Category Archives: diet tips

Exercise Move of the Month: Getting Rid Of Your Christmas Chocolate For A Healthier New Year By Eating It All This Week

New Year, New Me. Not.

Christmas- it’s the most wonderful time of the year for people who can’t stop shovelling processed gunk in their gormless pieholes. Me, for example. And it’s great- not only do people keep bringing you little parcels of wrapped and ribboned colon cancer, but you’ll also not be able to resist picking up similar digestive system-ruiners when you call to your local Tesco 4,071 times during the month of December. This year, I splashed out on a half-baked chocolate log, whose box squealed ‘half the fun is baking your own Log! Just place me in the oven for 35 minutes and spend the rest of your afternoon decorating me with the icing turfed into this box as an afterthought!’ Brilliant, I thought at the time, I’ll be like a fucking Yankee Candle Christmas display baking this bastard, and off I went to buy it. Only a few days later, resentfully lobbing it into the oven (which I was standing well back from because the amount of Christmas alcohol is my system left me in danger of going on fire) and sitting on the icing packet to try and liquidise it did I realise that I’d paid double the price for half the product. Needless to say, I’m never fucking baking again.

But that’s what Christmas is all about- stuffing your already nearly vomitting self with crap that’s so full of additives that when they dig up your corpse decades after death, it will still be stuck to your skeletal pelvis, perfectly intact. That mother ain’t never going to break down, bitch.

So this month’s exercise move is brought to you by those people who innocently went down to their local precinct to do some shopping and were unwittingly filmed by a regional news team from behind, and later turned on the 6 o’clock news and had the misfortune of seeing their arse and muffin top splayed across the TV screen with statistics about obesity plastered over them, and is called ‘Getting Rid of Your Christmas Chocolate For A Healthier New Year By Eating It All This Week’.

Here’s how to do it:

Step 1

Start off slow by lying on the sofa in your pyjamas all day, ensuring your heart is at resting rate. Small bursts of activity, such as switching over Friends when you realise that it’s going to be one of those fucking episodes full of clips from past bloody episodes, or taking time out to work out your thumbs by joining well-meaning but definite bullshit groups on Facebook like ‘New Year, New Me’ and ‘Slimming World 4 Lyf’. If your thumbs are starting to feel strained, that only means its working.

Step 2

Your friend texts you, ‘It’s January, lazybones! Fancy a game of tennis?’ Work out that chest and shoulder area by sobbing quietly to yourself. Take your workout up a gear by ugly crying AND texting back, ‘Death in the family, you cheeky fuckbag. Piss off.’ Speaking of piss, you cannot deny that days in your pyjamas have left you smellier than an old Odor-Eater that Christina Aguilera was using as a tampon, so kick your workout into an even higher gear by heaving yourself off the sofa for a whore’s bath. Feel the burn!

Step 3

During your whore’s bath, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror and realise that all of the Christmas overindulgence has left you looking like Kirstie Alley after she ate Clare from Steps. Work those forehead muscles as you frown a lot at the state of yourself.

If only we could all have the natural peak physique of Ron from Biggest Loser

If only we could all have the natural peak physique of Ron from Biggest Loser

Step 4

Work those calves and thighs as you lunge to the kitchen with the intention of throwing out all junk food as you vow to make a lifestyle change once and for all. When you start to feel the burn your legs, step your workout up a notch by grabbing the Iceland carrier bag that you ironically carried all of your colon-blowing purchases home with after buying them enthusiastically mere days prior, to throw them away in. Then, when your core is least expecting it, stop lunging and grabbing, and take you heart down to a resting level again by focusing on your neck area as you shake your head upon realising that you’re far too much of a repulsive addict to throw out your junk food stash.

Step 5

Engage in some heart-healthy cardio as you feel you heart back-flip with delight as you decide to get rid of all of your junk food by eating it now instead of throwing it in the bin like you really should.

