Monthly Archives: March 2013

What Your Pet Says About You

Let's face it, if you die alone at home, they'll eventually eat your face off

Let’s face it, if you die alone at home, they’ll eventually eat your face off

With more than 50% of households owning a pet, our furry friends are truly every much a part of our family as those other cunts you’re related to. But what does your pet say about you? Which personality traits do you and other pet owners share, that made you drawn to chose your pet type in the first place? You’d be surprised at just how much your type of pet reveals about the type of person you are!

Here are just a few of common traits that pet owners possess:


Common Personality Trait: You frequently required, but did not avail of, the intervention of Social Services during your neglect-filled childhood

He can see it in your eyes.

He can see it in your eyes.


Common Personality Trait: You are very unappealing to the opposite sex


Common Personality Trait: You are the only person who thinks your man-ponytail is cool


Common Personality Trait: That piss smell in your house is all on you


Common Personality Trait: You’ve had more rubber mattress-protectors that most other people have had hot dinners


Common Personality Trait: The woman you’ve imprisoned in your basement is due any day now

Having the ability to talk is irrelevant when parrots don't have the heart to tell you to lose the 'tache

Having the ability to talk is irrelevant when parrots don’t have the heart to tell you to lose the ‘tache


Common Personality Trait: You dream of also curling up into a little ball and having your cotton woll bed mop up your tears of loneliness


Common Personality Trait: You own a few bits of Harley Davidson memorabilia, but no Harley Davidson


Common Personality Trait: You think nothing of wearing a fleece with a few huskies scattered in a snowy forest depicted on it

And for all you owners of less common animal types…

Teacup Version of Any Breed of Animal

Common Personality Trait: You’ve never saw anything through to the end in your life


Common Personality Trait: You’re below the poverty line

Helper Monkey

Common Personality Trait: You got yourself into this mess and it shouldn’t be up to the monkey to get you out



Ant Farm

Common Personality Trait: You often wonder what you’re going to do when your parents die and you can’t live in their garage anymore

So there you have it, folks- what your type of pet says about you. And if you’re reading this and shaking your head in disagreement at your own pet personality type, never fear- we are all thinking it behind your back either way.

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One Hundred Things I Hate About Life


Wahey! This is officially The Thinking Gal’s 100th Post!

So what better way to celebrate than by rhyming off 100 things that annoy the fuck clean out of me so that you can understand why I’m such a moaning cunt a little bit better? Probably lots of better ways. But here they are anyway:

1. Hypocritical bastards

2. Shopping centres

3. Snow in March

4. Tomatoes being poncily described as ‘vine tomatoes’, as if there’s another way to grow tomatoes.

5. Musicals

6. Flapper dresses worn by girls who aren’t as slaggy as the rest of the group

7. Inspirational quotes on Facebook by people whose behaviour couldn’t be less inspirational if they tried… which they are too lazy to do.

8. Joey Essex

9. Kids today

10. People who say ‘sick’ when describing something good

11. Holly Willoughby

12. The Common Cold being called ‘Flu’

13. Leaving it to mellow if it’s only yellow

14. People who ‘LOL’ with a straight face

15. Old people who Tweet

16. Russell Howard and his ”good news”

17. Desperate wannabes who call Kim Kardashian ‘Kimmie <3’

18. People who start diets every Monday


19. The one who incessantly makes it known he sleeps around from One Direction

20. The one who looks like a woman from One Direction

21. The Jedwardy Irish one who keeps saying things are ‘Sick’ from One Direction

22. The other two from One Direction

23. People who Belieb

24. The amount of product placement in Pitbull’s songs

25. Diet versions of proper cakes

26. Zooey Deschanel

27. The unmitigated snobbery of Ted from How I Met Your Mother

28. Little Mix

29. Actually, everyone off X Factor. And you can fuck Leona Lewis into that category, too.

30. Stupid girls

31. Stupid men

32. People who say they don’t like things when they really mean that they don’t want to try anything new

33. Vain people whose appearance aren’t enough to quantify their vanity (but still take awkward semi-nude photographs for us all to laugh at on Facebook)

34. Catchphrases

35. No mental breakdowns on Biggest Loser USA

36. Wanking feckin’ bankers

37. Buses

38. Littlewoods

39. Caravan living

40. The word ‘Totes’

41. Texting as a form of prolonged communication

42. Joey Essex one more time

42. Microchips

43. Sky TV, Broadband and all the other sub-par services they offer

44. Simon Cowell

45. Racists who say ‘Not trying to be racist, but…’ at the start of racist statements

46. The Americanisation of everything

47. Hipsters

48. Zebra-print


49. People who clap like seals at anything that comes out of Will.I.Am’s mouth

50. The acceptance of Cheryl Cole as a legitimate human being

51. Anything described as a ‘National Treasure’

52. Shitty ‘celebrity’ versions of already grim TV programmes, except for the awkwardness of watching a bunch of non-entities trying to figure out who the other participants are

