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Manners are ridiculous things. I mean, what is the point of them? Sometimes I wish we didn't have to have manners and we could all just go around being fucking arseholes to each other. Survival of the fittest and all. However, for some reason, society dictates that we should all be charming and polite to one another. You can't just go around speaking your mind all the time.

This would be fine, except that everything you can say these days can be interpreted as offensive. I was talking the other day about a Jesus freak who once pointed at me and told a hobo he was chatting to that I was going to Hell. I didn't really give a shit, I just thought it was funny. However, rather than laugh like you're supposed to, my comments were met with 'you can't go around calling him a Jesus freak!'

That is exactly my point. Even though I keep a lot of shit to myself these days, I'm still an offensive cunt. I don't like being such a thing. But trying to keep all my thoughts inside my head is very difficult. Is a blog not for pouring your heart out to people who don't really care about what you're writing? So I suppose here are a few things I would like to say to a few people. You might be one of them, but you're probably not.

'You look like post-2000 Michael Jackson and the only time I ever met you you completely ignored me then accused me of not speaking to you. Therefore I think you're a fucknugget.'
'It's funny because you're a straight dude and you wear makeup but your clothes never match. You wear vans with the laces tied in a bow! You shouldn't do that.'
'Your willy tasted salty, like chicken.'
'I once heard you in the toilet cubicle next door to me changing your sanitary towel. I was so mortified when you came out and didn't wash your hands that I will never touch you again.'
'Are you aware that you pick your nose in front of people or is it just like a nervous habit you have?'
'You have got so fat lately! You need to sort yourself out. You'd get a partner no problem if you weren't so chunky. People are shallow.'
'I'm sorry for my behaviour at the party. I remember lots of what I did. I ran off because I fancy you and was gutted I was making a tit of myself. I feel like a bit of a twat as I always seem to do that and have sort of given up.'
'I've seen your sister's vagina. It is very well groomed.'
'You smell like cabbage and it's really gross, especially when you come in my dad's car and I have to febreeze it. Also you never offer any petrol money which is really bad manners.'
'I once excused myself to use your toilet, but secretly went in and shaved my legs and my armpits with your razor because I'd forgot to do it at home and had a party to go to.'  
'When I was little, looking at you used to put me off my food because you once had a big, black bogie hanging out of your nose and I could never erase this image from my mind.'
'I know that you say loads of rude things about me behind my back. I don't know why I put up with it really.'
'I pissed myself in your car once when I was being violently sick with food poisoning. I couldn't bring myself to tell you as I'd already chucked all over your coat and was wearing someone else's trousers.'
'You're a million times the man your fit friend is. I wish I could hang out with you more often.'
'I snogged your boyfriend of two years quite fervently behind a nightclub. He then asked me to sleep with him but I refused. I have never even met you, but please don't marry him- make sure you find someone better.'
'You ruined my expensive leather handbag by getting pissed and chucking red wine over it. You owe me, you bastard.'

Serious Note: I know there are things which are probably far more offensive that other people would like to say to me. I know I'm socially awkward and weird looking and embarrassing and difficult and confusing at the best of times and don't need to be told! And I really hope noone reads into these too much. I genuinely mean it when I say most of these people I am not in contact with any more. Serious head on, I wrote this solely to amuse and not at all to hurt or offend anyone. 

And finally.....

Things that are more embarrassing than doing 'Ministry of Sound: Pump It Up' dance aerobics in a pair of shorts and socks in the living room, unaware that the window cleaner is watching

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Vegetarians, in modern British soceity, are treated as a different species. I swear, I could tell you I was a convicted serial killer and I would garner fewer looks of disgust than when I tell people I don’t eat meat. Normally I am indifferent to people calling me a freak and trying to tell me that I must be unhealthy or a psychopath. It’s not because I’ve got used to it after 11 years, because every time it is still annoying, and neither is it because I am easy going, as I can be very fiery when rubbed up the wrong way. I think it’s because, in the past, I had come to the conclusion that this sort of prejudice and ridicule is something I was going to have to live with for as long as I choose not to partake in the consumption of meat. The sacrifices I make for my ethics! However, recently, I have started getting increasingly fed up of people forcing their views one me, as though they’re the first person who has ever told me that being a vegetarian is stupid. I am fed up of people I have only just met lecturing me on my diet as though they are some kind of oracle amongst nutritionists, and as though they even have the right to.

I make a point of never ever making a big deal about my ethical stance unless I am questioned about it. It is something that is very important to me but I have, as I have grown up, tended to keep it to myself out of dignity and taste (and out of ease, due to the above harassment I frequently receive). What baffles me is how many people seem to think I am an ‘unusual’ vegetarian for this. As far as I know (and I do know a few vegetarians), the only time you can tell a vegetarian is a vegetarian is when you go out to eat with them and they order the bean burger. No matter what caricatures and stereotypes are bandied about in the media, I do not know a single herbivore who wears hessian kaftans, grows their body hair and slathers themselves in patchouli. Whereas behind closed doors I am secretly a supporter of a few (sane) animal rights groups, I don’t stand about in the street shouting at and demonising anyone who eats in McDonalds. Perhaps it is worth pointing out here I am also a secret supporter of lots of charities concerning human rights. I donated a considerable sum to Comic Relief this year but didn’t really feel the need to tell anyone. I suppose I am just a generous and charitable person! It has nothing to do with the fact I don’t eat meat. The irony of this whole thing is that whereas I do my best to keep my opinions on the hush, so many people assume that because of what I am I do completely the opposite, even though the truth- who I am- is plainly there before their eyes! And as if that isn’t bad enough, they suddenly turn into the loudmouthed, judgemental losers that they are accusing me of being!

I hate hate hate having to respond calmly to people when they are jabbing their blunt interrogation at me from every angle. So here are a list of common questions I get asked and my answers. Think about how I feel having to hear these almost every day!  

Q: ‘Why are you a vegetarian?’

A: ‘Why are you not? Because I want to be.’

Q: ‘People are meant to eat meat.’

A: ‘People are also meant to be hairy and naked, and they to be attracted by the smell of sweat, cock and pussy. As a species we have moved on a lot a lot on the past few hundred years. We do a lot of things we’re not supposed to do.’

