, American Pit Bull Terrier, Rottweiler, German Shepherd (Alsatian), Doberman, Rhodesian Ridgeback, Japanese Akita, Bull Mastiff, Japanese Tosa and Bandog. Cross-breeds of these dogs or crosses of these dogs with any other breed are also banned.

Executive manager of the council's housing department Michael O'Neill said tenants would be asked to remove any banned dogs but if they failed to comply the council would take them away. "Our information on these dogs is that that they can be very aggressive and while they might be family pets, that has to come secondary and would be no defence to us if a child or other vulnerable person was attacked on our property."

Labour councillor Kevin Humphreys said he understood council tenants may feel discriminated against, but he hoped that this was just the first step to banning these breeds nationally."

This is unreal. So if you have a German shepherd dog, who has never so much as growled as a person, that animal is also condemned to die because someone's dog bit someone? Outrageous.
This is a abuse of power pure and simple. This is heavy handed nonsense. A sweeping ban that does not take into account the history and behaviour of the individual dog. There was a child bitten in Kerry a few weeks ago, eighty stitches required, the breed? A labrador. Should we ban all labradors? No? Why not? They bite, dont they?
You cannot blame an entire breed on the actions of the few. You should not be able to tell responsible owner they cannot keep a much loved pet because some owners are not responsible. And if I was living in a council flat or house when I owned my doberman and they tried to remove him from me we would be having quite a high time of it in the courts.

Sunday energy causes ripples in the Matrix.

Tis strange to find myself not hungover on a Sunday, strange and a little smug making. The paramour is off playing golf with some chaps-one of whom cannot keep score, so I am footloose and fancy free.
So, open to ridiculous suggestions it seems.
I have spoken with French gay this very morning and he sounds most wretched. I have taken quite a good deal of pleasure from his fetid state- and although I'm sure Die Hard and some overly salty popcorn is but a poor subsitute to the cracking good fun he had last night, the not feeling like a troup of Bavarian hog throwers are camping out on my tongue is rather spiffing.
But now my glee at feeling sprightly has taken a dark turn, Claire, my sparing partner and voice of my inner conscience has called and asked, nay, demanded, that I join her on a Bushy Park style run about.
No amount of feeble, 'but the Coen brothers...' dints the undintable Claire, and so with heavy heart I find I must go pull on some running gear and take my hiney off to the park.
The plan is thus, lap of two pitches, then down to the bandstand and sprint up that horrible hill to the children's playground. Repeat until someone vomits, or begins to falter, or- as I prefer- fomits, or valters.
The very worst part is, that although I am complaining-I am my mother's daughter-I'm secretly pleased.
What in the name of marmalade is that about?

Pete Burns got married again.

He's such a shy little wall flower I almost feel bad writing this and exposing him in such a harsh way. However as I have just mowed the lawn/Amazonian rainforest out front and I'm going to see Die Hard, I feel it is my duty to pass on the joyous news so that your Satdee can be almost as rollicking as mine.

A hybrid ginger sex filled Friday!!! For all of you!

Oh my, it's almost too much, between his nippley goodness and his acting skills, and all that gingerosity... Oooohh, seriously, I may need to lie down somewhere quiet, so that I may close my eyes and wander what such a union might be like. I can see it now...

It's a hot sunset in Miami somewhere. Out in the kidney shaped pool some chap is floating face down, the back of his head nothing more than mince and hair plugs. The one and only witness is lounging on a sofa in a pool side cabana. She has GSR on both her hands and high heels on her feet, oh and a short but slinky robe that keeps threatening to open... and perhaps one of those new Prada turbans she thinks are rather chic but impractical for doing the shopping in Superquinn.
She's waiting to be interviewed by the local police, determined and confident that she can resist even their most hardened bad cop good cops routines. But then, just as the sun drops behind the desert mountains, a glow, a russet fiery glow catches her eyes, and her loins quiver.
It is he, the only ginger naked oiled policeman in all of MIami, they've sent in the big guns. He's a blunderbuss of peach hues, a cannon of freckly muscles, a flame thrower of gingeritis.
He is,
Caruso-Top.
And when he speaks no one can hear him. No one. 'Cept her.