53. The small fucking portions on Masterchef

54. The phrase ‘Odds and Sods’

55. Vicky Binns

56. Everything about Kerry Katona

57. Ugg boots with denim skirts. Still.

58. Hashtagging things in a non-Twitter setting

59. Joey Essex again

60. Ant and Dec

61. The incorrect belief that Marilyn Monroe was a size 16

62. George at Asda

63. Watching Karl Pilkington trying not to smirk at how funny he thinks his contrived antiquated viewpoints are on ‘An Idiot Abroad’

64. Pizza Express

65. The little cartons of fruit in supermarkets that exist because it has become acceptable to expect never to cut your own fruit

66. People who bring their kids to Burger King every Saturday

67. Films about people who try to make it as a dancer

68. When you walk into someone’s house and it smells but eventually you don’t notice the smell because you’ve caught it too

69. ‘Pacific’ instead of ‘Specific’

70. Weightwatchers

71. People who specify that they can drive in their Facebook ‘Basic Info’, as if it’s a huge achievement

72. The fact that it takes a horsemeat scandal for people to think, ‘Hang on, what if supermarkets lie about what goes into processed food?’


73. George Osbourne

74. Women who describe their fondness for Mila Kunis as a ”girl crush”

75. Black trousers in non-office settings

76. Superscrimpers on Channel 4’s disproportionate validity to smugness ratio

77. Rip Off Britain

78. The Nolan sisters

79. Fifty Shades of shut the fuck up, the fact that you read this isn’t shocking anyone

80. Justin Bieber’s mum

81. The whole storyline between Kurt and Sarah Jessica Parker on Glee

82. Glee

83. Anything to do with the Harlem Shake

84. Any Youtube clip that goes viral and attracts comments like ‘LOOOOL’ and ‘LMFAO. Plz Justin Bieber tweet me’

85. Cunts who tweet Justin Bieber things like ‘I’d die happy if @JustinBieber would just RT this. I’m probably not special enough, though’, as if he’s going to fall for your reverse psychology. He doesn’t fucking care!

86. Monster Munch

87. All-denim ensembles. Didn’t work for Britney and Justin, not going to work for anybody else.

88. Rita Ora

89. Richard Branson’s jazzhandsy approach to being attention-seeking in business.

90. The fact that Apprentice contestants don’t get taken out the back and shot after being fired.

91. Smirnoff Ice

92. The crocodile tears of each and every Secret Millionaire

93. Payday loan ads. Considering they’re the only industry making money these days, they could up their budget to more than 25 quid.

94. Anything by Ed Hardy’s sweatshop of broken dreams and rape by Pauly D

95. Katy Perry’s faked stupidity wrapped in self-delusion of astute business-mindedness wrapped in actual stupidity

96. Coco-T

97. BBC4

98. Jamie Oliver not understanding that everyone doesn’t have a £30 weekly carrot-budget

99.Driving cunts who don’t think to thank you for letting them in when they were in the wrong lane, usually as some sort of time saving measure while the rest of us just wait behind them like chumps.

100. David Spade

Ok, now that that’s out of the way, I’m going to go celebrate by punching a wall and spending tonight in A&E.

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How To Fix The Economy

With the 2013 Budget looming, we are all shitting bricks as we sit tight and wait to hear whether we should throw out that tin of old artichokes that expired in July 2007, or hold on to it incase we’re so poor come Christmas that’ll it’ll be taking the place of a turkey.

Since he became Chancellor in 2010, George Osbourne promised a rebalancing of investments and exports, to aim to somewhat rectify the UK’s record peacetime budget deficit, to retain the UK’s AAA status and deliver a robust economy. Has he achieve any of this? Has he fuck.



So here’s my own suggestions of stuff to stick into the budget. If I get enough positive feedback, I’m going to send George Osbourne a copy of the following, along with a slightly late, or incredibly early, Valentine’s Day card.

Cunt Tax

Like ordinary tax, but in direct proportion to how much of a cunt you are perceived to be nationwide. The best bit about Cunt Tax is that most rich people are cunts anyway and can easily afford it, and for the poor cunts who can’t afford it, they’ll have to work it off in community service and you won’t even feel sorry for them because they’re such a cunt.