Q: ‘If it wasn’t for us breeding cows and things, they’d be extinct.’

A: ‘I think I’d rather be extinct than subject to their existence. And I don’t like the thought of us treating sentient beings as possessions, their survival as a species reliant on whether or not we want to eat them. We’re not doing them a favour!’

Q: ‘But why are you a vegetarian?!’

A: ‘Oh, ok then. Because livestock farming is having devastating effects on the environment, both in terms of global warming and the destruction of the rainforest. Because meat production uses up huge quantities of water and grain which I think is unfair when people are starving in the world. And because I love animals and have seen with my own eyes the unimaginable suffering they endure from birth to slaughter for the sake of our palettes. I could never see an animal go through that by my hand so I don’t think I have the right to eat meat.’

Q: ‘How do you get all the vitamins and protein you need?’

A: ‘With ease. My blood count is perfect, I am not anaemic in the slightest. I am the slimmest, fittest and healthiest member of my family. I get so fed up of people banging on about me not having enough protein. The average adult has three times too much protein in their diet and I clearly get enough. I have never taken a day off work sick. And vegetarians also have a longer life expectancy than meat eaters. It doesn’t mean we’re better than you, it just means that there is nothing wrong, health wise, with what we are doing.’

Q: ‘But meat is so tasty!’

A: ‘So are olives. Mmmmm, olives! What, you don’t like olives? But olives are so tasty!’

Q: ‘Animals were put on this earth for us to eat.’

A: ‘Prove it.’

Q: ‘But what about all the poor carrots that you eat? There was a study that said plants can feel pain.’

A: ‘If you can find me a carrot with a brain, nervous system and the capability to experience fear and maternal bonds with its young then perhaps I will stop eating carrots as well.’

Q: ‘I don’t care about animals, sorry. You’ll never stop me eating meat.’

A: ‘I was never trying to. You asked me why I was a vegetarian and I told you!’

I really cannot understand the hostility towards people who choose to make a decision that affects noone else. There are plenty of other things in this world which I choose not to indulge for far less rational reasons. For instance, I refuse to indulge Keith Lemon, because I think he is an irritating little man. I also refuse to indulge men who wear jewellery and those girly plimsols that seem to have come in fashion, because I think they look like tools. I also don’t like cats or nightclubs or cars or sport or horror films or spicy food or the smell of honey… I’m sure these would prove to be much more awkward traits. If I was a vegetarian because of my religion, would I be questioned then?

Noone is ever going to affect my opinions, in the same way I will never influence anyone else’s. I’m sorry, that’s just the way it is. But let me just make the point that because I am a vegetarian, it doesn’t mean I can’t be compatible with a meat eater as a boyfriend, housemate or buddy. That is the whole point of this post- vegetarianism is not a big deal! Really, please, get over it.

Rant over. Now let’s talk about something fun again!

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Consoler of the Lonely

NB: The below is a letter I wrote to myself to read when I am down that has helped me feel a trillion times better about my recent break up :) (For the record, there is not a single bad word, even in my ''you talk like you swallowed a dictionary, fnargh'' vocabulary, that I have to say about my ex.)


A Kwik-Save epiphany, to whatever part of you is not too stubborn to listen to the shy, reasoning voice inside your scrambled little head:


Heartbreak is something that never gets easier, no matter how many times you experience it or how much good advice you heed. We always feel the need to justify our sadness with melodrama, exaggerations of feelings, and romanticised longings for imagined pasts that never truly existed. It’s bizarre because we never have to justify our positive emotions, to ourselves or to anyone. Why should anyone ever need an excuse to be happy? Yet whenever we feel such pain, we are always questioned. Always made to question ourselves as a means of making ourselves happier, yet it only every makes us feel worse because we never know the answer because none exists. Thinking of such deep things in such a cold, detached way, as though events are terms in some sort of mathematical equation that can all be worked out and solved and set aside and forgotten about so neatly and so quickly just by shuffling a few things around is just ludicrous, and completely illogical, no matter how logical you try to make it seem.


Take comfort in the fact that emotions are a fundamental aspect of the human condition. Sensitivity is not a negative trait and should stop being viewed as such. Strong feelings define a strong character, and the ability to love someone is a beautiful thing that should be embraced rather than feared or ultimately regretted. It is in most cases a transferrable skill. Feeling hurt is not a sign of weakness; it is a sign of warmth.


The best advice I can give to anyone, to myself or to any person, is that people get through everything in life except death itself. It is ironic because although time is so physically draining in being what ultimately leads to our grave, it also has an unmatched power to rejuvenate us spiritually. Time heals everything, albeit slowly. Endings can be viewed as such, or viewed as beginnings. It depends on the thinker. You never know who or what is lurking in the woodwork of fate, or when it is going to surface. Embrace change, don’t shun it. Even if something seems wrong now, in 12 months time it may well seem perfect. Love your body and soul, and above all love your broken heart until it loves you back. Never underestimate the joy platonic love can bring. And never overlook the power of a bottle of rose and a bag of Minstrels.


- You (these thoughts are entirely your own and don’t forget it.)


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Not many weeks ago I staggered into work having had no sleep, dressed in a pair of pyjama bottoms, fugg boots and a hoodie and slumped down on my desk, groaning like a constipated old person. Hangover? I wish. No, sadly my glands were poking out of the side of my neck like golf balls, my tonsils were white with infection and my whole body ached with sickness. My throat was so painful I couldn't breathe without wanting to die. Naturally, I booked straight in at the doctors and after a morning of gasping at people down the phone that I couldn't talk any louder I set off in my little Fabia to the surgery.

My doctor is very good and trustworthy so when he proclaimed I either had glandular fever or a nasty case or tonsilitis I believed him. I took the course of antibiotics he prescribed religiously to the hour, four times a day. I even went for the blood test he ordered me to, and trust me that took some bollocks on my part- I had never had a blood test before but had seen many a butchered arm as a result.

