Tag Archive | divorce


FullSizeRender - Copy (3)

Spearmint’s website…(Copyright – photo taken from their online site)



All Strip clubs?

ALL? Anywhere in the world?  They are an “Institution”.



WELL……..IT IS accepted, like someone’s popping down to the local “Costa Coffee” to catch up with a mate.

To meet some random client, simply to discuss “work”. Wives and girlfriends can’t even possibly be precious about this “client dinner”.






IN 2018?



If a woman attempts to engage in a “You’re going to a strip club conversation!”, with their Fella…In this day and age?!


You look uncool, a wierdo, religion/family gets dragged in (if married), and you then THEN, have to pretend you are SOOOOOO cool, that you end up GOING TO THIS ESTABLISHMENT WITH YOUR HUSBAND WHILE HE STARES AT ANOTHER WOMANS BREASTS SIMPLYBTO DEMONSTRATE YOU ARE COOL.

I have never done this by the way…but I know many women who have.

You are basically (I’m sorry, so sooooooo sorry to say it…) attempting to show, the working girls that you are “OK” with it, telling everyone around you that your partner/husband is trustworthy by being WITH him, trying to educate your Mummy playdate friends on what they should allegedly be doing, and bottom line……..??????

You just sold your morals and yourself.

WHY?  Why would you allow this shit to happen ever?

Does he do this in front of you?

Why are you showing off by being all….”Yes……I go with him….!” What the fuck for?

Even when my marriage was ending, we “played” until the divorce was final.

Not for an audience.

Not to show everyone anything.

Even when I write this…..I know the Captain and I remained intimidate….no strip clubs ever.

Especially not at this age. what for!?

Damaged? Have jealousy issues? Are Broken? You’re a “wrong ‘un” later on down the line when your name is mentioned?


To be fair…..


I LOVE THEIR ABILITY TO MAKE US WOMEN feel romantic. Us straight ones love a “good guy/bad one turned good.”

The sex industry, which is HUGE, is not, by any means, looked down on by me, nor many.  Nor is the profession of prostitution. Not that strippers or prostitutes are the same by profession.  They ARE NOT.

I’m not ever going to fuel, an archaic bullshit old school hypocritical, fire, as it is what it is.

IF, YOU GENUINELY…..WANT TO KNOW THE reality of what MEN are about?

Please read this, get angry, claim I am wrong, your man is “never ever” how I claim…..

Bottom line?

They are wired/broken/ill.  If…..IFFFFFFFF women can get this shit in their heads…..and understand, its nothing we did or didn’t do.  We would all be ok. BUT….WOMEN….we can’t do this.

Let me kick you ladies, right now, to explain what is going on.






WHAT ARE YOU? THAT YOU THINK THIS (NON CHOSEN TO HAVE Hi there, thanks for your text / email. Please note that I will only respond to you if it is about my children.   Thanks Shaz RACE, DECIDED, HE WOULD BE FAITHFUL ONLY TO YOU, AND YOU, YOU, BELIEVED HIM?}.


  1. you are amazing, cute, sexy, for approx 3-4 weeks.
  2. you may MAY be MORE interesting than his normal type (and he is labelled as a “good ‘un”)  for 4 -6 weeks. He tells you often he doesn’t “do relationships”. Makes you feel “special”. Like you are “lucky” you caught this idiot selfish narciissits attention”.
  3. You, fall in love. With a complete, cheap, “I don’t pay for drinks”, “its all about me”, “cold”, “its your fault Im a complete arsehole….” guy.  You see husband patches, you see he is on Twitter, never acknowledging you, you see, he picks and choses when he is kind. You STUPIDY allow this verbal abuseer to dictate your air, happiness and think YOU are the “wrong un” for his disgusting boring, rude, vile, ignorant, seamless, behaviour”.
  4. You need to WAKE UP!!
  6. Wake up. This is a bad baaaaad egg. He dies nothing nice for you. Makes you feel shit constantly. You can’t talk to him as a boyfriend. He thinks he runs your house and he is SHITTTTTTTTT IN BED. WAKE UP.
  7. BUUUUUT.  He is addicted to dating websites…. WHY?!
  8. Illl explain…… Any man shit in bed, incapable of holding an erection, who undermines their girlfriends, claims he’s amazing ONLINE to everyone on TWITTER, Pictogram, Facebook…….?   Give them this idiot. He’s vile. He’s unkind. He’s not generous. He cries. He is shit in bed. His cock is small…..He IS A LIAR AND A CHEAT AND HE DOESNT THINK HE IS. HES SAD. SAD. SAD.
  9. He had moments of insecurity and you helped him through THIS SHIT (like no one else). Did he THANK YOU??? Nope.  He went online to a Z List Big Breasted “Model” and then told YOU OFF for his bad doings.  SHAME ON YOU.
  11. You got sucked in,.
  12. THEY personally?…. never ever ever ever, have felt OK with any man I was married to, or seeing.  THESE are guys you are apparently meant to accept … just  “popping into a strip club, for tits and a “happy ending” before heading home. I lose all respect for a man IM seeing, immediately. Not just because of this.

Unfortunately…..I assume now…..they are all damaged like this. Shame.

I also know, having spoken or been involved in conversations about this, that some wives, girlfriends, will “go with him” to the strip club, so they are there and also to show they are comfortable and confident in themselves….WHILE HES STARING AT ANOTHER BIRDS TITS.

Your fella is doing this openly, in front of you. IN FRONT OF YOU. He’s respecting you? For being, what? Cool?

This is OK behaviour now? Erm…..Since when? Would he do this in a bar in front of you? Nope.

Or around your friends and family? Nope. Because its disrespectful. Its not cool.  Strip club is irrelevant. You could be at a bus stop and the same jealous argument would arise “WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT HER!?!”  

But ….. men can go to a strip club and be given Witness Protection Immunity, and a Hall Pass to do what the fuck they want. Why? How? Do we get this freedom to act like stupid pathetic insecure “oh she’s just being a girl” behaviour? The Male populations response to strip club drinks?? Your partners answer to your 4am “where the fuck have you been while I’ve been breastfeeding our newborn child?!!!”??….

A mans standard deflectice response is…”It was for WORK babe. What the fuck is your issue woman?? You’re clearly tired. You’re also being really insecure lately since the baby was born 2 days ago. I’ve told you YOURE NOT FAT but you push me to go to these places after work. I don’t even like it there… To be honest, i don’t even notice the tits and clit in my mouth. I’m there FOR WORK. End of! Stop being crazy and babe….make sure you pick up my Ascot Suit from the dry cleaners tomorrow….I’ve got a busy week with clients from NYC”.

Hmmmm…..ok……because we are modern educated, smart women…we are actually trying to be ok with this whole stupid joke of a situation?  Some women go along to the strip clubs with their fellas, to show they are “one of the guys”. They think this will increase their worth in their mens eyes.

Really?  And what?  He wont leave you? Cheat on you?  Think youre soo amazing compared to those “insecure friends of yours” because you went to a Strip club with him? Because he had a BJ in front of you, while you popped a Xanax and downed a bottle of Grey Goose (through a fucking straw)? Even I wouldn’t respect you if I was your man.

Sooo… let me get this straight…as we are all being so “sexually equal”….

Instead of going out for a nice dinner, with a lovely steak, maybe some good cheese to finish, and a strong Malbec, to chat over with your man?  You decided to go to a STRIP CLUB SO YOUR MAN COULD STARE AT A NAKED BIRD, IN FRONT OF YOU, and claim, this made you “closer”?  CLOSER?!?!??! HOWWWW?!??

Lets now reverse this situation then…

Your (prick of a) man and you, head out for a night, and you say “babe! For a laugh, let’s go to “Spearmintdickno”….I fancy looking at a cock and balls with some fit young blokes!!!”

Do you, for one minute, think your man, is going to say “yes babe Spearmintdickno” it is!!!  Ill call us an Uber…FINISH YOUR DRINK YOU SIREN YOU!”??

Let’s say, even IF that conversation passed the first hurdle and he actually came to a Male strip club witch you….what then??….

You arrive at Speamintdickno (copyrighted now btw as I think this is my next business venture)…He hands your coats in, you grab a booth…then, erm….what?! You sit there, while you chat to your man, and stare at Male strippers on stage, walking around serving drinks and happily doing lap dances for Hen parties (from up North OBV), while spending your money and perving over some gyrating 6 packed, 18 year old bloke….All in front of your man.  Or is he “insecure” because he doesn’t want to do that?  What is the difference?  Oh…yes….we are WOMEN.  Its different.

Ive spoken to some ladies recently who have mentioned their husbands “are sooo funny!!! They always end up at a strip club with their mates”, at school drop off in the morning. They say this, whole laughing and acting comfortable with this hugely private information. My reaction?

shocked cartoon blog

These women are normally, off to an exercise class (yes, Im generalising…BUT THEY ALL ARE…these are the only self preserved women Ive seen who talk about this stuff, act ok with it….then divorce minutes later.  I FUCKING HATE, HATE, HATE, those Mums at school drop off who wear gym clothes, ALL THE TIME. Hate that. Its just soooo “yah, I’m off to the gym…..” brazen…and it makes us mortal Mums (especially those of us who are single parents, with no nannies etc, running around food shopping, washing clothes, fighting over bills, dealing with constant illness in our lives due to unwell parent…..).

These Yummy Healthy gym wearing, skinny legged, pony tailed, smiley, non make-up wearing, Mums irritate THE SHIT OUT OF ME.  So…..Strippers, Prostritutes, Traffic wardens and those annoying dickhead neighbours that complain about you because you parked one inch out of your required parking space…..hey don’t upset me.

These constantly smiley Mums at school?  Who mention “strip clubs” their husbands/partners (too cool to marry), often frequent….are very easy to spot.

A) They wear hugely expensive gym kit…while carrying a Chanel/YSL bag (thrown over their shoulder as if its rubbish)..  This gym kit normally looks spray painted on these long skinny, bony kneed legs with super skinny achilles heels that just look pink.

These mums are known by me as the “fucking annoying gym pushing guilt activists”.

They’re always dolled up with “non-makeup’ (but don’t be fooled….theyre fucking wearing “makeup”).  But…as they wear their daily uniform of posh, expensive, trying to look casual, gym wear (ready for yet another Charity fundraiser Walk with some Mum they “met in an organic underwater birth class when they had Gwilliam”, you don’t think they’re a threat.