Negative Tombola

Misfortunate enough to have ever went to a second-hand charity sale in a church hall? Me too, and they always have a fucking Tombola stand. With the game needing modernising anyway, why don’t they change the rules so that after purchasing a ticket, winners have to pay more money as their prize, and then all the copper proceeds go towards fixing the economy. Which probably really just goes towards paying for things like duck ponds and posh limos to Debenhams for MPs.


Only joking. Next!

Nationwide Raffle

It shouldn’t be up to the average man to save the economy, considering it was wrecked by a bunch of rich fuckwits who all ended up with plenty of money. But it probably will be. So with that in mind, why don’t we just have one big massive raffle? Tickets should cost a pound, and if we all buy at least one, with gambling addicts making up the rest, that would probably give us a fair bit to work with. The winner gets to personally boot the royal family out of Buckingham Palace and live there themselves.

Hahaha! It's funny because it's taking our economic state out of context and putting it in the context of road signs, and it works! Hahahahaha etc.

Hahaha! It’s funny because it’s taking our economic state out of context and putting it in the context of road signs, and it works! Hahahahaha etc.

Invent A New Currency

We don’t have any money, but what if there was another type of currency that we could all use to operate the economy? Then we could just start from scratch again. And if we pick something like rice, it would give poor people a turn to be rich, seeing as it’s only fair that everyone gets a go. Better yet, we could set the worth of rice to be like, a billion quid per kilo, and then it would only take a couple of bags of Tesco own brand to pay off the national debt.

Ignore The Deficit

The economic state is a fairly serious thing, but in all seriousness, has anyone actually saw the deficit? Has anyone actually saw money changing hands? Because I haven’t. It’s not like there’s a guy waiting on his money and he’s about to send the bailiffs round to smack you in face and steal your car. So why don’t we all just ignore it and it’ll probably just fuck off and leave us alone? If the guy wants his money back, we can just be all like, ‘What money? We don’t know what you’re talking about’.

And there you have it- my foolproof tips for fixing the economy. Let’s see if any of them feature in the Budget 2013. George Osbourne- if you’re reading this, you can use any or all of these ideas, but only if you accept my ‘In a relationship’ request on Facebook.

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How To Use An iPad If You’re A Woman

'Is there an App for dusting?'

‘Is there an App for dusting?’

Recently, I read a review for a tablet computer written by some man-cunt who said that this particular tablet, compared with the iPad, was substantially more suited to female users, as it was easy to use and responded better to a ‘daintier touch’. Seriously.

I own an iPad and find it fits my needs perfectly, but then again, I have quite mannish hands and therefore, I was probably just thudding away at the screen like a big clumsy bloke. Also, seeing as my brain is smaller than a man’s, and considering I was probably too busy with ironing and making sandwiches, it never occurred to me that women needed our own technology because we are just fucking inferior idiots.

If you didn’t get the memo that the iPad was actually the technological Yorkie and bought one by accident, then here’s my step-by-step guide for using your iPad if you’re a woman.

Step One: The Box

After driving badly home with your new iPad, go to your sewing box and retrieve your ribbon-cutting scissors. Cut through the sellotape and remove the iPad from the box. Make sure the nearest man rewards you with a pat on the arse.

Step Two: Charge

Your iPad may need charging prior to use. Don’t panic- plug the zigger zagger into the zipper zapper and busy yourself in the kitchen for a few hours until the tablet has been fully charged. You’ll know this has been achieved when you hear a ringing noise, but when you go to answer the phone, Sally, Joan or Pam aren’t on the line to ask you for a good recipe for apple pie. Silly- that ringing noise is just the iPad letting you know it’s ready to use.

Careful, Mary! Make sure you dry those hands before use! Silly bitch.

Careful, Mary! Make sure you dry those hands before use! Silly bitch.

Step Three: Set-up

Set-up may take some time so it’s best to fetch your better half’s slippers and pipe before you settle down to read all the big words. Ensure you are sitting next to a man so that when the iPad prompts you to enter the time, date, and location, you’ll be able to ascertain these correctly.

Step Four- Apps

A huge advantage that tablets possess over your old differ doofer is that you can download apps. When you have been successful guided through set-up, click on App Store (push super hard on the screen so it registers your touch) and go to ‘Search’. Type in words related to your interests, such as ‘Housework’, ‘Giggling’ and ‘George Clooney’ and download as many as you like before Stella starts on Sky One.

