Are there NO Limits?

To the level of corruption that infests the Gentle World of Crochet?

Dear reader,

As those who have joined us in all previous incarnations, as we have struggled through life together, cannot help bu tbe aware of the high regard I hold for Regency literature, especially the works of Miss Jane Austen and collectively, whilst still individually: The Brontё Sisters.  In crochet as in life, this regard continues and I was once outbid for a Jane Austen Shawl pattern on eBay; at a fairly pausemaking amount.   I was willing to forego basic necessities for that pattern. But Alas, it was not be and five years of fruitless searching have not yet seen it come round again.

Where I was more successful was the purchase of a great many Bed Doll patterns, I detest Barbies en masse however I adore crochet where you can be a bit clever and add extra bits to catch a judge’s eye.

Armed with all the above driving forces, whilst trawling through a store that enables vintage pattern buying (though – not entirely convinced that 2002 counts as ‘vintage’) I did espy something that made me pause…

I would presume that “Dinner at Netherfield” allows the avoidance of copyright issues from Miss Austen’s estate, those who may also being taking umbrage at the misspelling!

I found myself spending a great deal too much time (i.e. Any!) trying to work out who our Plastic Twosome are supposed to be, or are they just trying to crash the party?


If you can’t bribe them

Terrify them! or  How to get your Model to pose for a shoot when it’s all Fug.

The response I’ve always had to those who complain about the writing of a snark blog is that “No-one has a gun to your head, forcing you to read it.”

  True – look around, see?  No masked crocheter holding a .45 to your head threatening to redecorate the wall in an interesting new colour called “Hint of Brain”. 

You no like, you can go up to the left to the back button or up to the right to the search window and… look for something else.

If you’re a model and you’ve been presented with something less than stellar to wear perhaps the circumstances maybe different, depending on how much you need the next pair of Christin Louboutins.

What technique this photographer used – not sure but I’m intrigued as to what made this the best that the art director had to use…


I love the Russian crochet patterns as much as the next deranged wool-pig, but…..

the belt that looks like you’ve been eviscerated… not so much.

Anne Geddes’ Babies Always Smile….

Maybe this photographer hasn’t learnt the magic trick

Or that hat is freakin’ the baby out as much as it is me.

Beware – Outbreak of Urban Triffids Reported

Interior decoration (or the lack thereof) is a personal thing.

Some care not for clutter and opt for the minimalist look, intensely modernist colours and furniture a Spartan may start to feel is a tad lonely. Others are pulled to the other end of the spectrum and draw objects to them, as a rogue comet gathers planetoids as it rushes past.  My own interior decorating would love to be Country Chic, but is blurred somewhat by the Golden Retriever derived Fluff Bunnies browsing under the dining table, and the West Highland White who has taken up residence on top of same.

I am all for crocheted articles as part of the decor, as long as they have a) a practical purpose and b) are in keeping with the surroundings.  The pile of afghans at the end of the couch is frequently raided, and I knew my housemate was here to stay when I found her wrapped in a Round Ripple, soundly asleep on the sofa.

These ramblings bring me to today’s example of Crocheted Fug.  It is not particularly poorly executed, but I bring it to the forefront of Ugly Crochet Patterns because it is dingy, useless and so far from being in keeping with it’s surroundings to be almost terrifying in it’s badness.

There is also a certain level of implied terror, that one may fall back in a moment of passion, and be gnawed upon by the carnivorous monstrosities sprouting from one’s  lovenest.

That most Resident Evil: Things that eat keys

Welcome to 2011, and I apologise for the short break in communications.  For those of you who are familiar with Australia, and <WARNING – HORRIBLE MUSAK>  a poem by a homesick schoolgirl, mine is a country of droughts and… flooding rains.

We’re in the second at present, and donations to those 28,000 who have lost their homes can be made through:

And the concept of loss brings me firmly to today’s Crocheted Monstrosity.  I run a continual battle with The Handbag That Eats Keys and so I felt, at a visceral level, for the peson who has obviously, obviously, lost her keys, lipstick and possibly: a small child to this example of why acrylic yarn and prescriptions should not be combined.

There comes a time, when you have to throw it out

Every so often you do have to be hard hearted about your wardrobe.

Some things are never, ever, no matter how much reliance you place on the Detox diet, EVER going to fit again.  Some items are really those that time and fashion have forgotten.

Others, have felt the bite of verminous creatures: moths, mice and rampaging critters.

If the said garment falls into the first category, it is possible that a good home can be found on eBay, or some worthy cause – Goodwill, St Vincents etc will be grateful. Sometimes, even those relics lurking in the second row find new purpose with some one less fashion conscious as yourself , going to a theme party perhaps.

It’s the jersey that’s been attacked by a cat or in this case – I suspect a rabid velociraptor; that you shouldn’t try to flog as “Unique”

Even a dog would huck that out of it’s basket.

This isn’t What Not To Crochet, this is What Crochet Not To Salvage.

I suppose it is Christmassy

in a weird kind of way.

Today – for your festive spirit, I present the result of a fling between 3 balls of #10 cotton and an Advent calender.

Imagine the fun your Significant other can have, lifting a panel a day to reveal: Hee! A Nipple! and .. more adventures as he reaches parts south.

Don’t blame me – it’s the silly season!

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