Step 6

End strong with your workout as you take your Iceland bag full of Intestine Polyfiller and trudge back to the sofa to find that part of the seat that your arse has indented. As you settle in for an afternoon of Maury’s Best Bits, bring your heart back to resting level as you toss the sugarcoated gout down your stinking piehole.

And, rest. Great workout, boys and gals!

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Diet of the Month- The Self-Loathing Diet

Usually, when I pick Diet of the Month, I choose something legitimate and well-publicised, but this month I wanted to do something a little bit different. In the coming months, I’m going to talk about a diet that we’ve all put our weary selves on at one point or another- the Self-Loathing Diet.

Unlike other, established diets, the Self-Loathing diet has only one rule- there are no rules. Apart from the rule about the no rules, but you get the point. On the Self-Loathing diet, anything goes.

The Self-Loathing diet is a long process of stages- each stage more painstaking and depressing than the last. In this post, I am going to talk about Phase 1 of the Self-Loathing Diet: Triggers. In later months, I’ll explore the other phases, such as Phase 2: Starving Your Bastard Self Until You Dry-Heave Air, Phase 3: Exercising Until You Faint or  Phase 4:The Realisation That You’d Rather Die Fat And Happy, Than Thin And Miserable.

Phase 1: Self-Loathing Diet Triggers

Discovering your jeans don’t zip up without having to use a clothes hanger to wedge yourself into them.

Unwrapping a birthday/Christmas present that you bought for someone else, and eating it while swearing you’ll replace it, then eating the replacement too.

Changing your Facebook settings to ensure you can review all tagged photos prior to them appearing on your Facebook wall, because you know you’ll look like Vanessa Feltz’s older, fatter grandmother in any pending pictures.

The only vegetables you eat are deep fried. And chips.

The checkout representative scanning your shopping gestures to your items and says, ‘Having a party, are we?’ and you’re not. You’re having a night in on your own.

You are congratulated on your pregnancy. So you have to spit out your cake to tell the bastard that you aren’t pregnant.

Your way of dealing with your insecurities about food is to cry while eating more food.

Your first thought when someone dies is ‘Great! An excuse to eat white bread.’

You walk into a Chinese Herbal Medicine shop and the shop assistant guides you towards the fat pills before you’ve even opened your mouth. Then you say you’re there for sleeping tablets and the assistant replies, ‘OK, so fat pills AND sleeping tablets?’

You make sure to stage your bikini photographs in a body-flattering way, such as jumping in the pool with your arms stretched in the air, or stretched out on a sun lounger with your stomach sucked in. When people question your strange expression, you tell them that you had food poisoning.

Come to think of it, every photograph is strategic and you can’t let your guard down. Because if it wasn’t, you look like Gemma off TOWIE.

You sing along to ‘I Am What I Am’, louder than anyone else.

The fresh fruit and vegetable bit of your fridge is filled with chocolate and sweets. Well, the empty wrappers of the aformentioned items.

You joke with your mates that the words ‘Death By Chocolate’ will adorn your gravestone, but you’re secretly shitting yourself that it actually happens. And that you’ll have to get a specially-made coffin. And that they’ll have to wheel your coffin through the church with a crane. And the crane breaks.

You realise that the t-shirt that you’re wearing is actually a six-man tent.

You’re offered a modelling job for Closer magazine, and when you get there, you find out it’s for a feature called, ‘Fat Lasses Who Don’t Really Mind Being Fat’.

You cry at any TV programme that depicts the plight of a child who gets picked last for sports.

You have a fridge-magnet, given to you by a friend, that makes reference to how you love food more than men. And instead if taking that hint given to you by a so-called friend, you put it up on your fridge and laugh at it every time you see it.

You go out and get pissed just so you have an excuse to have a kebab at the end of the night.

The people on Biggest Loser look normal to you when the series starts.

Your party trick is not being able to see your feet.


