Thursday, November 08, 2007

The Scottification of Fatmammyat.

Chumley Finn and I talk regularly about motivation. We do a spot of bolstering and some 'kick ass take names' talk that is sometimes needed to drag reluctant runners and what not out from warm houses into cold damp days to train for things.
Sometimes this works, other times...not so much.
Motivation is a strange bedfellow. I consider myself quite a good self motivator. I genuinely don't need anyone standing over me, or indeed behind me, to make myself do things. All I need is to tune into whatever frequency the 'nagging self' operates on and I'm off. (I can also tune that out at will, and therein lies the problem) This self-motivation gift holds true for work as well as training, and since I work for myself that's a bloody good thing, other wise there would be a whole lot of reading books and toast eating done in this house in lieu of actual work.

But some days that frequency is hard to locate, either that or I am deliberately scrambling it.
Today is such a day.
It was a mildly depressing sort of morning. I should have gone to the gym, but the bed was warm and cosy. I must go and pay my motor tax-this in itself is very distressing as I hate paying motor tax- and this requires me to get dressed and go to Nutgrove and queue-which I also despise. I need to make an appointment for Puddy with the vet, ear again, but that requires me to use a phone. I have a meeting later on, hate those too. I have all these sodding things to do today and I just don't feel like doing any of them.
I am befunked.
I probably shouldn't have read the 'thinking' behind the latest school massacre carried out by another deranged attention seeking fuck-wit, because it depressed the hell out if me. Finland this time, but geography does not matter. Same shit different continent, just another psychotic bullshit attention seeking beta dog lashing out at the world.
Like I say depressing sort of non-day.
Motivation zip.
So it was with wild delight that I perused the pages of the sun and found Scott Alexander, the vainest man in Britain. Awestruck, I read his story

Well I"m flabbergasted. I don't know what to make of it. My experience of chaps had led me to believe that a shower, possibly a shave and some deodorant was all that was required and a man was good to go. It appears not. Actually this guy puts women to shame too.
Frankly Scott has made me feel down right slovenly. I mean, I've never tinted my eyebrows, or used a sun bed and I"m a woman, what the hell is wrong with me?
'"365 days a year I"m in photo shoot condition'" he said Can you imagine that? 365 days a year! What sort of dedication that must take. I still need to go to the dentist and get that back molar seen too, but that kind of arse dragging would disgust someone like Scott. He has B1 white veneers fitted. Look at his hair, nary a split end in sight. Blemishes, bah, for losers.
The man gets up at 6 am to work out. Every. morning. without. fail.
I could feel myself sinking further into my chair at the very thought.
I issued myself a mental slap. Get up Fatcat. Arise! Cast off your fleece and comfy slippers, go have a shower. Tame that mop, make it submit. Put on a full face of make up and face the day. Scott has tattooed No1 on his manly tanned moisturised arm, surely you can draw on eyebrows. Surely you can put on shoes with actual heels? Well? well?
You can do this Melvin!
I'm going to make Scott my screensaver.
Scottify! Scottify! Can I get a witness? Hell yeah, Scottify.

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24 Comments:

Blogger Dr Maroon said...

For a moment there when I saw the headline...

I much prefer the idea of a big long slinky stretching Irish fatmammycat reclining in Dublin.

Don't ruin it for me.

11:15 a.m.  
Blogger Caro said...

I wouldn't shag him...

11:17 a.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

I wouldn't dream of it.

Caro, me neither. Anyway, he's so busy being fabulous he doesn't really have time for actual messy stuff like sex.

11:28 a.m.  
Anonymous eva said...

God forbid, his hair might get messy if he had sex. Can't have that.
What a freak. Wouldn't touch him with a barge pole.

11:35 a.m.  
Anonymous Pinkie said...

yeah barge pole, messy sex etc but... he does kind of have a point doesnt he? With spending that amount of money on his looks because he knows it'll come back in business.
And let's face it, we are not all young forever. Sooner or later he's going to start sagging ... he's making the most of it while he can. Good on him.

I think I'll get outta bed and get me some cornflakes now! Hurrah!

11:40 a.m.  
Blogger Conan Drumm said...

I care not a jot for Scott, but Nutgrove motor tax office?!! What are you thinking?! That is one of the gates of hell. YOU DO NOT WANT TO GO THERE... EVER!!

I used to go there, once upon a not-so-long time ago... and then I got the online thing sorted out (laser card + motor tax renewal code) and I never went there ever ever again. The End.

Oh, I lie, a Drummlet was getting a provisional and we went in for the form. THE END

11:54 a.m.  
Anonymous sheepworrier said...

Scott is just wrong on so many levels I cant be bothered to list.