Anyway, whilst I waited for the results of the blood test to come back, I recovered fully. It only took about a week and a half before I was back to being my normal, hysterical, ridiculous self. I told myself I must have just had tonsilitis as the antibiotics had clearly worked. I didn't even bother phoning up for the results. I didn't even ask for them when I went to have my bits prodded and probed in a smear test a few days after, because now my neck was back to its normal size I didn't really think it mattered. I'd forgotten about it to be honest. So imagine my sheer horror when, one week later, I received a letter advising me that an appointment had been made for me with the doctor following the blood test.
I flapped all night, to anyone who would listen. What on earth could be wrong with me? Is it AIDS? Leukemia? Diabetes? The best case scenario I could think of would be that, having been a vegetarian for most of the past 11 years, I was anaemic. It would at least explain my pale, disgusting skin that everyone always thought it socially acceptable to comment on (I have never understood that... How on earth is it polite to say 'ooo, you're very pale'... I mean, would it be ok for me to go up to someone and say 'ooo, you're very fat'?). As I tossed and turned in bed wondering what on earth was the matter with my minging body, I felt an utter sense of frustration that, having received the letter on Friday evening, it would take until Monday morning for me to call the surgery and find out. 

I had an appointment on the Tuesday. I'd had to phone the receptionist on the Monday afternoon to ask her to please tell me as much as she could as to why I needed to be seen. All she could tell me was that it was regarding my blood test but was ''not urgent''. In my mind that clearly meant that I was anaemic. I'd been gorging on animal carcass all week in fear of the shockingly low blood count that was surely waiting to come to light, but  following that I literally was stuffing whole animals in my mouth. I actually became a relentless carnivore. If I'd eaten any more I would have started looking like a chicken drumstick. I could have put Henry VIII to shame.

When the time came for me to attend my appointment, I sat in the waiting room fidgetting. (On a tangent... Why are waiting rooms always full of weird people with worse dress sense than Stevie Wonder? My favourite today was a man that smelled of poo in a string vest....) I was half an hour late being seen. When I finally walked in the room my pulse was pounding like a disco beat on ecstasy. The lovely Irish lady doctor sat me down and explained to me in her cool, dulcet tone:

'The reason we called you back was simply to tell you that following your blood test we have discovered that you did indeed have Glandular Fever. Therefore there was no need for you to have taken the antibiotics, although obviously as we weren't sure what it was you were suffering from we needed you to take them anyway. Generally the bigger and more yucky looking your tonsils the more likely you are to be suffering from Glandular Fever, but as I said, we weren't to know.'

Right. So we've established what was wrong with me about a month ago. What was so wrong with my blood test that you've dragged me back in?

'Oh, your blood test was fine. You were a tiny tiny bit low on a certain type of white cell, but that was because you were recovering from Glandular Fever.'

It's not because I'm anaemic? I've been a vegetarian for 11 years, I have always worried about it...
'No, no, no. No, you are definitely NOT anaemic, not at all.'

Not even a tiny bit?

'No, you're absolutely fine. Perfect. Normal. See, you can see from the results....' She angled the screen towards me. I had no idea what any of it meant.

Should I not be taking supplements then?

'Only if you feel you need to, but it doesn't look that way from the results.'

So........ why have I been called back again?

'Because you had glandular fever.'

Four weeks ago?

'We just needed to let you know. You can go and look it up on the internet now!'

And then I breathed a big, sweaty sigh of relief, shuffled back to my faithful Fabia and drove into town to meet my buddy. All I felt was a mild annoyance that when I was passing out and vomitting from period pains at the age of 17 it took me nearly two weeks to get an appointment, but when the doctors felt it so urgent to tell me that four weeks ago I was ill but now there was nothing wrong with me I was seen immediately. 

The moral of the story? I can't really say there is one. Except that vegetarians can indeed be healthy, and that fair skinned folk are not necessarily sickly and weak... It may just be our natural skin colour. I see it as a two fingured salute to the years of  ''ooooo, you can't be getting enough protein or iron in your diet!'' I have endured. Ha!

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Like vs. Love

Something slightly different to my usual ''top 10...'' lists today, mainly because I'm in a bit of a different mood!

So. Here I sit. You could probably say in the relationship department, I've not had the best of luck, although I doubt a great deal of us have. After all, we are still young. I've had my fair share of nice boys, naughty boys, older boys, younger boys, hot boys, geeky boys, average boys, crazy boys, British boys, foreign boys, blondes, brunettes, red heads and even girls. I've dumped and been dumped. I've had one night romances and week-long flings, real relationships and on-going 'things'. I've regrets, like everyone has. But anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that I'm not an expert, I don't have all the answers. But I thought I'd have a go at answering this difficult question.

How do you know if you love someone, or if you just really like them? I'm sure it's a question we have all pondered at some point in our lives, and the answer as far as I can see is a bit of a tricky one. Subjective almost. I'm sure lots of different people would argue different things.

'Love' is a word that is bandied around a lot these days. We're all guilty of it, I'm sure. 'I love your dress', 'I love apricot flavoured petit filous','I love it when Norris Cole talks about his bunions'... Of course, that is not the same type of romantic love I am addressing (although.... would I make love to an apricot petit filous? Possibly). Similarly though, it seems a lot people these days are in love. Does that mean the term has become less.... meaningful? If it even has a meaning? Probably not. There is, of course, a crowd of people, particlarly within the younger 'honey-baby-sweetheart' generation, that will fall in love at the drop of a hat. But there are couples out there who have been together for years, or who have never gotten over their first love. That brings me to my first point that love is not always the beautiful thing that it is made out to be- love can be bitter and cruel, and can consume us from within when it is unrequited. 

So. Like. Like is the animal response we have when we see someone who is aesthetically pleasing to us. We like their personality, we like the way they look, their style, the way they hold themselves. We like the shape of their eyebrows, the way their teeth cross over in the front, their crazy accent. We don't choose to be in like, it happens. Often it happens quickly and without us realising, because like is far less notorious than the hefty ''love''. Unrequited like can be very difficult to deal with, because it's not something we can just get rid of. Like is not something we choose. It is definitely not inferior to love- in fact, it is the most vital part of love. 

Love on the other hand is considered more serious. In my time thinking about this, I have come to the conclusion that the reason for this is because love is a choice that we make. You can like someone without understanding them. You might really like someone until you see them naked. You might really like someone until you discover their bowel problems. You might really like someone until you visit their grotty house. You might really like someone until you discover they have a criminal record. Love is a commitment we make when we know someone completely, with all their flaws, and still feel the same, or when we know that no flaw could change the way we feel. Love is a commitment you make to someone to forget about anyone else, to forsake all other people (even hot ones) and to embrace their bad bits as well as their good bits.

