Category Archives: Beauty

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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My Top Five Fashion Tips For January- Slimming Special!


I hope by now you will have noticed the recurring theme running through January’s posts that all pay tribute to the fact that January is easily the most horribly depressing fucker that ever existed. Also, The Thinking Gal is a year old this month, so I’m celebrating by being extra sour and trying not to shoot myself in the face, so that’s also why my posts are super cheerful these days.

Anyway, January is traditionally renound as a lean, healthy month where we all try our best to shed those Christmas pounds, resolve to become better versions of ourselves (denial) and prepare for the year ahead. In terms of fashion, we’re talking heavy, natural fabrics in blacks and browns in an attempt to keep warm whilst similtaneously hiding the fact that you ate like a greedy fucker over the Christmas holidays, even whilst watching the Oxfam advertisement (basically just a clipshow of starving children), without even so much as taking the wrappers off the Quality Street sweets first.

So how does one hide their festive bulge whilst maintaining fashionista status during this cold, Winter month? Here’s how:

Cloak of Invisibility

January chic.

January chic.

Throwing on a Cloak of Invisibility, or a Jimmy Saville Raincoat as it is known to those in senior positions within the BBC during the 1960s to the present day, helps you to look fabulous in a heartbeat because being invisible means no-one can see how fat you are. Dress it up, dress it down- it doesn’t matter because you’ll be invisible. And beyond being a high-fashion garment within the cartoon community, a Cloak of Invisibility has many practical uses, such as helping you stalk without consequence, providing a medium via which you can shoplift effectively and- best of all- commiting untraceable murder. Farewell, midnight police raids! So long, warrant for your arrest! And so on.

Spanx The Monkey

Considering how fat I am, I like to layer my Spanx on top of each other so that all possible flab is contained within those mummified layers. Spanx, for those of you who are are unfamiliar with the phenomenon, are basically extra-strength American Tan tights with a special ingredient- self-loathing- that hold in your muffin top to ensure that women, no matter how much gender equality evolves, will always have it in the back of their minds that they’re not as good as men, who wouldn’t dream of wearing such a thing just to appear attractive to the opposite sex. For fuck’s sake. As I was saying, layering your Spanx so that your hideousness is contained ensures that your arms and legs look disproportionately large compared to the rest of your body, which is brilliant because you then get to make up bullshit excuses for your abnormal appearance, such as that you are a part-time wrestler, all the while knowing that people are calling you a ‘weirdo’ behind your back.

With a Moo Moo here, A Moo Moo there, Here a Moo, There A Moo… Etc.

Accessorise with a mobility scooter for the ultimate in 'Dying of Diabetes' chic.

Accessorise with a mobility scooter for the ultimate in ‘Dying of Diabetes’ chic.

Moo Moos, like the one Homer Simpson wore in the episode of The Simpsons when he deliberately puts on weight so he could work from home, are not only the hottest garment among the ‘over 55 female Traveller Community’ (such a stylish bunch), but are also deceptively cosy, drawing heat from your inner thighs as they rub together while you walk from your mobility scooter to your bed to illustrate you immobility to someone slightly less fat than you while filming for Channel 4’s Supersize v Superskinny. Moo Moos come in an array of unflattering Hawaiian prints, and are guaranteed to grab attention from your local news station the next time they are secretly filming members of the public as part of a Polyfiller-style piece on obesity to fill up the news slot on a slow news day. Expect to see your muffin top featured, you trendsetter, you!

A Great Pair of Heels

‘I like my men like I like my heels- tall, black and the most coveted accessory in the room,’ said Marilyn Monroe. No, she didn’t, I just made that up, but that’s exactly the sort of shit that clutters up my Facebook wall like a turd that just won’t flush. I personally spend my days trudging around in a pair of sodden Converse like the downtrodden bastard that I am, but women who wear heels as part of an everyday routine terrify me. For one, their arses must be made of steel, and they would definately win in a staring contest because the rest of us can’t look them in the eye. But for 2013, why not carry a pair of heels around in a carrier bag? If anyone points at your regular shoes and tells you they aren’t feminine enough, you can whip your heels out and beat them around the head with the pointy bit for a while, because that looks mighty fucking satisfying.

I Saw the Sign

No creepy bastard should be without this.

No creepy bastard should be without this.

If all of the above don’t help you to feel slimmer and more beautiful, then there’s something fucking wrong with you. However, I have one last trick up my sleeve for banishing those January blues- a big massive sign with the words ‘Fuck off and leave me alone’ painted on it with your own blood. No-one is going to say shit about you when you’re carrying that around. Of course, ‘Fuck off and leave me alone’ is optional (your own blood isn’t)- you can write whatever the fuck you want as long as it a) makes you look like a irrational mentalcase capable of GBH and b) is hilarious and endearing. Other suggestions include, ‘It doesn’t matter what you think. Does it?’, ‘Please like me’ and ‘I may be ugly but I can make a cracking roast dinner and therefore, can be your live-in girlfriend who hides in the cupboard when you have company round. Just tell me you’ll think about it’. Remember: in order to pull of wearing a sign, you may need extra accessories to achieve you desired look, such as a portable CD player playing Christina Aguilera’s Beautiful on loop, a knife or a dead cat strapped into one of those contraptions that smug bastards carry their embarrassed babies around in.

