Sunday, 29 August 2010


Anyone who follows me on Facebook will know I'm something of a prolific user. And that's putting it lightly. Links, thoughts, musings and rants pout forth perhaps not as quick as water, but maybe as steadily as treacle from a spoon.

This past month I've been ranting and raving about all things political. Whether it's the Institute of Financial Studies claiming police forces might be cut by 40% or paedophile transsexuals evading jail terms because the sentencing judge couldn't bear to put her in a prison, I've had an opinion. Well it's unsurprising really. Any of my regular readers will know I'm something of an opinionated bitch, if occasionally a bit soppy and usually staunchly libertinistic. People want me that way. If I get too political, their ears start bleeding as their brains melt. They can't understand how things might not be what they seem.

And now I've had to promise myself of a return to more frivolous statuses. It's all going to be: 'Wow! What a big cock he had!' and 'Rule #247: just because he's less good looking than you, it doesn't mean he won't hurt you'.

So let's start by saying how glad I am that, as I write this, it's the weekend and I have a shag lined up. I've been horny as sin ever since it started warming up, and my DVD collection is starting to get rather sticky. It doesn't matter how often I pull, I still get horny four times a day, without fail.

Which leads me to my next frivolous point: do not mix class A substances with herbal viagra and then go into a dodgy gay bar with too many UV lights. Seriously. The world will appear to turn purple and you'll delight in telling everyone.

And next time I get drunk, don't let me eat dodgy takeaway donner kebabs. Or as I call them, listeria specials. Though the dicky stomach helps me lose the weight afterwards, I can't stand all the time on the bog.

There. Was that shallow enough for you? No? Well I can't be arsed writing anymore—my taxi's waiting outside to take me for my weekly eyelid rejuvenation and my Krug is getting warm!

[Originally published in Bent:]

Sunday, 22 August 2010


Sometimes life can be boring. Sometimes you've just dug the hole so deep you can't get back out again. Sometimes you need to leave town, change your wardrobe and reinvent yourself. Well if you do, here are my top ten methods to becoming reborn:

1.Get a new job. This is the easiest. A change in career often changes the way you see yourself and other people see you. By this, I don't mean moving from the checkouts at Netto to the checkouts at Aldi. I mean, packing in a soul-destroying job in admin and becoming an interior designer, or ditching your McBurger uniform and opening a Michelin-starred restaurant. Of course, not everyone has ambition, drive and talent, which brings me to my next suggestion . . .

2.Change your appearance. Chop off that fringe that's become your hallmark. Get a tan. Grow some designer stubble. Work out. Swap All Saints for True Religion, or denim for leather, or trousers for kilts. Trust me, it'll work. Think about when they rebrand cereal. The first thing they do is change the packaging. I'm sure you're just as dry and flaky inside, so it's sure to work.

3.Change gender. Maybe this is part of the above, but it goes further than that. You might become a drag queen, wearing a palm tree as a hat and bog rolls as heels, or you might go the classier route and chop it all off downstairs. At least then you can wear all the Louboutins you want without feeling like a fetishist.

4.Become a dolphin. Ever see that episode of South Park? No? Moving on then . . .

5.Commit identity theft. Make sure you find a millionaire. Take out as many credit cards and loans as you can. Use the money to buy yourself a new passport, a new home and a new life in LA. Of course, pay for everything in cash so there's no audit trail, and don't blab about your exploits on Twitter.

6.Fake your own death. This lets you do the above, although no millionaire is needed, but you'll have to stick to spending whatever insurance money you can get hold of, so may have to emigrate a little closer to home instead (but flights to Marbella are pretty cheap these days). Good tip: don't get photographed with loved ones and don't ever stage your disappearance with a canoe.

7.Find a mad scientist. Then he can play with your DNA and turn you into a lizardman warrior, or Alice from Resident Evil, or the alien-human Ripley clone from Alien: Resurrection, or the Invisible Man. Just try not to end up like Jekyll and Hyde. If you want to show the world your bad side, just let them see you after your latest seventeen hour drinking session, vomiting into the toilets at Cruz 101.

8.Move cities. This is a bit more costly than buying a new wardrobe, and a bit more realistic than finding a mad scientist, but if you move far enough away so no one will know you, then you can pretend to be whatever you want. All those rumours everyone heard in your hometown will be long behind you . . . but don't repeat the same mistakes, or you'll soon have to move again.

9.Kill everyone you know. That way, no one will remember what a See You Next Tuesday you've been.

10.Steal someone else's face and have it grafted onto your own at some shady plastic surgeon's. It worked for me.

[Originally published in Bent:]