I already mentioned those who fall in love so quickly it's impossible to take it seriously. But there are also people who don't believe in love at all. It's possible to see where they're coming from from a scientific point of view- I mean, love doesn't really have a fixed definition, so how can you prove it exists? I suppose that all depends on whether or not you are one of those 'seeing is believing' people.

How do you tell if you are in love then? A simple way would be to ask yourself how you would feel if your current 'like' was, say, in a terrible car crash that left them badly burned and disabled. Would you still like them even though they looked less attractive? Would you stay with them even though you may have to make allowances for them? Would you still like them even though other people may stare in disgust or pity? Think about it seriously and be honest. If the answer is yes, then I imagine your feelings constitute love. If the answer is no, then you are probably only in like. And there is nothing at all wrong with that. It just helps to explain the difference between like and love. Love is unconditional, it's patient, tolerant, understanding. It is a decision you make to stay with someone regardless of anything, and it's a decision you make happily, without a second thought.

So that's that. An attempt at explaining the boundaries of love and like. Of course the boundaries are unfixed, a bit hazy. But the main rule in these sort of situations is to take off your rose-tinted glasses, be honest with yourself and, most of all, be honest with your partner. There is nothing worse than being led on. What do you think? What are your opinions on love? Let me know!

Now, all that remains is for that cold October wind to blow a little bit of romantic luck my way!

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You ask any youth with a brain cell these days who their favourite recording artist is and I can guarantee that said artist will not be in the top 10 singles chart. This is because they think that by liking an artist who sells lots of records they are aligning themselves with the rest of the population who they feel alienated from and superior to. Whereas in my day clever kids had no problem listening to A1 and The Vengaboys, the smarty-pantses amongst today's teenagers feel the need to distinguish their value judgements from those of their more slightly more retarded classmates. I mean, I don't blame them. Music is marketed so appallingly these days it's insulting. It feels like a lot of the art has gone and the only thing record companies and recording artists see is pound signs. Anyway, back to the youth of today (geez, when I was a kid....!). In an attempt to rebel against the offensively bad profit driven music industry, they opt to construct their itunes libraries around bands whose name begins with the definite article, electronic music that doesn't have a melody and bearded men in chequered shirts wimpering along to an accoustic guitar about their 'feelings'.

As someone who is well aware of the problems faced by skilled musicians (not that I am one myself, but I do know a few!), I have to say that I do think a lot of chart-orientated music these days is pure bum gravy, with more time, effort, money and subsequently emphasis going into the artist's image and promotion than on the actual music. Amongst the worst offenders are The Saturdays, overproduced, backing-tracked, bubblegum girl group who are utterly talentless and appear to have been picked for stardom simply for their amazing legs, and the X-Factor clan, whose record deals are based less on their actual singing and more on how much interest Heat magazine generates for them. However, my cynicism is far less deep-set than most. In fact, I have seen fit to defend several of today's pop stars that have come under vicious attacks from all these know it all teenagers. Here are my top 5 underappreciated chart pop artists.

5. Plan B 

(Plan B performing his hit single 'She Said' in Radio 1's Live Lounge. WAY better than Cheryl Cole's dreadful attempt at singing her own song).

''Plan B is such an embarrassement to English music. Just another white boy who thinks he can talk black, but just ends up sounding like a chav'' (taken from a comment on youtube). That appears to be the general consensus amongst the educated on this chart-topping rapper/ singer. However, I disagree. Plan B is a self taught musician who plays guitar and writes his own music. He is a unique talent who can not only rap, but has a great, soulful, distinctive singing voice too. Have you ever heard Dizzee Rascal sing? I'm not denying Dizzee is a great rapper. But his singing voice is *awful*. Plan B is both a good rapper *and* a good singer- there are very few of those around. His latest album, The Defamation of Strickland Banks (2010), has a narrative running throughout it, setting it apart from a lot of other music. It's even being made into a film, which will star Plan B himself (he is also an actor). It's not to everyone's taste, but you can't deny the creativity that has gone into the concept, nor the fact he has brought something a little different to the British music scene. He also produced his own album. Yes, he does look like a chav. But so what? Mick Jagger looks like a carp, what does that matter?

4. Maroon 5


Maroon 5 performing 'Sunday Morning'- in my opinion their best ever song)

Facebook has a group called 'Let's Kill Maroon 5 By Just Wishing It'. Why anyone would choose to create such a group is actually beyond me, although they do have a reputation for being a bit cheesy, churning out what has been described as 'middle fo the road, coffee table dad rock'. Described as 'pathetic', I consider the reason fr their lack of popularity the fact they are too alternative for mainstream fans and too mainstream for alternative fans. What I love about them is that their lyrics are so damn filthy (e.g., 'Kiwi', from It Won't Be Soon Before Long (2007)) and Adam Levine has one of the most naturally beautiful and recognisable voices in the industry. He doesn't need any electronic enhancements, he just gets up and opens his mouth and it's there. I also love the pianist, Jesse Carmichael, who always looks and sounds like he is making love to the instrument. In fact, I love that a piano features so importantly in their sound full stop. Maroon 5 don't ever pretend to be anything they are not. They are honest and they don't compromise themselves. Perhaps if they started using autotune and writing songs that aren't about lust and rampant casual sex they'd get a wider fan base. But they don't. And they'd better not ever, because I love them.

3. Jason Derulo


(Jason Derulo performing his song 'Ridin' Solo' in Radio 1 Live Lounge. WITHOUT autotune. Interestingly he also covered Plan B's 'She Said'. I haven't had chance to listen to that yet.)

