Mary Thomas's Dictionary of Embroidery Stitches

When first purchased Mrs. Big Dicks [phwoar], for I managed to snare an innocent before revealing my darker side, was somewhat cynical about this dictionary but it has proved itself to be an invaluable addition to the household. Our lodger, Sir Alexander Fairfax-Cholmeley was so overcome by delight upon seeing it on our shelf he was compelled to immediately call his mother (who also owns a copy) and then once that trip down maternal memory lane was complete latheringly regaled us with stories about how he once used the lesser seen Albanian heterodox latinate reverse stitch to re-attach a button to his favourite great coat whilst simultaneously winning the under-14 Duns Tew Croquet championship. 

And given our increasingly straitened times owning a repository of every stitch known to man and how to deploy it on some unsuspecting piece of fabric will prove invaluable. So when the Rapture comes and all those holier than thou muppets that you've spent valuable time sniggering at ascend to heaven and water turns to blood and most things fall apart I will immediately one up on the rest of the doomed population of the  Earth and will soon be able to have London Fashion Week back up and running. 

The Time Literary Supplement, no less, states that "Nothing is too complicated or too simple for Miss Thomas... This book will do much to improve the already rising standard of work in England; it is delightful in every respect" while the Scotsman, somewhat oddly, focuses on "the cover of the book, [which] by the way, is not the least of the charms." While the cover, shown above, can't compare to the cover of a piece of contemporary chick-lit emblazoned with a with a giant spurting phallus and a pair of Jimmy Choos I think the Scotsman might be being little contrary. That said a nice stout font embossed on the linen cover is slightly hornifying, is it not?

Just for good measure, I include a copy of the first page of the Dictionary of Stitches and the Algerian Filling Stitch, which is embellished with a nice jaunty illustration of suitably stereotypical image of something Arabic like a camel being fed a large piece of water melon by a small negro child. Stitching and casual old school racism. I mean this is bound to be a big seller in the care homes of Dorset. The rice stitch is illustrated by an equally tasteful mushroom cloud over a cross-legged Japanese man. I might have made that bit up. But I might not. 

If you weren't a fan of this blog five minutes ago, how can you not be now? Insight, rapture, filth, silly aristos. Press control-D now and make your life a slightly better place.

The next dictionary will be little bit more filthy so I can include lots of expletives, as much like the internet is a conduit for porn the first thing most people do with a big dick [not me anyway] is to look to see if it contains the word "fucknut" and how it is best deployed in modern conversational English.  

A Flava of the sort of profound shit to come.

I was seriously tempted to write this particular blog in a font entitled "Irish Growler", because if that didn't attract passing pornographers, what will? What possesses a typesetter to call a font "Irish Growler" and who would ever use it? Maybe the IRA? Or the Real IRA just to prove how mean they are.

Anyway, I digress in as far as I have a vague point to make. It is not very often you come across any profound dictionary quotes so when I was on the tube reading this evening, having just had my evening wasted enduring the latest bit of Coen Brothers frippery, I came across this.......

"We are all imprisoned by the dictionary. We choose out of that vast, paper-walled prison our convicts, the little black printed words when in truth we need fresh sounds to utter, new enfranchised noises which would produce a new effect."
                                  - Stan Collymore lamenting the inability of football commentary to describe the game.

I could continue with some profound analysis of words and dictionaries but I've got a bagel to eat and Chelsea vs. Fulham to fret over. However, this is just the sort of cutting, thoughtful stuff that this blog will become known for among its untold number of followers.

Spurting Dictionaries

For all the web 2.0 chicanery which dominates the broadsheets these days it is often forgotten that really, deep down, the internet is just a conduit for conveying pornography to the world, so the only way to make this blog really attract any web traffic is to splatter it with odd snippets of filth in the hope that some randy teenager stumbles across your website whilst trying to navigate with only one hand hoping to find some chutney banditry or what Richard Keys would describe as "smashing."

In order to facilitate my own rise through the ranks to internet stardom, and hopefully an Aaron Sorkin penned script about my hitherto crapulent existence, I've created a page called big dicks (and the prep school boy within me is already blushing and guffawing [almost certainly sic] and giggling like a sexually immature newt) to try and ensnare some traffic onto my site.

Big Dicks is not sadly for those who like a bit of long schlong and sadly we have no pictures of teams of clydesdales getting deep but an index of my burgeoning collection of Dictionaries, Encyclopaedias and Cyclopedias. And if you're really lucky I might even include my favourite entry. But frankly that might be pushing it.

So bad luck to our one handed friends. But I'm sure with only a few clicks or mice they'll find something suitably lurid. The dictionary of slang can be very blue and if you don't believe me google Black Shrimp.

This will probably receive even fewer hits than Ugly Jesus but what the hell, it might raise a smile among the passing onanist and keeps me from thinking how utterly horrid most of the world is. HUZZAH.