2) They normally turn up looking “rosy cheeked”, irritate you on the “Class Whassapp” group messages, simply due to their bodies being overloaded with bloody endorphins from their gym classes (or prob yoga) and therefore feel whatsaap “trigger happy” when they provide suggestions about the Xmas School fundraiser.  They also always know people who run organic book shops, bakeries, farms, private tutors and homemade placemat makers……They are the women who used to smile at you when you were in school, pretend to be friendly, slag you off, and then be caught giving all the  boys blow jobs behind the sheds at lunchtime.  Those overly correct women, are the ones I avoid.  Its the closest I will ever get to the notion of a Devil.  They are snipers from the side.  Smile to your face. Bitch behind your back. And I just don’t like them because I am obviously now judging them.  Anyway…

3) They always wear a beautifully blow dried ponytail, that swings from side to side while they drop Gwilliam, Gweneth and Geronimo off at the school shuttle. They always arrive in a  high end Range Rover, with some dumb affected private licence plate. I HATE PRIVATE LICENCE PLATES MORE THAN I HATE DONALD TRUMP, TRAFFIC WARDENS, OR THE IRA.

I also hate “self righteous groupie cliquey school mums” who blatantly bully you (without “bullying”you) by leaving you out in a conversation, when they can see you are stood there alone, surrounded by a group they know, but their rudeness fails to involve you or introduce you. I hate those passive aggressive chip-on-their-shoulder- Mums. I hate rudeness and I have always shared my hatred for bullies.  The private licence platedriving gym wearing rich Hampstead Mum?  AKA idiot Ranger Rover Hampstead Mums (only the mean ones, as Ive got mates who drive these gorgeous cars) all have private licence plates which states “Im FUKCING RICH BITCHES”  

This annoying breed of Mother, is overly chatty to everyone….while sipping her homemade green tea (organic of course) from her personal flask (prob from Selfridges/Harrods/some dickhead rich shop) at 7am.  She will complain that her Staff didn’t make her morning tea correctly but didn’t feel she could “complain”. She is the HAMPSTEAD YUMMY/CRUMMY, Mum.


I don’t hate them out of spite. And also….Not because they’re rich.Nor do I hate them because I’m a single Mum and they’re married for the 8th time, or because they have nannies strapped to the roof and bumper of their Range Rovers….

I don’t even hate them because they are happy (or pretend to be while their husbands are shagging their Nannies), not because of any social class divide (i went to private school, yet Im to a cunt)….this TYPE of Mum…..they just scream Self importance but PRETEND they are one of you.  They are not. They are wankers.  They are fucking gym wearing (daily) show offs.  To tell the world, “Yes, I drop my children at school and then I have SOOOOOO much free time, I get to go to the gym immediately after…Im FUCKING LOADED & TRYING TO ENSURE MY HUSBAND DOESNT RUN OFF WITH HIS NEW French “Assistant” he keeps mentioning when our Butler serves us dinner”.


They cannot be doing what I do daily.  I woke last night, 9 times, BECAUSE i HAD AN UNWELL VOMITTING COUGHING IRRITATED CHILD. The poor baby started being sick approx 45mins after my household went into “bedtime lockdown” at 9.45pm.

NINE FOURTY FIVE PM IS NOW A LATE “CRAZY NIGHT” FOR ME AS IT IS….AND yes, that’s WHEN I ACTUALLY HAVE TO GO TO BED IN ORDER TO SURVIVE THE NEXT DAY. Being divorced and a single mum of 3 very young kids, I never ever  know what is going to happen the following day. Can you imagine living like this constantly, without your family being nearby, friends are all living the same “normality”, and its only getting harsher as winter approaches.  The kids actually thought I had woken them “at night-time” for school, two weeks ago. It was dark, cold, miserable. It was the fucking UK. I’m a born and bred Londoner to the core. I know the winters here are harsh but the Summers and energy of London, makes up for a lot of things.

I don’t mind winter. I was born in December 1976, when it was snowing, freezing, and my Dad sat in his car for 2 hours (TWO ONLY!!!) while Mum popped me out the birth canal. Cold weather isn’t my favourite, but I DO love what winter brings with it.  Heavy soups, Stews, Beefs, Malbec, and aside from my birthday, theres the Elf on the Shelf and Christmas.  I don’t mind it…..

And it takes all kinds to make the world work.  I dont feel any judgement about anything to do with this profession, nor do I feel anything OTHER than respect for the women who have to manage the clientel.

I DO however, judge my partner, if they fuck around because of this profession.  Strip Clubs though….yes, they’re bloody genius…and money on tap (although not that easy to earn, considering the DICKS who frequent the establishments). I wish women had “Womens clubs” that are not the boring “Business Development, Old school networking, shitty non-dirty, members-only” clubs.  I wish we could go out for our girls nights thinking…..





You know?! Those kinda “blokey” unhinged, black/white/Im a man therefore what is the problem with this barbaric behaviour… nights?

I think us girls, need an environment full of fit, fucking attractive (lets face it, there are not many good looking men out there), well built, able-to-speak-in-sentences-men, for our viewing and orgasmic pleasure.

Us women need Men, that we too can perve over, before going home, and climbing into our warm marital/couply/whatever-your-relationship-is, beds.  We too, need to feel zero guilt. Its never quite taken off though for us ladies though.

Funny that?

We have a Venus/Mars dynamic that is obvious and accepted.

Women? We dont always NEED that visual “COME FUCK/SUCK ME” situation, to “get off/turned on”, sexually.  We are actually more evolved than men (yes, in most ways) but ESPECIALLY when it comes to sex. I would love to say “babe, I’m off with the girls for dinner, we’ll possibly pop to Rhinoladyspearmints, then home before 1am”. Bottom line? We don’t NEED that instant gratification like men do. We, after all, are the ones who bring life into the world.  If it wasn’t for US?  Like dinosaurs, we’d be extinct.

Women are able to live, without men, in this day and age.  We procreate.  We are strong. We are the strength that makes life spin.  We can have multiple orgasms, with or without a man present, procreate with/without a man present, and we are sexually (possibly more so) just as in need as men are, when it comes to sex. But men dont realise that.  And women are not freely able to communicate that.  Otherwise we would be called “‘slags”, or “loose”, or “wrong ‘uns”.

Women are actually filthier, more able to have sex for numerous hours day (with orgasms and no blue pill AKA “Viagra”), than any man ever could.  Unless hes some friggin LEGEND…and those men only existed pre 1979.

Women also need a place to go and chill. Possibly not on the sexual scale that men do…and our “place” would probably involve having our feet massaged, hair brushed, possibly some “back room hidden action by a master tongue licker” (yes…naughty eh?) and we too, can go home and cuddle our fellas and state we were “faithful”.  Because WE did not “touch” the male strippers giving us pleasure. Plus “paying for it” means e are innocent… “They touched US after all“.  Same thing, surely? Not according to a man.  Nope.

The first, last & only time I went to a Strip Club, surprising, for someone with my openness, was in Bangkok.  This eye opener of an experience, where Ping Pongs were, literally, aimed at the Captain and I from a womans Vagina….was FUCKING BRILLIANT.

I couldn’t stop laughing and ordering more beer.


I was sooo engrossed in the “show”… that even when I noticed couples walking in (the woman always clingling to her partners arm as if to say “WHAT THE FUCK AM I HERE FOR!?” I didnt care. I felt bad for these ladies, coming into the strip club, worried and afraid….and their fellas looked like they were comfortable and almost embarrassed by their partners discomfort.

I, on the other hand? Having never been to ANY strip club….took a view of….”LETS GET FUCKING INVOLVED!!!” My husband (number 1) was so stunned at my sheer “OK’ness” that HE started to unravel while I screamed and laughed and chatted to the girls working at the club.  I wanted to know how the FUCK did they throw darts out of their “noonies”?!  HOW!!!????  When do you practice this? WHat if you have an accident at home?  Who has Arnica in these situations?! (I always have it in my bag in case one of the kids has an accident).

I wanted to see how a woman blew birthday cake candles out, with her fucking, incredible….vagina. I was SOOOOO amazed that I HAD to order another Tiger Beer (the Captain was being harassed by a Lady Boy at the time, despite being sat right next to me) as I find women amazing….




Anyway….where was I?

Ah yes, men are dicks, women are amazing, life online is shit….and Ive yet to pay my Council Tax bill this month. Good times all round.

Ah…..and the dark nights are fast approaching as Winter is here.  Its this time of year that reminds me of an old life I once had, pre kids and marriage, in a NW6 loft apartment with my then fiancé, where Beef, fine cheese, sex and Malbec were divulged in guilt free abundance, as was sleeping, selfishness (as in, it was about the two of us only) and being very, very content. The Captain once told me he felt something had been missing, until I came along.  I miss those days. Those were my happiest days (until the children came along, but dynamics and life changed…very swiftly). I hope those wont be the only days, I experienced, on this mortal coil, where I felt genuinely fulfilled. But, right now (and being open like this I know is dangerous online) without fear, I am still not hitting that level of genuine happiness. Yes, divorce has impacted my view on the world, life, men and general beliefs I once held so dearly.  However, Love does that to people. It did it to me. I hope, one day, I get to experience that real, happy, certain, “given”, safe place again.


You know whats recently become my new aggravation?  My new IRRITATION? And this works alongside my hatred of bullies, driving/parking in NW London during school runs where WANKER TRAFFIC WARDENS wait behind trees/cars/cats to give you a parking ticket first thing in the moring (despite knowing full well us parents HAVE to slow down and drop our kids off at school ….although id love it if mine could jump out while the car was still moving), lost school uniforms (especially expensive Blazers and winter jackets), the monthly bills, irritating drivers who have no idea about the width of their cars, Bankers, Smart Car drivers etc?

Ok, this issue is  not a “recent” global issue (as lets face it, people cheat if they want to) but, as I am an innocent, still trusting newbie to the dating game, after years of marriage,….I’ve been STUNNED, MORTIFIED, SILENCED (sheer shock affect) by the stories I’ve heard, things Ive witnessed/experienced with how the world now works with online dating relationships….AKA “THE ONLINE HIDDEN DATING ADDICTION”.

Now most of you ladies who are out there online dating, will meet someone you think “yeh….hes alright. He can speak without spitting. Doesn’t smell. Looks presentable. Doesn’t hurt kids or animals and can eat his food properly”

However, we have ALLLLLLLL experienced, that absolute insecure total idiot, who you’ve assumed you were exclusive with, until you randomly discover, they’re STILL onine dating and “keeping their options open”.  This hidden online life, that this man youve been seeing, may have carried on for months, or even YEARS in your healthy relationship. Why? Its always going to be your “fault”.