Rock on, fashionistas. Etc.

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How To Apply Fake Tan

Gotta love looking translucent.

Too poor to go on holiday and looking pastier than Patsy Kensit being dry humped by a raw turkey crown? Shit one.

January, the month when suicide numbers hit their annual peak, is a continuous shitstorm of crap. And when it comes to having a sunkissed glow, you’re fucking kidding yourself if you think that’ll be happening anytime soon. No, such thoughts should be relegated to more suitable times of the year, such as the hour of Summer bestowed upon us sometime in May.

However, help is at hand when it comes to faking a tan, thanks to endless fake tanning goods propped up in supermarket shelves like the product equivalent of the Geordie Shore cast- promising to give you a Ronseal Wood Varnish glow should you buy, or punch your fuckin’ lights oot if you don’t. Fake tan, I imagine, is just a little bit rough.

But how do you achieve a natural shade that enhances you without looking too orange? You fucking don’t, alright. But I’m going to slap the bastard on anyway and get drunk quickly so I don’t notice the streaks and will happily fight anyone who dares to look in my direction.

What the fuck are you lookin' at?

What the fuck are you lookin’ at?

Here’s the lowdown on applying fake tan:

Trial and Error

Choosing the right tan is key- therefore, be prepared to try out lots of products before settling on the right one. Do this on the cheap by going to your local Semi-Chem and hotfooting it straight to the non-branded tanning wipes that look like they could also double up as toilet roll when you go camping. Go home and vaguely wipe your limbs with your purchase, taking care to vomit into a designated area, such as a toilet or bin, rather than all over yourself in reaction to the smell of the ‘scented’ wipes. Wait ten minutes and- hey presto- your beige-and-white striped body looks like a mobile version of Ralph Lauren’s Homeware Collection for Spring/Summer Every Year Since It Began, seeing at it looks the fucking same every time the bastard thing comes out. Now, having achieved an adequately stripey, Pikey look, sling your greasy mane into a BumBun (TM), and off you go to Debenhams where you can shoplift luxury brand tanning items to try without repercussion because the security team is unlikely to approach you for fear of being bitten. And contracting HIV.


To achieve an even finish, one must exfoliate to get rid of dry patches and ensure that skin is smooth and even before applying product. Take an industrial sander and carefully apply to soles of feet, which have built up enough hard skin to achieve flipflop status in their own right, and try to close your mouth as much as possible so bits of hard skin don’t accidentally fly into it during sanding and make you die from shuddering. After your feet have been cut to ribbons, apply to industrial sander to elbows, knees and other crusty bits, carefully sweeping up discarded skin-bits to use as snow in next year’s nativity play at your local church. Finally, on delicate areas, such as your face and neck, opt for a dentist’s drill with bits of old carpet glue to it for that ultimate sheen. Failing that, don’t worry about exfoliating because nobody bothers to do it anyway.

A Hand’s Turn

Remember to take great care with your hands when applying tan, as they absorb product quickly and can turn a deep shade of orange within moments of contact with fake tan. Use gloves to combat the dreaded ‘tan hand’ fiasco. Tramp’s Tip: just slap it on without gloves and if anyone asks, tell them you’re best friends with Victoria Beckham and you’ve just returned from an afternoon of feeling her implants.

Victoria Beckham: Keeping it as real as Rev Run sitting in his big fucking mansion pretending to be ghetto.

Victoria Beckham: Keeping it as real as Rev Run sitting in his big fucking mansion pretending to be ghetto.

Care When Drying

Letting your tan dry after application is vital in getting an even finish. So no going outside naked and jumping in puddles, unless it’s absolutely an emergency. Or you want to achieve a nice Vitiligo look. Or you’re a big fan of Michael Jackson and wish to show your undying support for that time he lied about skin-lightening surgery. Or your desired shade of tan is ‘Pale and Dirty Bastard‘.

Stay in the Shade

Once you’ve got that first layer down, it’s all about building up the perfect shade that’s just right for you. Go to B&Q and get yourself a nice portable wood varnish shade chart, and use that as a bible in building your colour from ‘Moments from Asphyxiation’ to ‘Good News, Mr Jones- We’ve Decided To Turn Off Your Wife’s Life Support Machine Today To See What Happens. Don’t Worry, We Reckon She Has A Good Chance Of Living’. And beyond that, it’s up to you. Dare you go as far as ‘Cocksure Whore’, ‘Leather Bag Slag’ or even ‘My Electricity Bill Is Zero Because I’m My Own Lamp Vamp’. Or will you keep it mellow with ‘Michelle Heaton’s Oranger Mate’? The choice is yours*!

Chelsy Davy: A Cunt with a Stupid Tan

Chelsy Davy: A Cunt with a Stupid Tan

*Unless you’re still using those non-branded wipes, in which case, you may as well be drinking bleach. Good luck with that one.

