Oh, what great timing BBC. What a time for the Timelord to have a sex change seeing as the whole fucking world is at it at the moment. I’m going to put a bet on at Ladbrokes that the new side kick will pe a pan-sexual, transgender martian with tattoos and those massive, smelly ear hole piercings.
This is why I have no luck with men. I get drunk and say stupid lines that I have stolen from cheerleader films.
“What someone’s genitals look like when they are born doesn’t actually give us an accurate indication of who they will…
“Listen, dickhead. I am all for skipping this charade, writing this via email and going home early but I was promised a date. So let’s fucking have one.”
The funny thing is, these men who want to rescue you (from dragons? I don’t know) are usually the ones who will walk through a door first and then let it swing back in your face, or the ones who never put their hands in their pockets when it’s their round.
“Can’t do I’m afraid. I’ve only ever had ‘relationships’ with pricks who were either too skint to leave the house or didn’t like me enough to actually spend a couple of hours alone with me without back-up”
Fuck. I am at an event and some bastard has introduced me to another person. I was quite happy standing in the corner inhaling the canapés and taking full advantage of the free booze and texting my friends, but now I have to talk.
Actually, I think I would have looked down on someone like me. I would have thought they were stupid, feckless, they should have planned their life better. Those fat scumbags who eat oven chips from Iceland and live off government handouts.
She’s got stretch marks from those bastard children and the weight gain and loss, a saggy tummy from the cesarian overhang and wobbly thighs because she prefers sitting on her arse in the pub eating chips to moving around.
“Bugger,” you think, as you look at all the Instagram photos of the big bloggers with their shite blogs and whiny children getting free holidays, “if only I had thought of standing in front of brightly coloured walls wearing Topshop five years ago, that could’ve been me”.