Theres nothing wrong with lookin good, but that fella is just ridiculous.

Oh, and I wouldn't shag him either...

12:08 p.m.  
Blogger Rusticissimus maximus said...

Yeah, I hate it too...queueing AND Nutgrove that is, which one were you talking about?

And may I be violated with red hot irons if that guy has NOT had work done on that face!

Defo not shaggable either, yuk.

12:51 p.m.  
Blogger Medbh said...

I wouldn't fuck that guy, either. Or even stand to be in the same room with someone so self-absorbed. He's going to have leatherface soon from the fake tan.

1:39 p.m.  
Blogger Andraste said...

There is something seriously mentally wrong with this guy. I think beneath all that primping and tanning and general buffedness, there is a HUGE amount of self loathing.

He's probably OCD too. What a mess.

I'd shag him but I suspect we'd both have to be pissed out of our minds. And then the self loathing would kick into high gear on both sides.

2:16 p.m.  
Blogger Dr Maroon said...

OK OK OK. I'LL shag him. There. Are you happy now?

2:34 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Nutgrove is the devil's smegma. You go in, up the stairs, it smells funny, you take a ticket, you look at said ticket, said ticket gives you a number, you look up at the ticket screen and subtract and swear under your breath. Usher is on in the background, then the umbrella song, everyone around you has a cold AND funny ring tones on their mobiles, their children are loud and bored. After what seems like two days, BUZZ, another number slips by.
That's when you realise you've finally done it, you finally-without even trying- reached the first circle of hell.
By the power of Scotty, I will persevere through this day. I WILL be ready 365 days of the year for ANY mental photoshoot.

2:59 p.m.  
Blogger The Bad Ambassador said...

FMC - for the love of God woman, renew the motor tax online. Log in, fill in details. Bish! Bash! Bosh! Put the kettle on.

I wouldn't shag him either for what its worth.

3:16 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Yeah, I found that out today, after the I paid. How I didn't weep is beyond me.
Look, I don't know why everyone keeps saying the WOULDN'T shag poor old Scotty. Scotty doesn't actually WANT a shag. He doesn't have time and Gods don't shag, unless you're talking about that filthy greek lot.
No Chumlies, I fear you are all barking up the wrong tree on this one. Now where will I put my shrine?

3:23 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

hahaha, sorry, CONAN, The impact of what you wrote earlier just hit me. If you have an un-grey hair on your head by the end of the year I will send you a bottle of ale.

3:25 p.m.  
Anonymous stipes said...

100,000 for hair oil
male salons
botox
gym twice-a-day
I'VE a lot of cathing up to do. Bye

4:20 p.m.  
Anonymous STIPES said...

i'M IN A HURRY BUT THAT SHOULD BE "CATCHING"

4:22 p.m.  
Blogger Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

To me he's just not masculine at all. All that primping and vanity is a huuuuuuuuuge turn off.

A man should take pride in being neat and clean with some classic clothes he can put on for any occasion without much thought but with a lot of confidence. Men in the black and white days knew about this. James Bond is its apogee.

And bring back hats for men! Trilbys!

4:48 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Stipes, you really need to be totally on your best game for this one.
Sam, if Scott were to wear a hat you just know the feather would match his shirt and it would be cocked at a delightfully jaunty angle. Forget Maroon, I'm telling you, this man is my new hero.
Forever more when faced with a either/or situation I'm going to pause and think, 'hummm, what would Scott do?'

5:50 p.m.  
Blogger Conan Drumm said...

Admit it, he's a bit ginger too, isn't he? So you would, wouldn't you?

Loved the line about "evasive surgery"!!

Ah, the Proustian 'temps perdu' ticket system in Nutgrove... hee hee ha ha hee haa hee hee ha hee hee haha hee hee ha hee hee haha hee hee haaaaaarrrgh!

7:49 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Hell I tell you. I"ve never seen anything like it. The only good thing about it seems to stems from the amount of folk who clearly take a shit load of tickets and then fuck off somewhere.
Scott bless those people.

8:45 p.m.  
Blogger The Hangar Queen said...

"Scotty doesn't actually WANT a shag."

What kind of sick individual doesn't want a shag? Besides I don't think there's another man gay enough for Scotty.

9:00 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

I don't even think he's gay. I like to think of Scotty as above all that, I mean, he does. Look at that eyebrow Miss Queen, does it not scream asexual to you? He's like the virgin mary as far as I'm concerned. Unsullied, untouched and proud of it. Any man that can be in photo shoot condition (I will NEVER grow tired of that one) 365 days of the year is some kind of higher being.

9:22 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

nice article. I would love to follow you on twitter. By the way, did anyone know that some chinese hacker had busted twitter yesterday again.

7:50 p.m.  

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