Here’s a meme I’ve been tagged on: which famous people do I look like?
Fark that you squares, which famous people look like ME, innit? Who is copying my unique and uber-shminky mien? Bastards. No wonder it’s hard to be original these days, with every Geoff, Dave and Patsy stepping out in tartan capes and gold bikinis. DAMN THEM.
But FACIALLY speaking, erm, I dunno who looks like me really. That SAHDandproud has nominated me to complete this meme though, yeah, so I thought I’d give it a go. Just for a lark.
Here is une photo of moi, pour les purposes of comparisonnes, sacre bleu:
As you can see, I am currently living in the 1930s. So I am often mistaken for Bérénice Bejo, that lady wot was in that film that won all the Oscars:
Only not really, at all, ever.
Here is another photo of me:
and because of this photo, I am frequently stopped in the street and asked if I am this chap:
to which my answer is, ‘No, you buffoon, I am not he.’
Sometimes I look like this:
and have been known to be ACCOSTED IN THE ROAD by people thinking I am this person:
only I have to merely point out that I AM YELLOW and this joker *points above* is in black and white, innit, and is, in fact, Oscar Wilde, and not the me. Tsk.
On the rare occasion that I dally forth looking thus:
I get all’n'sundry folk demanding an autograph, thinking I am this reputable fellow:
But really if you’ve come away from this meme with NO CLEAR IDEA of what – or WHO – I look like, then I have succeeded. I don’t want to look like anyone. I already have a plan snappily entitled ‘Destroy All Doppelgängers’, which involves using my giant laser and a heck-load of flying monkeys.
Anyway. Here’s one more. This is me, taken a long while ago:
And I think you’ll agree, this is my mirror image:
Thank you and good night.
If you would like to blog about which famous people look like you, go crazy. You have my blessing!
Photo courtesy of my friend, the uber-wonderful NotSoSlummy
Somehow I have acquired a reputation for being reluctant to take part in memes. Not sure how, I thought it was perfectly obvious that I’m extremely easygoing and mild-mannered and totally enthusiastic about being tagged in memes. But that’s not what people think! Nevertheless, I get tagged. It’s like – mahahahaha – people are tagging me WITH THE EXPRESS PURPOSE of pissing me off. You jokers! You cheeky little tinkers! Ah, you lot crack me up. So much. FFS.
Before I unleash flying monkeys and a whole world of pain upon the nefarious minds who think up these farking memes, lemme make one thing clear: you usually end up reading memes here cos I really like the person who has tagged me and am planning to elicit some bum-gropage from them at some point soon. In this case, it’s the splendidly beauteous From Fun to Mum who has passed on the baton of meme, and I cannot refuse her. She’s too lush. I want a piece of her spicy Italian meat. And I don’t mean pepperoni.
This meme is called the Yummy Mummy Meme which just makes me itch in an angry way already. The term ‘yummy mummy’ is heinous and anus. Cake is yummy. Chocolate is yummy. Gin is uber-yummy. Mummy, however, is frazzled, covered in shit and about ten hours’ sleep away from anything resembling yummy. So fark it. Yummy farking mummy indeed.
There are some questions to answer. Let’s see how pissing yummy I am, yeah?
What is the first thing you do when you wake up?
Ignore Moo squawking in the other room. Scratch my arse. Sniff my finger. Hide under the duvet. Have a wank. Drink tea. Avoid mirrors. In no particular order.
Do you shower daily? Are you an early morning shower or an evening bath type?
I shower twice a year and usually only if there are holy men present ready to exorcise my demons as I do so. Yes of course I shower in the morning, though I have been known to make use of baby wipes and dry shampoo if I have no time to wash. Last time I got in a bath, I pushed a baby out of my vagina so I won’t be doing that again in a hurry.
Do you wear make-up daily?
No. I favour the ‘wild woman of Borneo’ look.
What’s in your make-up bag?
Twigs and buttons. A mouldering mascara. Baby wipes. Tiny, savage people.
When you are having a slummy mummy day, what do you wear?
Nothing. I go nude. Let it all hang out. This is why the guys on the building site across the road prefer my slummy mummy days.
Nails: how often do you get them done?
I’ve NEVER had a manicure. Ever. However, I tweeted a photo of my talons yesterday (see below) and folk seemed think they looked pretty good as is. So that’s something to be pleased about, I guess.
Your top tip for tired eyes?
Scoop ‘em out and pop another pair in. A spoon is handy for such a manoeuvre. And some other eyes.
Are you a Starbucks or Costa kind of girl?
Why, is one more yummy than the other? I did not know this. I drink from both. Which one is the yummy one? I can’t believe I’ll have to choose. Now I’m totally having an existential crisis.
How many children do you have/want and why?
I have one already. Ideally, I’d like thirty nine or so. That way, at least one of ‘em would end up rich and famous and therefore able to keep me in gin and diamond shoes when I’m ancient. Sadly, I have no partner to oblige me in this baby-making shizzle. So please send me your sperms. And a turkey baster.
What is your favourite place to shop for children’s clothes?
The local butchers.
Flats or heels everyday?
I can’t even think how this renders me yummy or not. Flats.
Oh my days, that’s it. I thought the questions would go on forever then, like some sort of interrogative purgatory. But it’s over. IT’S OVER. And now I’m supposed to perpetuate the agony by tagging other people. Y’all know, though, that ain’t my style.
Please, if you wish to ascertain whether you are ‘yummy’ or not, go crazy and tag yo’ good self. Otherwise, take one last lingering look at the giant picture of my hand, and then imagine me scratching my arse with it. Good day!