Years ago, I used to have a list of people I’d love to get pissed with. It was a thing of pure beauty; full of tummy-scratching dreams of dazzling my new bezzies with a selection of vodka-dribbling techniques. Maybe the lobster joke. But being a twatess of the fickle...

Simply put, November is the runt of all months. It heralds the start of 'all that is shite' for 5 months. And quite frankly, it gives me a large dollop of the blues. First off, it just barges in after that bastard clock has gone back. No, ‘Is it alright?’, ‘May I?’...

As things stand, I have no bollocks. I have been on a Concorde but didn’t fly anywhere. In my misspent youff, I once accidentally stole someone’s front garden gate and took it to a pub for a drink. My all time favourite book is London Fields by Martin Amis (runners...

I don’t know, I really don’t….you let one book out the house for a blog tour and what happens? You get a dirty little stop-out on your hands – that’s what happens. Of course, letting Nudey out into the elements was never going to end well. Just look at all these...

Being an adventurous kinda gal, I thought it was high time I got myself an exotic disease. Something I could bore fellow arseholes about, gain sympathy for (involving insincere protests as large vodkas were thrust my way), and generally entitle to me to flop about on...

I’ve learned how to fire an imaginary pump action shotgun. Oh yes, I so very have. It’s a real whopper of a thing and has kept me more amused than is strictly appropriate… Of course, I’ll be in need of its services before too long - the dreaded motorhomes and caravans...

As you may have read, I’m a grubby Londoner who had it on her toes to East Devon a number of years ago. And I’m sure you’ve been having sleepless nights wondering why? After all, London is a belter of a place and home to many of the things that press my Pleasure...

I like writing. It makes me feel warm and fluffy and keeps me off the streets. When writing at home, I get a real hankering for a big brute of a blokey desk and a window to gawp out. Maybe some curtains to fondle. And I am of the firm belief, if such things were...