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Diet Of The Month- The Cabbage Soup Diet

The Cabbage Soup Diet* is the epitome of fad dieting- not only can you lose up to 10lbs per week chucking the gruesome concoction down you gullet, it is also known to have some unsavoury side-effects that will make you want to curl up into a little ball and pray for death.

Critics have claimed that prolonged usage of this diet as a weightloss tool is dangerous and unsustainable. It may also lead to future health risks, and can be fatal. But let’s be honest, ladies- we’ve all had diets that came with a certain level of risk. The risk of death is hardly going to stop us.

But how can I start to relay my week on this diet without first giving you the recipe, including a few tweaks that I’ve made to make this diet ultra effective? Here you are:


Half a head of cabbage, knifed to death

One fluid fuckload of water

A bottle of Diet Coke (every female dieter’s good luck charm)

One dress that doesn’t quite zip up at the back that makes you feel like a big fat failure every time you try the bastard on

Seasoning of your choice (I choose to rip up cigarettes and thrown them straight in)

A bucket of failed dreams

A pinch of knowing deep down this isn’t going to work, but you’re so unhappy with your life that you’re going to keep going with it and other, similar wastes of time to distract yourself from death. Possibly from something colon-related due to fucking idiotic diets like The Cabbage Soup Diet.

The other half of that head of cabbage, because you’re probably not going to use it in anything else. It’s probably going to go off soon so you may as well chuck it in.

Day 1

Having used the start of my diet today as an excuse to eat four cakes last night, I felt full when I got up this morning and decided to have the obligatory ‘going full throttle on this diet to the point that you ignore the unsustainableness of voluntary starvation’ day of only surviving on the bits of toothpaste that I accidentally swallowed while brushing my teeth. After a day of getting through by relying on the adrenaline of believing that this day is the first day of the rest of my life, and other bullshit diet mantras, I went to bed without eating anything. Hooray.

Day 2

I woke up to the sound of my uterus weeping with future sadness that diets like this make me infertile, I just don’t know it yet. Poking round the pot of soup that I enthusiastically made two days earlier, I ladled myself a bowl with bits that weren’t touching the skin that was floating on top, grungily. Afterwards, I had that moment when my body realises that food exists and can’t live without it anymore- I was about to collapse with starvation. So I did what any respecting dieter would do during a moment such as this; I went to the gym and ran ’til I puked. All that came out was a white flag. Winning.

Day 3

After two full days on the Cabbage Soup Diet, I feel like a zombie that was put into a blender, sliced into little tiny pieces, after which my bodily debris are remoulded into the words ‘Without health, life is not life; it is only a state of langour and suffering- an image of death. -Buddha’. But that just means its working. Had the rest of the pot of soup today- as the Cabbage Soup Diet permits eating as much of it as you like- and then made another pot, this time seasoning the entire bastard with my tears.

Day 4

Died for a while today but unfortunately, the ambulance got to me on time and they restarted my heart so I’m back to porridge- which is ironic because I’m actually not allowed any. Bastard medical professionals. I would sue them if I could speak. Or function normally.

Day 5

I enjoyed a full pot of soup today while sitting alone in the dark, seeing my life belongs to cabbage now and cabbage wanted the lights off. After watching an episode of Loose Women in which Renee Zellweger raved about the Cabbage Soup Diet, crediting it to her weight loss for her role as Bridget Jones, I promptly travelled to the studios and punched her in the face thrice- once for Bridget Jones, once for the popularisation of big knickers, and once for anything else I’d forgotten. Then I shook her hand for spreading the word about the Cabbage Soup Diet– it’s great. I’ve never been happier.

Day 6

I was delighted to discover I lost 4 stones so far this week on the Cabbage Soup Diet– all of that punishment was well worth the effort. I’d go shopping and buy myself a whole new wardrobe to celebrate, but I’m now confined to a wheelchair. I’m just another woman trying to have it all- us women, what are we like? If we aren’t constantly on the hunt for a man to slap us on the arse and tell us we’re pretty, we’re reading Fifty Shades of Grey and giggling about how empowered we are to be female and reading porn.

Day 7

Died again. On the upside, my dress that was too tight now fits me, and the undertaker is currently dressing my dead corpse in it for my funeral. Just to make a point about how much weight I’ve lost, I’m getting small children to carry my coffin, and then erect my rigour mortis-ridden body on to a set of scales so that everyone can see how much I weighed before I’m laid to rest. I’m going to be the Belle of the Ball. Result!

*Don’t do it.

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How To Be A Heartbreaker

Recently, I wrote about how to mend a broken heart for all of you loveless Lucilles out there who can’t seem to tie that love-lasso tight enough in the neck area to send your victim to sleep (what a waste of Rohypnol). But what about those of you who don’t have a broken heart, but rather, would like to be a heartbreaker? 

Would you like to be a modern day Arthur ‘The Fonz’ Fonzerelli? Does the thought of aggravated sexual assault leave you all shook up, not shaken up? And when it comes to love, are you too cool for school or erm… not… that cool. Sorry, I choked under the weight of all these puns.