Why???? Because they are selfish, cheating, self absorbed twats with zero confidence or trust ability. Walk away now ladies/men….a cheat is a cheat is a cheat.

INTERNET DATING. AND cheating emotionally via online dating.

I know numerous, countless, people, who have been involved in the INTERNET DATING world. And also, dozens of people, burned by the phenomenon of “emotional online cheating”.



if youre online, but not “touching them”…its not cheating.



Cheating is cheating is cheating is cheating.


This IS cheating.

If you wouldn’t do this in front of your other half, it means you’re fucking cheating. How hard is this to comprehend?  Seriously? If youre hiding your online activity….you are CHEATING.  If you are caught out and claim its your partners fault you HAD to go surfing for a new partner online, despite being happy in your relationship? Its cheating.  Cheating.


I love witnessing the sudden amnesia that arises (men are geniuses at this), when this conversation is brought up with your other half, after discovering their online (hidden alias) on some dating website. The piece of shit, cheating scum lord shouldn’t have been on any website but BUT….he then admits it…. but their respons?

“BUT I WASNT DOING ANYTHING! I never saw them….I didn’t really cheatttttttttt!! Youre crazy and NEEDY for saying these mad things! WHY ARE YOU CHECKING UP ON ME?!?! YOURE A NUTTER!!!” 

Err…yeh. Its me. I’m the “damaged one”…you fucking freakoid.  My partner is cheating on me because he claims he cant “trust me and needs to feel happy”…..Look in the mirror. And by that comment, I mean YOU not him.  HE is a piece of cheap shit. Worthless. He willmake any woman miserable. Any man who cheats and claims YOU are to blame? YOU need to WAKE UP AND WALK AWAY. IMMEDIATELY. Even if he was “changeable”, would you really want someone THAT damaged? No. He will always be a wrong ‘un. ALWAYS.  He cheated on you. He WILL do it again. And again. And again. Why? Its not you. Its him. Hes an absolute dickhead. Simple.

You are in a relationship. RELATIONSHIP. BUT….online verbal communication which includes sexting, flirting, photos, constant whatsapps or “Kiks”…etc….all, ALL, are communication that should NOT be happening if youre in a monogamous relationship.  They know this, otherwise, they wouldnt hide it.  They need egos stroked. You need a grown up. Yet this is NOT being unfaithful? Since when? Seriously? Since when did chatting up other women/men, in an online capacity, when youre in a RELATIONSHIP (or in a bar/club) become OK?

“BUT IT WAS ONLY TALKING! I touched her arse/arm/mouth/pussy…to put her in a cab as she wouldn’t leave me alone babe!!? Why are you acting so CRAZY!? You’ve got issues!!!”My response? (not that this conversations ever happened, nor has a bloke got the balls to even say that shit…but it has HAPPENED to women I know!!)

Me: “Errr, sorry, DICK…did you say you were being “helpful/friendly/old school mate/cousin youre clearly incestuous with?”


Me: “Yes. ok. Whatever. Im broken. Youre sane. Its me.

Now fuck off…..oh and BABE………I fucked your brother last night”.

Educate me boys? Ive got 3 brothers. I have a Handful of good male friends and no one, NO ONE, can argue, the facts. You go online, no matter what the emotional or physical outcome is, your INTENT was to cheat and your INTENT damaged/ruined/created new issues within your relationship with your partner/husband/wife/fuckbuddy/girlfriend/boyfriend/its ok friend.  FUCK OFF AND GROW UP.

People are not stupid. In this day and age, we have all learned more, from life, our own 80’s tastic parents (now newly open to all forms of honest discussions) and we ALL know, what is right.  Its easy.  But, the internet, has made idiot/vile/think they-are-something men, feel invincible and able to act anyway they like ie. LIARS/PLAYERS/SCUM. And NONE of them, especially the “attempted players” have any kudos to carry through with something properly legitimate. By this I mean….In the old days (1970’s….ish era) , a real player, was someone handsome (a given), well off (or looking for a “sugar-Mummy”) educated (or at least pretended to be), and usually able to carry any situation…and fucking sharp.  This day and age….? You haven’t got anyone who has that old school ability.

That’s why I love older men. and by older I mean 50+.  Theyre a different generation and they hold doors open (THIS IS A HUGE DEAL IN OUR DAY & AGE), they give you their hand when you’re walking (anywhere) and they ASK you if youre “ok”.


Simple, right? Not with the idiots of this day and era. Its surprising but I cant remember what my ex husband used to do, but I assume, he was cut from the old school cloth, of real men (or I’m a fool for giving him 3 kids. And I’m no fool. I was in love with a good man for a while. He set the benchmark). This new generation of “its all about  the new male idiot syndrome”…the men of today? This generation of inexcusable broken, demanding men, where they immediately insist you buy them a “drink” to be “equal” are, in my opinion (and its not about money, its about class)….but these boys/man-child weirdos….they are to be avoided.  They need counselling and a penis extension/circumcision/STD tests, before you even broach them. And if you still, STILL, want to go there….more fool you.

You all know what’s right and wrong in relationships. That is, until you’re caught out, online, flirting with someone else. Writing to someone else….someone who is NOT your partner/lover/wife/girlfriend. Being suggestive and flirtatious? If its hidden, its WRONG. FACT. BUT, we all know this. WE ALL KNOW THIS.

Online hidden aliases, profiles, hidden emails, hidden mobiles, different photos, hidden facebook profiles, random names/date of births/addresses/VPNS, hidden agendas. Its bullshit scumbag behaviour. WE ALL KNOW THIS, SURELY?





ASHLEYMADISON.COM (may you all burn in hell you unfaithful cheating scum…ps. LOVE THIS SITE IN PARTICULAR…Ill explain why next week :))


Something which is NOW, after 15+ years old, and considered the “norm” today.  Also, the norm in the sense that MEN cant even consider being faithful, simply because they cant HELP but be online. Theres too much on offer. They are “Hidden”. Profiles hidden. You are “blocked” wihout even knowing it from websites because hes already preempted you looking him up. WANKERS. The whole lot of ’em.

Normal, acceptable, people nod knowingly (usually still “married”, without any idea their marriage will end in approx 5-10 years…if theyre lucky) and go “oh, yes….which website are you on? Tinder? Elite.com? friendfinder.com? localfuck.com? immeidateshagmenoquestionsasked.com? I’macheatingscumbagsoareyou.com? Match.com? okCupid? Ashley Madison (youre a cunt if you did)?!”

Firstly, id like to begin by stating….

I met the “Captain” of my household ship (yes, as in, my EX HUSBAND) online…. via “speeddater.co.uk”. The man wouldn’t leave me alone until I “granted” a date….and later, happiness, travel, love, marriage, 3 kids, and then a very painful divorce which to this day, I am still, STILL, recovering from. I fell in love. Once and only once. Regardless of the details, I was lucky to have felt happiness even for a year on the level I did. I know he misses that. I know I miss him for so many moments when, in those days, our “tight team” (his words not mine), meant we laughed a lot. I was often “managed” because of my humour and more relaxed manner, but also, I felt love for a long time, before that ended.  He did too.

Now? NOW!? Fuck me….we hate each other and cant even breath in the same aura. But divorce is another story/article…. ongoing painful conversation, I’m certain he doesn’t want to endure anymore than I do.

It wasn’t anyones fault, the divorce….but…before “speedater.co.uk” kicked off in my life, I’ve always believed in the “online” relationship gig.  It does truly work. It genuinely gives you the chance to chat and negotiate with a potential partner, before meeting them somewhere random. Normally near a train station. FYI….Avoid East Croydon overland station and anywhere remotely “remote”. Don’t open yourself up for problems with people you know are already unhinged. Also, fuck the crazies.  If theyre not right on the phone, or via text, or sending photos of their erections or photos where they state ex girlfriends wont leave them alone and are “fucking nutters”….avoid them immediately. Respect yourself.

Know your own worth and have a hot bath, dinner for one and let the universe provide the right “sort” for you. Its not worth your time or heartache, being mistreated by an absolute piece of shit (that you want to change). The men today, have got far too cocky for my liking. I want to punch numerous men in the face, just for stating a woman was “needy” because she asked when she’d see them again. “Needy”? You wish. Keep the thought in mind. I’d rather be alone, than unhappy with a cheating, STD breeding, uneducated, alpha male, who brings nothing to your front door, but sadness, guilt and manipulation. End that shit.

You find out what youre actually “dealing with” on an online date before you meet. Is that attractive fella in the photo going to deliver as a human being ,when you meet? OR, is he going to arrive, emotionally angry/wasted and a “wrong un” right away?

Women know immediately.  Its why we have the children. Its why we procreate. Its why we are WOMEN.  We know and feel everything.

The biggest mistake we are genetically known to make? HEY, PLEASE REMEMBER IM ON YOUR SIDE (AS IN WOMEN….MEN CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF)….WE…WOMEN…WE Try and fix the piece of shit staring at us and trying to communicate with us over a glass of Pinot Grigio (which you probably paid for), like a badger out of hibernation. That’s our fault. We want it all. Apparently that’s wrong.

When they’re damaged (MEN, NOT US), theyre friggin beyond  “fixable status”, as lets face it….he’s already arrived with his best clothes/shoes on, hopefully showered and still, STILL, with some bullshit idiot attitude…which screams “aren’t you lucky I’m here?!”  If you already know he’s broken, mean, unfaithful, a complete idiot….

…..fucking run, forget “Uber taxis” and go bull market & large it with a black London Cab to escape. You are worth more than that. YOU ARE ALWAYS WORTH MORE THAN ANYTHING THAT ARRIVES IN THAT CAPACITY. Anyone who makes you feel you should be grateful they turned up? Seriously….. check yourself and your own mindset.  Go home, laugh en route to your house….and think “I’m going to be a lesbian. Id probably be happier, more fulfilled and find someone stunning, kind and engaging. FUCK THIS ATTITUDE”.

Sooo…again…internet dating.  I met my ex husband, nearly 14 years ago when online dating was considered “taboo”. The ex, to be fair, didn’t want anyone knowing that someone like him (or, Me), was looking online for, well….a marriage, a life, happiness. We were the real deal for a very very long time. But those questions that arose from online dating novices?  “What’s wrong with you?!” and “why online?!”  He didn’t want those questions. There was nothing wrong with either of us.  The same being now, with the whole universe doing what we did all those years ago. We wanted clarity, a bit of honesty, some insight into what we were going to meet for dinner that first time….and also….banter.  I BLOODY LOVE BANTER. It turns your man into your best friend within seconds when you can talk and joke and be YOU.

