I Want To Be The Girl With The Most Cake (as Long as It’s Free Cake)
“Why does everyone else who writes a blog get free shit? There’s two people I know of who have had the free use of top of the range Volvos for a month in return for a review on their blog. It’s not fucking fair – I don’t care what it is, I WANT FREE SHIT.” – Me, in the pub the other night.
It’s the start of September, which is basically ‘free shit’ season in the blogging world. This is where companies send you their products and in return, you write a post about how wonderful it is, with a nice little disclaimer at the end saying, “sponsored by ‘blah blah cuntyflap company’, all opinions are my own”.
You say nice things about whatever they have sent you (even if it’s all made up bollocks because that free toy exploded in your three year olds face), because you want them and all the other companies on Instagram who give away free shit in exchange for reviews to work with you again.
I know a blogger who was sent a cake to review that tasted like the Devil’s own spunk.
It was dry, horribly flavored and the sort of thing you can buy in Poundland, but it was sent to her by a cake company who is well known for getting bloggers to review their products. It was the worst cake I have ever tasted. She thought so too and threw it in the bin after one forkful.
“Wow, that’s going to be some scathing review,” I said through gritted teeth (It might have been terrible, but it was still free cake and I was jealous).
“Oh God no! I’ll have to say it was great – I don’t want companies to think I will be nasty about them” was her reply.
Ooo, you big, twatty, sell out!
See, I would say if I hated it. I would call them all cunts and tell people not to buy anything from them ever again and to go to Greggs instead because their cake tastes better and costs a tenth of the price.
This is possibly why no one ever wants to work with me; I don’t think I am particularly PR friendly. I swear a lot and write about self-harm and being called a Paki. It’s hardly a PR department’s wet dream.
But just once, I’d like a fucking car, or a cake, or a trip to some God-awful Disney dancing thing with Peter Andre that my daughter would hate and I’d probably be swiftly kicked out of for telling him that he comes across as a controlling prick.
Oh, and I’d quite like a fucking award too.
Or at least to be nominated for one. I’ve been told I am “not quite the right sort of blogger” to be nominated for blogging awards. I am not wholesome enough apparently – again, I think it’s all the swearing.
Or the fact that this isn’t really a blog. Or that I haven’t got a PR kit (what the fuck is a PR kit anyway? Do you buy them from Kwick Fit?) or any proper information on my page about who I am. I’ve also never been on a blogger forum and the ‘Britmums’ website is too hard to navigate. It makes me cry and I am not at all sure what or who it’s for.
I want to win an award though.
Do bloggers have to go up and collect awards like at the Oscars if they win? Because I would be fucking awesome at that – I used to be a stand up for about five minuets.
I’d be drunk, obviously, and would probably swear (‘oh my fucking GOD, thank you so much, you aren’t all bastards after all”) and would have to try really hard not to fall over on the way back to my table. I’d probably dance my way back, awkwardly high fiving other bloggers who were doing their best not to make eye contact. I’d buy everyone drinks and tell them about the time I met Mr. Maker and he slagged off Mr. Tumble and asked me to do rude things.
So, just one free cake. One free cake to let me live the bloggers dream. Is that too much to ask?