Holy shit, I just walked past him and got a filthy, curious look.

Guilty Pleasures

Have you got any?

I have. I actually quite liked Ally McBeal, I think the theme tune to button moon is hauntingly beautiful and  I also love those coconut covered chocolate snowballs. God knows what the fluffy filling is. It is probably petroleum based.

Here’s why I mention it. I was on the tube the other day and couldn’t help but notice what one of the passengers was reading on his phone. It was this…..


MF B*Witched!

You can’t blame this one on the weather man mister, you were caught red handed.

Maybe if I had come up with this chat up line myself I would met someone years ago

I was on a rather incredible second date recently, snogging in a pub, beaming broadly and generally wondering at what point someone would shout “get a room”

When we finally managed to prise our magnetic lips apart he came out with this blinder

 “Man, you’re so handsome you must have been photoshopped.”

I loved it. If you’re anywhere near as vain as I am you would have loved it too. There have been three more crackers like that since, but I’m keeping them to myself.

I think the fact that the fourth date lasted 49 hours is a good sign. I have lost count of which one we’re on now.

I am still a bit worried everything could go tits up. New love is a bit like a partially set jelly. If you wobble it too early you’ll end up with load of slop that doesn’t appeal to anybody. I am trying not to wobble.

By the way, raspberry is my favourite flavour jelly. My mum used to get me these weird opaque ones . My brother wouldn’t eat them. That is probably why I loved them…..I got twice as much.

God, I’m boring myself. Are you still here?

See you fuckers




I was awoken this morning by a couple of middle-aged scratters having a fight outside my flat.

A woman in grey flannel leisurewear was following her gentleman friend down the street screaming abuse. She had clearly had a leisurely breakfast of cooking sherry and cigarettes. He looked like the type of man who might have a taste for methylated spirits. Perhaps it’s the rich purple colour that appeals.

The screaming match went on for so long that I wanted to throw the contents of a latrine on them from my balcony. Had we been living in 1650 I probably would have.

At one point the lady in flanelling grey started shouting “You’re a dirty…….disgusting….stinking…..” …only to be cut off by a tiny, self assured voice.

“Is it you?”

“What?” said the woman

Standing across the road was a school girl with her hands on her hips.

“Is it you though? ……….Is it that you’re talking about yourself?”

The woman didn’t say another word, and just stood there with her mouth open

The girl cheerily said “You want to look at yourself mate” before skipping off to school.

Peace at last.

I see a bright future ahead of that young lady, either as a diplomat or a reality TV show judge.

Earth….swallow me up

A good many years ago I read an article in FHM about a woman who’d just got a new job.

At the end of her first week her new boss took her and her colleagues for a few welcome drinks.

After a few beverages the young lady decided it would be a good idea to show her new boss her best party trick.

Her best party trick was standing on a table and putting her tits in her mouth.

The woman said she didn’t need the phone call the next day to tell her was fired, she already knew.

I have just got back from a date, I already know!

Holy shit.

May the earth swallow me up now and put me out of this perma-cringe.


January’s last breath

Goodbye January. You were truly awful. It’s time to rip you off the calendar, ritually burn you and welcome better days.

Like an adult nappy, January has been packed full of the most horrendous shit.

I can barely bring myself to think about it it’s so awful.

Falling head over heels in love with someone with all the empathy of a Dalek was certainly the worst part. Having my back rigidly strapped up like Ripley’s power loader in Aliens hasn’t been great either.

No ministry of silly walks jokes please.

Have you seen The Hobbit yet? I embarked on that unexpectedly long journey last night.

My favourite bit was definitely the twelve-hour scene with Gollum and the riddles. If only they’d had the time to squeeze in a few more. The six-hour scenes of songs, washing up and being spit roasted (easy!) by trolls were also magnificent.

The film started at 20:30. I’m sure it was daylight by the time we finally got out. I won’t be able to see parts two and three. Turns out I’m doing ‘anything else’ that day.