The ex Captain?  He had legitimate social concerns about peoples perceptions of someone online dating, when clearly, he was physically and verbally capable of pulling what is the now, nasty, old fashioned way… ie. in a bar, club, taxi queue…

I on the other hand, have always been a firm supporter of the online “meet, greet, merge and/or, disappear” way.  Why?  Firstly, you can find out if someone can actually read/spell/punctuate (super important for me) and secondly, I’m lazy.  I don’t want to speak to someone in the middle of a noisy bar, restaurant, road….without knowing some background knowledge about them first.  In addition, now I’m a parent (yes….7 years later), Ive got a responsibility to my children, but I also, cant be arsed with dickheads.

So….here lies the new conundrum.

You go “online” dating. and to be honest, I’m a friggin BALL PARK, HIT A HOME RUN, genius, with my words. I’m not being an aggressive, arrogant male banker here. This is FACT. I can write any man into my bed. You want to pull someone ladies….seriously? Drop me an email and Ill show you how easily its done.  EASY. Yes boys. EASY.  Take that you cheating WANK CREW.

Ive had over 2500 responses on Tinder alone, and “likes” (lucky me) are beyond normal….simply by stating in a round about way “I’m fit, single, have 3 kids, if youre a muppet FO and if you want to play, I suggest Ashley Madison”. In addition, I MAY have mentioned I’m sensual and have decent boobs (theyre friggin beautiful people….BEAUTIFUL!)

The responses?!
Aside from:

Herro…you like coffee. we meet in Dagenham bus station, yes lady?”

“Hi, I’m a farmer from Teddington. Do you drink tea?”

“How was your day beautiful?” That comment in particular is probably a template for over 100000000 Online daters and beyond pathetic. I hate that question more than I hate bullies, racism and Donald Trump (all the same thing really). How weak and empty is anyone, to have their first opening line as “how are you?!” FUCK OFF. Boring. Probably in a jail cell or married. Vile either way. If youre keen, pick up the phone immediately and show YOUR WORTH. IDIOT. Sorry….I like men. I’m just beyond stunned at the level of quality these past few years. Rude. Dismissive. Vulgar. and they cant understand why I give them a slap, the £2 bill for my “water with ice” and block them for eternity. EUWWWW.

The general uptake was “ ARE YOU A FUCKING BLOKE, or, a very cool bird?”  Erm….my response?

A) “well done from using an apostrophe”?!

B) Hello, desperado….no I’m a woman disgusted by the male race and hoping someone will eventually return me to planet “relationships with good men do exist once you wheedle through the bullshit, unwanted nude erection photos (seriously, STOP this!!!) and basically desire to meet someone, which I hate to say, is NORMAL”.

As it turns out….there are some very good men out there….albeit, broken, divorced, single (“I never found the right one after I punched her dad in the caravan that day”…or, “she doesn’t love my Cat “Nancy/Mum” as much as I do”) men. There are some crazies out there.

Even the smart, attractive, educated ones….they’re more damaged than the jail boys in Wormwood Scrubs (although at least those boys are faithful to women, ONLINE DATING ISNT BEING “UNFAITHFUL” AFTERALL). I’m confused as to what’s happened since I got married in 2007.  Something broke with the men I grew up surrounded by….the good guys I knew… ruined. Weird. Awful. Disgusting.

There are some “keepers”, some “growers”, and some “what the fuck am I doing this for?!!!!” moments. Ive never ever shunned online dating as ive always been a genius at this shit.

Until now. 2017. Crazy alert.


These are men with issues and sexual madness on a level I feel sorry for, disturbed by, and also, yes, he may read this, has caused some form of “I miss my ex husband” syndrome. I am not writing that before Trolls get stuck in, to state, I want my Ex Captain back….but fuck me…..there are some odd men out there. And BOY DO THEY LOVE SLAGGING WOMEN OFF.

Nut bag Male 2017 Syndrome on a level I now encounter almost daily (not even online….!!). Ive left a grown man crying in a bar after telling him to “fucking get a life, get some emotion, grow a penis, and stop driving a car that requires being plugged in to recharge….. also fucking stop being a judgemental prick AND ASKING ME WHAT i GOT IN MY “DIVORCE SETTLEMENT”.  Ballsy men, with zero appeal, ugly, not attractive in the slightest, driving cars that need to be plugged in every 3 hours (theyre clearly crusing the London roads for women and running out of battrey) because they don’t want to pay for fuel, and rude too. RUDE. OMG….RUDE. Its actually funny.


I miss being with someone who connected with me immediately. On every fucking level mentally, and socially.  I never ever experienced this random, unknown, non-understanding, of normal social etiquette…ever. You go out, you laugh, you flirt, you have dinner, you chat again…NORMAL!??? SURELY!!!!? But weirdos galore? They are out there now by the bucket load.

SOOOO WHYYYYYY WHYYYYYY WHYYYYY are men being weird. Like, NUTBAG WIERD. EUWWWWW.  I got approached by a very attractive man last week at the Costa Coffee in Tescos (yes, I’m Rock n ROll people) and immediately, I had to LINKEDIN the dumbass before I even smiled and paid for my triple macchiato. Turns out, he was 15 and not 47. Not a CEO but a GBH’er. EUWWWWWWWW.


Am I, as a woman supposed to sit around, wait for some legend to step in and fill my own emotional and sexual boots/needs…..when clearly….there is an issue/shortage/lack of obvious proper supply, of men….fitting a normal, female, happy, divorced need?  OR


They are dating you and still online.

Still online but in their dumb empty vessel like minds, thinking….”I’m not being unfaithful”….”I’m online…not physical…”

Errrrrm…”mate. If youre cheating emotionally? Youre fucking cheating and being a shady snake too. FUCK OFF. Really. FUCK OFF”.

Ive had THAT “moment”….when, as a “grown up” …..you actually realise (the penny dropped) …

“You’ve been played…” 🖕Not just “played”….but PLAYED on a level, your “over 40” radar was not ready for.

That moment, as a single woman, once happily content as a “duo”, shows a new light on the after 40’s “dregs”. DREGS.

i don’t want “DREGS”. I don’t want “seconds”. No one does!!!

i don’t WANT an online “dating life” and trust me, I can pull many a man by writing frivolous “banter” alone. I DONT WANT THIS!!! I LOGGED OFF in 2007. When I hung up those long black suede boots and got married.


Ive got an idea…. Ladies….

Of everyone from eharmony, to Ashley Madison, to ecupid….can set up some website….where you’ve no control…

what happens when someone like, me?
Someone whose been used to being IN LOVE….starts “online empty vessel-like, going for an audition, yet more ruthless” dating?

While I seem to have forgotten )although recently reminded often by the Ex, and any other arsehole trying to knock me)…I am no longer 27…but 40 years old. I HAVE aged, but I don’t see it.  I see my potential. My new found experience. My STILL incredible figure. My openness to accept wankers, despite everything.

So why…why? Why is this process, called “ageing”….easier on men, than us women? WHy are they bloody looking BETTER as we get older? Not all of them. But the divorced male crew….fucking hell.  There are some HOT single men out there now, walking around like Peacocks….proud as hell, sleeping well as their ex’s are looking after their kids every night without them having a moments broken sleep.  Why are they ok?

Men? Age very WELL. Women….?i look at photos from 2 years ago and it’s like I’m seeing another person in those memories. Age creeps up A LOT QUICKER, on the female form. Why? We have the babies. Surely we should get rewarded, not cast aside, because we are no longer “taught & young”.

men? Ageless.


why do they get to look BETTER WHEN THEY AGE??

Why, as a Mum and woman, have I changed soooo dramatically in my physical appearance that I barely know who I am some days, should I attempt to look in a mirror.



And NOOO…I’m not some closet lesbian, keep to be an arrogant penis swinging, ugly ball sacked, bloke.

NO. I want to experience the world of a Man.

I’ve got a “if I woke with a penis” list of “To Do’s”:-

1) shave my balls.

2) make sure arse and ball sack are properly shaved after original “ball shave”.

3) sunbed.

4) buy a stupid crazy expensive, noisy car, with loud exhaust, racetrack tyres, cock envy road appeal, to piss everyone off at 6am when I sped off to work in the city (or my real cover, “escort agency”).

5) grow a pair and after shagging over 309999 women in my first trial week as a temp bloke, I decide…“enough is enough….!!!! I’m going to find love, happiness, and charity. BUT…not until I’ve had one, ONE (c’mon!!) NIGHT AT THE INFAMOUS STRIP CLUB, “SPEARMINT RHINO”...

To be fair…”Spearmint Rhino” is like Starbucks…

IF I WOKE UP AS A MAN/FELLA/GEEZER, WHAT WOULD I DO?  Being a woman. Knowing what Men are like (ish).

Hmmmm…..I’d stand in front of a full length mirror. Observe all the body hair, ugly testicals, MASSIVE penis (c’mon!) and then?  Well….THEN….I hit a strip club….I mean….if there’s a huge sign with a finger pointing to a lap dancing club. Being OLD SCHOOL, Id probably go underground and fid the filthy strip clubs, but, being LAZY….”fuck it” ….SPEARMINT RHI it is.

What happens once I arrive?  After a 15 minute £350 lap dance. I go home to my non suspecting Mrs (whose been up nursing our newborn), and sleep soundly because “hey I FUCKING WORK ALL DAY AND DESERVE IT!!!STOP BEING A NUTTER!!! IM NOT DOING ANYTHING”

Strip clubs…?

IF your man, goes there, after he’s smashedollowing a few drinks? He then stares randomly at some girls tits, arse etc while shes dancing, possibly goes into the “no touching” private room…. but hey?!

If YOU, as  a modern woman, attempt to even mention this?!! His response? “It was a night out with the fellas YOU NUTTER!!!” situation. Youre the “nutter” for mentioning it. Youre “insecure” for commenting and youre a typical “bird” for being “sooooo pathetic” over this stuff.  His brazen response normally is “sorry, what’s the problem with me getting a lap dance?”

Yours? “oh nothing wrong baby. Did you get a receipt to claim for your cab home babe? Did they all have massive lils?”

How do you, as a grown up (keep reminding myself, that I AM one)….respond to this blatant, exceptionally disrespectful, open,  visual, not-allowed-to-argue-about-it-discussion regarding strippers? Is it cheating?

It IS cheating. However you chose to look at it.  Would your partner do this shit in front of you? Unless hes a total imbecile, then NO. Your MAN would never ever sit in front of you while a bird is rubbing her tits and arse across his body and hes talking to YOU about the next days food shop in Tescos and what time your 1 year old slept yesterday.  FUCK OFF.