Here are my tips for being a heartbreaker.

Thou Shall Do The Face

In the song, When You’re in Love with a Beautiful Woman by Dr. Hook, he describes his relationship with a good-looking woman, which over time, causes him to ‘watch her eyes’ and ‘look for lies’. Assuming he isn’t a doctor of optometry and such acts are not routine medical procedures, the song describes how one’s heart is easily broken when in love with someone beautiful.

Therefore, in order to be a heartbreaker, you need to cover up that nasty and invest in some rhinoplasty, and other surgical procedures that didn’t rhyme there. If you aren’t a natural beauty and think inner beauty is more important, buy yourself a copy of Heat and try to survive an hour without crying, then putting a sheet over your face and refusing to take it off until you get cheek implants, or other nonsensical vital surgery. Think of surgery as an investment, as you can always con your money back from one of the dirty old pensioners lurking about the Playboy mansion pretending to enjoy chasing after young women but, given the chance, would much rather prefer to swap that Viagra for a night of checkers and ‘accidentally’ knocking down small children while clumsily reversing around a supermarket aisle end on their mobility scooter.


Thou Shalt Not Let Thyself Go

What’s the point in having the face of a delightful angel, and the body of an Angel Delight fifteen-packet-a-day addict? In order to be a heartbreaker, your body needs to be in the best shape possible, which can be achieved in one of two ways: A) Liposuction and other surgeries- which is costly and require some investment or (my favourite) B) Diet and exercise. Diet and exercise is no fun when conducted safely, at a reasonable pace and with realistic expectations. No- instead, you must go full throttle at an exercise routine; pulling a car on a rope, running marathons daily and listening to Eye of the Tiger on repeat as you flail wildly around the gym. And how do you keep your energy up whilst in training? Certainly not with food, because your diet only consists of water, carrots and the odd rice cake on your birthday. Yay, this is so worth it.

It doesn’t matter if starvation and burn out diet and exercise leaves you more irritable than a bear that has just been woken from a deep sleep by being poked repeatedly in the testicles with a sharp twig- if you’re thin and beautiful, people won’t care if you’re a total cunt.

Thou Shalt Not Waste Time Being Personable

To reiterate my last point, being thin and beautiful makes you exempt from the expectation of possessing a personality. Just look at Angelina Jolie– if she looked like Dawn French, she would have been shot long ago. So, just work on that outer beauty for now, petal. This is great advice.

Just remember: Inner Beauty is Not Your Duty- Pretty Exterior Makes You Superior. Repeat this mantra every morning to yourself in the mirror, or when anyone calls you a cheap whore in public and shouts that you were only after their money. Bastard.

Thou Shalt Not Give A Fuck About Others

In order to be a heartbreaker, one must break hearts- that means people are going to get hurt. But hey, who cares, right? Have you ever watched an action film in which thousands of civilians were carelessly killed and then never referenced again because the whole film centres around the protagonist being hailed as a hero in the end? Yeah, well that’s kind of what this is like.

My suggestion for not giving a fuck about others is to drink a lot until you’re numb and dancing around a stripper pole. Or if all else fails, rebrand milking people dry for their money in exchange for sex and companionship by telling people that ‘Beauty is Power’ and other shit like that. Here’s to you, Kimora Lee Simmons. You shhhhlllaggg.

So, to sum up- Look good and have little to say except a prompt ‘Fuck off’ to anyone who calls you out on your shit.

I’m going to be reincarnated as a toilet.

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Exercise Move of the Month- Going to Asda on a Saturday Afternoon

Hello, fitness enthusiasts! It’s time for another installment of Exercise Move of the Month. This month’s exercise move is brought to you by borderline poverty and the rise in corporate power dictating our lives, resulting in the majority of the general public having to do their food shopping at the local bastard Asda on Saturday afternoons.

If you’ve never been to Asda on a Saturday afternoon, lucky fucking you. If you have, then you’ll know that this exercise move is an intense cardiovascular workout, but more so, gets your blood pumping as you fear a stress-induced stroke coming along. Fantastic! Here’s how to do it:

Step 1

Run out of food on a Friday night. Realise you need to go to Asda tomorrow and it’s going to be fucking bunged. Contract diarrhea due to anxiety, which is going to get your metabolism going. Already, you should feel your facial muscles start to work as you start to feel permanent stress wrinkles forming and you develop a facial tic.

Step 2

Get in the car and drive ten feet to your local Asda, because in Asda, walking is frowned upon. Drive around the carpark looking for spaces, of which there are, unsurprisingly, none. Shout obscenities at a man who parks in a disabled spot who vacates his car with no physical disability. Feel your arms burn as you shake your fists at strangers and give lots of people the finger. Find a spot and rejoice. Vacate your car and feel a stranger attack you from behind while shouting, ‘You stole my space, you schlllaaaaggg!‘ Have a mini-wrestling match with said stranger, and feel the fat melt away.

Step 3

You are forced to use a basket as there are no trolleys and all of the disability scooters are in use by the obese, while the enderly have no option but to walk annoyingly and block off entire aisles. Incorporate yoga into your workout as you try to breathe and count to ten in an effort to stop yourself from punching an old woman shuffling slowly in front of you while shouting to her friend, ‘Ethel, what time does the bingo start?’.

