Tag Archives: self help

L-Baz Quotes Part 2 (Classic L-Baz)

22802_10155611254505004_3723297190832245637_nIn a pleasant change from writing about my own petty quibbles and gripes, every now and again I like to take a look at the work of an unparalleled comedy genius, a leader in her field, a true visionary and also I’m very happy to say my wife, Sarah.

I can no longer really refer to her as L-Baz as she gave up the surname Leatherbarrow and took my name White upon agreeing to marry me. Much easier when booking a table at a restaurant but lacking any of the warm eccentric charm of her maiden name. It’s actually quite a weird feeling when your wife changes her name. Even though I was thrilled to have her take my name and become my wife, I think we were both a little sad to see Leatherbarrow go and so in keeping with the fact that this is number 2 in a series of these tribute pieces, I’ll be referring to her as L-Baz throughout, it seems fitting in the context.

It’s fair to say that my wife has to put up with an awful lot being married to me. There was the time I bought her a glass of Pimms that was too full. Naturally she reacted as anyone would upon being defiled in this manner and burst in to a bout of uncontrollable hysterics. I advised her that she should write down her feelings and save them up for when she eventually publishes her memoirs or writes an article for one of those women’s magazines entitled ‘My Pimms Hell – One Woman’s Struggle’. I also pointed out that there were places she could go if she no longer felt safe, women’s refuges I think they’re called where some big old friendly northern dinner lady type, no doubt called Pat would gather her up in her comforting bosom and reassure her that she was safe now.

‘Come on love, you come inside, you’re safe now.’

‘Sometimes when I close my eyes at night it’s like I’m back there and it’s happening all over again (sobbing and wailing).’

‘You let it all out love, we’ve all been there. That bastard can’t hurt you any more.’

Then there was the time she came home on a Friday and wanted us to get in bed at 7pm and watch Frozen. I agreed without hesitation but apparently I didn’t show quite the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. Yes it really is Shipman – Fritzl – Hitler – Rick White in the bad husband stakes.

Anyhoo, all that aside I have written before about how L-Baz’s completely unintentionally hilarious turn of phrase has enriched my life to the point where I actually did begin writing down stuff that she says. It really is quite a fascinating insight in to the way in which her mind works, I don’t know if it applies to all women. My advice to anyone would be to start keeping detailed records of everything your wife says, it’s funny and it will definitely help you to win more arguments.

One example of what I’m talking about is the way in which she’ll carry on a conversation we had six months ago as if that conversation were still taking place. I specifically remember in the middle of a car journey she just came out with;

‘Mum said they did a test and the paint was better.’

I like it when this happens because then I have to use my powers of deduction to work out what on earth she’s talking about which in many ways is more fun than a normal conversation.

‘Who is they in this scenario?’

‘A magazine.’

‘And what kind of paint was it?’

‘Farrow & Ball.’

Got it! We were in the Farrow & Ball shop about six months ago and I was moaning about how it’s so ridiculously expensive and B&Q will just copy the colour for you for half the price. And I win! Actually I lose because I’ve been proved wrong by Sarah’s mum (comedy genius in her own right) and a magazine but still, fun.

There’s also the way in which she remembers details of events and retells them. I think it’s actually the way that she experiences things very differently to the way in which, let’s not call them sane people but ‘linear thinkers’ experience things. The things that Sarah remembers about an event may very well bear absolutely no relevance to what the event or the thing in question actually was supposed to be or what actually took place but just one thing that she noticed which will form the basis of her recollection. For example, when Sarah’s dad invited me to go and watch Newcastle United with him Sarah said;

‘You’ll like it Rick, all the dogs have shoes on.’

At the time I don’t think I even questioned this, merely made a mental note of it and filed it away under ‘Things I’ll probably have to repeat to a psychiatric nurse, police officer or judge one day.’ But lo and behold, when we arrived at the match I spotted a police dog with  these little plastic boots on its feet to stop it from treading on glass.


police dogs – fancy

I bet if you asked Sarah about that match it would go something like;

‘Remember that time you went to watch Newcastle with your dad?’


‘It was in February I think.’


‘Newcastle beat Real Madrid 13-12 on penalties?’


‘You took one of the penalties?’

‘There was a pitch invasion.’

‘And an explosion.’

‘You had to be airlifted out by helicopter?’

‘All the dogs had shoes on?’

‘Right why didn’t you just say that Rick, you fucking moron of course I remember dogs with shoes on day it was the best day ever.’

Fascinating stuff I’m sure you’ll all agree.


