Where is the video ?
I’m quite fascinated by her weird habits , body language & horrible voice.
I’m quite fascinated by her weird habits , body language & horrible voice.
Liz Jones #5 The podcast's an unmitigated disaster, about time the Diary was put out to pasture
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So David is now "the crush." How old is she again - 14? Silly cow.
I’ve got a video of her somewhere literally poking her tongue around like a thirsty turtle. Believe me, you don’t want to see it. Stay pure.
She’s not a war correspondent
She writes a weekly column detailing how she waxes her muff and shits in restaurants
She writes a weekly column detailing how she waxes her muff and shits in restaurants
Video is hereOh, that I could
Liz Jones looks to find love as she goes on Blind Date | Daily Mail Online
Author Liz Jones looks to find love as she goes on the Mail's Blind Date - but how do things work out with her sophisticated date Jeremy?
Does she think her readers are goldfish? Literally two weeks ago she was apparently planning to get married.
Is it just my shonky ears or does Liz have a bit of a lisp herself? She has a very unpleasant manner of speaking - I'd forgotten that about her.
Also her supposedly beautiful hands that everyone is always complimenting her on: here's a shot of them from 10 years ago. Look like bang average, maybe slightly masculine hands to me?
Also her supposedly beautiful hands that everyone is always complimenting her on: here's a shot of them from 10 years ago. Look like bang average, maybe slightly masculine hands to me?
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Her voice is a bit Janet Street-Porter with a permanently sulky undertone.
Had a look for the turtle video….cant find it. Can anyone remember it? She was at home, dog on lap, about a year ago. I *think* she MAY have been moaning about something. Bizarre I know.
I was poking around uTube and found this :
Have a watch, it’s worth it
Have a watch, it’s worth it
Has anyone got today’s offerings? I refuse to pay for it.
@Idontcare34
LIZ JONES'S DIARY: In which I get cold feet once more
I noticed some water at the bottom of the stairs. ‘P*ssy Missy!’
I mopped it up, but it kept coming. Missy adopted a wounded expression. There was some water in the bottom of my expensive Smeg fridge freezer, so I turned it off. The next morning, water everywhere. I called Smeg, but they said the appliance was only guaranteed for two years, and I have had it for just over three. I called an engineer: an £85 callout charge plus VAT.
I had to wait several days.
He turned up and managed to unblock a small drain. I took up all the sodden towels, but the water kept coming. I called him again. ‘Is this normal?’
‘It can take a while to settle.’
+1
View gallery
I couldn’t understand how fridges can hold so much water. Why aren’t girls taught these things in school instead of field trips to look at truncated spurs in Norfolk, cross-country running, hockey, netball and remembering all the wives of Henry VIII? I have never changed a tyre or a plug. Gone are the days when we possessed husbands with skills.
The water kept coming. The dogs wouldn’t walk through it and my feet were constantly soaked.
A plumber arrived the next day. He asked me for the location of the stopcock. ‘I have no idea.’ You could see him thinking, ‘Bloody useless females.’
He eventually found it, a symbolic clitoris, turned it off, but still the water was bubbling up. He went outside to turn off the water at the mains in the lane. The flood finally abated. Apparently, the ancient mains pipe has cracked and the whole floor has to come up in order for it to be replaced. The pipe is buried very deep.
It could take months. I have no water at all and no heating. Oh, and no boyfriend.
“ The ancient mains pipe has cracked and the whole floor has to come up”
I’m feeling very alone, and at sea, literally. Other than an unexpected icy swimming pool, the house is lovely. The church clock chimes on the quarter hour. I managed to get up the lino in the kitchen, revealing ancient stone below. My next job is to take up the sodden carpet in the sitting room.
Unfortunately, I completely blew it with David, who was supposed to help and share the cost. I texted to ask him, ‘What are your thoughts?’
He said that we didn’t manage a weekend without him getting on my nerves. I told him that I am very stressed, and still grieving my losses of last year. I told him his lecture about how to tell which side a petrol cap is on in a car was boring and tedious. He said my Conran Shop knives are ‘crap’. But he also said something sad: ‘Look, I understand my health issues are unattractive. I’m quite content where I am so don’t feel any pressure.’
READ MORE: LIZ JONES'S DIARY: It's always daunting moving into a new house on your own, but I was stunned by what greeted me when I finally took the keys to my new Georgian vicarage…
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He also pointed out he is not my ex-husband, not my sister. ‘I’m not out to get you. But I will not be your punchbag.’
I had to take Mini Puppy to the vet today for a Brazilian. She has bacteria, making her front bottom sore: it needs to be wiped and have cream applied, so it must be visible and clean. I swear she caught a bug at the referral clinic when she had two tumours removed.
The anaesthetic has affected her badly, as she is 15, so I am sleeping with her downstairs. I cannot lose Mini. She is the love of my life. It is a year exactly since I lost Gracie to cancer, and I miss her rump on the pillow next to me. I can’t keep losing things: animals, houses, men, my sanity.
Did I overreact when David cut plums on the marble worktop? Should I have gone nuclear when he said I need more cupboards and sharper knives? I had tried so hard to make us a lovely home, barely been in it a few days, that I didn’t feel the time was right to nit-pick. Just say the new house is lovely.
Isn’t life too short for arguments?
Jones moans... What Liz loathes this week
LIZ JONES'S DIARY: In which I get cold feet once more
I noticed some water at the bottom of the stairs. ‘P*ssy Missy!’
