I think I killed a cat!

I went outside to the front garden to empty the rubbish. I was wearing my green cucumber and lime face-mask and rollers in my hair and a cat passing by, minding its own business took one look at me and threw itself in the middle of the road and a car came speeding down the road and the cat disappeared into thin air. No where to be seen! Probably dragged off by the car.

I’m sure it took its own life at the mere sight of me with a green face. I sure hope it’s got nine lives. Otherwise I’m gonna burn in kitty-cat hell.

I can't believe what I just heard

While I was out shopping today, I overheard a boy say to his mum "why are you always so broke, it's beginning to really p*ss me off, you never buy me nothing"!

WHAT A LIBERTY



I can't even tell you what I'd do to one of my children if they ever said that to me. All I can say is newspapers, prison and social services.

That might give you a clue.

The August Mayfield Diaries

"Is everything OK?" She asked... one week later!

I bumped into my neighbour Katie yesterday afternoon. I gave her a lift home because I saw her walking up the steep hill on the high street, carrying heavy shopping bags. I don't know why I mention the heavy shopping bags because I would have stopped to give her lift with or without her bags. I guess I'm just trying to paint a picture.

Read more...

An Honest Engineer

I'm prejudiced against engineers. They fill me with preconceived fear. I had an engineer come to my house this afternoon to have a look at my defective tumble dryer.

He got his tools out and was ready to get started. I said to him there was no point me standing over him while he's working, but he said it was OK for me to watch and he'd prefer it if I did so that he can talk me through what he was doing and his findings.

Well you could have knocked me down with a feather. As I said, I'm very cynical about Mr Fix It's. Mechanics, boiler inspectors, gas fitters, painters & decorators because as a lone female, I always get the impression that they're just charging me 30% extra for being a woman so I thought it was very sweet of the tumble dryer man to tell me to stay and watch him work. He could have been talking nursery rhymes for all I know but it made me feel better about the work he came to do.

As promised, he said that the call-out was free of charge. He made it very clear that my old clapped out tumble dryer had run out of life and unfortunately, I'd need a new one because some of the cables were burnt out - hence the thing giving me an electric shock nearly every time I switch it on.

So I guess not all engineers are out to get me.

Knickers around the ankles is not a good look

Either this girl's drunk or she's wearing those cheap £1 knickers from Primark!

I'm banging on about America's Next Top Model... AGAIN!!

I'm happy, happy, happy!

America's Next Top Model is back and I've been sent tapes of Cycle 13. I think I'm in love with the show. I just smile from beginning to end along with shouting at the TV and getting too involved. If you strapped me up to a heart monitor while watching ANTM, you'd send me to the doctors for a fist full of blood pressure pills.



I'm extra happy because this season, Tyra's looking for a short Top Model and this pleases me no end because I'm short. It makes me think if I so wished, I too could have a chance to become a top model in another lifetime! I'm too old. I'm British and not at all the type of personality who can take so much as a "oooh chile, you're lips are too big". I'm way too sensitive. But like I said, in another lifetime.

Tyra shows that even a teeny weeny little junior model in training can WORK IT on the Catwalk.

Miss J and Diva Davanna

The August Mayfield Diaries

Don't commit suicide today; you might change your mind tomorrow!

I sometimes toy with the idea of saying goodbye cruel world. I say this quite nonchalantly because I'm talking about imagining the process and not actually doing anything drastic about it.

I'm definitely not talking about the desperate feeling of being clinically depressed and buying a huge bottle of Paracetamol and some Gin. As for hanging, chances are I'd find a flimsy rope, not hefty enough to carry my weight and the last thing I'd want to do is try to hang myself and then come crashing down on the floor like a sack of potatoes, having made a complete disaster of it with insubstantial rope and ceiling cement all over my dress of death!

Read more ...

I might pause, but I won't stop

I disappeared for a little while because life decided to chuck things at me like hail-stones.

I guess God just wanted to put one more thing on my plate to see if I can manage.

Gladly, the answer is yes I can.

I must say, my friend sent me this video and said if this doesn't make you smile, you need to see a head doctor.

So I'll share with you a video of some happy women dancing!