So there you have it, folks- a few of the endless Self-Loathing diet triggers. Or triggers for eating disorders in general. Join me next month when I explore characteristics of Phase 2 of the Self-Loathing Diet: Starving Your Bastard Self Until You Dry Heave Air.

If I’m not too busy jumping in front of a bus.

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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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Diet of the Month… Weight Watchers

The Weight Watcher diet originated in 1960’s America and gained strength on our side of the Atlantic when an army of black-trouser and spangly top-wearing women decided that they wanted to wear black trousers and spangly tops in slightly smaller sizes, but without eating less or exercising and maintaining the zero quality of life they enjoyed before. Hooray, what a revelation!

While it is undeniable that Weight Watcher’s heyday is long gone, paving the way for newer, lazier diets for people who just can’t arsed with anything except preparing tens of thousands of tupperware dishes full of carrot sticks and hemp to take into work and eat all day, there is still something to be said about an eating plan where you can sit on your arse all day and still lose weight. That’s some feat.

It is for this reason that I have elected Weight Watchers for ‘Diet of the Month’, which I am using to help me in my quest to contracting a rampant case of diabetes later on in life. Here’s how I got on:


Starting Weight Watchers today with an allocation of 24 points daily. Glad I ate everything in the cupboards last night, including a box of doughnuts, a cake and four litres of cider, to remove the temptation of snacking- that was a brilliant idea. Off to work today with 14 tupperware dished filled with homemade food that Weight Watchers are paid to endorse no matter how repulsive delicious Weight Watcher recipes, such as Roasted Red Pepper Crumpet Pizzas (yum, all the fun of a vegetarian, cheeseless pizza without the pizza!) and No Points Soup, which is basically just lots of soggy vegetables gargling their own faeces. Delish!

Feeling maniacally happy at the minute, and light as a feather as, despite Weight Watchers saying that on this diet, you can eat carbohydrates, the unwritten rule is that the only carb allowed near your mouth is one piece of dried Nimble bread (basically half a slice of ordinary bread). Well, little pickers wear big knickers!

Feeling my work colleagues seeth behind my back as I point out how unhealthily they’re eating, despite the fact that I’ve only been on a diet for one morning, and that I was fat and unhealthy enough to go on a diet in the first place. Jealousy.

Drive home and sit on my arse all night. *Sips Diet Coke.


Work up this morning, still on a manic high. As seems to be Weight Watchers protocol, the more you begin to starve yourself of a ‘normal’ diet, the more your body gets used to the starvation. Brilliant news! My target weight was eight stones, but now, seeing as I can, I’ll starve myself to 4 stones instead and allow myself to put on 4 stones worth of cake weight. Excellent.

Got punched in the face by someone in work today for telling them that having pasta for lunch ‘does more harm than good’. I can’t believe how unhealthy people are- now that I’ve been on this diet for a whole day, I’ve realised that other people are killing themselves with food. On my way home from work, I called in to Tesco and bought four crates of Diet Coke. Diet Coke has zero points in it so I can have as much as I want. I bet it’s full of nutrients too. *Smug face.


Weighed myself today and lost half a stone in two days- how healthy am I?! Went out and bought myself a new pair of black trousers and a spangly top in a smaller size as motivation to keep going. Don’t feel hungry at all, despite the fact that all I’ve eaten for the past day is a few cans of nutritious Diet Coke. Mmmmm….

Got invited out tomorrow night for a few drinks with friends. Currently living off lettuce leaves and Diet Coke to save up the 48 points needed for a bottle of vodka to get absolutely pissed out of my skull. Thankfully, while one bottle usually isn’t enough, I am hoping the starvation in my system acts as some sort of drunk-accelerator.


Attended a work tribunal regarding Tuesday’s assault by a work colleague earlier today. It was ruled that they had every right to punch me because I was being a [quote] ‘sanctimonious Weight Watcher bastard who thinks they know everything about diets and healthy eating, which is unlikely considering most people who do Weight Watchers gain their weight back eventually but they don’t tell you that in the fucking manual, do they?’ Jealousy.