'Fatmammycat?'
'Yes Caruso-Top?'
'Are...'
'Yes?'
'you...'
'Yes yes?'
'too...
'Yes YES?"
'Warm...'
'Uh-huh, oh yeah baby.'
'in that...'
'Oh god, oh ginger.'
........'I was going...'
'Pant pant'
'to say....'
'Eeeeeeee.'
'robe, but you.....
'appear to be....
'Keep talking Caruso-Top, don't stop! mumble... MUMBLE SOME MORE! Oh lather me in cliches.'
'naked already.'
'GET YOUR SUNGLASSES!!!'
Caruso-Top puts sunglasses on, places hands on hips, gazes into sunset. He glistens, his curly wurlies crackle and bob in the oncoming twilight.
'You know...'
'WHAT?? SAY IT! SAY IT!'
'A rolling stone gathers no moss.'
'Oh you hot confusing ginger bitch! I did it! I'm guilty as sin! I murdered him. OH IT"S ON! Oh god, you're so pink and... are they loafers.... they are, aren't they? Good god, take me TAKE ME!'
'All righty then. I'll be your ginger pony.
'Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..........'


The weekend is here chumley-warners. Enjoy!

A Foto Fit For A Finn

I'm not jealous, I'm naturally this shade of green.

Cow sex.

Avast me hearties, I be reading the morning paper and me eye did wander 'cross there here story. It be making be laugh, not the act-that be gross-but the concealed identy of the vitim, yar.
Observe, this be from The Sun.




'COPS rushed to a farm to put a kinky teenager udder arrest — after he was seen romping with a COW.
A shocked passer-by rang 999 after seeing the youth — wearing only black briefs — having sex with the steer at 4.30am.

By the time officers arrived he had fled but night-time patrols are on the alert in case he strikes again.

Farmer Richard Parish was stunned to hear what had happened to the cow, one of three rare English longhorns in the field.

Specialist breeder Richard, 39, even thinks he knows which of them was the victim — a looker named Blondie who is the FRIENDLIEST.

He said: “English longhorns are lovely animals — but not that lovely. My mates are having a right laugh and milking it for all it is worth.”

ode to betrayal.

"He's just a gigolo
And every where he goes,
oooo people feed him,
They pay for every treat,
that he likes to eat
Ooooh he's a player.
But there will come a day,
when cute will pass away,
What will they say
about him?
When the end comes
they'll know,
he was just a gigoloooo,
life goes on without him.....

But myyyyyyyyyyyy cat's got somebody,
sombody,
cares for him,
adores him,
cares for him,
snores with him,
heeeeeeeeeeee, ain't got loy-al-ty,
loyalty, not that he,
Loyalty, not likely.
Heeeeees quite big an' furrrrryyyy.
Oh furry,
that catty, so bratty
now fatty.
Yes someone,
took a chance with him,
and now they are sad.
skeeddlyy beep bop, teedly beep, ooodubidubidoooo..."

Sob. sniff. Wail.
I've got to got to Pirates of the Caribbean soon with TLGK, and it's THREE HOURS LONG! *


I did not realise this before I said yes.

'He sure likes tuna.'

