Thursday, 20 December 2012

Ho ho bloody ho

Bah humbug should really be my middle name(s) - (I have 2 in case you were wondering - Elizabeth Jane). I digress.

It's that time of year again - 'the most wonderful time of the year'. Christmas - dontcha just love it? Yes and no I would have to say. It is nice to have a break and spend time with loved ones but I do feel it all goes more than a bit OTT these days.

It starts in September (sometimes towards mid August) as you stealthily wander round Debenhams/M&S/Primark at the tail end of the sales, looking for bargains etc and you start to see xmas displays, a few garlands of tinsel, which become ever more pronounced. Then, the infiltration of xmas music, usually from October onwards. (Anyone else think that Noddy Holder must be the most smug bugger in the history of the universe - his wife must have strong earplugs)? I find it absurd. Let's start getting excited about Xmas at the end of November onwards; let's not wish 3/4 of the year away worrying about what size turkey we're going to buy and if Tarquin would prefer an i-pad or a google tablet in his stocking. OK, I don't have kids and I do appreciate that kids tend to get excited earlier on - but even so - reign it in a bit people.

Also, the whole point of Xmas does seem to have become lost in a quagmire of commercialism and in some cases downright greed. People seem more worried about stockpiling their trollies with enough brussel sprouts and stilton to feed a small continent rather than taking time to reflect on what's important. We are supposed to live in a Christian country and it doesn't get much more Christian than Xmas - but do we really care about Christ's birthday per se any more? I would say no. I hold my hands up and say that I do believe in God but never go to church (I think it's a very flawed institution) so I'm a massive hypocrite (ho hum) but if I get the opportunity, I love churches at xmas - carol services, stained glass; just the beauty of it all.

My hypocrisy also extends to another level - whilst I bemoan the inherent greed and commercialism; what am I doing to fight against it? Diddly bloody squat is what. Some people volunteer at hospices or homeless shelters: I have not done this before. I should and will actually think about it for next year.

It's a massive old cliche - but Xmas is not a happy time for everyone. Some people are alone, desperate, suicidal and dreading a time where their happiness and joy is supposed to be paramount. It's the inate saturation of the media et al that decrees: 'You WILL be happy, you WILL dress up lots, eat and drink too much and narrowly avoid snogging Roger from accounts at the Xmas party'. It's all a bit 'desperate'.

In any case, I heartily wish each and every one of you (or 1 of you plus the inevitable google spambots), a very merry Christmas and Happy New Year and genuinely hope 2013 is happy, peaceful and fun. I am going to disregard all I have written here and stuff myself with champers, mince pies and sausage rolls. Well, it is Xmas...

Oh, and as it goes, as far as I know, there is not a Roger in our accounts department. Oh well, maybe next year....

Wednesday, 31 October 2012

What IS feminism?

I have always been intrigued by the 'concept' of feminism and I guess as a woman, it is a term that cannot be avoided and must in some sense be reflected upon. Gosh, that's a very pompous sounding introduction, isn't it?!! What IS feminism and is it a good thing?

Of course, we have come a long way since the perception of bra burning, hairy armpitted hemp and cheesecloth procurers of the past - or have we?? It seems that if you are a woman in the public eye and you comment upon an issue involving women - i.e. Page 3; if you are opposed to such a neanderthal idea that women with their breasts exposed is news then you are called to task for being 'ugly' 'fat' 'frigid' as happened to MP Claire Short a few years back - and seems to happen regularly upon online debates of the issue. Watching This Morning recently, there was a debate about the issue and the woman who was against Page 3 - and who was, incidentally, very attractive - was accused (on twitter) of, amongst other things, being 'repressed' and 'frigid'. So, they couldn't diss her looks but clearly she has personality defects if she doesn't want tits with her cornflakes. Hmm...

One thing that does stick in my craw about the whole feminism debate is that as a woman, if you criticise other women, it is 'anti feminist' - goes against the so called 'sisterhood'. So, as a woman, if I express the opinion that perhaps Kylie might like to lay off the botox then I am somehow doing the sisterhood a disservice? If I say that Victoria Beckham needs a ginsters pasty? If I say that Katie Hopkins from The Apprentice is inutterably vile then I am 'anti feminist'? What rot. Women are just as fallible and critical as men and having opinions is surely a healthy thing? Should we button it and just up the ante on the man bashing? (Oh aren't they all bloody useless bless them - I mean, how would they cope with periods)??