Step 4

Make it round the vegetable, meat and dairy aisles in double quick time, working out your legs and torso as you twist and wriggle your way through crowds of hapless cunts. Apply the principles of boxing to your workout as you jab your hands through the crowds to grasp the items on your shopping list. Float like a gymnast, cartwheeling around baby vomit, smashed jars of Piccalilli and pensioner piss lurking on the floors that no-one has bothered to clean up.

Step 5

Make it round the shop with half of your desired items in your basket (the other half were out of stock) and head for the checkouts. Realise that there will be a wait of at least four months until you can purchases your items. Work out your upper arms, thighs and torso by constructing a makeshift teepee or tent equivalent out of stale baguettes cooked fresh today in the bakery aisle to live in until you can purchase your items next season. Contemplate singing Kumbaya with your fellow shoppers to keep everyone’s spirits up but, seeing as they are a pack of absolute bastards, give your facial muscles a good workout instead by sobbing softly to yourself.

Step 6

Many moons later, pay for your items and leave the shop. Employ breathing techniques as you are forced to hold your breath for a good minute-and-a-half to avoid dying of lung cancer from passive smoking as you are caught up in a cloud of smoke from people in glorified/actual pyjamas who insist upon ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ signs and/or the law that dictates that you cannot smoke in the fucking lobby of a shopping centre.

Step 7

Miraculously make it home unscathed without hitting a single car in the notoriously tight car park. Drag your waterless sack of cells and skin into the house. Look through your bags and realise that even though you won that smackdown for the last bag of potatoes, that priest snuck into your basket while you weren’t looking and took them anyway. Grab a knife, get in your car, and head back to Asda.

And… rest! What a workout!!


Lose Weight the Easy Way with the Lemon Detox Diet!

The Lemon Detox Diet rose to fame when Beyonce adopted it to slim down for her role in Dreamgirls, with which she lost 20lbs in two weeks. The diet comprises a concoction of maple syrup, lemon juice, water and cayenne pepper, downed periodically, and nothing else- effectively making this a 60-calorie per day plan, rather than the 2,000 to 2500 that most doctors recommend for the average person.

Yes, it is difficult to adhere to, but reportedly produces excellent results. This month, I am going to follow the Lemon Detox Diet for 7 days (the recommended duration for Lemon Detox Diet beginners), and keep a record of my results, so that you, too, can lose weight and feel great.

Day 1

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Dinner- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Day 1 of the diet has been easier than I first anticipated. Yes, there isn’t a whole lot of nourishment involved, but I felt less bloated as the day elapsed and had more energy in the afternoon. At one stage, I felt a manic high to the extent that I went outside and kissed a complete stranger just because the voices in my head instructed me to. The stranger had me arrested and when I resisted, I was tazered by a police official- but I only got a caution, probably because I’ve lost a stone already and everybody wants a piece.

Day 2

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Dinner- A DELUXE glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water (DELUXE version recipe: A whole bottle of maple syrup, drank straight, and then a good cry about life)

After my manic high of yesterday, I must admit that I felt slightly lower today. While I have more energy, I’m also feeling on the cusp of a nervous breakdown. Weighed myself and have lost 6lbs already, after just two days on the Lemon Detox Diet, but then I lifted the scales and threw them out them out the window, severely injuring my elderly neighbour. Accompanied neighbour to the hospital for treatment and tried to suffocate her with an inflatable headrest in the ambulance. No idea why. Then I went around the children’s ward shouting, ‘Santa isn’t real’. Also starting to worry that when I go to jail, I’ll be so thin and gorgeous from doing the Lemon Detox Diet that I will surely be one of the prison bitches. Can’t sleep with the worry of this.

Day 3

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Dinner- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Weighed myself and lost another 16lbs since yesterday. At least, that’s what happened in the weird hallucinogenic dreams I’ve been having, which is brilliant because it’s kind of like going to see a 3D film, without the expense of leaving my bed. Coincidentally, that’s where I have spent the entire day due to blinding migranes- have no idea why I’m getting them, must be the weather. Delightfully though, while I’m now completely bedridden, my pyjamas looks fantastic on me. Ordered myself a medical drip online so that I don’t have to waste energy on lifting a cup of dinner to my mouth. Winning.

Day 4

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Dinner- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

I think I’ve finally arrived at a realisation that I don’t need food- I’m just a stronger human being in general now. Got my drip installed and fashioned a spare carrier bag into a colostomy bag to collect waste, seeing as I can’t seem to get out of bed anymore. Really strange that I can’t seem to move from bed. Perhaps, subconciously, I don’t want to outshine all other women out in public with how amazing I look. Lost another 8lbs today, for a total of 30lbs in 4 days. Feel like the Chuck Norris of diets.

