follow url I’ve been living in London for almost two months now; I’m settling in to a new pace of life, dealing with this tropical heat and deciding how I feel about selling my underwear online. I don’t usually deal with change very well, but I had not been in the city for a mere moment before people were recommending that I go to Franco Manca because I’d love it and Thomas omg you’ll love it too, Thomas honestly you will just LOVE IT.

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enter Guy’s it’s just really good, seriously just go and check it out and let us know what you think.

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We did go, and if I’m honest it was a bit shit. The base was burnt a little and the mushrooms on my pizza weren’t really cooked. I mean it was OK but it didn’t exactly change my world.

So, next time someone told us to go, I just told them that it’s not really for us and they acted like I had shot them in the face. This kept happening and on Thomas’ birthday we were going for dinner with his parents and they suggested this ‘little place’ they found called FRANCO MANCA. Thomas say’s that he isn’t really a fan and his dad said that isn’t a problem he knows somewhere else we can go. After a lovely walk down the canal and through a cute little market he tells us that we’ve arrived. We look up and see the drunken comic sans lettering, ‘FRANCO MANCA’. “I promise you, it really is lovely here.” It was at most ok.

On the way home, after saying goodbye to Thomas’ parents, I couldn’t stop wondering what everyone was seeing in this mildly ok pizzeria. Had everyone gone insane? Is the whole of London ordering an extra topping of cocaine on their pizza for between £0.50 – £1.75?

Then it hit me. Franco Manca is a motherfuckin’ cult. They don’t even try to hide it, all of the obvious signs for a cult are just out there in the open and I don’t even know how I’m the only one to see it.

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That fresh chick on the right is who was liking all of these pages….

Now that I’m doing a part time MA, I have SO MUCH time to indulge in internet deep dives. The other day I spent about 2 hours researching how much money women are making selling their underwear online, so I’m pretty content with how my life is going now that I’m in London. Aside from my new business interests, I’ve been distracted by looking at all the weird pages I like on FB from so long ago and trying to remember what I was thinking at the time. Most of them were clearly *subtle* hints at boys I fancied from school, or a way to show people just how hilarious I am.

Here is a comprehensive list of some of the things I liked back in the day, that I made a note of until I couldn’t be arsed any more. 2017 comments in italics. 

  1. Scratching Your B.U.M in Public 😉 Who the fuck was I trying to impress with this pile of shit page? Pun intended. 
  2. Dogs wearing shoes. This is legit tbh. I’m glad I was somewhat reasonable when I was 16 because I would still put this in my top 10 of things that I enjoy about being alive. 
  3. There is nothing sexier than good grammar. This kind of shit is why I used the morning after pill as legitimate contraception for so long… This page just screams, “I know nothing about sex, what is sexy or reasonable social skills.”
  4. comment rencontrer sa femme en islam Tom Pellereau – The Apprentice. Who? I was so ride and die for the people I wanted to win The Apprentice back in the day, like more ride and die than I am even for Tommo now. I don’t think I have access to such extreme adoration anymore. 
  5. watch Having Harry Potter bed spread because thats where the magic happens. I definitely liked this when I was about 15 and I definitely didn’t loose my virginity until I was 17 and drunk at a party. 
  6. Let’s eat Grandpa. Let’s eat, Grandpa. Punctuation can save someone’s life. Again with the grammar, Rosy can you even spell? Omg is this a way of exercising self hate because I actually do have really terrible spelling and grammar. 
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So I’m moving to London in September, which is exciting but at the same time part of my northern soul dies inside, to be a student again because apparently a Theology degree doesn’t scream “EMPLOYABLE.” Aside from the inner turmoil that is coming with moving to the south, I am having to spend SO MUCH TIME sifting through shit while packing. Usually I would just move all my shit around and avoid sorting it out, but I’m moving in with Thomas and I don’t think he wants the complete collection of Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, hardback and audiobook editions, to be in our shared bedroom.


Whilst I’ve been contorting myself around the shit in my room, I have discovered some truly distressing possessions that I have been avoiding acknowledging for a while.


  1. A signed copy of a Katy Price book.

I can’t even pretend that this was something I won in a raffle, or that I bought the book and it happened to be a signed copy. Nope. I bought the book and the queued up for 3 HOURS to have it signed by Katy Price. I was about 14 and all I remember from the book is that the protagonist is given a diamond thong and I thought that was the height of sophistication. If Thomas bought me a diamond thong I would have him admitted to hospital and sell it on the black market. The woman in the book had it ripped off her by the teeth of her lover but I cannot imagine she did not also go on to sell it on the black market, or at least have it made into a necklace. It is only just hitting me that they probably weren’t real diamonds, they would probably cut your bum, right?