Jason Derulo: King of Autotune. If you listen to his singles for too long, it makes your ears feel drunk. But as the above video proves, he *can* actually sing. Unlike Ke$ha, who uses autotune because she cannot sing and the robotic noise it produces sounds nicer than anything that comes out of her skanktastic mouth, it appears Derulo makes an aesthetic choice to use it. An ex-opera student, Derulo started writing music at the age of 8, and wrote songs for several other artists, including P Diddy, before he became a star in his own right. If you watch his music videos, it's also very apparent that Derulo has some pretty funky moves and is actually a great dancer. Wikipedia informs me that he studied theatre and ballet alongside the opera, and as well as being a singer/songwriter, he is also a choreographer. Now for the news- Jason Derulo is younger than me O_o

2. Justin Bieber


(This is actually quite adorable XD)

This could be a dodgy one. Millions of kids have succumbed to so-called 'Bieber- Fever', but he lacks respect from the older generation and has great difficulty being seen as a serious musician, probably because he looks about 5 years younger than what he is and his voice still hasn't broken. I'm not sure Justin Bieber's musicianship has garnered him the attention he has received as much as the fact he wears cool clothes and is every twelve-year-old girl's dream, but for a kid of 16, you can't deny he does have a fantastic voice. I find it annoying that he is constantly picked on over the internet by people who don't know him simply for looking cool, having a clean image and being popular. What makes it worse is that he handles the whole thing so well. If the online trolls had first seen Justin Bieber performing at a school fete, they'd be bowled over, and the first to point out, loudly, he deserved a record deal. But it appears that ironically, Justin's superstar status has severely backfired on him, turning into a laughing stock amongst post-adolescent audiences. I'm going to throw my two pence in here and say that Justin Bieber might be a heartthrob to schoolgirls and is marketed as such, but that doesn't mean as adults we can't give credit where credit is due. Her doesn't write his own songs, but so what? Neither did Pavarotti. He doesn't claim to be a composer, only a performer. And as a performer, he is great. He has a good live voice and undeniable stage presence. He's done well for himself and has kept his nose clean. There are much worse artists kids could be swooning over. I think people should leave him alone!

1. JLS


(An AMAZING live performance by JLS of Rihanna's Umbrella)

I confess. I LOVE JLS. They are a complete anomaly in my itunes library, but I do. I can't help it. Their first single, Beat Again, hit the charts last year, a day or two after I'd experienced a painful break up with someone, and despite the fact they lyrics *should* have made me feel worse, it was the only thing that made me smile- I just loved watching their amazing dancing and even when my eyes were sore as hell with tears and I was sat with a box of tissues and vast quantities of cake on my lap, I couldn't help but get up and boogie (/flail around like a freak) and sing along to it. I even learned the dance moves (sad much?!). I literally used to cheer whenever I heard it. There was another time when having 'One Shot' on repeat got me through a night of a particularly nasty essay. I'm not keen on their new song, but even as a fan of dnb, piano rock and rave music, I love every track on their first album. I don't know what it is about them. Perhaps it's just the fact I associate their music with relief, or perhaps I'm just a sucker for their catchy tunes. I don't know. On a more analytical note though, in this version of 'Umbrella', the way they harmonise so perfectly just takes me aback, especially while engaging in such complex choreography. These guys might be quite manufactured, but they seriously can sing and dance *amazingly* well. Aston's voice is quite sweet and often seen as weak, but for this genre it works perfect. I don't think they write their own music, but they were the first X Factor stars to release a debut single that was not a cover. I love the emotion they sing with and the harmonies they produce, and the energy in their performances. I guess I love them for my own reasons, but it does aggravate me that so many smelly ''rock music is the only real music in the world but I pretend to like Classical too so it makes me look cultured and intelligent and gives my musical arguments weight'' boys who obviously think they're some sort of musical oracle are constantly shouting them down in magazines, over facebook and twitter, in the pub.... The guys *do* have obvious talent, despite the fact they came from The X Factor. Way more talent than a lot of other boy bands. Even with the nostalgia factor, Boyzone could *never* compete. 

So that concludes my list of Top 5 Chart Artists Who Are Perceived As Crap But Aren't. To finish I would like to share my view on who would top the ''Top Artists Who Are Perceived As Wonderful But Are Actually Pants''. Doing a full list would no doubt offend some people ( I was told a few weeks back that I have a habit of offending people without realising it....) and result in a bunch of self righteous verbal bitch-slaps from a few but I feel a great desire to get this opinion out:


1. Mumford and Sons
I wish I could express a true opinion of this band, but whenever I hear their music, I either fall asleep, turn the channel over or temporarily die (or at least that's what it feels like......)

As a closing note, I would like to point out that I am always tolerant to the opinions of other people, and if you disagree with what I write I'm not going to start shouting at you. However, I'm not actively inviting debate on this issue. This is just what I think and I'm not going to change it. I wrote this simply to share an opinion and to shed some light on why I think what I do, simply for people to read if they were interested. That's the whole point of this blog :) Disagree with me all you want- I just thought doing something like this would be a change to the usual ''Queen are such an amazing band....'' style blogs that tell us things we already know. Any insult to Mumford and Sons should not be taken personally.

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I have written this blog to share my thoughts and feelings with other people who have graduated or ''come of age'' and are suddenly being expected to be responsible adults yet want to carry on behaving like a child.

Last week I faced the great honour of graduation. Yep. I donned the silly outfit, sat through a hideously boring ceremony (this, in summary, consisted of being talked at by a bunch of pompous old people wearing outfits of varying degrees of ridiculousness for 2 hours), and stomached the pain of telling my old lecturers that I was currently sponging their taxes and as yet had no plans for the future because nowhere would employ me. Happy days.

That whole fuss and palaver marked the end of my existence as a student. Graduation, technically, should be the end of that chapter of your life and the start of something new. The start of life as a real, responsible adult who needs to put other things before their happiness and needs to start looking after their skin and wearing business suits. If only it were that simple!

Doffing your cap doesn't magically, instantly transform you into an adult. Being mature doesn't just happen. I was looking through my outbox at some of the text messages I sent whilst I was in uni. Reading them scared me slightly. Amongst my favourites were:

''I'm so sorry for licking your face and trying to molest you last night. Epic fail...''
''Omg- just bought some Louis Walsh pyjamas''
''I tried to go clubbing on my own. It hasn't worked. Please come and rescue me''
''Glad you had fun- I just woke up and one of your mates was in bed with me, eek!''

