Another play and Margaret Thather

I interviewed Margaret Thatcher, well a man that dresses as her which is pretty much the same right?

I also saw Bathhouse The Musical. It wasn’t 100% terrible (a massive amount of alcohol increased enjoyment ten fold.)

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I’m writing a kids book an actual book for children, with pictures.

My friend Jose is making it look pretty, follow its progress on his Instagram.

(I should really add an image to this shouldn’t I? But wouldn’t it be nicer to visit his pictures and click like a few times?)

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I saw some pretty excellent plays.

I got to see some excellent plays recently unfortunately two of the three have ended, so you cant see them, sucks to be you.*

Gods and Monster – willies and bleakness

It’s a bird … It’s a plane … It’s Superman – not terrible, very racist

Caravan and Pin – Excellent works in progress

*I’m so sorry, that was rude, I’m sure you’re an excellent person and it’s far better being you than me. Other plays will come along, better plays and you will see them and you can tell me all about them once the’ve been and gone. Give me a taste of my own medicine, it’s all I deserve.

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Things people who hate their job are fucking bored of hearing from you

Why don’t you apply for another job?

Why don’t you go fuck yourself?

My friend Keith swaps jobs every year and he’s doing well, you should talk to him.

Keith is a self-serving cunt. You’re using the word friend instead of the more accurate description of ‘he let me give him a blowjob once and although he’s an absolute wank stain I keep him around in the hopes that if I get him drunk enough he’ll let me do it again.’

Why don’t you do this? *insert link to wildly inappropriate job*

Although I appreciate that you’ve taken time, energy and effort to find a job you think I’d enjoy, the fact this job has nothing to do with my last 10 years work experience and has all to do with your dream job just confirms that you’re the whiny narcissist I always thought you were.

Rejection is just part of the process, you need to get a thicker skin.

No one will love you. Tell yourself that every day. Every time you take a step hear the chant ‘no one loves me.’ With each intake of air ‘no one will ever love me.’ When talking to a friend and they smile at you, they seem really happy to be in your company, they might ask you questions about your life, just remember how few fucks they actually give and how much they despise you.

You know, you’re lucky to be working.

You’re lucky that I’m not screaming into your face, cursing the very earth you walk on as I weep tears and blood at the thought of 8 hours at my prison desk.

Why don’t you take some time off to think about what you want to do?

Why don’t you pay me to do that then? Why don’t you, with your infinite funds from the bank of your fucking parents pay for me to sit down and have a fucking think.

Why don’t you quit this job and just temp for a bit then?

What an excellent idea, while I’m swapping one terrible soul crushing activity for another why don’t you, you with all your oh so clever ideas, why don’t you trade your shit smelling halitosis breath and trade it for a personality that’s bearable.

If you’re this upset with your job have you thought about interning somewhere more fun?

What a marvellous idea, how kind of you to give me this wisdom. I’ll just toodle off with my big bag of management, training and qualifications and trade that in for exactly zero pence and a shit eating grin. Please do carry on. Instead of living in a house paying rent should I sleep beneath bags from Tesco? Oh you think my time and money is being wasted on anything that brings me the remotest feeling of joy, should I just sit and play with the hand crafted organic wooden toys you’ve just bought for the precocious little shits you claim are children but the rest of existence would agree are the worst collection of cells and atoms to ever collect in one place?

You know, if you bought a house your mortgage would be less than rent and it would give you more job options.

You know, if I learned to live off of eating my own shit then that would be cheaper than buying food.

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A theatre review

I love theatre. I love that people can put time and effort into making something and occasionally what they make is terrible.

What I can’t abide is theatre that thinks it’s better than it’s audience and that’s what happened with A Series of Increasingly Impossible Acts.

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Sweet Dreams

You did it
You fucking did it again
That. Is. Hilarious.
It sounded so deep, so satisfying, almost luxurious.

I’m jealous.



That is really disgusting.
What did you eat? Are you dying?

You know the rules, outside of the sheets, outside of the bloody sheets

Bloody? Are you bleeding? You smell like you’re bleeding.
No I’m not an expert on the the smells of anal bleeding, but what every in Holy Hell you just created is a clear sign that things are just not right.

Yes I’m being serious.
Go check now.

Christ! Move quicker, you’re letting the heat out and the smell in.

When did you find time to eat all a farmyard?
No, I’m not calling you fat, it’s purely yet another reference to the obnoxious smell hovering in the air which is now waging all out war on my nostrils, taste buds and every pore of my body.

Is the smell in my hair? Do I need to shower?

Don’t slam the door.

Have you checked?
Is it ok?
Are you dying?

Just a little bit?

Can you wipe sitting down rather than standing, you leave flecks.
Yes, flecks.
Of course you don’t see them, I pick them up.

Are you ok?

Hurry back. I miss you.

I kept your side warm for you.
Can you rub my back?
Yes, that’s the spot.

