Since I have spent today watching Eels, dancing about and continuing my love of plaid - I thought I would chat on a bit. Is that okay? Tough. No-one reads this anyway apart from coal miners and Geography teachers.
I thought I would chat about accents, since my love for Apprentice contestant Raef has gone through the roof. On yesterday's show he said he didn't 'want to get married' and I hilariously mimed choking at my love's commitment-phobic attitude. Actually, I am better actress that I thought and Mum graciously whacked my back thinking I was choking then mumbled about 'crying wolf' and 'you think your so bloody funny' when she realised my little jape. Raef is gorgeously posh and refined, he regularly wears a Noel Coward style dressing gown, laments not bringing his linen suit when he discovers their next task is in Morocco and gentlemanly stuck up for Sara when she was being picked upon. This week he dressed up as a bear. Yes, a bear. I don't know why either. The spoken word is his 'tool' and I absolutely adore him.
I have always loved a boy with an accent, as my police record shows. This is despite my Northern relatives making fun of me 'Oooh its 'Atalie caoming doun from Lardon'. I took this well, asking them if the North had pavements yet. Apparently, they did not but someone had found a well. The battle was lost when my Uncle asked me if I wanted to cook and I said 'umm. well I am not very good in the kitchen' and it turns out he was asking me if I wanted a Coke. This is actually making me laugh as I type this, its one of my favourite stories, try saying Coke in a Yorkshire accent, see - like Cook right?
My voice is a weird mixture of estuary english (Londonish) and my odd syntax. IIt sounds like I am a girlish version of Russell Brand and then a candidate for Enid Blyton's St Claire's in one sentence. I think this is best illustrated with my two most commonly said words - fuck and gosh.