Morning chumley warners, and a 'nother so so Irish summer day of rain and shine and rain and shine and cloud and rain and some shine and more rain.
Because the rain and shine is so delightfully nourishing to plants, and because my garden is crammed/teeming/ festooned with mature plants, every morning I get up and peer out though my windows is like stepping further and further into the Amazon rain forest, or back to the Jurassic period, or...well other leafy green places.
With a heavy heart I realised I'm supposed to 'do' something about the ever creeping sneaky foliage.
Being short of a scythe-I need that for umbrella users and folk with tramp stamps and spitters and chewing gum eaters- there's nothing for it but to dig out the secateurs once again.
I made a heady start on the front, snipping back the holly and other pinchy stingy stuff by the front gate, swearing gently as it refused to be bagged or spider free.
I had worked up a good head of steam and pink cheekedness by 9 AM when my neighbour, a beardless Santa sort of chap from Donegal, happened along the road.
As is natural 'round these part he stopped to take stock of my efforts-such as they were. I was at that time tangled and held fast in a sweep of goose grass which had done a sterling job of wrapping its tentacles about both my wrists and was busily greedily sucking the life out of me, not doubt waiting for the right moment to suck me into its gaping maw (I've seen the Little shop of Horrors, plants don't fool me).
Anyhoo- after watching me struggle on for a while, he leaned his delightful self on the gate and said 'That big fellow you have is quite a character.'
I tugged with all my might and finally got one wrist free-which I used to slap a tentacle that was heading for my throat off.
'The Paramour?"
'Naw naw, the cat.'
'Oh, the bigger of the cats, Yes, he's a one all right. Why? What's he done?' I immediately thought of the time he broke into my neighbour's home in Spain so that he could sit gazing at her budgie.
'Ah he's just funny, the missus was asleep there in the bed the other afternoon and she thought she heard something. And sure there's yer man and he popping around the door at her.'
I digested this piece of news as a nettle scuttled closer. I stamped on that. Nettles are stingy but stupid.
'He was upstairs in your house?'
'Aw shure he'd often be in the house. Sure doesn't he come in and eat the food we leave out for our two.'
'He eats your cats' food?'
'Begob an he does. He he. Comes slinking up the garden to check the bowls every afternoon, you could set your watch by 'im. He nearly let the missus pet him the other day. Gas fellow all together.'
The pyracantha fired a rose hip bomb at me which missed. I threatened it silently. You could have somebody's eye out you prickly hedge faced bastid! I say, but in plant language.
It gives me the thorn and reloads.
'I'm sorry if he's been bothering you, just throw water at him next time he does that, he hates water.'
'Ah sure he's not doing any harm.' Beardless Donegal Santa smiled cheerfully. 'Doesn't like the lamb though.'
'No?'
'No, but he sure likes tuna.'
'Yes, he does that.' I said keeping a wary eye on the gathering ivy infantry.
'Ours don't like tuna and the missus buys it in them six packs, you see? Sure he might as well have them.'
'I see. If you keep feeding him he will keep popping by.'
'Ah sure I don't mind, and the missus thinks he's gas. Very talkative. Even though he won't let you pet him.' He smiled again. 'Well sure I'd better let you get on with it. You night be better off using a strimmer for that job.'
''Probably.' I said. 'Good luck.'
'Bye now.'
As soon as he wandered down the road. I dropped the secateurs into a pile of mourning nettles and stomped off into the house. I took the stairs two at a time and turned left into my bedroom.
'You!' I said, pointing a finger at the upturned sprawled cat whom I had fed not one hour before.
'Purnap.' he said sleepily, yawning and extending and retracting his claws.
'Purnap yourself.' I lifted him up and marched him in the bathroom. I plopped him on the scales.
For fuck's sake. No wonder the one eyed one's been doing the bulk of the hunting. The bigger of the cats is almost two kilos heavier than he was at his last vet appointment and that was less than six months ago.
Right.
I carried him downstairs and plonked him straight out the back. He stared at me in astonishment.
'OUT! ' I said, 'go on, go and play, go run, go do something.' I shut the door on him and stomped back to the front of the house where the dandelions where trying to disguise the secateurs and the holly bristled ominously.
I'm annoyed. I don't want that woman petting him.
He's MY cat.



Yes I'm that petty.

Panic!

The smaller of the cats, the one eyed one, has caught one of the young blackbirds out the back, I ran out and shooed him away while the parents dive bombed the shit out of him, but the young one-which doesn't really looked terribly harmed and seems almost fully grown- has fled under one of the bushes on the opposite side of the garden from where his nest is.
So I'm in a quandry. I've got all the cats locked in, and both parents are now in under the bushes with him. I heard him calling to them a few minutes ago but now everything is silent. What in the name of rum am I supposed to do? If he was bitten will he die? would it have been better to leave the cat and let him finish what he started? What if his wing is broken or something?
Ewww, nature red in tooth and claw is right, this sucks.

Global Warming.

My post today is very simple.
As I gaze out my back window at the rain and the wind and the rain, did I mention the rain? I ponder one thing.
Global warming, I'm not sure I buy it.

Fucking Ubrellas

Oiiiii! Short people and olden folk! Listen up, just coz yer short does not give you the right to willfully blind the rest of us with you goddamned ubrellas. If you insist on putting your battered and lethally pointy brollies up for every squall, dribble, spit and downpour, at least have the fucking wit and common decency to remember that A) your lethal weapon is now at direct eye level with the rest of us non- dwarves, and B) your sodding Unbrella is at least a FOOT wider on either side of your miserable head.
I don't want to stand under your umbrella-ella -ella- ella -ay-ay-ay, so put the fucking thing away or be SLIGHTLY more careful with it.
Either that or I'm going to start carrying a scythe. We'll soon see who wins THAT little tussle.

