Idioms- Ever Wondered Where They Came From?

So I recently received an E-mail from my Dad, who normally forwards on jokes and tid-bits that he thinks I’ll find amusing, so this time I opened the E-mail expecting a little laugh, but found something a little more interesting! Now of course I have no way of knowing if anything here is 100% true, or even the slightest bit true in any case, but I thought it worth a share!

If you’re like me you’ll wonder where our idioms and sayings come from, and some of these as odd as they sound, at least give some kind of clue; and if it turns out they’re a big pile of junk, I’d at least love them to be true!

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“There is an old Hotel/Pub in Marble Arch, London , which used to have a gallows adjacent to it.. Prisoners were taken to the gallows (after a fair trial of course) to be hung. The horse-drawn dray, carting the prisoner, was accompanied by an armed guard, who would stop the dray outside the pub and ask the prisoner if he would like ”ONE LAST DRINK”.

If he said YES, it was referred to as ONE FOR THE ROAD.

If he declined, that prisoner was ON THE WAGON.n>

They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot and then once a day it was taken and sold to the tannery. If you had to do this to survive you were “piss poor”, but worse than that were the really poor folk, who couldn’t even afford to buy a pot, they “Didn’t have a pot to piss in” and were the lowest of the low.

The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn’t just how you like it, think about how things used to be.

Here are some facts about the 1500s:

Most people got married in June, because they took their yearly bath in May and they still smelled pretty good by June. However, since they were starting to smell, brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odour. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, “Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water!”

Houses had thatched roofs, thick straw piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying “It’s raining cats and dogs.”

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom, where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That’s how canopy beds came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, “dirt poor.” The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside.. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence: a thresh hold. (Getting quite an education, aren’t you?)

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight, then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme: ”Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot, nine days old”.

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over they would hang up their bacon, to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, “Bring home the bacon.” They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around talking and ”chew the fat”.

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning and death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or ”The Upper Crust”.

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of ”Holding a Wake”.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people, so they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realised they had been burying people alive. So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, thread it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell.

Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift) to listen for the bell; thus someone could be, ”Saved by the Bell ”or was considered a ”Dead Ringer”

Now, whoever said history was boring ! ! !”
N.B I did not write this nor have any claim over the work.

A World of Difference- Where did it all go wrong?

It’s incredibly difficult discussing what’s right and what is wrong in relation to homosexuality and acceptance, but after recently watching a Channel 4 drama “Mum’s Gone Gay,” I figured that there’s much still left to be said.

Society as we know it today is so completely different to any time in history, that it’s difficult to even comprehend. We are, as a part of western society free to be whom and what we please, and to live the lives we believe that we were born to lead. All this being said; homosexual men and women, young and old still live closeted, in fear of the reactions of their peers and family; and it begs the question, why?

On TV, throughout peer groups and in schools, we talk openly about the topic, suggesting we as a society accept people for who they are. In public we preach love and tolerance and proclaim pride in diversity, yet in the gay community it is still sickeningly common to hear stories of those rejected by their loved ones, simply for their sexuality, a part of themselves that by and large we believe to be uncontrollable.

It says a lot about our nation that we could be so two-faced, as to step forward on a world stage to promote ourselves as one of the forward-thinking nations- an example to live by; when behind closed doors, terrified boys and girls dread the day when someone might find out their secret, and parents disabled by years of repression and fear live agonisingly behind a veil of lies, never being true to themselves.

This all sounds so far from the perceived acceptance and tolerance we preach, yet it is the sad reality for many. Why should people live this? How is this still happening?

Tolerance takes time, this is for sure, though in the 44 years since 1967, when homosexuality in Britain was legalised, people from the LGBT community are STILL suffering.

I have long heard the “it’s a generational thing” excuse, and understandably those born when homosexuality was a crime no doubt may have taken time to adjust to the situation, though as a country that prides itself on intelligence haven’t we damn taken our time at it? In honesty I’m getting tired of waiting.

I’m finding it difficult to keep accepting the generation excuse as the days go on, and I’m waiting for someone to tell me when this supposed “generation” is finished with. I know, and I’m sure you ALL know hundreds if not thousands of those born pre 1967, who avidly and boldly support equality; so what’s taking the rest of you so long?