I was very interested to read this article recently:

I think it's a pretty well written article and interestingly criticises the current feminist 'poster girl' - my girl crush Caitlin Moran. Her book 'How to be a Woman' has been huge and was a cracking read. I must admit, I was surprised at her tweet about the 'Girls' show and multi culturalism IS a huge issue that should not be shoehorned: Feminists are not just white middle class Oxbridge attendees...  Unfortunately, Dr Magnati does lose some of my respect by then going on to mention my nemesis Katie Price. CAN Katie Price and her ilk be feminists or indeed feminist role models? IMHO, no they bloody well can't. Price is infamous and if you judge success purely in monetary terms then she has been bloody successful. However, that success is purely attributed to her selling every grubby little aspect of her life - her tits, her fanny, her partners, her sex tape. This led to several offshoots of the brand - the ghostwritten books, the clothing tat - blah blah blah. Young girls now aspire to be like Price. Hey, don't bother with an education, just get your boobs enlarged, get a trout pout, sleep with a footballer and hey presto - you're a millionaire! Of course, Price isn't the only one who has done this but she has set a precedent and if I had a daughter I would be HORRIFIED if she wanted to be anything like this woman. Am I anti feminist for 'hating' on Price? No I bloody well am not - I'm a sentient human being with an opinion. (Of course, Dr Magnati herself has made mega bucks from sex but she is also hugely academic - does that make her any better? - Not really).... C'mon - this is a HUGELY clever woman who to 'make ends meet', sold her body for sex. That's not progress - that's the oldest profession in the book! (I'm not criticising prostitution per se - and I know many women have no choice - but if you HAVE the choice - that's different).

Feminism has allowed us women many advantages and to progress in the workplace - which is fab - but increasingly men are finding it tough. Interestingly (and sadly), suicide rates in the UK are now highest amongst young men between 19-24 who are feeling increasingly disenfranchised. Women can have kids now with no male presence required! Yes, there are still huge dichotomies in the workplace - i.e. pay - but is feminism 'helpful'? Does making the other sex feel increasingly alienated help? I'm not sure it does.. Perhaps there has to be a better way.

Tuesday, 4 September 2012

On an even keel...

Well hello there Blogosphere;

It seems like aeons ago I last wrote some senseless, mindless drivel, er, I mean blogged so I thought it was high time I got my arse into gear and put pen to paper - so to speak.

I have been feeling a lot better lately - you didn't ask but I am telling you anyway. My job is going well, nice people and no stress. No stupid targets, no unreasonable MD's calling every 5 minutes, no '10 visits a week to 10 non existent clients' and no unwashed tramps stinking of beer entering my consciousness. I have genuinely been calm, relaxed, happy and (relatively) anxiety free..Hurrah..... Until this morning - boo...

I was walking down the street to work when I became VERY dizzy and had to steady myself against the wall. No dear reader, I can't deny I like a drink but it's a bit too early even for me. I do get BPPV, which is where you get dizziness when you move your head into certain positions - but nothing like this. It didn't last long so I walked on and arrived at work. I told my boss and colleagues and they seemed genuinely concerned. When I looked in the mirror I can see why - my mascara had run and my hair was unkempt.. Hmm. Boss said to take it easy and go home - so I did.

I'm going to the docs on Friday and am sure it's probably an ear imbalance but of course in the back of my head I've got all sorts of illnesses and diseases it *could be*. I will not google I promise... *Googles*
*Only joking*

Thanks for listening if you did.

Thursday, 28 June 2012

50 Shades of Grey

OK, OK, the world and (particularly) his wife has got their M&S cotton thongs in a right old tizzy about this book, right? WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG.

I freely admit, shamefully, that I am an utter sheep and downloaded this 'book' onto my kindle like so many others to see what all the fuss was about. I didn't *need* to do such a thing but I did. Reams and reams of people have written about it, (including some of my blogging friends) and I felt compelled to write this. I wouldn't call it a review, more a scathing attack on life, the universe and everything. I appreciate some people have read this tome and have derived great enjoyment from it - it has sold trillions of copies to be fair - and fair play to those who have/are deriving some enjoyment from it - but to say that it's not for me, would be an understatement akin to saying that I am a bit old to make a career as a Miley Cyrus lookalike.

