Clever Trevor, Ramblings

Upon waking this fine, spring morning, high drama ensued.

Upon waking this fine, spring morning, high drama ensued. Trevor the Thug Pug had vomited on our most precious new bedroom rug during the night. On closer inspection he had vomited in Dangerous’s work shoes too. He must, like any good sailor, have made it to the edge of the bed and then just vomited over the side onto the bits that don’t matter. In my head, our bed is a large boat and Trevor is the pissed up pirate Pug. It had dried on to everything. I’m not sure if this made it easier or harder to clean up.

We decided not to endure swimming lessons this morning, as Ted had his very first football tournament.
I sat down in my rather dubious white dressing gown. with stains that might or might not have been dog vomit and pondered my life. If you’d told me twelve months ago that I’d be sharing my bed with a dog that snores and occasionally vomits in the night, I would have said that you were mad. I’m the woman that would have thrown the kids shoes away if they’d stood in dog shit. I’m also the woman that would wretch if the wheel of my pram had gone in dog shit. I used to chase the little shits through the park as they delightedly kicked about in the fallen golden leaves shouting

“STOP, THERE’LL BE DOG POO AND YOU WILL END UP COVERED IN IT!”

I was at a loss of what to do, after I’d cleaned up the vomit, then cleaned up the dog shit from the area that was formally referred to as our garden but we have just renamed “Trevor’s Toilet” so I perused Facebook.

I came across a tweet from Dianne Abbot with reference to a marathon in which she had mistaken a half marathon for a full marathon. It was the usual poke at Dianne Abbot about her getting things wrong but it made me cross. I’ve got a bee in my bonnet about people being mean to Dianne.

Now, forgive me, because I’m not that up to date with current affairs. My excuse is that I’ve got three little shits and a Pug that shits, pisses and vomits everywhere but it would seem that the tweet was a fake put out by the Daily Star and then picked up by lots of other sources. I’m not even sure that this is true. I’m sure that you’ll tell me if I’m wrong.

I like Dianne Abbot. I like her passion. I don’t like all her politics but I like the fact that she’s a black, educated, clever woman who has principles. I can’t stand it when people try to put her down. She’s sixty four, let’s just say it again. She’s a black woman at the forefront of British politics. She should be applauded, not lied about, mocked and smeared.
I read the tweet, I read all the subsequent fighting over it disguised as debate on Twitter and I felt really sorry for Dianne and a bit sick.

I know what it feels like to have people say mean things about you on social media, to lie about you and twist things to suit their own agenda and narrative but Diane’s got it on a fucking massive scale. Dianne’s trolls piss on mine. Mine are like the troll in “Dora the Explorer” compared to Dianne’s “bride of chuckle” type ones.

And she’s not the only one. She’s one of many. It would seem that anybody in politics, anyone in the media is also fair game. Have you noticed though, that the real venom is saved for women. So, anyone’s fair game but women are by far the the bigger targets.

Social media can be fucking amazing. It brings people together. I’ve met so many nice people that I wouldn’t have without it. I’ve made friends, I’ve done things that I would never have done if it weren’t for social media but it’s at a price.

The trade off for being able to connect with anyone and have our views heard about any subject is that people can air their most despicable thoughts without fear of reprisal.

Have you ever tried reporting abuse to Facebook?

We have freedom of speech and that is a great thing but it means that people can bully other people. It means that newspapers can change the wording on a tweet to undermine and diminish the work of a strong woman that should be respected even if we don’t believe in her particular brand of politics.

You might say “well, she asked for it, she made all those massive fuck ups” but you wouldn’t say that about your auntie or your mum. You wouldn’t say that about your friend or your colleague. I’m fucking certain that you wouldn’t.

I’m a bit fed up with the negative, dark side of social media where anyone is fair game. If you want to have a disagreement with someone on Twitter and it’s “one on one” then fine, but I’m over letting people be unkind to women in the public eye. We need to stand up for our views but without being vicious. We need to be kinder. We need to stop and think what our words do to other people.

So you share a tweet about Dianne Abbot being a dick on Facebook, then imagine that she read it…

Because she might. And yours isn’t the only one. It’s one of many. One of thousands.
And some of the things that she’s supposed to have done might have been lied about like this one apparently was.

And get this, she’s a real person!

Not everyone can get on, not everyone shares the same views or political ideals but most people know what’s a decent thing to say about another human being.

Trevor also shat in the shrubbery of our garden. I found the stinking, sodden shit as I was pulling weeds out of the area. I found it on my gardening gloves. I was a little bit sick.

And the moral of the story is don’t shit in your own garden or your mum will go mental.

And if you can’t say anything nice…