Mo'Nique Shaking her Booty Beyoncé Style

The British National Party

As a black British woman, The British National Party’s Nick Griffin and what he stands for doesn’t bother me in the least. His recent appearance on BBC’s Question Time showed him for what he is and his response to his reception on the programme made him feel like (in his own words) he was being "ATTACKED BY A LYNCH MOB"!



A typical lynch mob looks like this - not the Audience of Question Time!

I much prefer to see the face of racial prejudice as opposed to the quiet sneaky prejudice that some people hold in their heart but choose to hide.
The exposure of prejudice allows normal people to see ignorance for what it is.

I'm really happy that I’ve not been brought up to detest another human being simply because of their outer wrapping. I hate you because you’re white! What a stupid idea. What is the credible reason for hating me because I’m black?

The world should be a like a colourful shoe closet, every colour has a right to be there, every colour has meaning and every colour is beautiful. Just like the colourful people of the world.

The August Mayfield Diaries

Along Came a Spider

At the moment, my home has been over-run with spiders; big ones and little ones, fat ones, skinny ones, brown ones, multi-coloured ones, black ones – just a rainbow coalition of spiders. They're all as ugly as each other. I HATE SPIDERS!

They're some of the ugliest creatures God ever created. I know they're good for something, but quite frankly, I'd have to dig real deep to find out what they're good for.

Read more ...

Come to church or burn in hell

Some Christians came to save me on Sunday. They came knocking on my door with horror stories of what was going to happen to me if I didn't declare that Jesus is Lord!

They caught me at a bad time. I smelt of Saturday night's alcohol, my face was smeared with lip-gloss, body glitter and black eyeliner and I'd fallen asleep in a mini-dress so when I opened the door, I was exactly what they were looking for. Lucifer's assistant in training!

They said I would burn in hell for eternity if I didn't repent all of my sins, change my ways and start going to church. I needed to forget modern society's shameless pursuit of fashion statements, thirst for money, the next high and the devil's alcohol. I said "but have you tried a Zombie Killer cocktail, because if you had, you'd love it, maybe even serve it at church". They looked at me like I was filth.

I asked the Christians if they knew of anyone who had gone to heaven or hell for that matter and they said I was being ridiculous and provocative. They both said the problem with me was that I didn't have faith and I ought to stop needing visual evidence for everything in my life. Apparently, I was looking for intelligent answers instead of just believing.

They left mumbling Lord Jesus Save Her when I said that I thought that the only reason why most people try to be good Christians is to get their reward in heaven. I said people should be good because they aspire to be good. I have a problem with people who are only good because they want to secure their place in the 'Kingdom of Heaven'.

An August Thought

If you look anything like your passport photo, you're probabaly due for a holiday!

Won't somebody help me?

My chests of drawers have died a horrible death due to the strain of having 400 different items of God knows what. It was OK at item number 399, but when I introduced another pair of socks, it collapsed in a heap of rubble.

So off I went to the famous Scandinavian store in search of something sturdy and compliant with the fact that I need heavy-duty drawers and lots of them.

I was directed to the chest of drawers of my choice by an in-store computer but when I attempted to lift the flat-packed drawers off the shelf, they wouldn't even budge. It was too heavy for my spindly little arms so I asked for help. A helpful member of staff put the two heavy packages on my palette and off I went to pay. When I asked the cashier if I could get help lifting the items off the palette and into my car, the cashier said "sorry madam, we only help in-store. Once you go outside, you're on your own"!

I stood there waiting for the laughter but there wasn't any. He wasn't joking. So off I went in a huff not quite knowing what was going to happen once I got to my car.

Well this is what happened when I got to my car. I looked around and for once, nothing and no one. No one appeared in a Superman cape to help me with my heavy packages. Everyone seemed to be far far away as if they were avoiding me, which I must say was a bit of paranoia on my part. The waiting was enough. I don't know where I found the strength but there are times when desperation allows us to find the strength from somewhere. Somehow mind over matter allowed me to strategically tip the package onto one side, flip it up and land it on the boot. I did this again with the other package and slid them right in.

Clever girl I thought momentarily!