What was I expecting when I read this? Well, a bit of a chuckle I guess - a bit of a guilty pleasure like the Jackie Collins books I used to sneak into my holiday suitcases as a teenager. It's so bad, however, that it's not even given me a chuckle or a little 'frisson'. What it has exposed is that anyone can make a career as a writer. You don't need good writing skills, sensitive prose, good character analysis - just write some sex scenes and you too could be a billionaire. (I'm taking Jackie Collins out of the equation because she has been successful and her books are entertaining IMHO)... Fair play right? Er, actually, no. There are so many good writers out there who struggle to get published, who are writing intelligent things but not achieving any success - it kind of sticks in the craw. Yes, I accept that there is a market for 'Mummy Porn' (and whoever created that phraseology needs to be shot), but why can't Mummy Porn be well written and intelligent? Nobody uses the phrase 'Holy Cow' apart from Batman (thanks to Sarah Miles for quoting me on that one and also for giving me the inspiration/idea to write this piece).

I also totally appreciate that by writing about this work I am contributing to the hype. Irony is not lost on me dear readers.

I'm not a prude, I love swearing and sex isn't something that we should talk about in muffled tones like 9 year olds but is this tosh really liberating? Are women really rushing home to hump their partners after reading this? REALLY?????? Didn't you want to hump him/her before this? Perhaps I am taking this all too seriously - who knows.....

I've paraphrased a section of the text here.. (Don't sue me, it's just my interpretation):

'Holy Cow' shrieked Anastasia as Christian plunged his member into her gaping, wanting orifice. Gently clamping the handcuffs onto her wrist, Ana let out a shriek of pain and a giggle... 'Ooooh isn't it lovely being handcuffed like this?' she mused acutely. 'Holy Crap, I didn't wax yesterday, I'm such a goof'...
Afterwards they sat and ate a cheese sandwich and she agreed to be whipped whilst watching Judge Judy.
'Stop biting your lip Miss Steele'
'OK Sir'
*continues for several hundred pages*

COME ON. That is not erotic. That is a fucked up bloke who has no respect for women and despite his wealth and apparent good looks, the only way he can get his end away is to insist on total submission.


Anyway, I had best sign out now as I've got to dust hubby's nipple tassels and make his dinner.......

Friday, 11 May 2012

It's FASHION dahhhhhhlinks

In the spirit of it being a sober Friday evening (yes, am looking after myself by staying booze free for a while), I have decided to publish my very own celebrity fashion awards. Feel free to agree, disagree, applaud, wonder who half the 'celebrities' are or just stare wanly at the screen and wonder what on earth you're doing reading this utter drivel...


5) Alexa Chung. Obviously I am 'well jel' but every time I see this woman's face I have a very strong urge to punch it. Smug, malnourished twot who is seemingly famous for being bezzies with Anna Wintour and hanging off the arm of northern indie rockers. Sorry love - but brogues and ankle socks do not suit ANYONE over 13. Too try hard and needs to eat some fray bentos.

 4) The Olsen twins. 2 billionaire sisters who look like they've raided Mummy's dressing up box to star as Miss Havisham in Great Expectations. Need to use a hairbrush and find some clothes that fit.

3) Rachel Zoe. Hollywood stylist with the body of a 7 year old who also seems to wear clothes 15 sizes too big - probably because they don't actually make them in her size. Looks like an ageing turtle in lipstick in desperate need of some senokot.

2) Florence Welch. A flame haired, titian Goddess with a fabulous voice but memo to self: Paisley curtains, loafers and legwarmers are best left er, in the loft.

1) Katie Price. A woman with an alleged £30 million fortune who looks like she's ramraided Primark's discontinued warehouse with Stevie Wonder. Would look like a hooker if she was dressed head to toe in Valentino couture or a nun's habit. Nasty nylon hair, leggings and tit busting tops. But enough about her husbands.......


5) Victoria Beckham. Not a fan of the woman but she does wear some very nice clothes. A bit 'safe' but good style nonetheless. I've just paid Posh a compliment - may have to lie down in a darkened room for several yhears.

4) Lady Gaga. She dresses like a lunatic but she is doing her job - being an international pop star and creating attention for herself. Fabulous darlings - although don't think I'll be popping to Smithfield's market to recreate the infamous meat dress any time soon...