Step Five- Internet

Download an App that allows you to access the internet (ask a man- I don’t know), and from there, you can sign up for Google Alerts on topics like ‘menopause symptoms’, ‘Kim Kardashian’ and ‘tea towels’ by clicking on things aimlessly until you collapse in a fit of giggles and someone shows you.

And it’s as easy as that, girlfriend! Next week: How To Pretend To Read Serious Newspapers.

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How To Live It Up Like Kerry Katona

Graceful as a gazelle.

Graceful as a gazelle.

Glorified prostitute and big messy embarrassment, Kerry Katona, is the darling of daytime TV, the belle of banal bollocks and the mare of the menopausal magazines. In short, she’s the human equivalent of a cigarette butt being flicked into an empty tin of lager.

But why does she feature in so many of my posts? Because she’s so fucking irritating.

Irritatingly brilliant.

To be fair, I’m clearly just jealous of her hilarious wit, her glamorous life, her presence ont’ Freeview channels and her general chippy-chips existence. I want to be Kerry Katona. And I suspect all your gals out there are just pishing yourself to be just like her, too. Yep.

So here’s How To Live It Up Like Kerry Katona:

Funky Hair

And by ‘Funky’, I mean the sort of funky that also relates to Walk into your nearest ‘airdressah what you know doesn’t ‘ave a clue ‘ow to duair, and just tell them to do what the fuck they like. Kerry’s current ‘do is a short back and sides with a large hair-swan ont’ top, like what Reeannah ‘as. The only different between our Kez and Rihanna is that Rihanna is tall, statuesque and beautiful whereas Kerry is stubby, gobby and out to steal your hubby (sorry, that was the only thing I could think of that rhymed and would denote that Kerry is a slag). Does Kerry give a fuck that her hair makes her look like an extra in Prison Bitches: Jailed for Credit Card Fraud But I didn’t Do It, Mister, I Swear On Me Mam’s Life Edition? Does Kerry care that her hair is in Heat’s Hoop of Horror? Does she fuck. All news is good news, innit.

Inappropriate Dress

Speaking of looking like a slag, no Kerry Katona wannabe worth her weight in cocaine-that’s-pretending-to-be-salt would be without a glamruss dress from t’boutiques in London. Think Herve Leger’s famous bandage dress but made significantly cheaper looking by making it out of coloured cling film and being eight sizes too small, a la Kezza. Our Kerry always teams her shitty dresses with disregard for the mantra, ‘Boobs or legs; never both’ and a fuckload of Wrigley’s Extra. Don’t forget a nice pair of plastic heels and big gobby gob on your big gobby gob.

Incase you missed it, here's that picture again.

Incase you missed it, here’s that picture again.

Online Bingo

Celebrity superstars need their downtime too and in between her glamorous life of posing semi-nude in The Sun and ringing Heat magazine to advise them of pending abortions so they can get their ‘Exclusives’ schedule right, Kerry uses her downtime to play online Bingo, so next time you’re at your lowest ebb and playing online, that person sweatin’ ont’ one number for a full house might just be Kerry Katona. To recreate your own Kerry downtime, treat yourself to a whole sphere of Dairylea Triangles and sit w’ yer feet up ont’ sofa and stick ont’ Telly and Wink/Sun Bingo. While you wait for the next game to start, tweet grammatically incorrect things about how when Bryun left you, it broke your heart and now he don’t even go haffers for t’kiddies private educayshun.

Child Neglect

Speaking of t’kiddies, if you want to live it up like Kerry Katona, you need to employ the sort of child neglect that would have even Miss Hannigan ringing fucking social services. Kerry loves forcing her children to take part in her reality shows, where they appear malnourished, unloved and like a modern-day version of the cast of Oliver. Neglect your children like Kerry by teaching them witty retorts for the cameras, such as ‘Lily-Molly-Bobby-Sue-Tanisha, what does daddy do?’ ‘Fucked off to Australia to shack up with Delta Goodrem and doesn’t pay child support, Mummy’. Of course, Kerry bleeds her I’m-not-gonna-tret-my-kids-what-way-me-mam-tretted-me role drier than Mark Croft drained her bank account, so you also need to play a semi-active role in the upbringing of your kids. Kerry’s suggestions for being a mediocre parent swathed in dillusion include doing t’school run while chain smoking (windows up), dancing around the kitchen to cheer your kids up when they’re crying because you won’t turn t’cameras off and going on This Morning to swear blind on your kids’ lives to Philip Schofield that your off the cocaine now for good.