I mentioned that reading the messages scared me, although what worried me was not the obvious- that these things clearing indicate levels of thinking so retarded, or levels or morality so low. What concerned me was that I felt an overwhelming longing to go out and behave like this again. Nothing sounds more appealing than this happy-go-lucky, slightly debauched, slightly immature lifestyle that seemed so offensive to the older generation yet which marked the peak of my happiness. The problem is though, that society is tells us that this sort of behaviour- licking people and the like- is no longer appropriate for an educated woman.

I'm sure many other people are facing this problem- the unwillingness or inability to let go of the student lifestyle. As I see it, it is only you that can make yourself grow up, yet it seems that everyone around you is forcing you to do it hastily and against your will. People often tell me that life is not fair, and that growing up is not optional. Yet I believe that if you do a job begrudgingly, you never do it well. It is my firm belief that forcing people who are not ready to grow up so quickly and so suddenly is surely going to make us bad adults. The sort of bitter adults that say that life is not fair, rather than the sort of adults who are still in touch with their inner child.

I have pondered long and hard about how to best grow up without scarring my personality. I don't have a full answer yet but I think something in the region of ''always pretend to be mature, but more importantly always have time for a bit of idiocy, even if it is in secret'' is the best advice I can give to myself, or anyone in this sitution. And also, be open minded about the whole thing. There are still things that even adults can do that involve vast amounts of fun, even though they do not require alcohol, condoms or Louis Walsh pyjamas. One bit of growing up I have found easy is to accept that stuff that is labelled boring by youth is not necessarily so. Perhaps this is because when you are stuck in limbo you are just as much not a youth as you are not an adult. For instance, I went and looked round a stately home with a friend not long back, and it was actually really fun (not just because we kept making rude jokes, but because we ended up getting together.... Oh, and also because it was quite interesting to learn about all the history and know that you weren't going to face a test on it at the end). These sort of experiences are only ever what you make them. To my main point though, we might end up working in accountancy, law, medicine or the teaching profession, and therefore being found vomitting around the back of a cheap nightclub wearing a skimpy dress and killer heels is likely to cause a scandal (and no matter what we might wish, not all publicity is good publicity anymore). But, there is nothing to say you can't get pissed and have a lesbian orgy in your own home. Or even go camping with your friends once in a while- I happen to know camping trips are fertile ground for buffoonary. Keep your inner child amused, even if it's just by dancing to N-Trance in your pyjamas every now and then. It's less about becoming cynical and rigid and professional, but becoming more creative in your means of enjoying yourself.

Thanks for reading folks :) If you'll excuse me I'm now going to watch X Men and drink a bottle of red wine. Adios!
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I doubt there are many people of my age and mental stability who habitually write their thoughts and feelings down in a journal. However, I have been keeping a 'diary' since 2003. Being a neurotic poobrain it has proved to be a great source of comfort to me, and I like the thought that there are so many little things in my life that, lack of house fire/ floods/ apocolypse permitting, I will never forget.

The diary should be a place where one writes down all their deepest thoughts and feelings. However, the other night I read through everything I'd written since early 2009 and came to the conclusion that I must not be a very deep person, because rather than containing musings on the purpose of life and eloquent soliloquies on my tortured soul, my diary- like most everything I own- appears to have become little more than a medium for vast amounts of twattery. The pages of my little blue book are lined with bullshit and scrawled cover to cover with incoherent mumbo-jumbo, horribly bad late-night drawings and some of the strangest mentality I have yet come across. It's only through looking back with the benefit of hindsight that I have realised just what a freak I have become.

Some of it made me laugh, some of it made me wince slightly, and some of it made me raise my metaphorical eyebrow. I figured I would share it with you, just because a diary should never be a private thing (if it is, once your famous someone will try and steal it.)

(Please note, all names have been changed, for obvious reasons XD)

6th Feb, 2009 (Thurs)
'.... darn those oreos and tasty Aberdare puddings! I swear someone in residences has a fetish for fat students, it would explain why they keep feeding me gateaux...'

7th Feb, 2009 (Fri)
'... can't believe I shelled out £35 just to watch a blue parrot singing 'I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts'' (this is followed by a hilarious drawing.)

17th Feb, 2009 (Tues)
'... he seems very confident in his own sexual ability. He may be slightly deluded as I doubt sleeping with someone that unclean can be much fun.'

6th March, 2009 (Friday)
'... It's only about half nine but I'm going to bed. When I'm asleep I don't care if he misses me or not.'

18th March, 2009 (Wed)
'...obviously I couldn't tell anyone that I'd pissed myself...'

2nd April, 2009 (Thurs)
'...he is intelligent and rational. Just like me! Ho ho ho!'

4th April, 2009 (Sat)
'...does he think/ know I'm a freak and wants me to stop fancying him? Does he know? Do I make it *that* obvious?!'

9th April, 2009 (Tues)
'... I am not going to let this end badly. I have wanted this for too long. If I do not end up having his babies, then I have officially failed at life.'

16th April, 2009 (Thurs) aka 'THE HAPPY DAY'
'... I don't give a shit about anything anymore. Fuck it all. I'm happy. So fucking happy that everything else that concerns me can just fuck off.'

An undated section entitled 'stupid things I have done'- '#5: Bought a CD by The Rasmus.'

7th May 2009 (Thurs)

13th May, 2009 (Wed)
'I've eaten too many biscuits. Nothing is ever easy is it?!'

23rd May, 2009 (Sat)
'...I want to kiss him. I miss his kisses. I especially miss his kisses that almost miss.' (this is followed by some of the most x-rated diary writing known to man, which empting though it is I simply cannot share!)

18th June, 2009 (Thurs)
'I can't sleep because I just devoured a whole box of blueberry puffs....'

Undated entry:
'The Activia adverts make me worry for my normality. Do women always talk about how bloated they are when they get together? Is the reason I have so few female home friends because I like to keep whatever digestive discomfort I'm experiencing secret?'

21st June, 2009 (Sun)
'...Bowling. I chucked the ball so hard it bounced and ended up in next doors lane.'

22nd June, 2009 (Mon)
A bizarre and slightly depressing/ worrying entry consisting of (amongst other stuff): 'Bus rides in traffic jams are the worst.... Ovulation makes me grumpy..... Chickens have souls too..... I wish Iwas thick so I had an excuse for doing stuff wrong.'