Day 5

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A small insect

Dinner- Jail food

Disasterous day. Was doing well on my diet but coughed due to an inexplicable virus I seem to have contracted, causing me to accidentally inhale and swallow a small insect that was living under my bed. This sudden influx of food sent me on a massive sugar high, and drunk on insects and being a supermodel, I paraded through my local Tesco Metro in a bikini with four glowsticks and the word ‘Fajita’ painted across my torso. Eventually, a concerned shopper interrupted my breakdancing to enquire if I was feeling ok (probably because he admired my new figure), and I bit him. His coat smelt a bit like chicken chow mein, and it took me back. But now I can’t go back. Spent the night in jail.

Day 6

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water (Jail version: substitute the maple syrup, lemon and cayenne pepper for nothing)

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water (Jail version: substitute the maple syrup, lemon and cayenne pepper for nothing)

Dinner- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water  (Jail version: substitute the maple syrup, lemon and cayenne pepper for nothing)

Spent today in jail after assaulting a man in Tesco Metro yesterday. Unable to access all ingredients to fully adhere to diet, but have chosen adequate substitutes. Tried to do a Shawshank mid-afternoon but the spoon broke so used one of my jutting ribs to make a dent in the wall. Realised this will take me ages. Thankfully, was able to shimmy between the bars in my cell at dusk and escaped. Went home and made myself a midnight feast of three shakes of pepper. Yum.

Day 7

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Dinner- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Final day of the diet was easier than expected, as I have started to rationalise the constant migraines as a punishment for being less worthy than everyone else. Weighed myself and was delighted to discover that have lost of total of 72lbs in 7 days on the Lemon Detox Diet– how wonderful! Going to celebrate tomorrow by buying a babygro and wearing it as a playsuit, as I am now a size ‘2’. Sorry, size ‘aged 2’ (and above). Honestly, I’m getting annoyed already that three year old children are the same size as me- feel so fat. Doing another week of the diet to slim down to size ‘aged 6-8 months’.

Well, that was my week on the Lemon Detox Diet. I lost 72lbs, but gained a whole new perspective on life.  Sidenote: If you see me on Crimewatch, it was all just a misunderstanding. No need to ring the hotline… Good luck on your journey towards health and happiness!

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Do the Raw Food Diet- And Lose Weight Today!

While I’m not a fan of fad diets as they are generally unsustainable, from time to time I find myself craving fresher, less stodgy food- particularly after Christmas or holidays, as we all tend to indulge a bit more than usual. When I get these cravings, I know it’s time to put myself on the Raw Food Diet.

The Raw Food Diet is a lifestyle choice in which the only food consumed is uncooked, or cooked below 47 degrees Celcius (118 Farenheit). That means an abundance of vegetables, fish and natural foodstuffs, and no ready meals, chemical-laded foods and even meat (unless you like it raw). Generally, cooking food extracts nutrients, and therefore, the Raw Food Diet is based on the belief that the more simplistic and akin to it’s natural state food is, the better it is for you.

I like to do the diet for a week at a time, and then reintroduce my normal diet gradually, so as not to shock my system, which helps me to lose weight and feel better. Here is a typical week, including recipes and my own thoughts, so that you can do the same:

Day 1

Breakfast: A carrot

Lunch: A carrot, and then another half of a carrot

Dinner: Another bastard carrot

Late night snack: An Indian takeaway from Taj Palace

Day 1 of the diet is usually the most sparse food-wise, seeing as I’m feeling immense back-fat shame. I usually survive on carrots while lying to myself that I don’t need food ever again. The only reason I had the takeaway is because my body was dry-retching with hunger, and to be fair, the Taj Palace was on the news the other week for giving people food poisoning so it’s likely they’ve undercooked my food anyway. If it makes me involuntarily vomit, then technically I’ve consumed negative calories while not being bulimic- so it’s all good.

Day 2

Breakfast: Nothing

Lunch: A carrot

Dinner: Carrot hot-dogs, which is basically a carrot wrapped in a lettuce leaf

Back on the wagon after that 4,000 calorie slip-up I had last night. Starved myself all morning to make up for it, which is definately the way to go. Had another carrot and then realised that I miss the fun of cooking so invented carrot hot-dogs (see above for recipe) and just entered a new realm of delight. Can’t see me having cooked food ever again, frankly. Loving life.

Day 3

Breakfast: Carrot Special K, which is just bits of carrot swimming in water

Lunch: A carrot

Dinner: Luxurious carrot hot-dogs, which is the same as above carrot hot-dog recipe but replace lettuce for four slices of bread (don’t worry, I left a lot of carrot on my plate to balance out the calories)

Late night snack: Four 2 litre bottles of Tesco Value Cider, two packs of cigarettes and a carrot dipped in lard

Empirical research suggests that Day 3 is the most difficult day of a week-long cleanse as it is just prior to the mid-way point. Well, actually I just made that up, which is pretty great considering I’m all sorts of drunk and I’m fairly certain I’m about to die of malnutrition. Had a carrot dipped in lard just to keep me grounded, yo.