Word Slurring

Finally, if you want to emulate Kerry Katona in any way then you will most certainly need to master the art of slurring your words whilst maintaining eyes deader than Michael Barrymore’s circa Celebrity Big Brother to present day. To do this, make an appointment with your GP and inform him/her that you are severely depressed and need to be heavily medicated lest you commit suicide. Down a quadruple dose of whatever you’re prescribed and then secure yourself a slot on daytime television by, for example, getting acid thrown in your face by an ex-partner or needing a paternity test, and head straight to the bright lights of fame with your craggy jaw chomping at nothing in particular, serving no purpose other than to make you look like you’re off your head. The key to slurring your words effectively is to never acknowledge that you’re slurring your words and, when questioned about it, say things like ‘Am eh? I didn’t know I were slurrin’ me wurds. This is news to me. Oh, I tell you what it might be, it’s me medicayshun for me bunions, innit. But I carn’t hear it meself. Am I?’

Well, there you have it, Kerry wannabes: five ways in which you can class yourself up to be just like Our Kez: Queen of t’Jungle but also, our hearts. Ish.

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Ten Things You Never Knew About… 5ive


Bad boys of manufactured pop, 5ive have recently hit our screens again as part of ITV2’s The Big Reunion (a programme that takes bands who were too shit to achieve longevity in the music industry around the time that S Club 7 were doing alright…), and true to form, they are still the coolest dudes to have ever graced the pages of Smash Hits magazine. Seriously.

Back in the good old days of baggy combat bottoms paired with a crop top and a head full of bleached plaits twisted up into little turd-shaped buns, no-one could quite put their finger on the reason for 5ive’s popularity. Was it their rat-boyish demeanour paired with their not-so-secret middle class backrounds? Was it their ability to rock plastic dungarees resting on shiny American basketball jerseys? Was it lyrics such as ‘Wiggy, wiggy, I’m getting jiggy’ and ‘The funky base, I give everybody crazy shakes’? Fuck knows. All I know is, they made Boyzone look like the rape-babies from Ted Bundy’s glory days. Well, they made themselves look like that. But 5ive were a bit better.

Or perhaps it was their ability to carry off the name ‘5ive’. I mean, do we pronounce it ‘Five’ or ‘Five-ive’? Or is it meant to read ‘Jive’ or whatever? I suppose it depends on the 13-year old chain smoking, truant playing fan gal trying on the coin rings of her slaggy friend in the school toilets. I preferred to say ‘Five-ive’, but that’s probably only because I really liked Five Alive fruit juice, and I always thought I was hilarious. Clearly, I was not.

But regardless, 5ive are back. But now they’re four. ‘But they’re still called 5ive!’ quips every daytime TV presenter that 5ive has been unfortunate enough to grimace through an interview with since they reformed. ‘Yeah, mon, that’s just who were are, innit,’ bullshits the one with the fake Jamaican accent. ‘Tie me kangaroo dahhhn, sport,’ chimes in the one who fucked off to Australia to escape the ‘pressures of fame’. Yeah, good luck with that fairytale, friend.

But what do we not know about 5ive? Plenty, as it happens. Here’s the (continuing with the Smash Hits theme here), 411, or 4our-11 as 5ive would spell it.

1. 5ive hail from LA’s Compton, one of the most dangerous areas in the developed world. When they all met in an orphanage for children whose parents’ died of AIDs, they started a gang to ensure their survival on the streets. After the gang lost most of it’s members to gun-related deaths, they turned to music.

Oh sorry, wrong band. All of 5ive come from fairly affluent backgrounds, and met at an audition in The Stage magazine that read ‘R U a badboy? Can you do a bit of so-so singing and dance like an angry Chippendale? Come to our audition to make music specifically for the Now! That’s What I Call Music CD franchise.’ Once they probably did a bit of rent boy stuff, they obtained a record deal.

Giving each other crazy shakes.

Giving each other crazy shakes.

2. Although he declined taking part in the reformation of the band, J Brown was known as the frontman of the band back in their heyday. J, voted ‘Most Likely To Be A Cunt’ by his high school class, has been painted in a negative light by the rest of the band since they decide to reform, citing him as the source of tension within 5ive. Conveniently.

3. The rest of the band are should-be-sound-but-isn’t Sean, tinks-he’s-from-da-Carribean-mon Abs, the-one-who-isn’t-Abs-mon Scott and throw-another-shrimp-on-the-barbie-Sheila-to-detract-from-my-creepy-fucker-smile Richie. Nice.

4. 5ive were formed as the male counterparts to the Spice Girls. ‘It’s funny that they saw a gap in the market for that,’ says Richie, temporarily forgetting to put on his Australian accent, ‘Considering Mel C.’