Driving Tests and cocaine. Not a good mix I'd say.

Morning chumleywarners! It's not raining. Oh it's threatening rain, but it's not actually doing the do, so huzzah!
Right, my Spanish friend is about to attempt her second go at the driving test this very morning. She's driving an automatic car to boot, yet, and I'm not being unkind when I say this, she will most likely fail. Swearing Lady had a friend who took hers the other day and failed miserably too. I have not seen SL's friend drive, but I have seen my Spanish friend and I must say-with my hand over my heart- she is one of the worst drivers I have every laid eyes on.
However, I will keep my fingers crossed, ( 9 was her start time). In total she has had almost eighty lessons-and no that is not a typo, I do mean eighty, so perhaps this time she'll do better. The majority were in a car with gears, but she failed the last test so spectacularly ( I've never seen so many XXXXXs) that she switched to an automatic so that she had less to worry about.

And sweet Jesus, almost 200M Euros worth of cocaine made it to our green shores yesterday. Probably would have done too if the gombeens hadn't overloaded their dinghy. I'd imagine some very angry people this morning are wondering just who's going to pay for that loss. Half a tonne of coke, sheesh.
And that's just the load they did discover, albeit purely by chance. Can you imagine how much of it is coming into the country if that's just one haul? No wonder the queues in the ladies on a Saturday night are so long. No wonder so many people do Doctor Zoidberg fingers when they're talking to you. It's clearly as ubiquitous as cigarettes, only not as frowned upon.

UPDATE: She failed. She said she even hit the kerb when she drove back to the centre after failing. To which her instructor simply sighed. Right ho, I'm off to meet her for some comisseration lunch and to plot for test 3. I'm certain some folk are just not supposed to drive.

A home grown evil.

Seriously, some people are so bad that putting them out of their misery seems an act of kindess.
From todays UK Independent.

"The uncle of two-year-old Casey Leigh Mullen pleaded guilty today to her rape and murder.

Michael Mullen, 21, was arrested after the toddler was found in a pool of blood at her home in Oak Tree Crescent, Gipton, Leeds.

Appearing at Leeds Crown Court, Mullen admitted carrying out the attack on the night of Sunday February 11.

A post-mortem examination showed the youngster died from compression of the neck.

Neighbour and family friend Sarah Pringle, 22, described how she went to the house after hearing a commotion.

She found Casey Leigh's mother, Samantha Canham, 21, screaming hysterically and discovered the little girl covered in blood.

She then tried to revive the toddler as blood poured from her ears and nose.

Police and paramedics arrived and the child was brought out of the house as anxious neighbours looked on.

The incident sent shockwaves through the tight-knit community, where residents were devastated by the loss of a "lovely little girl", who was "always smiling".

Flowers and teddy bears were left outside the three-bedroom council house paying tribute to the "little angel".

More than 100 mourners gathered for her funeral service at St Bartholomew's Church in Leeds.

Two white horses led the funeral cortege, drawing a glass carriage containing her tiny white coffin, which was decorated with pink and white roses.

Casey Leigh's father, David Mullen, 20, helped to carry the coffin into the church. Ms Canham was comforted by friends.

The couple lived at the house in Gipton with two children - Casey Leigh and her brother, who was a year older than his sister.

Michael Mullen, of Lawrence Road, Leeds, has been remanded in custody since his first appearance at Leeds Magistrates' Court in February."

UPDATE: The evil bastard was sentenced to a minimum of 35 years in jail. I hope he rots.

Gastric Banding.

As I peruse the papers this wet and dreary morning, I am once again gasping at the decisions some folk make in response to gaining weight. Apparently-according to the Independent...

"AT least 10 young Irish women have undergone a surgical procedure in the past week to have a band wrapped around their stomach in order to lose weight. The news comes as a shocking survey released last week shows how the majority of Irish women are becoming unhappy with their body image from as young as 13.
The procedure called 'gastric banding' is relatively new to Ireland and is proving to be so popular among young women hoping to lose weight that one of the country's largest cosmetic surgery companies, Advanced Cosmetic Surgery, has said they are now carrying out 450 ops a year.

Now Irish women who are a size 16 and over, some of who are only in their 20s, are turning to the surgical procedure in their quest to be thin.