3) Cate Blanchett. Fab actress and wonderful style - chic, elegant and very, very stylish.

2) Tilda Swinton. Bat shit mental and wouldn't wear a lot of what she does but never plays it safe - always pushes boundaries and creates dramatic, quirky and interesting looks.

1) Kate Moss. Mings a bit nowadays - awful hair and skin (can't think why - crack is a real beauty enhancer) - but back in the day was astonishingly beautiful. That said, her style is consistent.. She is the epitome of a clothes horse and knows what suits her - looks best dressed down in skinny jeans, blazers etc. Effortlessly stylish.

Right that's it for now - I'm off to clear out my (busting at the seams) wardrobe....

Monday, 7 May 2012

Self indulgent witterings

I haven't blogged for a while... I wish I could say it's because I've been so desperately busy, living high on the hog and partying with A listers and earning money working as a freelancer for Caitlin Moran and drinking champers in Fleet Street.. But I haven't. Mainly, I've been existing in a little vaccum and temping in a weird little role at The Churchill hospital (more on that story later as Kirsty Wark would say)......

Mainly I have been attempting to overcome this damn awful panic and anxiety that seems to envelop me in ridiculously vast forms from time to time. I can't even describe it properly or do it justice - if it's not something you've experienced it's probably very, very hard to get your head round. & think yourself lucky if that is the case. Oh woe is me, woe is me - plenty of people suffer far more than I do - I know that - and - touch wood - my physical health is pretty good (can't remember the last time I had a cold). So, what is this all about then? What am I nervous about? I'm not actually sure... At my worst, I wake up shaking, feeling sick and with my head swimming (& no, that's not after a night on the sauce, this is just bog standard waking up stuff). I'm terrified of dying. I'm terrified of getting old. I'm terrified that there is something terribly wrong with me. We are ALL scared of these things, it just seems that a little switch goes off in my head and I let it get out of control. I've been on a pretty even keel for months and now it's back again. I've been getting dizzy spells in bed - doc says it's benign vertigo - but even then I am terrified I have some rare disorder that is yet to be discovered by the medical profession. (Perhaps Channel 5 will do one of their docs featuring the 'woman with an unexplained disorder'. No, hopefully not. I don't eat properly, I don't sleep, I can't concentrate - it's yucky.

Do I have a lot of stress in my life? No. No kids for one! Job that was stressful I left and have been temping ever since - not ideal - but not too bad. Yes, I have a few debts - who doesn't - and I have a wonderful husband who looks after me, listens to my endless panicky witterings and gives me big hugs. Why am I even writing this? To be fair, it's fairly cathartic. I am on medication and that does keep me on a (slight) even keel but I do need to look at other things - counselling - yoga, tai chi, anxiety focus groups - anything to get me out of myself..I freely admit that I need to give up wine for a mopnth or so... Whilst wine does take the endges off the panic, it actually compounds the problem in the long run so I am going to address that from today.

In some ways it's quite shameful. I'm temping at The Churchill and speaking to patients on a daily basis who are suffering from cancer and who are understandably terrified. When I walk into work through the ward there is usually some poor patient looking absolutely terrible and I wish I could kick myself and get a grip. It's not that simple though - rteally, if it was I would try it. Doc gave me 4 days' worth of diazepam - great stuff - but again, just masking the problem rather than getting to the bottom of it...

Thanks for reading and huge apologies for the self indulgent wallowing. Still, if a girl can't wallow self indulgently on her own blog - then when can she?

Saturday, 3 March 2012


Inspired by the great Sarah Miles blog and the person I most want to be when I grow up, Caitlin Moran; today's ramble, er, I mean blog, is about women and our relationship with each other; how we interact with each other and how we can ultimately be our own worst enemies.....