So…….there are only a few grains of sand left in the January egg timer. I am sat here by my computer with a lemsip and a bottle of benylin, counting down the minutes to a new month. It can’t come soon enough.

See you in February fuckers
Love Harrison


Innocent dahl vegetable pot? No.



Guilty of smelling like asphyxiating body odour. I couldn’t eat it. It’s gone in the bin, which I’ll have to empty immediately.





The frosty weather we’ve been having has been a great excuse the get out the wellington boots. I love wearing wellies.

Striding through puddles of slush without getting my feet wet makes me feel as invincible as a superhero. Spiderman is my favourite. He’s a scientist and he has the hottest outfit.

I wore wellies every day to work last week as London struggled through a very light dusting of snow. It was frankly no whiter than my parent’s mirrored coffee table after one of their showbiz parties back in the day.

While I’m not at all ashamed to wear wellies, they did deeply embarrass me the other night.

While working on the guns at the gym I noticed a couple of muscle marys laughing and pointing in my general direction. Turns out the tops of my wellington boots had left big red lines on my calves that looked exactly like rope burn. My face soon turned the same burnt red colour.

Rope burn, if only I were that kinky.

In other news. February is just around the corner and I plan to spread the birthday celebrations over three whole weeks. What better time than a birthday to make everything about ‘you’

I really hope it doesn’t turn out to be as much of an emotional rollercoaster as January has been. I am exhausted.

See yaz


Effortlessly cool

Effortlessly cool, puddle proof

The Four Day Hangover

Welcome to my most miserable post yet! Excited? Well grab yourself some Prozac and a Tramadol and we can get started.

Things have gone tits up since my last post ‘The Happiest New Year’

The hangover has kicked in, and it’s persistent. The love thermometer (that’s not a sex toy by the way) rose too quickly. It has blown up in my face (not a euphemism) and now there’s glass everywhere. I’m pretty sure no amount of uhu will be able to fix it.

This is even more disappointing than the Snowcoco Malibu. Even my new 50″ 3D TV telly hasn’t thrilled me as much as I’d hoped it would.

There’s always a plus side though, and here it is….

I had an unexpected surprise this morning.  David Bowie has got a new album coming out. I thought I’d heard the last of him. The single, released today is called ‘Where are we now?’, what a strange coincidence. That’s exactly why I’ve been wondering since Friday morning.

When I was younger I was obsessed with the  Thin White Duke. I bought the coat he wore in the Man who fell to earth. I used to watch Ziggy Stardust the motion picture with my mouth open, my eyes open even wider and my hand pressed against the screen.

I get very enthusiastic about the things I like. I met Adam Ant once and collapsed like a little girl at a beatles concert. I wasn’t a little girl at the time, I was a fully grown man in Scala at Kings Cross.

Right enough whining. I can’t dawdle, I’ve got television to make.


The Happiest New Year.

As 2012 draws to a close I am absolutely off my tits on love. I’m smacked out. I’m on fire and probably look a bit scary.

It’s a major surprise for me. I’ve been in love for years as it happens….with myself. I can’t pass a reflective surface without having an ogle. This is something better, I’m admiring someone else.

Tonight we’re going to see in the New Year together on the South Bank. It’s so much nicer than the West Bank don’t you think?

2012 has also brought its fair share of disappointments. Bad Boss on BBC3, Alanis Morisette’s 14 track turd and a grey eye brow.  The biggest disappointment has to be this.


We love Malibu in this flat, neat, in cocktails, on honey nut cornflakes. We fucking love it.

When my flatmate and I saw this in Tesco we were so excited. What better than a festive version of our favourite drink.

The excitement didn’t last for long. It’s like a watery unset coconut jelly. It’s still in the fridge, wobbling at me every time I open the door. Normally we polish off a bottle in one night.

So….just hours left of the year. I had better make myself look handsome and squeeze into those new jeans.

Happy New Year everyone.



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