Went out and got incredibly drunk- spent the entire night crying. Friends couldn’t tolerate me anymore so they left me in the ‘Drunk Dieting Women’ section of the nightclub, which is basically like the smoking section, but instead, houses all of the women in black trousers and spangly tops that, due to starvation, can’t handle their drink and spend the night befriending other dieting women, bonding all night over how much better they are than everyone else for sticking to Weight Watchers and saying things like, ‘I just wish my friends had the willpower to do it for themselves!’ *Sips vodka and Diet Coke.

Had a kebab on the way home. It doesn’t count if you’re so drunk that it was vomited back up anyway.


Reached that place where one becomes aware that food exists again and cannot bear one more second of starvation. Ate a pigeon on my way to work. No- I didn’t eat a pigeon. I ate four pigeons. So ashamed of myself. But pigeons aren’t in the Weight Watchers Points Guide so they were probably zero points anyway. As was all of the debris attached to the Weight Watchers cookery book, that I licked clean just to get some bits of food off it.

Went for my first weigh-in tonight (I got weighed last week but couldn’t start my diet as it wasn’t Monday yet, and under the Weight Watchers Unwritten Code Section B8.3, ‘Thou Shalt Not Start Diets Until Monday Morning. Exceptions include New Year’s Day, The Day After New Years Day (If New Year’s Day Falls On A Weekend), The Day After Your Birthday Week and Sometime After Your Holidays’). Horrified to learn that all that Diet Coke, starvation and low-fat pigeon eating was in vain as I put on four stones. Not only that, but my menstrual cycle packed up and left today with a note that said, ‘I don’t want to sit around and wait for you to start growing fur, so I’m off now’.

Myself and the other members of ‘Betty’s Weight Watcher Group in the Church Hall Friday Night at 8pm’ conspired against the Weight Watcher of the Week, cornering her in the car park, dismembering her and eating her for being such a bitch and losing weight when none of the rest of us did. *Sips Diet Coke.


Went to hospital due to a feeling of insatiable thirst, blurred vision, weakness and increased need to urinate.


Was diagnosed with diabetes. Amputated foot.

*Sips Diet Coke.

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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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Being a Himbo- Tips for the Modern Man

In an attempt to abolish the idea that this website is written exclusively for women who need to be put in their place, by women who need to be put in their place, I think it’s time to address the male readers of this blog and give them a few tips to enrich their lives. So, thank you for reading, boys, and this blog goes out to the three of you.

Let me start by clarifying that I never meant to alienate you with the pretty pink backdrop you are currently staring at.  This is a frequent misconception about my blog, and it would like me to point out that it isn’t pink, it’s merely blushing at how paltry and forced the jokes are.

Anyway, the Feminist Rights Movement called for the abolition of gender inequality, in the hope that, one day, men and women would be viewed as equal on all platforms. One would expect that this movement would propel the human race to disregard the objectification of women, and allow women the freedom to think and be heard, to be educated and to have the right to the same opportunities as men. In short, to remove the idea from society that women are just mothers, housewives and sexual playthings.

That’s the ideal. Many women still choose to tart themselves up, hoist up the cleave and call it ‘entrepreneurial’. ‘Beauty is power!’ they cry to shitty tabloid papers, whilst having little else to say because being smart isn’t attractive, and that elaborating means they have to use their words. Nonetheless, the Feminist Rights Movement and evolution itself has facilitated a change in attitude that promotes equality among the two sexes- but, while many women have enjoyed this progression, many men are choosing to devolve to nothing more than posing, pretty boys. Welcome to the age of the Himbo.

From Geordie Shore to, well, Jersey Shore, Himbos are out en masse, and if you don’t like it, well- you were a slag anyway. Next! At least that’s what they’d say. Himbos are very visual and like to keep women ‘on their game’ by telling them how ugly, fat and interchangeable they are. This is the first rule of being a Himbo- treat ’em mean, keep ’em lean.