WOULD HE be sat there, in front of you doing this? No. ….therefore….its blatanty still wrong. And for someone like me?

This “yeh, we had a few drinks and wanted a pair of tits in our faces”…scenario/conversation/apparently acceptable “norm”?? Nope.

When I was married? This conversation never even occurred. The Captain would call me, mid dinner/nightclub/Ibiza/Vega/Miami/local Greek taverna, to update me on the latest gossip…. but ALWAYS, came home to me (without any hidden agenda/lifestyle I was stupid or innocently thinking didn’t exist) in those first 9 years-TWELVE YEARS.  Not bad for a banker.  Not bad for any couple, when we had death, IVF, illness, moving home/country/etc etc etc, to contend with.

After having lived for 9-12 years of open iPhones, mac computers, answering each others texts, sharing Dropbox accounts and Instagram…..honesty. Trust. NORMALCY.


People cover their screens, take their mobiles to the loo… to ensure their random shag from the night before doesn’t flash up at 2am while you’re asleep….together.

Fine. But thats not for ME. EVER.

i don’t want this single set up if it involves mad men calling women “Nutters” without looking at themselves in the mirror first.  Id rather abstain from dating all together, until the steroids (or whatever crap theyre pumping into their veins) has worn off.  I need someone chilled. Kind. Relaxed. Capable of being nice…..and engaging. SImple really.

i don’t want marriage either (it took a while for me to get my head around it after escaping 2 previous engagements)….I NEVER asked for a ring the last time. But this time round….nope. Never ever again.  It ruins everything. That circle on your finger…that symbolism.  Something I was always reluctant to have.  Never again.

No one gets to “own” me again.  I wont take your name. I wont sign on the dotted line for you over legalities.  I WILL however, be a partner and friend.  I will be there and remain loyal, without the paperwork to ensure the deal is finalised. Ive always been that type of girl anyway.

To find my next “chapter”…I need a smart, yet sweet (& happily kind/non judgemental) Man “friend/lover/buddy”.

I can only wish for a best friend I will grow old with (one day, as this shit is never easy)…but…. I need my next “Clyde”.

Jail’olidays are almost over…

  • playdate 2017

Yes…the wonderful, endless, painful, exceptional, school holidays are soon coming to an end.

Nearly 1000000 weeks off school (although, to be fair, those Teachers must need it)…looong. My trio. The mini me entourage? Damn…. they’ve been busy, washing, cleaning and losing socks at home is beyond crazy, and yet….still…I get the same old question…EVERY 10 MINUTES:-


I’m sorry…”WTF?”

These kids of mine, are very lucky, and fortunate, erm….”people” (I didn’t want to be harsh with my own crew).

I am beyond stunned, that they are “BORED” from ONE (ONNNNNNEEEEE!!!!!!!!) day inside the padded cell known as our non permanent “rental home”.

Now, I have spent WEEEEEEEKS, yes, WEEEEEKS, alone, with my trio keeping them busy, travelling, going out, spending an absolute fortune, to keep these little meanies “busy”. BUSY ON A LEVEL LIKE BANKERS FEEL “BUSY” TAKING THEIR CLIENTS TO STRIP CLUBS”…. that’s how “BUSY” these under 7’s have kept me. And before you all forget…. IM FUCKING ALONE!!! Single Mum. To be fair. It’s much easier when it’s just me…”Iron fist, velvet glove” Mum that I am.

This is normal for the mini entourage and I ….however… if even ONE day is spent being a 1980’s Mum ie. “For fucks sake, entertain yourself and leave the adults alone!? Why are you even asking me for a bloody sandwich? Do I look like I work for you??’!!”

I’m ridden with “this 2017 judgemental parenting” guilt. Instilled by the media, NW Hampstead joggers you throw your fags at while doing the school run (they are normally rosey cheeked raahs , being all “healthy”), Lycra/legging/shirt in winter wearing “sporty” Mums at school (you know the ones…they’re all cliquey….speak to everyone (except you, the antichrist antimum outsider) and yet…their hair and nails are still (STILL) immaculate, and the ex husband who feels I should be tap dancing daily for the children to ensure I’m doing a good job to earn my monthly maintenance.

Seriously? For those of us who grew up in the “real” world…especially the 1980’s generation…I don’t recall THIS level of “parental” involvement and play date hell with some boring 7yr old who bullies my child (but hey, it’s a play date, so they’re “mentally growing”). This is BULLSHIT.

This is “adult mummy parental peer pressure”. Ive been “shunned” from some Mummy groups, towards the end of last year, because I blatantly rejected (politely) certain (hugely pointless and unnecessary coffee mornings/emails), constant messages for money to give “spa gifts” for the school staff (at an expensive private school), or to once again fill the mummy money kitty for yet another school fair.

Shunned why? I asked questions. OH….and I may have cracked a few unPC (possibly anti-marriage) jokes. Yes, I’m a “wrong ‘un.”

Damn my big gob. Ie. My daughter had no girls attend her birthday (despite attending all theirs) last year. She was devastated. I emailed the Mummy “WhatsApp bullshit hypocrite group” and literally said “why are NONE of your girls attending my child’s birthday?” Response. Nothing. Blanked. I’ve never been blanked. I’m the cool one at school. So what did I do. I created a new group. One called “I fucking hate affected Mummy dicks” (yes, childish…but still…we were cool). So far there are, erm, 4 of us. 2 are currently on probation for a DUI. Great girls though and our nights in Camden are legendary  😉

*That said. adult bullying is actually something I will write about next…as I can’t believe what I’ve witnessed daily with school “cliques” amoung Mums. It’s sooo blatant. Rude. Spiteful. Boring as you don’t ACTUALLY WANT to hang around these people (but ego wants you to be involved) but I will never ever bother with these vulgar socially inadequate people again. Anyway… Today is about the return to hell/heaven after the longest school holidays known to man kind.

My mini entourage have spent weeks on holiday ( weeks!!), at expensive tennis summer camps, with friends, family, outings that cost a minimum of £200 a day….basically “busy” as hell. Busy busy busy. Educating and broadening their minds…

BUT….today, they spent 6 hours IN DOORS (YES, IN DOORS, as in “inside the house”, WHILE IT RAINED) and complained that I wasn’t “entertaining” them.  🙂

Entertaining “them”…? Entertaining them….?

Erm…. Are you for fucking real? 

What happened to us parents owning our own lives and households? Everyone I know complains about this shit but we all still torture ourselves and our kids, forcing too much social and physical activity to prove to those around us that we are “doing a great job”. Nb. If a parent isn’t happy, or is tired…do you not think this may potentially rub off on their children? Outside peer pressure for adults, who are full time parents (apparently this is not a “job” but more a joyous “lifestyle choice”….) we too, at times, need to call the shots in our own home. We can gauge what our children need.

Holy Shit.

And my worry when they (my mini trio) complained they were “bored?”… my concern, aside from “oh for fucks sake…!” Was…”What will people think?”

What the HELL have we done as a generation that I HAVE TO STOP HOUSEWORK…. TO SING …..AND DANCE …..AND GOOGLE ……ENTERTAINMENT?!! This makes me a good parent. This makes me a good parent? Not the Mother who runs around like a dog daily for her children, sleeps on floors (sometimes without even a blanket or glass of vino) when one is ill, drives 12 hours a days to collect/drop off/take to play dates…) nope.

I’m a shit mum if my children are bored for one single minute.  We’ve ruined this generation. We have taught them nothing about morals, respect, manners, character…its them who apparently run the show. But….No…nope. No way. Not happening. I’m done with this polite “adorable, organic, support their desires” display. It’s not for the kids, this bullshit show…the one of exhausted Master Mummy…it’s to show off to other parents. It’s about displaying your abilities. You’re all bored. I’m not. I’ve got a life. I’m busy. I’m normal.

Children, should be able to cope, as us adults do, with time at home.  And “time” doesn’t mean “jail time”….but in the old days, there were no “play areas” in my Parents flat.  There were no friggin “playdates with Jane” from across the road.  This is how the 1980’s worked in my era….

Mum, can Jane come over today?”

Mum: “Yes fine. Stay in your room. Have fun.”

Me: “Ok”

End of conversation. Jane and I would ring numerous restaurants for prank calls, watch TV, listen to the “Radio” (yes, “Radio”” and keep the fuck out of my parents way….WHY? BECAUSE IT WAS THEIR HOUSE!!!!



My kids:

“Listen Mum Beeeeyatch! Dad said you need to fucking entertain our arses.  Jane and her crew are coming over (theyre 7 yrs old btw), and if we ask you for Organic treats, youre not only going to hand them over, but take photos of our wonderous time together and post it via Whatssapp to demonstrate what a great NEW AGE DICK YOU ARE”

ME: “OK”.

ME Internally….”Benadryl laced pasta lunch then, you manipulative wankers?!”


WHY are we doing this stupid crap??

My generation grew up in a time when serious shit happened.  Yet, we all happiliy got on with stuff and I never ever recall my parents going “ooohhh, she has a playdate….we cant make that important event today!”

My Parents were, great, and also…very normal. ” You live here kid. You eat when we do. This is your 5ft by 5ft play zone in your OWN bedroom. Crack on and don’t answer back”. Simple.


This is how things roll in this day and stupid boring, miserable age:-

Me..: “We have to leave the house immediately to get to your 8.30am, (on a Saturday) playdate.  Where are your Pink Fairy wings and gift for your friend “RainbowJuliabellscarlett?”

All one name FYI. Because the parents are affected twats. Who live in a posh area but are very “down to earth”.

On arriving at some lush palace in Nottinghill, the host, AKA “Posh Mummy” states:

Oh she (referring to my Super cute, totally unaware & NORMAL CHILD, who was wearing her older brothers Batman costume with My Little Pony trainers & neon orange leggings from “Mummy’s 80’s fancy dress box”) needs a “magic costume from this years Sundance kids Film Festival in our cellar”. This? Errrr….to attend a tea party at 8.30am on a Saturday morning… and then this lycra, thin haired, thin bodied, Sloaney pony, states her “E-invite” was very clear that you “please dont arrive with Nuts, sugar, happiness or a rainbow….” as her baby, little Jim, is allergic to all and we don’t encourage Happiness in our home”. My child, one of my three favourites, handed me her bag of honey coated bits, candy floss, medium sized rainbow, and smile, over to me at the door. When I hugged her “goodbye”, she whispered “please come get me in 1O….minutes. I’ll pretend I have a bad tummy ache”. My daughter is FIVE YEARS old. I literally walked to my car, parked 12 streets away in NOTTINGHILL as no one can park outside their house in London, and sure enough….I had a phone call from Lycra Mum stating “your daughter has just said she did the biggest shit in my 4th bathroom and needs to i home immediately before she Explodes in my Persian rug”.  To be honest…I couldn’t have been prouder. She would have been beyond bored for those 3 hours. 2 nannies, 4 children, a overly medicated “rahhh” Mum….it was too much. She told me when I collected her, after giving me a little wink “Mum…let’s go to E&O…I need to tell you what those crazies were like. They even had “Nannies”….