I live in hope that I will reach a day in my life where I no longer have to hear a heartbreaking story about an LGBT youth, struggling to accept themselves as others refuse to. It’s time for us all to play our part and change the world. Your acceptance and tolerance could be the difference between a life lead miserable and one lived fully, happily and contented. Don’t shy away in ignorance, but embrace and accept all those around you, because you could be making the world of difference.

 

 

 

China gets Filthayyy

So China has managed to go and make something that combines two of my favourite things-ballet and filth <3. The new ballet production of The Plum in the Golden Vase directed by critically acclaimed Wang Yuanyuan is set to be a smash new ballet based on the 4 century long banned Ming Dynasty erotic novel. My video log can tell you more, with links to the trailer!

 

Drag-Tastic

So as we’re all pretty aware by now, I love drag queens and all things camp; Priscilla queen of the desert is one of my all time favourite movies, and I simply cannot resist a man in a frock, so here’s a treat for you:

Grandad tweet-aphobe @TomFraserTalks

So it’s fair to say I think I’ve put off getting a twitter account for long enough… As a grandad techno-phobe I’ve never been comfortable with new anything and I’ll do my utmost to put off starting something I don’t understand- twitter being one of them.

Now I realise twitter isn’t anything new or exciting, but as even my iPhone manages to confuse the hell out of me I’ve just not wanted to start it up, especially considering my life is far too run by social media anyway!!

This all being said I’ve caved like the sheep i am and am hoping to relieve the stress on my Facebook wall by twittering my life instead!!

So check me out: @TomFraserTalks, and follow me or whatever you even do on the damned thing =p

Uk Riots Disgust

You can barely go minutes at the moment without hearing more terrible news from all around the globe; of killings, bombings, warfare and hate, but it all gets so much more real when it’s on your doorstep.

In the past few days the major cities of the UK have been somewhat over-run by riots, and things seem to be only getting worse.

I simply cannot believe and am disgusted by how citizens of our own country are willing to do such wicked things and create such unrest, and for what?

When people stand up and make for revolution, they stand for freedom, democracy and the right for freedom of speech. Today we stand at risk and in the midst of a huge clean up at the hands of thugs and criminals.

These people are not in the midst of fighting a political battle or for the right to freedom, but simply to destroy and we can do little to stop it.

The Government may sit in parliament and discuss strategies to alleviate the tensions between communities but what we need is action.

Those of us sitting at home, regardless of trouble and hardship experienced at the hands of the government and the economy destroyed by our banks are NOT rising to further destroy our nation and we will NOT stand with those who seek to.

I want to see these people stopped, our police men and the public out of danger, and fully support any means to which this will happen. We need action and we need it now.

Gay Spotter

So I’m laying in bed listening to the rain drop lightly on the velux- not exactly the sun-fest i had in mind when I think of the Cornish dream but you take what you get- and I’ve started to feel somewhat reflective.

Being down in “sunny” old St Ives, on the scout for beautiful men and hopefully a homo or two has got me all in a muddle! The stereotypes that I suppose I’ve made and my surroundings have reinforced just don’t seem to work here, and it’s surprisingly off-putting!

Apparently scene kids here aren’t the bi-curious-on-the-way-to-gay teens that I know so well, and the multitudes of bleach blonde haired young and old men alike simply do it for the shits, that or the discernible Cornish style. Not even the carefully tousled curls or funky quiffs go along with floppy hands…

It strikes me as somewhat strange how travelling short distances, even through the same country can blur the lines of your stereotypes and challenge your views. I guess it’s supposed to teach us not to stereotype but I do wonder where we’d be without it!

So i guess it’s back to the drawing board for me and my gaydar and work on a new stereotype, cos right now eyesight and even Grindr aren’t working out so well…

There aint nothing like a man in heels…

I realise that I spend my entire life in a crippling haze of rainbows and homo paraphernalia, but there are just some things that make me LOVE having had my teeny tiny world opened that little more since entering into the world of the “mo,” and yesterday only acted to reinforce this…

After watching Priscilla, Queen of the Desert with my friends (Priscilla being one of my all time favourite gay movies), I re-discovered my love for cock in frocks, and furthermore re-discovered my love for a not-so-little known Ukrainian male band called Kazaky.

Now if you’ve never experienced a Kazaky music video; I fear you’ve never lived. Whilst the lyrics and generic tracks pumped out by the band leave much to be desired; the artistry of the videos makes me giddy with joy. I’ve never hidden my passion for drag queens, make-up and the like, but when I set eyes on this group of seemingly gender-fuck butch men dancing in heels, leggings and giving it some go, I explode.