24th June, 2009 (Wed)
'... he hasn't been in touch yet. I hope this is because he is having a monster time and not because he has died.'
(added to this sentence on 22nd July in different coloured ink: 'nope, just cos he's a cheating fuckwit and a twat.')

Random undated entry
'I really hate the word 'slut'. It's a digusting man's word, used simply for judging women. Only horrid men use it. I want them all to be tied to a chair and have their toenails ripped out.'

25th June, 2009 (Thurs) <--- the day Michael Jackson died!
'... There will be chaos in the papers tomorrow, people paying respect to this genius. But how many would have shown him such respect when he was alive? Why is it only in death people are treated with the respect they deserve?! It angers me.'

29th June, 2009 (Mon)
'GOING IN FOR THE BILL! Ahahahaha!' (it's funny, cos La Roux's mum is in the Bill)

3rd July, 2009 (Fri)
'...let Mr. TCP and his cotton bud wand work their magic!'

4th July, 2009 (Sat)
'Independence Day (or something American anyway)! For me though, it is more 'Ugly Day'... I look like I slept in a bin. Died in a bin even.'

5th July, 2009 (Sun)

Undated entry:
'Lidl harbours a few secrets. Why are those baked beans 6p? Surely the tin alone cost that much?'

11th July, 2009 (Sat)
'...Pizza hut + J + fondle in back seat + cuddle = Kake + big grin. If only I'd been asked to prove *that* in a-level maths!' 

17th July, 2009 (Thurs)
'Unnaturally broody is an oxymoron...tiredness is hijacking my eyes.'

20th July, 2009 (Mon)
'He dumped me. END CHAPTER.'

24th July, 2009 (Fri)
'...God obviously intended for us to eat turtles, because they're really slow and they come in their own bowl.'

11th August 2009, (Tues)
'...His herpes ridden, boyfriend-stealing trashbag is welcome to him.'

13th August, 2009 (Thurs)
'... My boy of choice is now a homo. Never mind! If I wasn't fancying the gays, I'd be pining for a turd headed pubic louse who left me for another woman.'

27th August, 2009 (Thurs)
'...Like is so much harder than love. And I like him! I really, really like him.'

15th Sept, 2009 (Tues)
'... we kiss in public but never talk about it in private. Bizarre!'

Undated entry:
'Men always complain about their girlfriends not liking football, but then when women try to play football they take the piss out of them!'

26th October 2009 (Mon)
'....I have a problem... My sexuality.'

'The thing with Ben fizzled out. Quickly. Like a birthday cake candle in the rain.'

13th Nov, 2009 (Fri)
'... All that, AND I'm fat. It never rains but it pours :('

6th Decemeber, 2009 (Sun)
'...there'd be a good balance of everything between us, except genitals- we'd be a bit fanny-heavy!'

9th December, 2009 (Wed)
'...we saw someone be sick in their pint and then drink it... happy student times!'

23rd March, 2010 (Tues)
'...Oh God. I want her.'

3rd April, 2010 (Sat)
'..sometimes I think I was born backwards. I love the people I should hate, and I hate the people I should love.'

Undated entry:
'Why is everyone such a fucking cunt?! Even Sophie was a cunt tonight. I don't like her much anymore. Do you know why? Because she is a cunt! Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. CUNT. Shaun is also a cunt, but he's so much more cuntish than anything else in the entire world that the word of appropriate cuntishness to describe him is yet to be invented.'

17th April, 2010 (Sat)
'Came on my period in the middle of the gym today. Very embarassing.'

21st April, 2010 (Wed)
'...he was a very bad kisser. All tongue, no substance.'

Undated entry:
'When people in soaps are having serious conversations, why don't they ever blink?'

26th April, 2010 (Mon)
'Too much crap in my head at the moment. Makes me cack handed and a shit head.'

2nd May, 2010 (Mon)
'Feel slightly like a fool. Think I probs AM a fool...'

4th May, 2010 (Wed)
'I've stopped fancying men.'

11th May, 2010 (Tues)
'... Cameron is PM. What a load of old shit! You'd think we were a country of cocraphiliacs or something. Who the hell else would vote for someone who is going to shit on most of the country?!'

Undated entry:
'DORIAN GRAY walks around NAKED on the telly for KATY'S EYES to be HAPPY. HE COULD DO IT FOR YOU TOO! Just called ODEON Wrexham.'

21st May, 2010 (Fri)
'....it was awkward cos each knew what the other was going on in the other's head.'

26th May, 2010 (Wed)
'Just been reading over my lecture notes. They say I should 'read the chapter by Deidre Barlow' in a book..... Think I musta been nodding off!'

That's, er, that! I hope you enjoyed it. For the record, I recommend keeping a diary. Re-reading them is one of the most amusing ways to pass time I have ever come across.

-Kake x

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Top 10 Un-Fit Composers.....

Having enjoyed the visual delights of the top 10 fittest composers for quite long enough now, I feel the time has come to move onto a more serious matter.

I would like to argue the case that although Liszt was indeed luscious and Bartok was a babe, compositional gifts do not always go hand in hand with good looks. Indeed, there are some composers who are sadly lacking in the looks department (I am allowed to say this because I am a fugly skanktard).

I present now present to you the antithesis of my last post. The Top 10 *un*-fit composers, again in no particular order. Print 'em out and stick 'em near your mirror!

Cesar Cui

I understand facial hair was fashionable in Cui's day, but seriously. Facial hair? This dude looks like a partially shaved bear.
Jean Sibelius

Ok, admittedly he looks like he might be a laugh. But I am concerned by his lack of teeth. And neck.

Gioachino Rossini

I wonder what he's reaching for in his jacket? Perhaps he's hiding the fact that his hand is really a lobster's claw?

Aaron Copland

He wrote a piece called 'hoe-down'. I think any ho would be down at the prospect of Copland.

Darius Milhaud

Milhaud is my favourite composer. Before I looked up his picture, I was really hoping he could become a secret fantasy of mine. With a name like Darius you'd be expecting a hunk...... but sadly not. Gutted.