FUCK OFF!!! You encourage the idiot to wear a fairy costume though?!  At 8.30am while you open the door wearing gym clothes to demonstrate how miserably healthy you are while your “friend”, a 20 year old exhausted Aupair…

called  Tania …

frm Switzerland,is running around after 4 posh, irritating kids dressed as total wankers for a wierd playdate. Wow.  What an amazing parent you are. Let me take notes.


The new term is about to start in Septmeber.  I am more, now than ever, determined…to NOT do this bullshit.  DETERMINED. I WILL NOT GIVE IN TO THIS CRAZY SHIT.

I run a home.

A life.

A house.

I love my kids.

I want them to be normal and happy.

I AM NOT doing this bullshit playdate, “do what the kids want” crap anymore.

I’m divorced. I live by my own moral codes and conduct. I’m free. THANK FK.

I’m done.

You want a playdate at mine?

Get ready to be an actual kid.

That involves actually hanging out with your mates, not bothering adults and no personal staff to assist you when you want a glass of water. Otherwise, youre a freak and I don’t want my children around you. You are NOT NORMAL. My trio ARE. Yes, now IM judging. Back off cracky lycra wearing NW Hampstead Mummies.  I’m appalled at your elitism, lack of manners, zero personality, and ability to be YOU. Yes…..I AM JUDGING NOW.  IVE BEEN LOCKED INTO THIS AREA AGAINST MY WILL…. NOW….I BEG YOU TO PICK A FIGHT OR STUPID MINDLESS PLAYDATE.  I don’t WANT frivolous conversation. I don’t want coffee mornings. I HAVE friends and a life. We all do.  This DOES NOT MAKE US BETTER PARENTS.


As for the parents…..ughhhh…..Im dreading the new term already.

SINGLE PARENT – My twins just turned 7 years old!

Hi all

This will be a brief (OK, maybe, not “brief”), albeit, probably, painful, dialogue (with myself), reflecting, on my twins turning seven years old. My third (and youngest), turns five years old in 2 weeks. I have three, THREE, kids under 7 years old….and I’m raising them pretty much, alone….Where the HELL did time go!?! My Mum warned me about this whole “Youth is wasted on the young” phenomenon. To be fair, I pretty much did everything I wanted to do before I had my babies. I studied, worked hard, travelled, lived, loved, survived….enjoyed my life. THEN…parenthood….

PARENTHOOD. Is this as “wonderful” as everyone talks about, or is it the reason I’m (pretty much) “worn” daily? Have I fallen into the trap of believeing, having children, would fulfil me?

Don’t misunderstand me…before those doing IVF or other treatment, kick off. I HAD IVF. I WANTED to have a family. I now, just question, well….”why”? Please do not interpret what I’m writing as anti-parenting/kids etc. I adore my children. I would do anything, and DO anything for them.

They are my joy, my laughter, my heart walking around, outside my body. Daily. I’m just stating….why, why why….did I feel sooo pressured to have children when, now in hindsight, I sometimes, feel pained by the road ahead.  This love you feel for your kids…its never ever ending. I worry constantly for them, cant sleep when they cant, cry when they do, feel happy when they are, sad when they’re sad…its (as a Mother) never ever going to stop.

This level of love….its beyond anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. And the WORRY for them every single day, and guilt if I feel I’ve let them down…well, that’s something I never understood.

I called my Mum recently, crying (as you do as a single mum daily…or NOT, if youre properly “versed” on this way of life, I actually never signed up for, alone), after arguing with my (then) 6 year old about our living situation and where we will eventually live once our old family/marital home sells.  The conversation was beyond anything I’ve been able to manage as an adult…. and I felt so sad, for my child, that I didn’t (as I often don’t) have the answer to her questions.

That feeling of wishing you cold have “done better” as a parent…its tough. My Mum told me I often sent her to bed (please NB. my Mum is like the Mafia so if she feels guilt…the whole parenthood is fkd) at night worrying and sad she’d “let me down”. But, she also said, that children need to feel “secure” in order to accept the hard road/rejection ahead. If they are secure, and know their parent/s are there, kids can conquer anything.

Last night, I went through old photos, emails, cards, basically my life, from 7 years ago. Its crazy  (almost shocking to me) how different my life now is. Something, and some new era I never ever expected.

However, the one constant, joyously (sometimes painful!) loving and unconditional component, that keeps my feet on the ground solidly, are my three children.

These little people, have shown me, unconditional support and love, beyond anything I’ve ever known in my entire life. And I have been loved, numerous times. And well. But my trio…my entourage…my brood…my crew…my cheeky monkeys….this crew are hilarious.

However, I/we created them. Their father and I were not quiet, shy, meek characters…so why would we ever expect our kids to be different?! If anything, we are trying to manage, a rather “lary” trio of cheeky, kids. When I get a call from the school, or pulled aside by their Teachers to tel me something one of the children did. DO you know what I feel? Pride. Yep. Pride. I LOVE that they have the balls to push boundaries. I LOVE that they trust me (and their Dad) enough to attempt to do stuff you shouldn’t at school knowing full well that we would be informed, yet have no fear. I Love that I (and their Dad) am trusted. I told them when they started “big school” to “enjoy their time, push the boundaries and know Mummy is always there”…..little did I know they would go over and above.

I feel proud and disappointed at the same time. Only disappointed if theres bullying involved. I am never a hater but my kids (our kids) know not to ever allow (or even witness, without stepping in, if safe to do so) bullying. I cant grasp that

They are loud, capable, street-smart, argumentative, kind, non bullying (we are VERY anti bullying in our household), charitable, open, loving, cuddly, talkative (we love a good Chat!!), but more than anything…human. This is my crew.

I am blessed to have these 3 little people who are usually (one or two of them!) in trouble at school, yet the naughty one, (AKA my only son) is placing toys and treats (or 1p coins) under his 4 year old sisters pillow because she wants the “tooth fairy” to come and see her (shes witnessed her older twin siblings getting a treat ONCE from the Tooth Fairy).

My son (the “naughty one“) does this amazingly kind, sweet gesture, nightly…. He puts TREATS under her pillow at night (every night) so she thinks the Tooth Fairy came. Every night that my youngest 3rd child mentiones the Tooth Fairy, her older brother, will place stickers, 20p from his own Money Box, lip balm (hes stolen probably!) …My point is….this son of mine…hes such a good lad. Yet, hes been flagged up at school for “bad behaviour” because my ex said he was acting inappropriately.  My Son, is kind, yes, cheeky, but no way near a “problem” like the kids I give lifts to from school on the way home. One boy tried to stick his finger inside my mums bellybutton (not bellybutton but I cant bear to even write where he attempted) on school grounds, yet HE is not being called in for anything. My son? Lets look at the facts.

Thanks to ex Nanny, my son is a child who has been “flagged up” at school for naughty behaviour). Thanks to constant prodding and poking, my own relationship with my OWN SON has been affected. My old Filipino Nanny (and her bullshit, letting my then 3 year old daughter walk out the house, leaving the gas on, not closing the door, letting our 9 month old almost drown….this is a WITNESS) as well as whatever is aired by the ex, has rocked my normal, natural relationship with my child. My son and I feel, almost awkward now, thanks to the bullshit that has been created during my divorce. He has been soo damaged by what has happened because he has been used as an exampleof my alleged lack of “attention”. ATTENTION.

My son, BTW, gets approximately 80% of my attention DAILY. This has been enforced on me/him/us….thanks to a nanny (who my son claimed tried to cut him with a knife/his own flesh and blood).

I had a meeting (with my ex) at my sons schools last year) where I told them they were “ruining my relationship with my child”. These lies and comments….they are maybe not intentional…but they are ruining my relationship with my boy. I adore him. Hes cheeky. Gorgeous. Kind. He adores me. We love spending time together as we are actually very VERY similar. But, he is being pushed into a corner where apparently I give him “no attention”, and he is a “problem” at school. Both untrue.

YET….Both, now, a problem for me. I’ve kept quiet for long enough.

Yep, the same boy who holds his little sisters head when she falls asleep in her car seat so her “neck doesn’t hurt” while I drive us home.

He does this EVERY time my youngest child falls asleep in the car. His twin sister? The “good one” and my “favourite“? She wouldn’t even notice or attend to her younger sister, who has special needs. Yet, my Son, who according to random stories, where in hindsight I cant believe I even accepted being questioned, is sooo kind and looks after her. He did from the moment my youngest came into the world. His words were she looked so cute and he called her “Pookey”. A name that’s (unfortunately for her) Stuck!

But my boy? The one they  are “monitoring” at school for bad behaviour because he said “bum”  or something along those lines. Its harming him more than helping. My poor boy has had (due to moment at school that would ordinarily be considered “cheeky” ie. saying “you smell”! to another child) has caused Social services/Therapists/Psychologists to stop in. The poor lad is overwhelmed and I’m actually, now, beyond accepting of him being torn down like this. All because of a Nanny and my divorce. All to try and cut monthly maintenance.

MY SON ….holds his 4 year olds sisters head in my car, while I drive home (during my 2 hour round trip), to stop her getting neck ache (because she “falls forward Mummy”) while I drive us home. My SON, whose head and body I used to hold for over 8 hours every night for months because he couldn’t settled in out new environment in my lounge in Hong Kong all night….MY SON….is being torn away from me, bit by bit. I’m a good Mum and I adore my kids. I haven’t changed when it comes to who I am at the core. My kids however, are being destroyed by this stupid divorce game.

My son…hes actually a very good boy. When I hear things hes allegedly done…I’m stunned because, surrounded by love, hes fine.  When hes upset….yep….he’ll react. But hes only a child. And that’s not me saying that as a typical Mum protecting her son. I’m pretty strict, yet kind, with my kids. They know they can come to me with anything. ANYTHING.  We even laugh about this at dinner time when my 7 year old daughter told me ” Mummy when you come into the playground, please tell X to stop smelling me”. I witnessed (on 2 occasions) my kids being bullied, and had to speak to the Teachers within my reach immediately before I harmed some idiot bullying child’s face, or their IDIOT parent for not stepping in to teach their child that what their kid is doing is UNACCEPTBLE.