Women's magazines are the worst: Telling us in one fell swoop how we should be 'happy in our own skin' and 'don't conform to unrealistic expectations' turn the page and you will see 'RIHANNA HAS PUT ON WEIGHT' 'LOOK AT HOW SKELETAL POSH IS' 'HOW TO LOSE A STONE IN A WEEK'!!! As intelligent women who like buying mags to read in the bath (ahem), we are of course, all totally weight obsessed.. Aren't we? Erm, no. Look, I'm 40, I'm a shortarse, I'm considerably heavier than I was in my 20's but still not about to join a Dawn French modelling agency. I do watch what I eat and I do like to do a lot of walking. That's it. I'm never going to be a size 8 again and whilst it would be nice, unless I contract some weird flesh eating bug, I am unlikely to be ever again. I have gotten over it; there is FAR more to worry about in life. These magazines are incredibly disingenuous and seem to encourage a culture of competitiveness which IMHO is unhealthy and totally unecessary. Of course I could stop buying them, but then what would I bitch about on here, and what would I read in the bath?? (OK, Viz and Private Eye, but I digress)...

Being a woman is great in most part. I like 'being feminine', wearing make up, nice clothes, pampering (blimey I sound like Paris Hilton)..... It also has its downsides: Smear tests (hell on earth), periods, (ditto), health 'issues', worries about breast cancer, contraception, the menopause etc etc etc.... It's also great to have female friends to rely on. However, where women fall down in their interactions with each other (and I must stress at this point that I'm talking about acquaintances rather than close friends here) is in their attitude to women and children. I don't have children. There are many, many reasons why I don't. Am I going to tell you why? No, dear reader; it is none of your business (lovely as you are). Do I regret not having them? YES! Am I going to spend the rest of my life stressing about what I have missed out on? NO! Do I hate children? NO! Do I like reading and hearing about friends kids? YES! I wouldn't dream of going up to someone and asking them if they regretted having their kids, so why do people find it acceptable to ask me why I don't have children? In a previous job some woman asked me this and then said 'how strange that you don't have children'. Now, tactless does not even cover it. For all she knows we are unable to; I might have suffered multiple miscarriages; I might be recovering from an illness or I might just think that they are the most evil little twits on the face of the earth and don't want them or the indignity of stretch marks. Whatever - NONE OF YOUR BLOODY BUSINESS. I wouldn't go up to someone with a pushchair, look in and go 'ugh, what an ugly child'.

Men don't do this I've noticed, it's always women. As if, because my uterus hasn't fulfilled its full potential, I may as well drink myself into oblivion and let my chin hairs grow down to my knees (I have done this btw but I always give in and pluck them). I hate this so called 'childless v children' dichotomy. Most of my friends have kids and I love seeing them; I don't harbour resentment and we are all intelligent enough to see that the grass is never greener - all our lives have advantages and disadvantages. Me and lovely hubs can go out and get hammered at the drop of a hat; spend the day in our PJ's watching trash; similarly, friends with kids have that lovely family unit and can have so much fun with their kids. We're all happy but with a smattering of 'what if's' - it's human nature. Instead of looking at what you don't have - focus on what you DO have - a lot of good things and a REALLY heavy duty pair of tweezers.

Friday, 10 February 2012

Jan Moir & 'Internet Bullying'

Now, first things first. Jan Moir is a hateful twat. That's better. More on her later.

Internet bullying is of course a recent phenomena and a rather unpleasant one. There is absolutely no excuse for terrorising people per se but doing it behind a computer screen; making threats, being abusive and vile makes it somehow more subversive and sinister. I freely admit that I have taken part in 'forum wars' before. (I don't need to make the point that I lead a pointless and tragic existence - if you're reading this, chances are you've read my previous blogs so you already know this;-)) I got on the wrong side of someone a few years ago who took it upon herself to stalk me via my hubby's blog, find a VERY unflattering pic of me and post it on the Digital Spy forums. To say I was shocked and upset is an understatement. In hindsight, getting into spats with her online and deliberately baiting her prior to this wasn't my finest hour and I am very careful these days about who I interact with online and what I tell them.