5. Even though they released several chart-toppers, Abs reveals that he preferred his solo stuff to the band’s songs. ‘Me favourite of all me songs, mon, was either No Woman No Cry or Redemption Song. Irie!’ Should-be-sound-but-isn’t Sean stubs a cigarette out in his own arm to stop himself from swinging a dig.

6. However, Scott is much more enthused by 5ive’s back catalogue and still listens to their albums at home in his mental hospital cell. ‘I loved the song where everyone shut the fuck up and left me alone,’ he twitches.

7. Even though the band fell apart in the early noughties, the guys still found time to maintain their friendship. Abs remembers, ‘It was just like de videos, mon. We’d ‘ang around our local basketball court, feigning a slow motion version of a basketball game while occasionally miming along to drivel into a camera that inexplicably made everything all stretchy at de sides. Mon.’

8. Even though they clearly share a bond, how will the band cope when Ritchie has to return to Australia? ‘Ritchie doesn’t live in Australia, it’s all a lie,’ explains Scott. ‘When he filmed for ITV, all the koala bears were just toys stapled to a tree out the back of his parents’ house in Skegness. To tell you the truth, I fucking wish he was going back to Australia, the creepy-faced cunt.’

As it turns out, they weren't.

As it turns out, they weren’t.

Ritchie interjects, ‘Haha! You’re such a joker, Scott. No, that’s all lies, I promise. Ring Australia if you want and ask them. But you’re best ringing me and I’ll put them on the phone, because it’s erm… cheaper.’

9. But Ritchie’s return is well in the future- what about now? Is there anything the boys are anxious about when the ‘Big Reunion’ tour starts in May? ‘Kerry Katona’, they all say in unison. ‘She’s so talented that we’re worried we’ll pale in comparison,’ cries Sean, hysterically, clearly giving himself crazy shakes at the thought of Kerry’s endless supply of grace and charm.

10. But what’s next for the rebels of the pop industry? A second stab at world domination? ‘Well, I’m waiting to hear if being in the band will have an adverse effect on my housing benefit, and if I get the all clear then we’re good to go,’ smiles Ritchie.

Fingers crossed!

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How To Recreate Biggest Loser USA in Your Own Home

If you're blonde, you get a pink t-shirt, if you're a token minority, you get a grey t-shirt. What does the colour of your t-shirt say about the stereotype you are?

If you’re blonde, you get a pink t-shirt, if you’re a token minority, you get a grey t-shirt. What does the colour of your t-shirt say about the stereotype you are?

As a person who takes comfort in the misery of others, I am a longtime fan of Biggest Loser USA. Let me specify right now that my love does not extend the UK version- the reason being that the UK version is a bit stiff and everyone’s all like, ‘Oh I’m obese and I don’t want to be. Please pass the skipping rope and I’ll just get on with it quietly in the corner.’ Meanwhile, I’m thinking ‘Come on, realise that you were in a mentally abusive relationship and cry whilst pulling a car with a large man inside it around a race track a few times to Eye of the Tiger playing in the backround’. I fucking love when they do that.

And that’s not even to mention the fact that Biggest Loser USA always houses the best contestants- Middle America’s finest secret serial-killers and absolute lunatics. I defy you to find a single series’ worth of contestants in which no-one has the potential to have strangled a prostitute and buried them in a shallow grave in some desolate woodland. See, you can’t do it. A Domino’s Pizza survey once revealed that Middle Americans much prefer meat pizzas compared to their East Coast and West Coast counterparts, who tend to opt for cheese and vegetable respectively. I say, if Middle Americans are in any way vaguely represented by the Biggest Loser USA contestants, then they aren’t that fucking fussy and will eat anything, including East and West Coasters.

But honestly, I love Biggest Loser USA so much that I sometimes tend to recreate it from the comfort of my own home. If you want to do this, here’s how.


It has been widely reported that Biggest Loser USA contestants are encouraged to starve themselves of food and water when weigh-ins are looming, in order to achieve the lowest possible weight. Do this at home by developing anorexia and telling yourself that if Biggest Loser USA does it, then medically, there has to be some foundation behind it. Remember, don’t drink any water either as it adds extra pounds. You’re going to be so skinny in that coffin.