During the drive on the way home, I became quite depressed. Where was The Knight in Shining Armour, Clarke Kent, Vince Kind or Mike Strong when I needed him? Where the hell is Chivalry for that matter?

Surely not dead already!

Be careful what you wish for!

Wile E. Coyote Kills Road Runner

(This video contains profanity so not for the faint of heart.)

Minutes of the Meeting: Item No. 4

Our new boss called a meeting. He said he's here to stamp out cliques, slackers and casual clothing!

Well I can get to grip with the cliques issue. I'm not part of one. I'm not a slacker. I get off on working hard. But casual clothing! What does this mean?

Well I'll tell you what this crusty old man who should have retired in 1979 means. He means and he said this out loud and wrote it in a memo; it means he wants his staff, which includes me, in office attire at all times. Suited and booted!

Considering I work shifts which sometimes includes starting at midnight, sometimes includes finishing at 5am and often includes taking a lunch break in the wee hours of the morning - this business attire means he wants me to wear a suit instead of 'what ever I damn please'.

One of the perks of my job was the fact that I could wear 'whatever I damn please'. So now all of a sudden, this new man brings in a new rule which means he wants me to look like an undertaker!

Well I'm not happy.

I wanted to ask this Brand New Manager "why are you delivering your message like Moses? As if it's written in the Bible?" But oh no, my wages are involved and I have no desire to rock the boat and play with my pay packet.

But now I have a dilemma. I have no intention whatsoever of wearing a suit in the early hours and I'm assuming he has no desire seeing me rock up to work in a t-shirt with applique diamante, jeans and a pair of Converse.

I hate to lose, so I'm very excited to see who's going to win!

Alright, alright! Everybody stay calm.

So I'm at the petrol station, minding my own business. Trying not to look at chocolates and dirty magazines. These things are all in my line of vision unfortunately but I was trying to look innocent all the same. It's funny how when you're not guilty of anything, you try hard not to look guilty of anything and then you just end up looking guilty of something.

You know the feeling, like when you're walking through the airport and you see the sign which says NOTHING TO DECLARE. The sign makes you want to declare something, even your box of Lemon and Ginger tea from Thailand. Or when a police car's driving right behind you and you're not speeding and you haven't had a drop of alcohol to drink and everyone's wearing their seat-belts. You feel a sense of guilt even though you're guilty of nothing.

Well anyway, like I was saying, I was waiting in the queue at the petrol station.

While waiting, I overheard the guy who was at the front of said queue making a bit of a fuss with the cashier and then he punched the display of anti-freeze and Quality Street triangles in the air and onto the floor! This to me was not a good thing. My heart started to race and I was in fight or flight mode...

...and then the spitting started.

At this point, I reached over the shoulder of the spitting man, slammed three ten pound notes down on the counter, shouted at the cashier "pump number three" and left post-haste!

I have no idea what the fight was about, but when people start spitting, this is an invitation to fight and all I wanted to do was pay for my petrol. I wasn't in the mood for getting involved in anyone's drama, so I ran out of there like Usain Bolt.

People; you need to know, when the spitting starts, it's time to get the hell out.

Ten-out-of-Ten for pure Cheek!

The best proposition for adult bedroom activities I've ever heard is the following:

You better put a seat-belt on your bed sweet-heart because I'm gonna take you for the ride of your life!

Jealous of a WAG... me? No!

Well that's a big fat lie, the answer is yes I am. Yes, yes, yes and yes again! Only in the sense of: "good luck to the WAG, I'll carry on with my life and shop at Cost Cutters to buy economical chicken and pink Cava (tastes just like Champagne to me). And if I see her shopping in Cost Cutters along-side me, I'll take her picture with my camera phone and send it to The News of the World immediately".

I say this because it was brought to my attention that a lucky little WAG, Jessica Lawlor who so happens to be the girlfriend of Premiership footballer, Mid-fielder, Stephen Ireland received the fabulous gift of car on her 24th birthday. But lucky Miss Lawlor didn't receive just any car, she was presented with a pimped-out Bentley complete with an embroidered love-heart leather seat which says to Jess, Love from Stephen. The Bentley's worth £264,000.