Sharpshooting wit

And so in tribute to my wonderful wife here are a few of her best quotes from recent months.

Childhood memories;

‘My only memory from childhood is when I had that pigeon on my head.’

Discussing the pros and cons of a vegan diet;

‘It’s not for me, I don’t even think you’re allowed to eat meat.’

Playing chess;

‘Rick! That’s a cheaters move, you’re killing all my animals.’

Star Wars;

‘I don’t want to watch Star Wars Rick I don’t like it.’

‘You’ve never seen it.’

‘I have.’

‘What happens in it then?’

‘There’s a Jedi.’

‘And what’s a Jedi?’

‘A furry thing.’


‘You can watch the football when you’ve done the hoovering, nothing comes without hard work.

‘Not even watching the football on my own TV?’

‘Our TV, there’s no I in marriage. There’s only an R.’

Completely out of the blue;

‘I want a man who takes an interest in my front garden.’

Explaining the basic plot of Cats – The Musical

‘They’re cats.’


‘They’re quite weird, and I think they live in a drain.’

A very reasonable debate on kitchen cupboard space distribution and teamwork;

‘I’m the wife. And you’re a moron, so I get to decide what goes in the cupboard.’

Interior design;

‘You’re not allowed to hang your guitar on the wall Rick, you’re not Bryan Adams.’

And my absolute favourite, whilst watching David Blunkett on TV (and I knew this was coming);

‘His eyes look weird.’

‘He is blind.’

‘Well they should put a message up on the screen to warn people, he looks shifty.’


David Blunkett – Shifty

So there you go. Just a bit of the pure comedy gold which keeps me constantly entertained at home and helps to temper my daily rage. I think the funniest thing about L-Baz is that she literally has no filter and whatever nonsense she has in her mind just spills forth. I for one very much hope she never changes.




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the thinking man’s man’s man’s guide to being a man

Tom Selleck

If, like the author, you are incredibly rugged and manly but just choose to express it in more non-conventional ways like having a real soft spot for peonies or not being afraid of a scented candle every once in a while then this guide has been specially designed to help you blend in with basically all the other men you will ever come in to contact with. And when I say ‘contact’ I don’t mean that in any kind of a gay way before you all start.

I have the soft supple hands of a man who in all honesty is more comfortable applying a rejuvenating face mask than sanding down a wall. I can’t grow a beard to save my life, the only real shaving I do is shavings of pecorino on my bucatini all’amatriciana.

‘Oh but pecorino is just a cheap alternative to parmesan’ I hear you luddites cry. Go fuck yourselves.

This is exactly the sort of behaviour that is met with scorn and derision by ‘real men’ like for example my dad who is fond of saying things like, ‘Richard’s never done a proper day’s work in his life.’ Well de-pilling all of my cashmere and merino jumpers wasn’t exactly a fucking walk in the park old man let me tell you.

My brother is certainly more manly than I am. When we were kids he got kicked out of his rugby team for beating the shit out of a bigger boy on his own team and has been my old man’s favourite ever since then. I was busy practicing my one man show, experimenting with using Sun-In on my side parting and wrestling with the typical dilemmas of any young man such as ‘does the colour purple really suit me or am I just lying to myself?’ I’m still undecided.

Inevitably, when I first got a girlfriend my dad made the typical dad quip, ‘well we were worried he was gay for a while.’ Only I don’t think he was actually joking, in any way.

So if any of this rings a bell (not in a gay way, you understand) and you need to learn how to successfully integrate with real men and when I say ‘integrate’ oh fuck it here’s the list…



This is a really useful tip, you should now commit this image to memory because whenever you drive anywhere there is always likely to be a real man at the end of your trip, your new girlfriend’s dad for example who will immediately ask you what route you took.

I struggle to navigate my way out of my own house and just obey what my Sat Nav tells me to do without question. I’m not even very good at doing what it tells me and I certainly have no idea what any of the roads are actually called. This is not the manly way to go. Real men do not need a Sat Nav, they know every possible route to every possible destination off by heart and they will ask you about it, straight away.

‘Which way did you come? M6, M40, M5?’

‘Yeah.’ Best to just agree, but there’s always a chance it could be a trap…

‘Come off at junction 9?’

‘That’s right, junction 9.’

‘There is no junction 9, I just made it up. Get the fuck out of my house.’

If you’re feeling like you want to play in the big leagues then what you should do is study your route beforehand and pick an obscure road to follow to your destination, make sure it’s real though or you’ll be found out but you’ll get awesome man points when you drop it in to your first conversation.

