kat got your tongue?

thank god (or the bbc) for Kathleen Slater... more to follow

scissor sisters

i am a firm beliver in the life-changing, earth-shattering haircut. i had one after my 21st birthday.

oddly, the one concrete thing that unites me and my three best friends now we're all grown-up is our hairdresser, Conrad. he was the first man to cut my hair, and probably won't be the last. however, he understands that i have a VISION for my hair future, and he wants to help me achieve it. this ambition and focus does not apply to any other area of my life.

Conrad himself is an inspiration, the last time i visited him at tusk on camden high street he was wearing a white short sleeved shirt, black tie, low-slung jeans and big black boots. his hair was shaved around the back of his head and his fringe was lopsided across his forehead. his trademark moustache was in place. i could hardly breathe.

Some Notes by the Magazine Assassin

I bought my first ever Elle in 1995. I had just turned 14 and my best friend Natalie was already a dedicated reader. Annette and I were on the way to blackpool for the May half-term. A supermodel whose name I don't remember was on the cover...

It was a magazine that stayed with me - albeit sporadically - throughout even my three frugal student years, when I could barely afford a newspaper, let alone a glossy magazine.

Elle has survived alongside Vogue for years and years, yet has never rivalled the authority or snobbery of its upmarket competitor. While Vogue still reverts to coverage of the Society Summer Party, perhaps bound by its publisher, Conde Nast, Elle seems to think itself more rock'n'roll, featuring the spoilt and (un)fortunate children of pop stars who made it decades ago. We are persuaded that the politics of birth merit exposure in a new and equally pointless aristocracy. Remember when Stella McCartney and Liv Tyler posed in customised tees labelled 'rock royalty'? That kind of thing.

Vogue allows us to enjoy fashion and take it as seriously as we like without having to justify or explain ourselves, while we giggle like girls behind pink-manicured fingernails.

A new glossy hit the shelves last month. The idea of the puke-inducingly titled 'Happy' makes me want to gouge my own eyes out so that I can never ever lust after another bag/shoe or keyfob again ever again.

To be continued...

hoodlums

Prime Minister Tony Blair was engaged in frantic talks this morning with education leaders, This Morning agony auntie Denise Roberts and expert negotiator Trisha Goddard. Top of the agenda is the question of how to deal with England's prevalent Youth Problem, brought to the forefront of political and public debate with the news that the management of out of town shopping centre Bluewater have controversially BANNED youths in pullovers with hoods from their barren consumer fortress. Other matters to be discussed include double decker buses, baggy trousers and baseball caps.

The Daily Mail is calling for a mandatory programme that will see the elimination of 'youth' as we know it. If all goes to plan, the difficult period between 11-19 will be smoothed over, making a swift and simple transition from boy child to adult man, with minimal disruption. Other powerful lobby groups are in touch with the UK's Chief Police Commissioner to instigate a 'Hoodie Amnesty', inviting repentant youths to give up their duffel coats, anoraks and balaclavas for a better, bare-headed future.

MP Harriet Longbottom is head of the Department for Manners and Minding Your Ps and Qs, created in the wake of the government's pointless and unremarkable election victory last week. She said this morning, 'Hoodies and or hooded youths are a threat to polite society. The sooner we can resolve this issue and get back to the Good Old Days, when boys were men, and knew that streets were for getting from A-Z and not loitering on, the better.'

However, liberal and civil rights groups have called into question the existence of the Good Old Days, and are lobbying for the new DMMPQ to be shut down. Blair hit back at these claims by insisting that the way forward is to 'smarten things up generally, get down to business, and you know, get youths busy. Generally, you know.'

'I sleep in hoodie jim jams,' Trim from Roll Deep Crew.

and you thought i was a smalltownflirt

i hate middle england. there i said it.

i looked up the bbc's election coverage this morning, and the blue map of England appeared, as if the country had frozen overnight.
'mum,' i said, as we watched the results struggling in last night, 'i fucking (scuse french) hate middle england. they buy the daily mail, they despise culture and just want to get on with their lives without asbos-dodging youths and lecherous immigrant scum making the queues that make them miserable even longer.'

the worst thing is that middle england pays my 'wages'.