Meanie, Queenie and Alison Sweeney

Meanie, Queenie and Alison Sweeney

I fucking love Bob and Jillian. I think my love stems from the fact that I still can’t work out if Bob provides the voice of Mr Garrison from South Park and Jillian Michaels looks like the lovechild of an angular corpse and a Scream mask. Or perhaps it’s just because I’m the type of person who is sustained by inspirational quotes and people grabbing me by the shoulders and saying things like ‘Dammit, bitch! Yo’ Momma didn’t raise no quitter!’ Create your own homemade Bob/Jillian by asking the campest person you know to shout ‘Ching chong, ching chong, fatty fatty, ding dong’ in your face at ten minute intervals, whilst in between, insulting your parenting skills, personality and general ability to cope with life. When you aren’t working out, they can also watch everything you put into your mouth and say, ‘This is how you got to be 400 pounds!‘ and shake their head in disappointment.


The inclusion of Temptations in Biggest Loser USA seriously undermines the show’s aims, and considering this is a programme in which people lose in excess of 100lbs in a matter of weeks and claim to be reborn, that’s pretty fucking hard. But again, since all this shit is supposedly conducted under medical surveillance, it probably helps you to lose weight if you conduct your own temptations at home. You can achieve this platform by buying a box of cupcakes, throwing them in the bin and seeing how long you can go without fishing them out, blowing off the fluff, old plasters and dirty needles, and eating them while sitting in front of a mirror with no clothes on.


Just fucking cruel.

Just fucking cruel.

Workouts are the very foundation of Biggest Loser USA, I mean, beyond feeling good about yourself by comparing yourself to those in difficulty. To recreate a Biggest Loser USA workout in the comfort of your own home, get a large piece of rope and tie it around your neck like a noose while you run on the treadmill. Have your Bob/Jillian stand in front of you with the other end of the rope in hand and strangle you anytime your running speed drops below 12 miles per hour. When you pass out from lack of oxygen, you get ‘highfived’ from Bob/Jillian and, if you die and get brought back to life, you win a pound deducted from this week’s weigh in.


Emotional breakdowns are definitely my favourite part of Biggest Loser USA, because no-one emotionally breaks down like Middle Americans that are goin’ through some stuff right now. Brilliant. Have yours by placing a large log and an axe out in your back garden, and getting Bob/Jillian to be particularly stingy with their rope-to-neck circumferance ratio, while belittling you to the point they are spitting the most horrific insults they can muster in your face. Walk off shouting ‘Turn off the goddamn cameras, Goddamnit!’ and batting Bob/Jillian’s arm out of the way as they try to console you unapologetically. Arrive at the back garden and start hitting the large log with the axe while the soundman fades in ‘Skyscraper‘ by Demi Lovato and Bob/Jillian whoops and cheers about how you’ve ‘finally broken down those walls’, even though they were the source of your breakdown in the first place.

If only he channelled that anger into giving Jillian a good boot in the face

If only he channelled that anger into giving Jillian a good boot in the face

Alison Sweeney

There’s no point in doing any of this if you don’t have someone to narrate every step of your journey a la Alison Sweeney. Create your own Alison at home by asking an obese friend to constantly describe your weight loss efforts out loud whilst busting out of maybe-novelty-denim outfits that look like they were made for extras in the video for ‘Dilemma’ by Nelly and Kelly. Even though your friend clearly has their own weight issues, don’t let that put them off talking about you in a dehumanising fashion when they should practice what they fucking preach.


Biggest Loser USA frequently enlists the help of Curtis Stone, celebrity chef, to show the contestants how to eat more healthily. Do a better job than Curtis by marinating chicken in a bit of lemon juice and throwing it on top of some lettuce every time you make a meal, seeing as that’s all he does but in a more time-consuming way anyhow.

Curtis Stone- stocking up on vegetables to make something really bland.

Curtis Stone- stocking up on vegetables to make something really bland.

And there it is, folks- how to recreate Biggest Loser USA in your own home. Don’t weight, try it today! And other puns.

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My Top Five Fashion Picks… Spring 2013 Edition

Loads of zig-zaggy clothes that you should be wearing, according to people who are too vain to do proper jobs

Loads of zig-zaggy clothes that you should be wearing, according to people who are too vain to do proper jobs

Every so often, someone asks me, ‘Where did you get your outfit?’ and before I can reply, ‘Oxfam’, ‘The dump’ or ‘I’m being bribed by a homeless person to wear the contents of the wardrobe for no valid reason’, they snort out a punchline like ‘Cos you should ask for a refund!’ or ‘Can you please get off my property?’

In short, I’m a friggin’ fashion icon.

Which is why I choose to blog every so often on the subject of fashion, passing the gauntlet of my expertise on fashion sub-topics, like ‘how to maximise your spare tyre’ and ‘how to pick unflattering cuts of jeans’, to you, the reluctant reader.

