Minty Bit Stronger

Since Alexander McQueen committed suicide in 2010, Britain's beautifully upholstered fashion throne has remained empty. Wave after wave of up-and-coming designers have dreamt of planting their pristine derrières on the red velvet cushion and claim the fashion crown. Previous pretenders to the thrown include Matthew Williams, Julian McDonald and Stella MaCartney. Each with their own tragic tale of disappointment and failure. Matthew Williams will never take the crown after an ill fated collaboration with H&M that was instantly forgettable. Well do you remember it? E ven he can't recall it. Julian is buried under lip gloss and botox judging Grimsby's next top model demonstrating that when you can no longer design, it's best to retire to a TV panel and talk shit. Stella, daughter of the leather faced Beatle, designed the unforgivable England Olympic kit that looked normal on Will.i.am but made everyone else look like a crack head space cadet. So, with t...

This is how it makes me feel...

So, here I am. Sat in the gruesome hospital waiting area. I note the walls are painted a weird shade of glaucoma and the chip wood furniture is the colour of bile. Between the shiny black circles of prehistoric chewing gum I can see what might have once been a mauve carpet. I'm not sure. The ceiling panels have those peculiar 'coffee stains' which make no sense as coffee stains cannot end up on a ceiling. What ever else they are I dread to think. A 12 month old copy of Tatler is on the MDF table besides me and judging from it's frayed pages I estimate it is the most infectious thing here. I sanitise my hands. Again. Why am I here? Well it's not just any old hospital... It's an eye hospital. I, dear reader, am writing this post with two throbbing eyes and one thumping headache. I hope that shows that I am a committed and selfless blogger. After a traumatic examination from my optician I was referred here. She said 'go ASAP', I waited til after work....

Dear Sir or Madam,   I am so excited to be writing to you. I really like the ‘clickity’, ‘clackity’ noise of the keyboard under my finger tips. However, I am surprised it’s not more of a ‘thub’, ‘thub’ sound because my keyboard is full of biscuit crumbs. I like your biscuits so much it makes me sad to think there might be a whole biscuits worth of crumbs hiding under the letters on my keyboard. In fact this is my reason for writing this letter today. Simply put, your biscuits are the best. They are one of the things that make me happy to come to work because my boss likes buying us biscuits for when we do well at stuff. I do well at stuff all the time so I can get more biscuits. I hate to have favourites because I think it shows favouritism and can make people sad. But biscuits aren’t people so it’s ok to have a favourite and my favourite biscuit is the Happy Face one. If biscuits were like people and had feelings I wouldn’t tell them because I like all the others too...