Day 4

Breakfast: A carrot, which I vomited up so put me down for nothing

Lunch: One of everything on McDonalds’ Saver Menu, a block of cheese in it’s entirety and nine paracetemols

Dinner: A carrot

Unfortunately, while the Raw Food Diet claims to do wonders for inner health, sometimes my body finds it hard to adapt and this morning, I inexplicably woke up feeling quite queasy. After my breakfast carrot came back up which left me with a wealth of calories to spare, I decided to change my diet slightly to incorporate some new healthy choices. McDonalds’ Saver Menu is notorious small in portion, and therefore, having one of everything is a guilt-free choice. Plus, their new marketing campaign is always saying things like ‘healthy’ and ‘organic’, and they wouldn’t lie about something like that. Had a nice carrot to top-off a day of virtue.

Day 5

Breakfast: A carrot

Mid-morning snack: A solitary cream cracker

Mid-morning snack: A cake

Mid-morning snack: Four mini-snickerses

Mid-morning snack: The end of a cigarette that I fished out of a public bin and smoked

Mid-morning snack: Three blueberry maxi-muffins and their edible wrappers, which, as it turns out, weren’t edible

Lunch: Half a carrot

Dinner: Roast rack of carrot with carrot mash, served with baby carrots on the side and topped with carrot foam

No-one said the Raw Food Diet would be easy. After days of living off raw and partially cooked food, you, like me, may find yourself craving your old vices and it is perfectly fine to allow yourself a treat in moderation. This is why I smoked a stranger’s cigarette end rather than having a whole one. As for the other snacks, I did fourteen-and-a-half minutes of ‘Dance it off with Vicky Binns’ to burn those calories off, and then some. Probably.

Day 6

Breakfast: A tub of butter and a family-sized box of smokes

Lunch: A horse

Dinner: The entire ready meal aisle of Asda, followed by the contents of the really depressing part of Asda’s freezer aisle full of frozen pies

It is widely known fact that having a once-weekly ‘cheat day’ helps you to achieve longevity in a strict lifestyle change. Even though I had managed to make it to Day 6 of a Raw Food Diet week without cravings, I thought I would benefit from having a break, not that I need it. However, while I have allowed myself a day off, please note I did not have snacks, as it would just be too much for a picker like me.

Day 7

Breakfast: A carrot

Lunch: A carrot

Dinner: A carrot

As today was the final day of my Raw Food Week, I gave it one final push to ensure I avail of the maximum health benefits afforded after enduring such a difficult task. Feeling better already, and have decided give up cigarettes and smoke carrots as a healthy alternative in future. While I have enjoyed this week, it was challenging and difficult at times. I’m so proud to have completed my cleanse successfully and urge others to give it a go- your body will thank you.

Update: Just found out I’ve got diabetes. Getting my arm amputated this week, which is crap because it’s the arm I use to smoke carrots with. Never mind.


How to Get Bikini Ready Right Now!


Many people ask me, ‘How do you stay in such great shape?‘ to which I always reply, ‘Should I make this cheque out to cash, or…?’.

Yes, that’s right, ladies; if this blanket of grey mizzle ever lifts, bikini season will be just around the corner! And that means it’s time to start preparing for those lazy days on the beach. And by lazy, I mean stressful and miserable as you’ll probably spend the entire run up to summer in an endless cycle of crying and exercising.

But it doesn’t have to be a depressing and laborious misery fest. Here are five ways in which you can get a better bikini body with very little effort, and bid farewell to sucking in your stomach, dusting sand out of your spare tyre and going into the water to hide, which can lead to being potentially eaten by a shark, or being raped by a merman. You don’t want that, do you? So, read my tips.


Start a revolution

Thanks to brainwashing tactics that have been employed by our government for many generations, the general public are unaware that they are always being told what to think. If you don’t believe me, I would like to point out that, deep down, you are a tiny bit prejudiced. Even if, like me, you were raised as liberal, you have prejudices that are inbred through years and years of being told that anyone that is different to you is a threat. Our government did that. If you still don’t see my point- five words: My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. You watched that atop your high horse and secretly sneered, didn’t you?

Anyway, start a revolution by being like, ‘I don’t give a shit about no man, that’s right Lawd Jesus’ and doing snappy fingers (as explained here), then others are likely to follow suit and be all like, ‘Mmm-hmmm, I’m handling my shit and don’t give a ish’. Attitudes like this are usually picked up by masses of defensive, paranoid women. Eventually even uptight white women like myself will be joining in from afar, doing snappy fingers too and saying ‘I’m a strong white women and I’ll be damned if my man be all up in my bidness about my lumps’. See, I told you, we all have our prejudices.

Buy a cleverly designed ab-smock

A time-efficient way to obtain the abs, arse and thighs of a young starlet when you’re more ‘old harlot’ is to fake it ’til you make it and buy yourself a nice novelty apron with a cartoon muscle man or beach babe on it.

No-one will know it isn’t your body because they’re dead convincing. This apron will also double up as a hilarious conversation starter for vapid morons who still find The Simpsons and David Walliams funny.


