mmm

small town flirt is the colour of angel delight...

...and this would never ever happen here

state of the nation

Probably the most accurate portrayal of the twenty-something woman on TV today. Yet another thing to feel guilty about - but do these girls need financial advisors or counselling?

R&J

No, not Romeo and Juliet, but Richard and Judy, Great Britain's teatime favourites and most unlikely bookworms. Their production team have held the publishing industry to ransom over the past twelve months through the promise of hitherto unprecedented publicity for authors across the 'literary' spectrum. HOW?

I found myself packing boxes of submissions this afternoon for next year's Book Club, and inevitably thinking to myself 'What credentials do they have for suggesting the books the gullible (yes they are) viewing public should read?' Recalling this year's selection further infuriated me, to the point that I entered into a discussion with my colleagues about perhaps creating a book award of my own. From nowhere. Well, from my impressive reading list. It's a fantastic idea. Watch this space.

like, yeah

sign up here...

...H&M will email you when Karl Lagerfeld's capsule collection hits the racks - or rather glides elegantly along the rails.

I remember a summer working in my H&M suburban outpost back in the mid-to-late 90s when the police raided the shop for a consignment of fake Chanel shades. You remember those chunky gold and black ones? How times have changed.

the most offensive film ever?

nightmares before christmas

when o when is some no mark, no imagination, writer's block ridden producer going to 'commission' tracy emin to 'add vocals' to a backing track? ok, the chapman brothers curate ATP in december, however questionable their credentials to do so are. so why not get tracy emin, that all-conquering britart fashhag to do a shouty electro punk funk number? that'd work.

la belle vie

as soon as i put the phone down i regretted my decision not to go to paris. to me it seemed too easy - the clutch of euros on my pillow, the train tickets on the kitchen table, the hotel reservations...
of course though, i'd rather stay in London for the weekend with a pink polka-dot sack of dirty washing and a VIP pass to schooldisco in Hammersmith.
I slid the 'let's go' Paris guide under a still-wrapped TLS on the floor and decided to get on with my life.

qualifications

it slowly dawned on me that all that might qualify me for the job was a first class degree in english literature from Oxford University, possibly followed by a masters... and parents who would fund my year of labour in their soho offices.