Internet bullying is the subject of the delightful Jan Moir's latest column. If you are unfamiliar with Jan Moir or her work, consider yourself blessed. Moir is a bitter, spiteful, old hack who is a regular writer for the Daily Mail (nuff said). Her most spectacular work in recent years was her attack on Stephen Gately when the poor guy was hardly cold in his grave. I'm not a Stephen Gately fan and I loathe Boyzone; just so you know - I have no personal agenda here.... Prior to his death he didn't impinge on my consciousness on any level. He died in 2009 in his sleep with a previously undiagnosed heart condition. He was also gay and in a civil partnership. A few days after his death, Moir took it upon herself to more or less accuse of him being a junkie alcoholic who died a seedy death. Moreover, Moir made the startling assertion that civil partnerships per se are doomed to failure because Gately died AND SO DID MATT LUCAS'S EX HUSBAND. Yes, you read that correctly. 2 tragic instances and Moir makes this crass and repulsive claim. Furthermore, the coroner's report was not yet available and Moir took it upon herself to wax lyrical on Gately's supposed squalid existence; suggestions of orgies, drugs etc. Beyond upsetting for his partner, family and friends. Following the rightful outcry of this piece, Moir made a half hearted apology that bleated the usual bollocks about freedom of speech and morality. Ugh.

Today, Moir writes about a poor young rape victim who was bullied online. An absolutely awful story. Moir is correct that there is no excuse for such vileness. However, what Moir conveniently then forgets is that there is no excuse for her version of cyber bullying either. She goes on to make the astonishing assertion that SHE is regularly the victim of cyber bullies:

This triggered a cyber blunderbuss of death threats and picaresque abuse that became almost comic in its intensity. I have never complained about this and do not do so now, feeling only that I cannot write about online bullying without briefly mentioning my own experience. My home address was wilfully repeatedly posted on Twitter, a passive incitement to violence which the police did not take lightly.
That same week, I was stopped on my street by four men who wanted to know which house was mine. All I can say is that if they were vigilantes, they weren’t very observant ones.

Read more:

A young rape victim being bullied online is NOWHERE near equatable for a backlash following a vicious attack on a dead homosexual. Yes, no excuse for the small minority who took it too far and tried to find her home address etc, but I suspect she has exaggerated that aspect of this for her own ends anyway - (sue me if I'm wrong) but Moir dear, it wasn't a minority who found your article homophbic, it was a decent majority. You are of course crassly comparing your own self induced publicity to this poor innocent girl - absolutely DISGUSTING. You are a journalist who writes offensive things for money and as such should expect a backlash (& no I'm not talking vigilantism, I'm talking people commenting on your idiocy). She uses the usual bollocks about women being bullied online - no, there are plenty of fantastic female journalists who arfen't bullied because they have brain cells and aren't deliberately provocative and defensive. Hang your head in shame you despicable troll.

Sunday, 29 January 2012

Getting old....

I am officially old and boring. I suppose I have known this for some time now; but the harsh reality hit me as I lay in the bath this evening and put Radio 1 on which was playing 'the hit parade' aka the top 40. I didn't know ANY of the songs, or indeed, the artists. Florida (spelt Flo'Rida or similar apparently).. Last I heard it was a state in the US, but now, he is, apparently a rapper. Lots of loud 'plinky plonky' songs. I may as well have been reading a handbook on quantum physics - I probably would have known more (and what I know about quantum physics is how to spell it).

I remember sneering about old people when I was young. & when I say old people, I mean anyone over the age of 25. (Once you get past a certain point though, you become 'old'. I have (unbelievably I know), become less tolerant over time and more ranty. I thought I might chill out a bit more as the slide to retirement started - but no... Anyway, I digress)... I used to think I was invincible, that old age happened to people who deserved it and that I would be able to go through life until I was at least 80, eating lots of junk, never exercising and staying 8 stone. (This became cruelly snatched away at the age of 27ish - yeah, thanks for that)...

People say 'age is just a number', 'you're only as old as you feel'. True, I suppose, but here a just a few of the ailments/symptoms that have gotten worse as age has increased:

More chin hairs. Hubs and I have already decided that I will have laser treatment when it gets 'too' much. Also, it's a bit cringey when we're in the pub and he asks me to hold still whilst he offers to pull out my hairs.......

Memory loss. I used to have a photographic memory - bordering on genius, even if I do say so myself. At uni, I starred in Othello as Othello (just don't ask) and I learnt the whole part in 1 week. I struggle to remember my shopping list these days. Well, maybe not, but my days of learning plays in 7 days are long gone.

Grey hairs. As someone who was a bottle blonde for over 20 years, I'm not entirely sure when the greys actually started appearing, but I can't keep the buggers away now. I have to dye my brown hair religiously every 4 weeks now.

Eyesight. I am very lukcy to have been blessed with flawless eyesight, but I can no longer read bus signs from miles away *sigh*

Not knowing any songs or artists in the top 40. Actually, that's no bad thing.....