Speaking of being lean- as an aspiring Himbo, disguise the fact that you are a vain motherfucker with no personality by being in great shape. This can be achieved by spending your whole day pumping iron at the gym and taking a fuckload of steroids. Don’t forget that diet of Lucozade, cigarettes, protein shakes and self-loathing! Fist pump!

Enhance your chiselled son-of-a-bitch self with a leathery, dehydrated tan and the latest fashion pour hommes. Every Himbo worth his salt knows that a pair of jeans that don’t cover your arse and are hanging low at the crotch are a fashion must, the more flourescent the better. These are extremely versatile and show off your cunty cartoon briefs that aren’t cool and make you look mentally disabled. Said jeans can be dressed up or down as required, for example, when you tire of working as a ‘model’ in Hollister and fruitlessly visit your local jobcentre, team your fuckwitted jeans with an annoying 80’s throwback t-shirt and American Apparel hoodie. You douche.

When heading for a Himbo night out the town in search of slags and chlamydia, complete your outfit with a wife-beater style top that barely covers your nipples. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go to Topman and just look at the very first garment as you walk in the door- it’ll be the top I’m referring to. Choosing an appropriate top is easy- just look for something that suggests, ‘I’m sorry I raped you, but my friends and I were having a competition to see who was the best sociopath. LOL.’ Infact, Topman may have this very slogan in store. Fortunately, such slogans supply you with a much needed personality, and may make it easier to break the ice when trying to approach a lady who you’d like to date and later mentally abuse.

House of Himbo Spring/Summer 2012 Collection Bestseller

Which brings me to my next subject: companionship. Much like the outdated tradition in which a bride is ‘given away’ by her father to her new husband like a ritualistic ‘fuck you’ to feminism, Himbos are nurtured by controlling and subservient mothers whose doting is so intense, no woman will ever be enough for him. Reluctantly, the right to iron his clothes, cook for him and generally be a slave are passed on nonetheless. When you finally decide to stop drinking in the type of shitholes where your flourescent Converse stick to the carpeted dancefloor when you are trying to dance to LMFAO’s ‘I’m Sexy and I Know It’, you will need a Bimbo with whom you can settle down and kill time until death by defining yourself by the car you own. You must choose a partner who matches you in vanity, intellect and ability to fight and cheat relentlessly. It’s probably that whore over there with the face piercings. No, not the goth- the slag over there doing the Slut Drop.

Make your Bimbo feel loved and cherished by telling her how much you love her via Facebook and other public domains. Conversing face to face just means no-one can see how much better and happier you two are than the rest of us, whereas putting private and intimate information on Facebook is more attention-seeking and dick-bagged. Respect.

The love between Himbo and Bimbo is sacred and built on a long tradition of doing a poor man’s version of whatever the Beckhams are currently doing smugly and publicly. The Beckhams’ latest self-marketing ploy is to be perceived as demure and private, all the while living in L.A. and actually doing the opposite of being demure and private. Adopt this strategy by structuring your sentences as follows: ‘Not to brag, but (insert bragging bullshit that no-one gives a fuck about here)‘.  When in the company of other couples, bore everybody shitless by whittering on about your dull and unremarkable life. People love hearing about your lives because you’re so glamorous. And remember to name drop as much as possible so as to impress everybody else that you know someone rich, which makes you better by association.

And finally, whether your hobnobbing with others and getting your ‘brand‘ out there, or just chilling with your friends that you call ‘homies’ or some other outdated word- remember to talk like an absolute cunt. Make sure to overuse the words ‘Awesome’, ‘Rock’ (as a verb), ‘Super’, ‘Dude’ and ‘Epic’, it’s really original and not hilarious in a laughing-at-you way at all. Justin Bieber would be proud, dude.

Oh, and before I forget, invest in a tennis racket to bat back all of the offers from MTV to star in their new reality show, seeing as you are ideal.

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