Here are my Spring 2013 tips.

Waterproof Coats

I know what you’re thinking; beige Macs, khaki parkas etc. However, I’m referring to something a little more durable, and here’s why: the shit is about to hit the fan. If you thought our economy was slowly prising itself out of the shitter by its tired, skinned fingers- think again. The gap between rich and poor is widening, the housing market has not ‘’bottomed out’’, the cuts haven’t even begun to resonate. I wonder will one day, the Chinese version of Bob Geldof pen a Christmas song for us so we can all enjoy the sweet relief of a Findus Turkey Slice (you wish it had fucking horse in it) each on Christmas Day 2036. That sky is full of shit, people- get yourself a waterproof coat.

Bob Geldof: coming to your from his big mansion in Notting Hill to ask you for money to partially give to the poor. Perhaps.

Bob Geldof: coming to your from his big mansion in Notting Hill to ask you for money to partially give to the poor. Perhaps.

Pair of Sunglasses

Brilliantly, Spring is that time of year when every type of ‘extreme’ weather is accompanied by a dusty one-liner. For example, a snow shower in March= ‘Where’s this global warming everyone keeps going on about?’, a few hours of sunshine in April followed by a period of rain= ‘There’s Summer over for another year’. Investing in a pair of sunglasses ensures that you can roll your eyes endlessly at all these bullshit without jokesters being made aware of your disdain. But then again, considering these people are the sort of people to forward you on chain e-mails containing death threats you can’t even begin to muster up a fuck to give about, just punch them in the face and be done with it.

Sandwich Necklace

Recently, whilst standing in a crowded place eating a Cuban pulled-pork sub, it hit me, ‘How the fuck are us wimmin supposed to snag ourselves a husband when we don’t even trying to be fucking dainty?’ Of course, I immediately threw my sub in the bin and hung around hoping for someone to pat me on the arse and tell me I did a great job of cleaning the kitchen. But what if I had a cute accessory that held my sandwich whilst also pulling together an outfit? I wouldn’t have had to fuck that sub in the bin…

Enter: the Sandwich Necklace (TM). Functional and fashionable, it provides a sandwich perch for your sub whilst the necklace bit comes in an array of ribbon-y colours based on whatever ribbons you can find knocking about your cupboards. Leaves your otherwise sandwich-engaged hands free for unpaid manual labour, drying your eyes after crying yourself to sleep and ‘liking’ Marilyn Monroe quotes on Facebook.

Sandwich Necklace (TM), coming to a market what sells food near you.

Sandwich Necklace (TM), coming to a market what sells food near you.


With our fluctuating Spring weather, you can’t even begin to predict if those few hours of sunshine followed by a period of rain signals that Summer is over for another year, or whether that March snow-shower shows that global warming isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, so why not invest in a pair of not-cunty-at-all earmuffs to keep your ears toasty? As an added bonus, since Cheryl (née Cole, née Tweedy) is making a comeback after a few months off from ‘’making music’’, said earmuffs could make all the difference between her strained vocals muffling their way to your unsuspecting brain, and snapping under the rage and going straight to Pineapple Dance Studios or wherever she spends her Nike Air Max-wearing days and clubbing her to death with a Bargain Bin spilling over with cracked copies of ‘Sound of the Underground’ (surely Cheryl, the human equivalent of a spat-out Juicy Fruit raving at a Big Fat Gypsy Wedding would know that the lyrics of ‘Sound of the Underground’ do not, in fact, depict the sound of the underground).

Cheryl: Face of an angel, voice of a deaf 50-a-day smoker

Cheryl: Face of an angel, voice of a deaf 50-a-day smoker

Knee Pads

Poor Queen Elizabeth has kicked off Spring 2013 by falling ill with Gastroenteritis so investing in a good pair of kneepads so you can fall to your knees and pray for her speedy recovery is something you should do pronto. Isn’t it great that Queen Elizabeth, or Cuntface as I shall henceforth refer to her as, can check herself into a private healthcare facility for something that most of us wouldn’t even ring in sick over, while the rest of us watch as the NHS deteriorates from ‘paltry’ to ‘abysmal’ right before our very eyes? I, for one, am glad that Cuntface can go home and sleep off her minor illness in her taxpayer-funded palace nursed by the ‘little people’ that serve her, because humouring the Monarchy isn’t antiquated fuckery at all. Furthermore, it is my utmost hope that she doesn’t, y’know, die a slow and painful death or anything.

Well, that’s my picks for Spring 2013. Have a fashionable day, girlfriends! Etc.

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