Thursday, 19 January 2012

Loathed celebrities - non exhaustive list.

I enjoy revelling in celebrity gossip; it's fun and it is fantastic stress relief. Yes, perhaps my time could be spent more prudently: I could volunteer to do some charity work, I could do a sponsored walk to help Guatamalean orphans; I could study for an MA. Nah, sod that; I shall stick to slagging off celebs - it's fun and that's why I do it. To that end, for your exclusive delectation, here is my top 5 hit list of persistently vile celebrity offenders. (Subject to change at any time)....

5.) Lorraine Kelly. A woman with a 20 year journalistic career who has the depth and journalistic integrity of a puddle. Everyone is 'lovely'. She would interview the yorkshire ripper and coo absurdly over him: 'Oooh, you're one of the most prolific serial killers in Britain, how lovely, super, well done'. Her TV show treats women like idiots - 'bags, shoes diets; that's all you care about'. On the rare occassions they give her something tougher to tackle she quickly reverts back to type. They've recently awarded her a CBE. Fuck me.

4)Kerry Katona. A woman so pointless that even our milkman's cousin's postman has more of a right to fame than her. Started out miming in a girlband, divorced and then became a train wreck. Constantly bleats about her difficult childhood (and having seen her ghastly Mother I don't doubt it) but has done nothing to protect her own children against the same fate; indeed, even spending vast amounts of time locked in her loo with 10 grams of marching powder and a box of Lambrini. Constantly claims that she's 'cleaned up 'er act' and that we should cut her some slack. Why? Oh, OK, you've stopped doing coke and have divorced the bloke that squandered all your money - er, well done. You're a grown fucking woman, start taking responsibility for your actions. Seems to spend her time now in 'before' and 'after' bikini shoots in Closer. Put them away love, fuck off and look after your children.

3) Dan Wootton. A showbiz 'journalist'.that seems to get showbiz scoops 3 weeks later than everyone else and then shrieks on Twitter about this exclusive. Awful, awful man who seems to spend his time sweating profusely on Lorraine Kelly's sofa. Anyone who disagrees with him is immediately branded 'homophobic'. Spends his time tweeting abuse to people like Lily Allen. I like slagging off celebs but I don't tweet them reams of abuse. Ugh.

2) Joan Collins. Awful old ham who makes the cast of Hollyoaks look like oscar winners. Spends her days saying how fat British women are and how we've all let ourselves go and then decides to advertise snickers. Desperate for work love? Says that women's priority is to look good for their partner.. Hmm, maybe stop with the polyfilla dear and start practising what you preach. Hideous.

1) Katie Price. Ah dear old Jordan; where do I start? Vile creature that used to be beautiful but has now plasticised herself into an orange troll with comedy knockers and red rum veneers. Claims to be a businesswoman but has no sense: Got her underwear range axed by Asda by making crude comments about her surgery scars and comparing them to breast cancer sufferers. Spent her early 'career' with boyband members toes up her fundament (don't ever google Katie Price sex tape). Shags bloke after bloke after bloke and seemingly has no ability to behave like anything but a vile harpy. Monotone voice which is like nails down a blackboard. Releases book after book after book stating the same old shite and my only shock is that she hasn't allowed cameras into her smear tests. She will always be my number 1. You're welcome.

Wednesday, 18 January 2012


January. More depressing than a night in a mine shaft with Leonard Cohen. I must confess that dry January fell *slightly* awry at the weekend; but in my book, 14 days with no booze is almost as good as 31 days. Almost. OK, not at all. I can blame nobody but myself and the delicious wine menu at Cafe Tarifa on Cowley Road - oh, and the discount we were offered as we are such regulars. I didn't know whether to be delighted or appalled - I'll stick to the former methinks.

On a more positive note, I now have at least 3 months of work secured - going back to publishing sales - good money and surely less stressful than recruitment? Time will tell. In any case, has come at exactly the right time, before my account goes into the red. Have enjoyed living off Granny's money, but need to go back, head first into reality now. Finally, I can enjoy my last week of freedom, knowing that I will be earning money from next week. I have generally been appalled with the agencies I have signed up with (with notable exceptions as already mentioned); it has been a real eye opener seeing it as an actual candidate.