And Advanced Cosmetic Surgery have reported that they are moving premises in order to cope with the demand.

"We're creating a new hospital to cope with the demand. I am re-allocating the hospital and building a purpose-built centre to accommodate our clients," says company boss Halina Ashdown-Sheils.

Although size 16 is now considered to be the average dress size for women in this part of the world, more and more women who are unhappy with their weight are taking the plunge and opting for the keyhole surgery.

"It's is not people who are massively obese who are going for this procedure. People who are massively obese go for ballooning (another weight loss procedure) to get their weight down to an acceptable size so they can go under the anaesthetic (and then have the banding surgery)."

One of the women to have undergone stomach banding is Fiona Doyle. The 40-year-old was the first person in Ireland to have had the procedure and has spent over €36,000 over the past two years perfecting her looks.

Speaking afterwards she said: "After I had a tummy tuck, it was so easy that I thought there was nothing wrong with trying to improve what you had. I was just getting more and more compliments. It just encouraged me to keep at it."

Experts say you should be at least 100lbs over normal weight to consider this surgery.

Ms Ashdown-Sheils say that the surgeons employed by the company will not operate on any woman who has a dress size under size 16.

"There is absolutely no way we would accept a size 12 or 14 for this procedure. The surgeons wouldn't even look at them. They'd tell them to get on a diet and go to the gym".

Jesus Christ on a bungee cord. Size 16 is hardly dangerously over weight. What any surgeon is doing operating on a woman who is size 16 is beyond me? Why any woman would risk a surgery to lose weight is beyond me too. This isn't just some mickey mouse quick fix, this is an invasive treatment that was originally developed to treat morbidly obese people whose health was in serious danger. It was never meant to be a quick fix for chubby women/men who can't be arsed losing weight the old fashioned way.
I'm not sure I get cosmetic surgery anyway. I don't understand why any woman would go, have her chest cut open and have two bags of plastic/silicone inserted and then stitched back up. I don't understand it, I really don't. I don't get labia trimming, I don't get skin bleaching, I Don't understand lip implants-I have never seen anyone who got their lips done that looks better, just odder, I don't get...calf implants? WTF? Who looks down at their legs one day and thinks, 'golly, my calf is looking a tad droopy and the other one's not so hot neither, I know, I'll get implants!'
Whatever. At the end of the day, people are going to do what people are going to do, but getting surgery to lose a few dress sized strikes me as a poorly thought out exercise.
Look, this is what it entails, from the surgeon's website.

"Gastroplasty is a surgical procedure which modifies the original shape of the stomach. The word "gastroplasty" is a Greek word composed of: gaster = stomach and plasti = modification of shapes.
There are two gastroplasty techniques: the adjustable gastric banding technique (95% of gastroplasties) and the vertical banded gastroplasty. The former is described hereafter.
In this surgical procedure the stomach is partitioned in two parts,a 15 cc small pouch (about 3 soup spoons), and the rest of the stomach. The objective is to limit the amount of food.
The adjustable gastric banding technique is a reversible and minimally surgery when performed by experienced surgeons. It is used in 90% of surgical obesity treatments.

Once the small pouch is filled up, you have the feeling of being full, and you are no longer hungry.
The ring is connected by a small plastic catheter to a subcutaneous container system. This will permit adjustment by tightening or loosening the ring.
Since the diameter of the ring is small (5 mm),the flow of food from the small pouch to the rest of the stomach is extremely slow.
It is therefore understood that following surgery, the patients will rapidly feel full with a small amount of food."

Okay, so operation, pain, and inability to go for fish and chips thereafter, oh yes. Sounds cracking wild fun. Three spoons you say? Limit the amount of food? Hummm what does that translate to? Eat less? No surely not, that can't be it? Can it?
No one needs to tell me how bloody tedious it can be to shed weight, or train, or find yourself in a squall running up the side of a hill. Nobody needs to mention how much arms and backs can hurt after a particularly hard session in the weights room, how your legs can shake for up to an hour after weighted squats, it's minging sometimes. Keeping fit and losing weight is not nearly as much fun as eating chips, toast with an inch of butter on it and necking creamy delicious pints, it takes commitment, dedication and the ability to kick your own arse up out of the chair. But it's worth it in the long run. And it doesn't involve a general anaesthetic.

Unnecessary surgery, I"m bloody well against it!