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I’m soon to be unemployed and so I’ve been thinking about some things I could do in my spare time. I’ll be a part time student living in London so I’m probably going to want to work for someone with more money than sense so I can get paid £££££ part time. So, I think I’m going to apply to work for…. say it with me…. more money than sense…. Teresa May.

I could be her PR gal because clearly whoever is currently doing it needs to be fired. Even as someone who is not exactly (read: not at all) a fan of T May or any other Tory ever, I think I could do a better job of turning around public opinion on our PM. I propose that in order to get people on side, Theresa needs to bring out a range of fidget spinners. GENIUS RIGHT?

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Here I am being relatable compared to the unattainable heights of Miley

la la la la laaaaa what a happy and relatable post you’ve been craving, amirite? Since I’ve been on this sweet sweet road to recovery I’ve been crying less and less, and I’m begining to worry that instead of getting better I’m actually turning to stone. To ensure this doesn’t happen, to me or you, I’ve made this little list to keep me human….


  1. You imagined the birth of your future children
  2. You caught your eye in a mirror and you can’t believe you’re doing this life thing
  3. You tried to start a bullet journal
  4. You missed the bus
  5. You realized there is not a handbook for life
  6. A fart is loud when you thought it would be quiet
  7. You stubbed your poor little toe
  8. You thought about your friends and how much you love them whilst staring at 2008 profile pictures
  9. You saw your 2008 prof pics
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I would be lying if I said I hadn’t started this blog to launch my career into the fashion industry. I’ve noticed that many cool galz online do a run down of what is in their handbag each month and I thought I should do the same because I think a person can tell a lot about me from what I keep in my bag.


I am constantly trying to getmy 5 a day and that is why I like to keep some fruit in my bag, so that I can keep myself away from any naughty snacks. Unfortunately, I haven’t a knife or spoon in my bag with which to eat them with but I know that God loves a trier and I am here to say that I am that trier.


Some might say that this is unhygienic but really what else am I supposed to do when advertising makes me embarrassed about my period? Just because you don’t unwrap you tampons before you leave the house in the morning doesn’t mean you can go casting your aspersions on me.

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I can only imagine this is when my mum first told me about cystitis and how it would plague me forever

I did stand up last Sunday and just before I went on I thought, do I want stand in front of a room full of people and pretend to be my boyfriend gagging on my pubic hair? 

Similarly, I am currently sat in my bed and thinking, do I want to write 500 or so words about a UTI that plagues me and then put it on the internet?

I say yes to both because they both concern my vagina and there is no topic I love more than my vaginé…

If you don’t know your UTIs but you know your Shakespeare… Well, in Romeo and Juliet, when Mercutio says, “A plague on both your houses.” That plague was cystitis.

If I don’t like another human I think in my head, A CYSTITIS PLAGUE ON YOUR URETHRA HOUSE! If I love another person I think, MAY YOUR URETHRA BE FREE FROM CYSTITIS FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS!

I’m being serious though, there is nothing worse than cystitis. Apart from ISIS. ISIS is worse than cystitis.

Where am I going with this? Ahhhh… Maybe this is where I should share some tips on how to cope with cystitis. Yes, I think that is what the people want.

Ok, well my first tip is technically stolen from my dearest friend Emilie (you know she is classy as shit because her name is spelt with an ‘ie’) but I think all good things in life are stolen. Emilie says that if you have cystitis then you have to keep your feet warm. The exact relationship between one’s urethra and their feet escapes me, but that is probably because it is science and we all know science isn’t for women.

Another tip would obviously be to drink your weight in cranberry juice. It has to be your weight exactly or it won’t work. Again, this is a tricky one for us women because it involves maths, which isn’t for women, and cranberry juice, which we all know is what the patriarchy was founded upon.

Lastly there is my personal favourite and the only one I would actually recommend as it is ideal for women brains. Self-medicate. I have a nice little stash of penicillin and I just pop them all day everyday until it goes away. It also helps to say a few hail Mary’s. This only works for Catholics though. The Virgin Mother only cares for a Catholic urethra and penicillin doesn’t work on protestants.

Ahhh I really feel like I should finish this with something quippy and wise.

Oh, duh, always pee after sex.




At the moment my dissertation is crowning and I am in a lot of vaginal and lower back pain as a result. Writing lists allows me to dole out much wanted and needed advise to the masses of people like a queen. So read this post about how to deal with meanies and you will have a fruitful life and many children.

  1. Fart near them and walk away.
  2. Fart near them, stay their and look at them as though they are completely disgusting. If you do this well enough they will doubt themselves and become mortified.
  3. Leave a wet towel on their bed.
  4. Ask them how they like their tea and then make it the complete opposite way. Tell them to enjoy.
  5. Tell them that you really admire how they don’t feel the need to wash.
  6. Poke them on Facebook and don’t explain it.
  7. Smile at them.
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