These two Boys who bullied my then 5 year old daughter, were swinging my daughter around by her school uniform hood. I was waving goodbye to her at the time before these imbecile, joy riding (to-be), idiot, boys started bullying her. They didn’t know who the fk was in the playground.  They prompted me to cooley walk over (try to recall Legal jargon…being an ex lawyer n’ all) and tell these 2 idiots to “GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER NOW!!! WHAT ARE YOUR NAMES AND WHICH CLASSES ARE YOU IN!!”  My daughter was trying to push them off her and retrieve her hood. Adults though….?!  They were bloody EVERYWHERE. Why didnt they step in?  These idiot boys were 5 years old and shit themselves when I walked over and intimidated them as they attempted to do to my daughter. Did this stop their pattern? Nope.  Ive seen them STILL BULLY kids in the playground….until they see my joyous face….cowards. I keep telling my kids….”Bullies are cowards. Stand up for yourselves. Tell Mummy if you don’t feel safe!”. they know the drill. They also know, human beings should be kind. Bullies are “ cowards”.

But seeing my son this past week, doing things, no one has told him to do (ie. hold your baby sisters head when she falls asleep so she doesn’t get neck ache)….is pretty…cool. He is genuinely kind. I love that about him. I wish everyone would back off and let him be.

This morning, all three of my kids woke (my youngest has her birthday in 12 days but will be away this year, so I celebrated her birthday today, with her older twin siblings), to balloons, cake, presents, smiles, contentment on the way to school. One of my twins…AKA “Favourite daughter”, did a somersault into my bedroom at 4.30am this morning, smiling (always smiling…to be fair, she DID come out the womb like that), shouting (because she can not, at any point, talk quietly), “ITS MY BIRTHDAY MUMMY!!! MY BIRTHDAY!!! LET ME SEE WHAT YOUVE DONE IN THE KITCHEN!! OR HAVENT YOU DONE ANYTHING?!”

I woke, explained she was approx. 1.5 hours early, to sleep for a bit, and I would wake her when it was “time”. My daughters response? “OK. BUT, please DONT FORGET!!” As if I could…. 7 years ago I had twins. I was married. I was in love with life and what the future could hold. Today, I woke alone (I mean the only adult in my home), and tried to keep it together while I witnessed these little people, I’ve raised alone for 2 years now…get one year older.

I had my twins in St. Marys Hospital in Paddington (Praed st), London. The well known “Lindo Wing” who were beyond amazing with how they cared for me. I had complications during the C Section, and lost a lot of blood. But the Nurses, Doctors and staff generally were beyond incredible. I couldn’t walk without their aid for 2 days. Yet, not once did I feel insecure or judged while attempting to do basic human things like go to the loo…the medical profession (on every level, from juniors to Consultants) were absolutely mindful and instrumental in my recovery.

The Lindo Wing at St. Marys was not some plush, Four Seasons Hotel style room, as you would expect for £6000 (apparently the cost) a birth.  I gave birth to my 3rd child in Hong Kong and it was compulsory to remain in the Hospital, known as “Hotel Matilda” for 7 days. To be fair, I had just moved apartment with the twins and ex, tried to fight a legal court case with our old landlords and unpacked, before turning up to voluntarily be put to sleep before giving birth to my 3rd child (I was SHAKING from terror/fear/worry of giving birth the 2nd time round. I was Shaking so much, the Doctor suggested I be put to sleep. I agreed…I was terrified after being advised from 16 weeks that we had an issue with the umbilical cord and Baby no.3 could be stillborn. Imagine a whole pregnancy wondering if your child would be alive when you gave birth? and then your husband emotionally checks out, knowing full well, situation at hand. Oh, and then my Dad died. Cherry on the cake.) I had 3 days to recover from my C Section with my twins. 3 days….then I was on my own. Back home…with 2 babies…I made via IVF (apparently I should be “hush hush” about the IVF for reasons I don’t understand….If I can help anyone through IVF, I bloody will. It is definitely not for the faint hearted and a couple must be strong to survive that shit)….and I was scared to leave the Lindo Wing.

And the aftercare at St. Marys, in Paddington?

Well….again, it was managed and I was looked after beautifully. I felt cared for, despite feeling physically bare at times (someone helping you go to the bathroom or to sit and drink water), and emotionally exposed. This hospital is both private and NHS run. Ive recently read reviews on St. Marys and am stunned by “trip advisor” style comments. The nurses and Doctors I encountered were incredible. The job they perform, is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. To be fair….the nurses who were there whenever I needed help, we beyond altruistic. I never felt alone knowing they were just around the corner. For a Nurse, to go and help someone go to the bathroom and HELP them physically hold bags of blood/fluid…and STILL smile and be kind to you?! This profession is NOT there to simply serve us. We need to appreciate that these are people, with feelings and senses, going home to their own lives, after a day with you. These amazing Nurses, at the Lindo Wing, who helped me when I couldn’t stand without losing copious amounts of blood (seriously, like a bucket of blood just to brush to stand and brush my teeth), would be so natural, and help me. HELP me. The only other person who would do this, is my Mother. Where was my then-husband? Not there. He was tired.

Me? I’m celebrating today that my twins are 7 years old. SEVEN. My youngest is about to turn 5. AND, I have been a single mum since they were 2 years old and 4 years old. No Man will ever define me, or my brood. I just hope, I keep up this super busy, hugely emotional (at times) biggest role of my life.

I will go back to work soon. Once all 3 are sorted. Until then?

Despite being under pressure daily (and nightly), I’m owning this amazing, sometimes totally soul destroying, role.  This crew of 3, that I gave birth to? I’m actually, beyond impressed with how much they have held ME up. Parenting is harsh. People judging you constantly, is harsh too. But fuck them, and do what you want to do. Those who judge, have zero life, and bullshit input. Good people don’t put others down.

Don’t be a hater. Although the Internet Trolls wont be able to help themselves..

For the single parents out there… You’re doing a FUCKING BEAUTIFUL JOB. And for those smug happy married bastards (I’m not bitter)/coupled up? You too are doing a fab job (we don’t hate you). Parenting is a whole job in itself. I love (& WANT TO MAIM), but LOVE, when people discover I’m a stay at home tortured Mum, then say to me, “oh, so you DONT WORK?!” No you fucker. DONT WORK?!

If you mean “not working” as waking up throughout the night, sleeping on the floor next to your childs bed when theyre unwell, washing thousands of clothes daily (despite them having friggin uniforms!?), being on call 24/7 for ALL your childs needs, having constant bullshit meetings with schools/doctors/therapists/ex husbands/idiots, attending playdates, parties, driving to the moon and back daily, washing toys, filling in projects, doing nightly homework, cooking, cleaning, trying NOT to kill oneself, as NOT a job….well you know what? YOU do my daily and NIGHTLY job. Tell ME HOW YOU FEEL AFTER ONE WEEK IN MY ROLE. Because I am being judged daily for allegedly NOT working. How do I go to work when I have sick kids, waking through the night, calls from school, no family that live locally, and zero support by way of a nanny?! WHAT JOB WILL EMPLOY ME?

I get 4 hours sleep (if I’m lucky) uninterrupted, every night, before one of my kids wakes me, feeling “sad”, or ill, or about something to do with my divorce. I have experienced, ALONE, nearly 2 years of this nightly waking up routine, then doing a WHOLE day of “NON WORK”, then the same Groundhog routine, because of a divorce, I didn’t implement/want. I am alone in managing this situation. I AM A SUPERSTAR. I have to keep telling myself this otherwise I’ll top myself!!!

There is only one proper rule to being a good parent. Be a good, kind human being. Your kids learn what they see. Teach them to be a kinder generation. Surely?

So….onwards and upwards.

My trio are going on holiday with their Dad and I actually get my only annual break (6 days) so I’m going diving, diving, diving.

I just pray my babies are ok, and this horrific, still stressful (despite the divorce) time, will eventually end. I am fed up of waking daily, worried about what the week will produce in pain, ex husband drama and general bullshit.

I want to be happy.  I DESERVE to be happy.


I am almost amazed people attempt to pick a fight with me. But they do. Me. The Mother of 3 kids, who is running around daily, after her children.

What IDIOT picks a fight with a single Mum, who gets 4 hours sleep a night (if you are having a good night), drives her “mummy taxi” daily to cater for 3 little peoples needs, and has zero life?





DIVORCE – AKA “Discussions Involving Vices Openly Regurgitated Carelessly Ended”


Sooo…In March 2016, I DIVORCED.

DIVORCE – AKA “Discussions Involving Vices Openly Regurgitated Carelessly Ended (or Enforced). Either way, Divorce means its ended..ended…ended. Its over. Accept it, feel the pain, and move on. Boy have I moved on. Happily, freely, independently.

Yes…yes, I know….poor “its sooo common in this day and age” me.

During this less than joyous period in my young (almost 40!!!!) life, my three children turned a year older. Clearly not old enough to drive, pay bills, wash their own bums, cook, or buy alcohol…yet, alas, they turned a year older.  Apparently these “fun” years fly by and I should “cherish” them…because later on they “wont want to hang out with” me. Is this a promise?

OH FUCKING …..Really?  Whoever says this stupid, shit to me is clearly one of the following:-

(a) Still married, therefore sharing the pain with someone else, while still arguing about who is “more tired”…. you know the drill.

(b) Have staff/alzheimer’s stricken relatives who actually LIKE kids…and don’t start on me, you Alzheimer’s trolls…I had a parent who lost his sight, hearing AND memory….AND NO….DAD STILL HATED FUCKING KIDS (he remembered that much…despite my being his favourite 🙂

(c) Has a Filipino nanny who hasn’t understood the minimum wage criteria us ex Europeans used to abide by, before BREXIT chavs voted us out. WANKERS!!! It wasn’t about IMMIGRATION YOU BENEFIT FLEECING, “LETS ‘AV ANOTHER KID FOR SOMEONE ELSE TO PAY FOR” IGNORANT RACISTS HATERS ….. UGH…I’m sooo moving to America, at least they get guaranteed sun when Google says.

(d) They are clearly delusional and have never been woken while in a deep sleep (ahhh…those were the old days…) to deal with a sick/tired child saying the following:

“Mummy fluff my pillows?/I saw a tortoise on the ceiling! GET IT NOOOOOOWWWWW!/ Can we have Xmas tomorrow?, Can we have Xmas every Friday?/ Mummy, are you really wearing a Weetabix face mask?/ No one will ever love you in the Onesie” moment….