 Anyway, am merely repeating myself and this is all utter self indulgent drivel so I will bid you goodnight and adieu - until next time.

Saturday, 14 January 2012


I have a new man in my life. He is sleek, very clever, and able to retain lots of knowledge simultaneously..... Now, before you go gossiping with the neighbours and branding me an indecent harlot with no shame, I haven't divorced my lovely hubby Graeme; I am merely the proud recipient of a brand new kindle whom I have christened Kevin... (I always call toys by the first initial of what they are i.e. Percy the Penguin, Bertie the Bear. Yes, I am incredibly sad. If we'd ever had kids I would have called a boy something beginning with B and a girl something beginning with G. I suspect you get the drift)....

My kindle love-in has come as something of a surprise; not least of which to me. I am a self confessed bibliophile and a complete book snob. We have reams and reams of bookshelves stuffed with wonderful books, all alphabetical and all in author preference. Julie Burchill mingles cosily with Dostoyevsky (sic); Salman Rushdie and William Boyd co-exist with Ian McEwan & Martin Amis etc.. I think Peter Carey and Bret Easton Ellis have even struck up a bit of a friendship... I adore bookshops; the smell of a fresh, crisp new book. Perhaps the intellectual equivalent of a panty sniffer... (& no, I am NOT before you start; not least of which because gussets frighten me)..... I despise chick lit and actually threw 'Bridget Jones's Diary' in the bin as it affronted my senses so much... I have openly sneered at kindles; why would I want one when I have perfectly beautiful books to read? I will never use a kindle - how pointless.. I was cross with G for buying me one as I didn't really want one.. However, as soon as I started on it, I haven't put it down. Yes, it is a lot easier to carry than a hardback and especially in bed and on holiday this is a real bonus. It can (shock, horror), co exist with actual, tangible books - yay!!! This is PROGRESS peeps....

(I can't sniff it though - maybe I should seek therapy)....

Wednesday, 11 January 2012

Happy New Year!

OK, 11 days too late, but happy new year to all my readers - all 3 of you plus a few random spambots no doubt;-) 'Tis 2012 already - my 41st year - er, yikes. I am very, very anti new years' resolutions in general; however, this year, I have endeavoured to have a dry January (going well thus far and surprisingly easy, even with parents in tow this weekend - last year within 20 mins of my Dad's arrival I had cracked open the merlot) and to take my time to find a decent, well paid job (again, going well thus far - well, the taking my time bit anyway).

It's always weird taking stock at this time of year - especially because it is invariably a cold, depressing and dank time of year and most of us are totally skint. I am about to make a shocking confession - I am quite enjoying being unemployed. I NEED to find a job ASAP - purely for financial reasons - but if I could be professionally unemployed I think I would be quite good at it. In the spirit of taking stock, here is my (entirely facetious) list of my goals for 2012:

Start a drug habit. Start with valium and barbiturates; work my way up to a crack pipe by March.

To become a Z list celebrity. To facilitate this, I am going to start going to Chinawhites in a micromini and boob tube and attempt to seduce some zelebrity - i.e. Dean Gaffney.

Make a sex tape with said celebrity (OK, I'm sorry - intense mind bleach needed).

To do the statutory zelebrity weight loss 'journey'. At the moment, I am a size 14. I intend to eat my way to a size 24, sell my story to 'Reveal' magazine and then get a free gastric bypass, pretend I did it all properly and then release a weight loss DVD (£24.99 in all bad retailers). My 'before' shot will be me looking lardy and miserable, the 'after' shot will be airbrushed to within an inch of its' life, covered in fake bake and with a gurning Kerry Katona style smile.

Rehab for said crack habit. Will relapse and end up in a pool of vomit in Chinawhites.

To honour my new status, I will take part in a celebrity show: 'Celebrity Dancing on Ice Karaoke sing off on a farm weight loss special'. I will win - thanks in most part to my agent - a spurious chap who also represents some bird that used to be in Liberty X and Lembit Opik.

Of course, this is all nonsense but it kept me entertained - if no-one else... What I really intend to do is more writing, less stress, cut down on booze after January; address various health issues head on and attempt to come off medication, more (or indeed some) exercise, join the gym (ha) and dust off my bicycle which hasn't seen my posterior perched on it since 2009...... Right, am off to join the 'Chinawhites' mailing list....