Yes you’re winding me.

Shut up.
I got mine outside of the sheets.

I love you.


If you enjoyed this, why not read about a fight?

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No one loves the Wicked, except me and here’s why

I went to see Wicked and fell in love with it again, this is why you should too:

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Holy … shit, they thought it was shit

So the below was written for a celebrity website around about the start of the live finals of X Factor. It had been in the press that some poor love was made ill by the sight of Simon. I thought I was major lols, but guys, it was a major fail. 

Simon Cowell causing nausea and sickness in the north east since 1959
The people and Kelly Clarkson (lord praise her) have taught us that ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ What they didn’t teach us is that it can also lead to some inexplicable publicity.

Some poor love in Sunderland has started suffering panic attacks whenever she sees Simon’s face. Her panic attacks are so frantic, so immense that the tabloids all the way down at Kingslanding have heard her pain and felt a desperate need to share it with the world. This is not at all a desperate attempt by the X Factor minions to get any type of coverage, no sir, not this time, not at all.

Can you just imagine the meeting?

PR 1 – Guys guys, Strictly is like totally beating us in the ratings ya, what can we do? ya.
PR 2 – Well they do have Alison Hammond.
PR 3 – Remember back at the start, how Simon was all like, the villain, and people were all like booooo, can we do that again ya?
PR 4 – Ya, lets completely ignore the fact that Bake Off and Strictly with their eternal optimism along with all the research that shows that in a recession, yes guys that is still going on, people tend to want positive reaffirming entertainment rather than cynical, joyless and snide programming that tells them that they are shit, their jobs are shit and that unless they put themselves in a position that privacy is only a pipe dream then their whole pointless existence is just shit.
PR 1 – Ya, I hear what your saying, but I really think that if we make it sound like people are scared of Simon then the masses will tune in.
PR 2 – How are our viewing figures in……the north. *lightning strike* *sound of Cilla slapping a waiter*
PR 3 – Bad.
PR 1 – Let’s make a fool out of someone in Sunderland, those yobs will lap it up.

Now what they wanted to achieve, heaven knows. Simon is actually kind of likeable, he goes to Harvester, do you go to Harvester? No you don’t. See, Simon is more of a person than you are. Maybe Cheryl made the whole thing up, maybe it’s actually true and Simon inviting Ms.Sunderland along to a recording is the equivalent of a huge rat inviting Lynda Robson round for a cuppa.

All and none of these things could be true. If Ms. Sunderland had expressed a level of anxiety when viewing Dappy we would have all nodded our heads, agreed and not felt a need to write this mess.

We’ve got a lot of pictures of Simon for you. Let us know in great detail how they make you feel.

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Some theatre reviews

This was a good one:

This one wasn’t:

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Life had become tough for Cherie. At an early age she’d met Winston the man of her dreams, married and had two beautiful children who are both overachieving at school.

She would have little to say when a cashier asked how her day was, she’d always reply ‘amazing’ and she always meant it. Cherie would go out to lunch with her girlfriends and as they complained about their nightmare children and cheating husbands, she would just sit their quietly, becoming a bored wallflower. Cherie was worried she’d have to take up baking or veganism to seem interesting, but thankfully the doctor had bad news and Cherie has contracted a terrible wasting disease.

The joy filled and content life of picking up her kids from their successful after school activities or attending another of her husband’s award ceremonies where he’d receive huge bonuses has now, thank the holy Jesus, been interrupted. She now spends days in  hospital appointments being  tested as she bleeds from her nails along with the constant fear that comes with living with a terrible wasting disease.

‘Thankfully I now have something to talk about when I go out to lunch.’ Cherie boasted.

Cherie is no longer able to enjoy her pleasant tennis lessons with Tod on a Thursday or Yoga classes twice a week. Days not with doctors shaking their heads in confusion and weeping are now spent on a variety of daytime TV sofa’s talking about how she now cries bones and births a sack of flesh every third day.

Her friends are also keen to compliment this transformation. ‘Cherie was really devoid of personality, but, with this new terrible wasting disease I’m starting to like her. Also, she’s lost a ton of weight.’ Said Norris, one of Cherie’s old university friends.

This terrible wasting disease is also helping those Cherie has never met. Larry from Cincinnati, saw Cherie’s plight on Wake Up With Wendy. ‘I was so moved by what Cherie has achieved with the little time she has left that I had to do something. I’ve signed up a marathon and now I’ve gone from just nodding during conversations to having a constant topic to talk endlessly about.’

It’s hard to believe, but Cherie has even found time to set up a charity to help those with the same wasting disease. 

‘I’m really hoping my children will be able to take full advantage of my new charity, Cherie for Life, especially my daughter, she’s showing signs of being as dull as I was.’

Cherie’s book, Wasting Diseases Aren’t a Waste of Time, is available at all good retailers.

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