Harrison Birtwistle, John Ogdon, Alexander Goehr and Peter Maxwell Davies

These 3 come as a package because formed the Manchester Group together in the 1950s. The Manchester Group of what? They said it was of 'new music', but I have my suspicians it might have been the New Manchester Group of unfortunate looking composers. Check out Ogdon's Gary Glitter beard! (I almost didn't include Goehr as he is by far the best of the four...... do you agree? Rank them for me in order of who jumped off the fugly bus first the comments section!)

Camille Saint-Saens

In his older pictures, Saint-Saens looks a bit ugly but I gave him the benefit of the doubt because he was old. Then I came across this howler. Yikes.

Iannis Xenakis

Can't imagine anyone would want to xena-kis him!

Modest Mussorgsky

I suppose you'd have to be modest if you looked like this. Sadly none of his pictures will be appearing at any exhibitions any time in the future because they're just not Boris Gudonov (Gudonov? Good enough? geddit?!)


Morton Feldman

I suspect a couple of you may fancy him a bit.....

As a closing gift, I wish to present you with a final fit composer that I left off my list....... Leonard Bernstein. Leonard freakin' Bernstein. Absolute babe.

PS- here are some distinctive looking composers I couldn't decide whether were fit or not:-

Gerald Finzi http://www.musicweb-international.com/finzi/Image12.jpg
a young Henry Cowell  http://rogerbourland.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2007/05/cowell2ir.jpg
Ignace Paderewski http://www.info-regenten.de/regent/regent-d/pictures/poland-paderewski-1.jpg
Maurice Ravel http://www.klavier-noten.com/ravel/Ravel-1912.jpg
Ralph Vaughan-Williams http://history.buses.co.uk/history/name/057ralphvaughanwilliams.jpg (I'm actually thinking FITTY)
Feruccio Busoni http://lnx.classicaviva.com/catalog/images/busoni_1890.jpg
Olivier Messiaen http://www.arstuavitamea.com/atvm/uploads/messiaen.jpg (excusing the receding hairline...)

What do you think? I'm intrigued to know!

*****I think it's important to note that this is all one big joke and that I don't wish to hurt anyone's feelings or offend anyone by calling these people 'unattractive'. I understand beauty is completely subjective and in fact it's quite an ironic post- I love the music of all of these composers and therefore it proves just how unimportant looks are. I understand I'm no Cheryl Cole myself and I have no space to talk. This was just a bit of very immature fun.*****

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Top 10 Fit Composers....

Perhaps I'm a perv or something. Perhaps. But I've noticed during my 3 years as a music student that there are some damn fine fitties out there in the world of composers. No really. Check these out (don't do it if someone else is in the room- it might be embarrassing because they are SO DARN HOT!).

So, in no particular order, I present to you the top 10 hottest composers that have ever lived. Nom, nom, nom.

Leos Janacek

Yes, I confess, his 'tache got a little too much in later years, but a boy has to be obsessed with something, right? Keeps him occupied. Pity in this case it was banging other men's wives and growing facial hair...... But anyway, young Leos has got a little something about him, hasn't he? I think it's the eyes, or possibly the period-inappropriate cool-guy scruffy hair...... Or maybe it's the velvet jacket? Gotta love a guy who can pull off a velvet jacket.......

Franz Liszt

It's common knowledge Liszt was a bit of a babe in his day. Well here's news- if it wasn't for the bow tie, he'd still be a bit of babe today. Check out the bone structure on him! And he has amazing hands. You can't see them too well on this picture, but seriously, if you can find yourself a shot of him with his hands out...... phwoar. They look so soft and gentle........ Liszt was also a total dude. He was really nice.

Johannes Brahms

It is such a pity that Brahms was a bit of a dick really. He and Liszt didn't get on..... Probably because they were always arguing over who was hotter. I can't decide myself. I don't think I'd kick either of them out of bed. They're both hunks. Anyway, what I love about Brahms (apart from his cold hard stare, lips that are just asking to be kissed and period-inappropriate cool-guy hair) is that he doesn't have a 'Mussorgsky' beard (Mussorgsky didn't make it onto this list, because he is not a babe). So many composers from this era had a facial hair fetish- there may well have been even more fitties if only we could see through the fuzz. I say that, but sadly later in life Brahms did succumb to the bush. He died looking like very grumpy Father Christmas.

Philip Glass

Perhaps I'm misguided on this one. He has had about 5 wives though, so I guess a couple of people must know where I'm coming from!

Bela Bartok

There is something about distinctive looking men. Bartok has these strange but cute pixie features which personally I am an absolute sucker for. The other pictures of Bartok aren't that fit. But it doesn't matter, because this one is tasty enough to make up for it, phwoar! Sadly, unlike Stravinsky, he never posed nude..... I say sadly because noone wants to see Stravinsky nude (or do you? andrejkoymasky.com/lou/new/igor.jpg don't say I didn't warn you!)

George Gershwin

It's the eyes again! And the way his hand rests seductively on the piano as if to say ''hey babeh, come sit down here....'' and the saucy half smile. And the pinstriped suit. Wouldn't mind making some Fascinating Rhythm in the Summertime with him! This absolute babe died at the age of only 39. It was tragic. Not because he died, but because he was bald by that point. Very, very sad.

Ivor Novello

The fact that this hunk was as gay as a unicorn doesn't seem to bother me when I'm slathering over his perfectly defined features. He was Welsh and all.

Kenneth Hesketh

I do feel sort of guilty putting this fitty on here, as he is married to one of the lecturers at my uni.... However, actually no. I'm sorry, Arlene Sierra, but if you chose to marry a babe then you're gonna have to face the consequences. He kinda looks quite a lot like my ex boyfriend too, which makes this all the more wrong. Kenneth Hesketh is my secret naughty fantasy......

Peter Tchaikovsky

Tchaikovsky has the look of the tortured artist about him even in this photo when he was still young. I especially love the period-inappropriate cool-guy hair. And he has a look on his face as if to say ''My, who is that delectable creature across the room?'' Sadly anything Tchaikovsky was staring at across the room would not have been female, and would probably have been under the age of 18. However.... Well he's dead anyway. I guess we can imagine what we want now.

And finally, I present to you:

Edgard Varese

Just looking at this picture is enough to make me forget that his name is Edgard. Is it me, or is it getting hot in here?! Phwoar!

Which one is *your* favourite? Or, are there any others you can add to my list?

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