I mopped it up, but it kept coming. Missy adopted a wounded expression. There was some water in the bottom of my expensive Smeg fridge freezer, so I turned it off. The next morning, water everywhere. I called Smeg, but they said the appliance was only guaranteed for two years, and I have had it for just over three. I called an engineer: an £85 callout charge plus VAT.
I had to wait several days.
He turned up and managed to unblock a small drain. I took up all the sodden towels, but the water kept coming. I called him again. ‘Is this normal?’
‘It can take a while to settle.’
+1
View gallery
I couldn’t understand how fridges can hold so much water. Why aren’t girls taught these things in school instead of field trips to look at truncated spurs in Norfolk, cross-country running, hockey, netball and remembering all the wives of Henry VIII? I have never changed a tyre or a plug. Gone are the days when we possessed husbands with skills.
The water kept coming. The dogs wouldn’t walk through it and my feet were constantly soaked.
A plumber arrived the next day. He asked me for the location of the stopcock. ‘I have no idea.’ You could see him thinking, ‘Bloody useless females.’
He eventually found it, a symbolic clitoris, turned it off, but still the water was bubbling up. He went outside to turn off the water at the mains in the lane. The flood finally abated. Apparently, the ancient mains pipe has cracked and the whole floor has to come up in order for it to be replaced. The pipe is buried very deep.
It could take months. I have no water at all and no heating. Oh, and no boyfriend.
“ The ancient mains pipe has cracked and the whole floor has to come up”
I’m feeling very alone, and at sea, literally. Other than an unexpected icy swimming pool, the house is lovely. The church clock chimes on the quarter hour. I managed to get up the lino in the kitchen, revealing ancient stone below. My next job is to take up the sodden carpet in the sitting room.
Unfortunately, I completely blew it with David, who was supposed to help and share the cost. I texted to ask him, ‘What are your thoughts?’
He said that we didn’t manage a weekend without him getting on my nerves. I told him that I am very stressed, and still grieving my losses of last year. I told him his lecture about how to tell which side a petrol cap is on in a car was boring and tedious. He said my Conran Shop knives are ‘crap’. But he also said something sad: ‘Look, I understand my health issues are unattractive. I’m quite content where I am so don’t feel any pressure.’
READ MORE: LIZ JONES'S DIARY: It's always daunting moving into a new house on your own, but I was stunned by what greeted me when I finally took the keys to my new Georgian vicarage…
ADVERTISEMENT
He also pointed out he is not my ex-husband, not my sister. ‘I’m not out to get you. But I will not be your punchbag.’
I had to take Mini Puppy to the vet today for a Brazilian. She has bacteria, making her front bottom sore: it needs to be wiped and have cream applied, so it must be visible and clean. I swear she caught a bug at the referral clinic when she had two tumours removed.
The anaesthetic has affected her badly, as she is 15, so I am sleeping with her downstairs. I cannot lose Mini. She is the love of my life. It is a year exactly since I lost Gracie to cancer, and I miss her rump on the pillow next to me. I can’t keep losing things: animals, houses, men, my sanity.
Did I overreact when David cut plums on the marble worktop? Should I have gone nuclear when he said I need more cupboards and sharper knives? I had tried so hard to make us a lovely home, barely been in it a few days, that I didn’t feel the time was right to nit-pick. Just say the new house is lovely.
Isn’t life too short for arguments?
Jones moans... What Liz loathes this week
- Pollyannas who tell me to ‘just breathe!’ Breathing isn’t helping!
- My irritating GP surgery will not stop texting me. I’m eligible for a flu jab, a shingles something or other and a spring Covid jab. I refused to have the Covid vaccine or any boosters. I never caught it, though I travelled a lot during lockdown for work. I think my GP is being a bit negative.
- Didn’t you prefer it when a machine swiped a carbon imprint of your credit card,and people took cheques? It gave you a few days of hope that something miraculous would happen.
I think now she doesn’t have the podcast the weekly Diary, it’s NOT a column, despite what she claims, will die a death. She’s non-grata, she gets invited nowhere and does absolutely nothing.
She has nothing new to say or share. Which is why we constantly get force fed different versions of her already used stories.
At this point Nicola Bebb would write a more entertaining diary each week. My life as Liz Jones’s dogs body and scapegoat: the true story!
---
She has nothing new to say or share. Which is why we constantly get force fed different versions of her already used stories.
At this point Nicola Bebb would write a more entertaining diary each week. My life as Liz Jones’s dogs body and scapegoat: the true story!
---
Thank you!
Sounds as if David has finally realised what a witch she is. Good on you David - stay strong.
Did I overreact when David cut plums on the marble worktop?
would make a great title for a memoir. (That's not an invitation to write one btw Liz, I think we've all suffered enough.)
would make a great title for a memoir. (That's not an invitation to write one btw Liz, I think we've all suffered enough.)
'Front bottom' is naff and nauseating anyway. What's wrong with 'vulva' or 'genitals'? Bloody Hyacinth Try-Hard.Where she mentions the dogs ‘front bottom’
Ffs do people need to know?
I was certainly taught how to change a plug at school and I'm ages with the dottled old bag. I know where my stopcock is (and where to turn of the water on the road) because I'm an adult and made sure to find out. As my father used to say of his sister who used to wait for his weekly visit to do male things like change a blown light bulb, she's bloody haundless.
Haundless is a fabulous word
is it Scottish?