When I was a kid, I remember feeling angry a lot. My anger was fast, scattered and powerful – like those scenes in movies where the bad guy storms in and starts shelling indiscriminately. When teenaged me had the hump, everyone got it. If I had to draw a picture of my fifteen year old… Read More When are children not children? When they are a tempest.
When Martha Lane Fox lost her shit over Alexa, I – a lone woman in the front row – audibly cheered. “We’re about to build a future that is very, very much not female and that is so profoundly bad for humanity. It upsets me that people shout at an Alexa in the corner of… Read More My tits felt huge and I felt small: Why London Tech Week talks the talk, but the reality is very different.
Radio 4 is my morning jam. For years, daughter and I have enjoyed the dulcet tones of John Humphries over cous cous/waffles/crumpets (her. She has the fickle tastes of her mother) and poncey herbal tea (yours truly). Mornings with Auntie are the place where my inquisitive ten year old has made all manner of discoveries… Read More Why ‘The Penis Beaker’ will be the death of us.
I’m up to a grand total of eleven holes in my head so far, not including my nostrils, gob and ear holes, none of which have been artificially fashioned despite how they might first appear. The number sounds more dramatic than it is – I have six piercings in one ear, three in the other… Read More Patsy Pervert Has Skin Chagrin
Forty something evangelists piss me off. Not the sanctimonious shouty types that wave their arms around and claim that Jesus solves everything (He doesn’t. I accidentally smeared silly putty on my pashmina this morning and no matter how many times I shouted “CHRIST ALMIGHTY”, precisely nothing happened until I ran it under the hot tap… Read More “iPhone, iPhone, in my hand, can you get this bullshit banned?”