I’ve never seen such muscular men dance in such feminine ways, whilst still looking butch. It’s an absolute brain trip and I ADORE them. You may find them strange or too against the norm to enjoy, but when you open your mind to see the work of mesmerising art they’re creating; you’re in for a treat.

There’s no woman in my relationship…

So since I appear to boycotting words, phrases and anything else that takes my fancy in my new life as a disgruntled queen; I’m going to add to the list as yet again I find myself annoyed at more pointless tid-bits that have cropped up lately.

Making a point of educating the masses- that or ranting to myself in prose- I thought I’d mention a choice phrase that’s really getting my aussie-bums in a twist. It’s one of those “oh-God-why-did-you-bring-this-up” kind of situations where you’re left wanting to ease the tension in the room by doing whatever you can; namely stab yourself in the eyes with a fork.

The question; “so who’s the woman in the relationship?” is the question I really dread to hear, and I suppose the reasons are twofold:

1)      There is no “woman” in my relationship. As a gay man, I date men. When two men date there are no women present, especially during sex

2)      I know what you’re getting at, and unsurprisingly, it’s really none of your business. I would never ask you what position your boyfriend likes to screw you in, or whether your into kink so kindly keep your questions to yourself

Because confusion on the matter seems to be so colossal, we have actually developed words which are specifically relevant to what we do in the bedroom; so the next time you do want to be that God damn nosey, confusion should really be minimal. And here’s how it works:

To keep this relatively PG I’m going to give you the age old “How to” guide to understanding your homosexual friend metaphor of post-man and post box. Use your imagination; it’s all pretty apparent.

So, the post-man is the dominant guy, and we call him a top, and the post box, who is the passive guy is called the bottom- for quite obvious reasons. See, no mention of a woman. A lot of gay men like to say that they are one or the other; let’s face it, we all have our preferences; but for those of us who enjoy things both ways, they’re versatile.

Gay on gay we don’t tend to be too private on the matter, and I suppose with close friends we don’t mind to share either, but it doesn’t give you free reign to jump into asking personal questions which some people might not want to answer. Being passive doesn’t mean that the man is a “woman,” or even feminine for that matter, so try not to make assumptions.

If you made your way through that, congratulations, you deserve a medal. Hideous rant over.

What a waste

I’ve never been one to be overly offended at the slip of the tongue comments my friends or acquaintances make with regards to my sexuality- it’s a sad but true fact that “gay” is now no longer the synonym for happy or just the adjective for homosexual, but a negative slur denoting anything from a bad tasting drink to the news that you have to clean the dishes because the dish-washer is broken again- I suppose I’ve become a little numb to the phrase, but I find more and more, with the passing days I’m becoming more sensitive to certain comments that sprout up.

It’s never really offended me, being called queer; or even being called a puff, though the roots of the word are drenched in distaste and negativity. I suppose when you get to thinking I probably shouldn’t just accept it, but I’ve even sometimes come to find it quite funny, adopting originally offensive phrases for comedic value. In fact the joke term “bum-bandit” has become a favourite of mine as I believe it makes me out to be some sort of superhero!

 

However one thing that has become more and more apparent is that the thoughtless phrase “what a waste,” although generally meant as a compliment, is actually a pretty negative, homophobic phrase; and what’s worse is that people don’t even know it.

 

For years people have needed to be educated on the phrases they use daily, as many are just down right offensive; and I feel like the world needs awakening to this. When you say to a gay man/woman “what a waste,” what are you really saying?

 

For sure you may think this means that they’re an attractive, intelligent and cultured person, but take a second to think about the words you’re saying. What exactly is a gay man or woman WASTING by being who they are?

 

Now before you all jump on me for being overly concerned with semantics, I know you probably don’t mean to suggest that we’re a waste of a person, but even the implication that just because we’re not as likely to pro-create and pass on the gene pool- no matter how white the teeth or buff the body- it doesn’t mean you can pass us off as trash.

 

We’ve spent too long talking without thinking. It’s time to mean what you say, and say what you mean. So in the light of this, in a feign hope of removing the tinges of homophobia from the phrase you may say but not mean, I’m boycotting the “what a waste” phenomena.

 

We are gay, and most certainly NOT a waste, so don’t try to tell me otherwise.