Yes, I'll it again. Two hundred and sixty four thousand pounds!



For once, I don't know where I stand and don't know what to say! I'm caught on the fence. You see the problem is this. I know for sure that if my boyfriend bought me a Bentley, I'd be over the moon, blubbing and crying and carrying on. Phoning my sister, my friends and telling the world and his wife what a fabulous gift my lovely boyfriend bought me. Unfortunately (and ungratefully), this is where, yet again, I hang in the balance. If said boyfriend bought me a car that was as pimped-out as this white Bentley, my smile would turn upside-down. I can't pretend that there wouldn't be an element of vexation.

Why? Because the car looks like a kitted out Ford Fiesta. It’s not pretty at all. In fact, as expensive as it is and as lovely as it ought to be, it looks a bit tacky and chavvy.

So on the one hand I'm saying YOU GO GIRL, HIGH FIVE. But on the other hand, I'd be taking him to one side and asking him the question "didn't you see a cute BMW, a fab Mercedes or a neat little Audi TT while you were in the car show room? And what's with the kit? A Bentley IS NOT A TOY TO BE PLAYED WITH."

I'd be more than happy to receive and accept such a beautiful, expensive and generous gift for my birthday but I'd positively, definitely want the receipt so that I could change it for something with a bit of class.

But what can I say while I'm confidenty sitting on this fence of mine?

Well if I ever receive a kitted out Bentley for my birthday worth thousands and thousands and thousands of pounds, my words might be a lot more humble.

The Puppy Lullaby

Hit or Miss?

Rihanna wearing strategic stripes

Some online newspaper readers have slaughtered Rihanna because she was seen in this sexy, stripey dress.

Comments have been made that it's tacky. Cheap-looking! She's crying out for attention. Who is she or who does she think she is? They're bored of this non-entity and the criticisms go on.

I'm not going to sit here and lie and tell you that all criticisms were negative because some people said she looked hot, she's beautiful, at least her assets are real, she's a good singer & entertainer and if they were young and beautiful, they'd be happy to wear a see-through peek-a-boo dress to.

I'm leaning towards agreeing that she's young and beautiful and the dress looks good on her and it's often just a moment in time when you can get away with overt sexiness.

Youth doesn't last very long and plastic surgery confirms that people will do anything to stay looking young. When you're young, you can be forgiven for being risque and trying out controversial things that draw attention to yourself. Also, as age kicks in and it will kick you... a lot of women have a shape that leaves them standing in front of the mirror wondering why their belly's hanging over their knickers and wondering why their breasts are reaching out for the floor. So Rihanna might as well take advantage of this wonderful stage in her life.

Anyway, I'd much rather see her looking cool with a slinky dress than pictured black & blue because love turned the wrong corner.

Is he taking the ****?

50 Cent's Public Service Announcement!

Go back from whence ye came!

It's a very old saying about a very modern problem - Illegal immigrants.

I didn't know my friend Mark was an illegal immigrant until I got a phone call on Monday. My friend of seven years was arrested and charged and he'll be deported on Monday.

He didn't have his status in the UK and he was dealt with to the letter of the law. His deportation breaks my heart and I will miss him terribly.

I'm annoyed with him and thought how could he be so stupid but since speaking to him, he had his reasons.

His case isn't as sad as the woman from Tesco's who appeared in a Tesco's advertising campaign for their clothing range Florence & Fred because the Tesco's cashier/model started a family.

The woman in question, Fatou Cham from Gambia was a check-out girl.

She was picked from hundreds of other Tesco employees to appear in an advertising campaign.

Next to a picture of Miss Cham modelling a blue dress and heels were the words: 'Designed by F&F. Priced by Tesco. Modeled by Fatou, checkout number 6, Tesco, east London.'

She came to the United Kingdom in 1998 on a student visa but stayed after it expired in 2001. She applied for permanent residency but it was refused and she lived in the UK illegally. Sadly she has two children who are British citizens so God knows what’s going to happen to them all.

A tabloid said that her status was brought to light because of the advert, but I don’t know how true this is, but whatever and however; she’s got a long hard road ahead of her just like my friend Mark.