‘Actually I came off at junction 15 and took the B9000 via Chichester. Saved us about 17 minutes.’

‘Welcome to my family, you ever need anything you come to me.’

So simple, only requires years to perfect and completely pointless due to modern technology but so, so worth it for man points. Next….



Remember, if you’re in the company of real men and someone asks you what you want to drink, you want a pint of non-specific beer. If you are asked to further elaborate on this you should have some stock answers to hand such as ‘Stella’ (real men call it ‘Wife Beater’), ‘Carling’ or ‘Fosters’ actually I think that last one might even be slightly frowned upon. You definitely can’t go wrong with a pint of wife beater though so stick to that. I think Peroni might be OK but it’s not on tap everywhere so there’s always the danger that they don’t have it and then you’ve singled yourself out as the effeminate metrosexual who wanted a Peroni because he can’t drink Stella. Then if you’re ever in the company of these extended family members/work colleagues/girlfriend’s friends boyfriends again they’ll always ask you if you want a Peroni and laugh at the hilarious time you made a tit out of yourself by requesting a Peroni, you fucking nonce.

Just don’t draw attention to yourself, go with the herd. Whatever you do don’t order a dry martini (not dry as a bone dry, but dry) and then change your mind when you find out they’ve got no grapefruits for the twist. And don’t then order a glass of Pinot Grigio but send it back because it’s not cold enough and just say to the bewildered waitress, ‘Just bring me a glass of the coldest white wine you have, as long as it’s not Chardonnay.’

I didn’t do both of those things at once by the way, I’m not that bad. It was two separate incidents.


Not really sure why but real men retain water like fucking camels. And when I say water I of course mean Stella. They’ll down 8 pints in the airport and make it all the way to the hotel in Benidorm without even a twinge in the bladder.

Train yourself, God knows how, you figure it out.



Steak. Medium. That’s what you want. You’re not this fucking clown off the telly so don’t start trying to show off.

Regular readers will know that this is a particularly problematic area for the author. I just can’t help being a dick in these situations anyway but with a group of proper lads it is never going to end well. If you’re with a group of real men then just order the exact same steak as the guy next to you, which he wanted medium, no doubt. If you must have a sauce then peppercorn is acceptable but you’re better off just asking for some ketchup. Don’t start faffing around asking if the gnocchi is homemade on the premises that day or if the chef leaves the roe on the scallop. Don’t be that guy. And don’t, for the love of God start trying to change bits and bobs off the menu, giving it all;

‘Yeah can I have that with linguine instead of rigatoni, I just feel like I’m in more of a twirley mood?’

The only questions you should ask are pervy, creepy ones like ‘What time do you knock off love, we’re hitting Vodka Rev’s later?’ or better yet don’t ask questions at all as these could illicit a stinging erudite response. Just stick to vaguely offensive comments like, ‘pop your phone number on the bill darling.’ or ‘I bet you enjoy a nice healthy portion don’t you sweetheart?’ Then just eat your dull overcooked steak in absolute silence, occasionally looking up and shouting ‘Oi. Pal. Ketchup’ at that fucking poof of a waiter and that’s pretty much dining out all covered.

You can always go back the following week on your own if needs be so that you can finally enjoy those gnocchi that were described as ‘little heavenly pillows’ on Trip Advisor, man they sounded good. Nice Chablis Grand Cru to wash it down, good lad.



Any proper man’s man knows how to handle a big tool (not in a gay way). You will need to invest in at least a basic set. If you move in with your sweet lady and need some minor repairs doing around the house then the inevitable moment will arrive when she invites her dad over to carry out the job and the first thing he’ll say is, ‘I bet you haven’t even got a spanner have you lad?’ with a condescending laugh. ‘No but I’ve got a pasta rolling machine and a fucking potato ricer so whether you want tortellini or gnocchi I’ve got us well covered you old fuck’ is not a suitable comeback.

Just out tool the old prick. Get a fucking angle grinder out to chop down that dodgy shower rail. Put up that generic Ikea print using a pneumatic drill, it doesn’t really matter seeing as no one really knows how to use tools anyway it’s all just posturing and everything can be solved by giving it a good whack on the end with a hammer (totally not gay). Plus, the older man will always take responsibility for any DIY jobs, that’s just hard-wired in to real men so as long as you have some tools you’ll probably never be called upon to use them, until you get old and have to condescend to some poor young fool as if that was never you to begin with. That’s the circle of life my good friends, Hakuna Matata.


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