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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Laptops SUCK and should be DROWNED and SHOT and BURNED and STONED (not in the good way, in the old fashioned, biblical sense) and then SMASHED UP and BURIED ALIVE and then DEAD and then ALIVE AGAIN WITH SPLINTERS IN THEIR EYES because they're too awkward and difficult to use.

Also - BT, because our internet broadband connection keeps fucking up and leaving me in a corner using my laptop which WON'T DO WHAT I TELL IT TO DO and makes me want to cry and makes He Who Only... wonder what he ever saw in me every time I thrown a tantrum the size of Ben Nevis.

He... just passed me a glass of wine and told me to "chill the fuck out". He's absolutely right, you know.


That's not even what I was going to talk about today.

Today, I want to talk about the fact that I look like this:

The words "Sun" and "Burnt", used side by side, and preceded by the words "OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SO" have been used many times today in connection with my appearance. It does not make me feel happy or confident or in any way cold. I am currently radiating more heat than a faulty nuclear reactor and MY GOD LABELS ON THE BACK OF CLOTHING FUCKING HURT.

The best thing about my sun burn is the fact that, on the two and a half hour trek we so wisely decided to take in THIRTY DEGRESS CELSIUS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY, I wore: (1) a vest top which used to belong to my friend Lorraine and used to be the top half of a pygama set; (2) a bra that criss-crosses at the back and (3) a small bag slung across my chest. Therefore, today my back looks LIKE A FUCKING RED AND WHITE UNION JACK. I HAVE BURNT THE UNION JACK INTO MY BACK.

This is not funny, y’all. Particularly during this World Cup time. Oh, the shame.


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