Mince about with older, saggier and weightier counterparts

And watch yourself look better by comparison. Yes, this sounds cruel, but people like Vanessa Feltz and the entire cast of Loose Women would be friendless otherwise, for they were hardly made in God’s image. Making friends with women who are less of a ‘ten’ than you are effectively makes you the Queen Bee, even if you, too, have a face for radio and a body for rodeo. Every time someone has the misfortune of taking a photo of you bunch of ugly shrews together, that picture encapsulates a scale; this scale affixes the ugliest friend at the bottom and the prettiest (by default) friend at the top, which would be your good self, if you play your cards right. Hey presto: you’re the best of a bad bunch.


Start drinking plenty of fluids

Keeping your system ‘flushed out’ as whichever horrible ‘curvy’ Z-list celebrity who is currently the face of Activia (most likely either Martine ‘Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing’ McCutcheon or Claire ‘Eternal Menopause’ Sweeney) would say, is great for something, but to be honest, no one really knows what because we’re all too busy nodding along like chimps. Anyway, my fluid of choice is vodka, but I’m not fussy and whatever you have in the fridge will do. Drinking fluids like vodka, whisky and wine makes me look a lot better in the mirror, even when I’m crying and I don’t quite know why- I just get back on the kitchen table and dance like effing J-Lo. Drunk girls like this are the epitome of self-esteem.

And finally- stop caring

Ceasing to let the demands of society, the media and other shallow buffoons make you feel negatively about your, quite frankly, miraculous existence is the best move you’ll ever make for yourself. Have another bit of cake and stop worrying about it. And if anyone wants to tell you otherwise- myself, Martine McCutcheon, Vanessa Feltz and the cast of Loose Women will be round to glass that mother*.

*I just made that bit up about the cast of Loose Women, Vanessa Feltz and Martine McCutcheon. The only way they’ll be showing up is if you’re having a party and the theme is ‘Bitching about Anthea Turner while eating Macaroons’. Otherwise, it’ll just be me on my own, and I’ll probably just be in the corner crying and swinging a broken bottle. Thug life.

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My Top Five Fashion Picks for Spring 2012

With Summer just around the corner, us gals are spoiled for choice with Tropicana prints, neon wedges, crocheted anthing and midi-skirts in mint green hues. The shops are putting their tired Winter attire on sale and hamonising ‘Summer Nights’ with racks and rails of clashing-print, bold pinks and purples and the classic Spring LWDs.

Here are my top five fashion picks for Spring 2012:

Burlap Sacks

After having spent the last six months of my life learning how to create more tax breaks for the rich, and simultaneously trying not to commit suicide, my diet isn’t great and one can imagine that even the sackiest of spud sacks would be offended by our aesthetic association. Regardless, I’m being inspired by burlap sacks this season. Not only do I love their ‘shapeless’, ‘depressing’ and ‘brown’ qualities, they can also be dressed up for a night at Wetherspoons with a sparkly belt and a pair of George at Asda jeans, or dressed down for those days when you want some ‘me-time’ to roam freely around your house and cry about your shit life.


High street stores such as Topshop and River Island are investing heavily in the Sportswear Couture trend, which has been making an appearance in many Spring/Summer catwalks for the last few years, not to mention those of the 1980s and 90s. I like to put my own stamp on this trend by wearing my sweaty gym clothes everywhere because I’m overstretched and exhausted, while accessorising with a scowl and no make-up because I just sweat it off my face anyway during my workout to the point I looks like I’ve been ugly-crying, which I was, but come on.


While playing with fashion is fun, it is also advisable that you find out what suits you, dress for your ‘body type’ and don’t succumb to trends that are unflattering or inappropriate to you as an individual. As I have mentioned in previous posts, my individual style is ‘Big Lesbian’, reminiscent of Aileen Wuornos and other butch, burly women of the 1980s.

Therefore, I always have a timeless pair of dungarees in my wardrobe, that I update with current trends. For any other ladies considering investing in a pair of dungarees: My advice? Go for it. Multiple pockets to store your mullet comb? No sleeves to weigh down your arms when you’re writing Harry Potter fan fiction? An inexplicable constant presence of camel’s hoof while remaining baggy and unflattering in the leg? Yes, yes and yes!

A Nice Frock for the Dinner Dance

Spring 2012 fashion draws inspiration from the maxi-dress trend of the last few years, while paying tribute to elegant, garden party style, as exemplified with Rachel Zoe’s statement dress from her second collection:

However, this sort of thing is impractical for the dinner dance as you’d surely get leek and potato soup and rohypnol-spiked Smirnoff Ice spilled all down the front, and therefore, a touch of functionality is needed. As most of my nights on the town involve getting too pissed and having to be carried home, slung over someone’s shoulder (which I’m frequently sick down), a nice slaggy equivalent such as this dress is more up my alley for Spring:

An Outfit to ‘Blend In’

As every gal knows, while we love our statement pieces and garments that helps us to stand out, a nice outfit that helps you blend into the backround the morning after the night before can be a godsend for those days when you’re just popping out for a coffee and the latest copy of Vogue and don’t want to be recognised when you’re a little worse for wear. Therefore, investing in a ‘Where’s Wally?’ costume will do the trick, because I can never find him, no matter how hard I try. Seriously, it takes me ages.