I’m feeling wiser. Tougher. Harder. Sadder. Time to sign up with the dating agencies and lie about EVERYTHING. Any kids? NOOOOO.  Divorced? “Me?! NOOOO wayyyy!!” Yes….time to lie….

Ive definitely owned becoming a “single Mum”.  I’m not yet chewing tobacco, or working the night club toilets, or attempting an “Erin Brockovitch” moment…To be fair, I’ve been a lawyer before and that’s actually shitter than being a single parent…

Anyhow…according to my entourage (kids), I RULE.  And apparently they are hugely protective over me.  Hearing that statement makes me feel, PROUD, HAPPY, FULL OF HOPE.

And before I press on….as its been crazy busy recently (again…who knew the Filipino nannies did so much work in Hong Kong!?)

I HAVE to quote a blogger who I think is BRILLIANT (and of course, funny)….

I’m even willing to lose my entire fan base (Mum & great Uncle Ahmedabdulrezaghassemi) to this guy…It was something he wrote a while ago that screamed,



@samaverycomedy ….Twitter people if you want to read up on some pretty fucking brilliant, honest (as only a comedian can be) writing, google Sam Avery. I recently stumbled upon Sam while trying to not get all OCD’ish about Tweeting (what am I, 10 years too late!?)…

anyhow…after another relentless, unforgivable, thankless, yet gratifying (I had to say that for Social Services benefit) day…I read something on Twitter that made me laugh aloud (and I only do that when reading The Sun Newspaper cartoon captions).

Sam Avery stated (and yes, I DID ask before quoting him):-

Reading to 1 y/o. Son grabs book. I carry on flawlessly without the book because apparently the words are now TATOOED ON MY SOUL”.

This comment sums up my day to day life….us parents….who get zero thanks, are called lazy for doing school runs, being woken at any hour of the night, nurturing our sick child, feeding them when they’re well, watering them when theyre ill, encouraging them when they need/don’t need it, and comforting them when you both do too.

I have spent many a wondrous night (not under the stars, mind) reading stories, and singing songs with my trio. These songs and stories I genuinely know off by heart, and can even recall (in my mind) the pictures in the books too…that’s how often I do this parenting thing. That’s how much I CARE. SHIT.

Those little buggers have somehow, sneakily, pulled me into their clan….I sing THEIR songs (they don’t give a shit about mine….nor do I now as I’d rather do theirs anyway)…they have got me juggling plates, singing songs, drawing impromptu cartoon characters (IVE ACTUALLY PRACTICED Mickey Mouse for on the spot “Mummy, draw Mickey for my friend Jimbob”!!!!!?) because they need something to colour in while I cook their dinner and massage their feet…..FUCK ME.



Next blog will be about how to disassociate yourself from all of the above.  My Mum told me “This is NEVER going to happen…unless you die”.  She DID say this while I attempted to (once again) climb back into her womb for a short period of “calm and rest”. Apparently I need to stop calling her 20x a day too (selfish). Great.

Enjoy the summer parents (full time ones that is!).  Its going to be tough….but possibly, enjoyable (with staff, family, and Xanax, to help you through).

well hello ….2016…



Soooooooo….Happy New Year, my fellow ex pat “Hong Kong’ites” and new London mates/slummy mummies.

Yes, yes, yes…. its been far faaaaaaar too long.  The reason?  And I have to just say, you know…get the small talk out the way….before I digress (as you know, I tend to do), for the delay in writing/horrific writers/cookers block….. since I last wrote…well, divorce, over the past year, has become my shocking reality.

Yes….I said it….before you all nod your heads in sure justification that I deserved it….DIVORCE.  My insane, painful, almost maiming reality, for the past couple of years. And that is all I am (legally) allowed to write on the matter. To be fair, that’s all I will/want to write, out of respect for my kids and myself.

So….. my old Hong Kong’ites….. what can I say?!

As its been such a long, yet, if I’m honest, REAL, period in my world/life…..

No nannies (shocker), no “help” of any kind (and I use that term very sarcastically) unless… and I do have to say this… my Mum’s been involved.

Mum…if you read this and ignore the fucking bullshit mutha fucking swearing that this fucking website clearly promotes (along with shagging, drinking and Tourette’s syndrome} …you’re a superstar, and deserve a proper mention, simply for being an amazing parent, cancer survivor, widow and more importantly my mum/Grandma to our “next generation of criminal masterminds” (your proud words, not mine) .


My kids….I recently discovered, on losing my 5 yr old daughters trousers while staying with my Mum… decided, best to call the local POLICE in order to find out what happened to them.  Yes, the local Police in SW London (probably having a cuppa tea at some posh birds house in Barnes while retrieving her cat from the Maple tree next door as her Butler was off for the evening).

Anyhow…Mum, my Mum, the lady full of advice the minute she walks through my front door, failed to mention, my 5 year old twins, took it upon themselves, to call the local Police (based in Wandsworth) in order to locate my 5 year old daughters trousers. They rang the Police THREE times. The Police then RANG BACK.   They rang my Mums flat in Putney at around 8pm to ask about some missing trousers.

I had no idea this incident occurred for a month as Mum was shocked by her grandkids brazen gobby, cheeky BS.  When she did fess up and tell me…I smirked, laughed, smirked, laughed… I thought…Ive raised my kids the right way!! Little Londoners through and through. Streetwise, winding up their Grandma…full of bs and yet, only 5 years old.  Proud doesn’t come close to what I experienced when I heard how they tried to pass the buck, snitch (I hate a snitch) and then drop the blame on their 3 year old sister who is just starting to speak but knows how to say “IT WASNT ME Mummy!!!”

Actually, speaking of parents… I just want to share a word (or two) with all Mums, (and listen clearly people), you are sooo amazing for all you do daily as a parent (yes, yes, Dads too).

My Mum?  Well…lets just say, I used to call her by her first name as a teenager (yes, I was a total wanker), and yet now, I pretty much bow/curtsey when she walks in the front door.  She’s such an amazing role model. Mum (literally) lifted me off the floor in my kitchen (where the fuck else is a single mum going to be found, to be fair!?), and told me ” NO MORE FACKING CRYING. NO MORE!!!!!”  She was furious. Livid. Disgusted actually. An amazingly, strong, wise, woman. A stroke and cancer survivor (ask her and she claims “I dont know what the “Fak you are talking about“.  Iranians cant say “Fuck” like the Brits ..so “Fak” is close enough.  That said, we do find it hard to take her seriously when she swears or calls someone a “facking sheet” (meant to be “fucking shit”).

My Mum’s never been one to do the cuddly,  “Come here baby girl, don’t cry, tell me your problems….bla bla bla…”  Nope.

The first night I understood my marriage was over, I was not allowed ONE tear. Not one. Mum was furious that I was upset. FURIOUS. Over “THAT man?!”

She couldn’t understand what the hell I was upset about, but she pointed out (with BBC News topics and graphic photos…may I add) how shit life is, that people are suffering with war and starvation and illness, daily.  Hey, I’m Iranian, I know about war…kinda…even though I grew up shielded from, well anything newsworthy, in Putney.  She quite rightly pointed out, how some people are single parents raising12 children” .  I think she was talking about the kids story of “The old lady who lived in a shoe, who had a zillion kids….and didn’t know what to do…” 

Errr….”get some Benadryl for the kids before purchasing Xanax on the local high street for oneself?” !   Just thinking “out loud” (Ed Sheeran stylie….)

To be fair…she turned up with a shovel in her coat, no questions asked by her at all (not even, “do you fancy a cuppa “…. Or “what the fek just happened with that bastard?”)…

This one night, well….she showed up very late, while The Captain was still living there, after catching 3 buses to get to my house, and asked to see him for a “talk”.  After explaining he was MICA (“Missing in Corporate Action”), Mum then asked me if I was comfortable doing “some gardening” (at 4am). Basically, gardening “Sopranos” stylie…and btw..if I have to explain who the “Sopranos” are, you need to get the fuck off my blog immediately and hide in a corner, ashamed of yourself (and beating yourself)….Next you’ll be asking me what the fuck “Game of Thrones” is….unforgivable.

Sooo….  Once I explained to Mum…who resembled a Mafioso Mob Mummy (with a Morrisons shopping bag, peeking out of her waterproof, black, long coat collar) that the Captain wasn’t actually there that night, I noticed the “shovel & gun” being re-arranged from under her Mummy Raincoat and back into her Morrisons Shopping Bag (retractable/unnoticeable/genius really) …old-school.


If anyone in Law enforcement (ok, sounds better American than English “Police”) is reading this, I must stress….this NEVER ACTUALLY HAPPENED. My Mother is a law abiding, tax paying, albeit, slightly angry, 5ft 3 stunner whose just a little angry/protective of her only daughter (as I’ve got “Middle Child syndrome”….I appreciate any attention chucked my way to be honest) .  She also has a “Free Bus Pass” and is not afraid to travel from SW London to NW Hell ….she loves that bloody bus pass.  Its like finally, all those years of working hard, while the Inland revenue stole (I mean “deducted tax”) off her, made some difference.  I didnt have the heart to explain that she had worked for The Inland Revenue annually(like all of us) for free until May.

Anyhow…. I digressed.

We lost my Dad 3 years ago, when my writing allegedly turned “dark”…. I guess my sense of humour got lost along with giving birth and having one of my twins in hospital with pneumonia. All in the same year. Good times. It made me a ridiculously strong, kamikaze, yet bizarrely selfless, intuitive human being.  In fact, it made me a better Mum actually…. I realised, women give birth for a reason. Yes, for those men reading this by accident (I know who you are…you accidentally “stumble” upon my blog when looking for filthy Mummy porn….its highlighted in my search engines….weirdos). DO keep reading though boys!

Women HAVE to give birth.  Men cannot do this.

We are the only ones, Humans (!) capable of dealing with this stuff….birth…I mean!!?  BIRTH!!!? How hard core is birth?! Pushing ANYTHING out of a body, that doesn’t fit…is going to hurt. Doing that naturally?! Seriously …. I take my flat cap off to you ladies who go natural, no injections etc, or just natural which means all the drugs, lubes, birthing pools, but still the fanny exit….HARD CORE.  No man can do that

You deserve MEDALS. Our children SHOULD worship us. Our men should too. C Section Mums (I’m in that apparently lazy, posh, cant-be-arsed-to-push, crew), we were/are cut at least TEN layers to get to our babies….TEN. That’s a seriously HARD CORE OPERATION. Hence the 6 week recovery needed before you can drive, lift, have sex etc.

And yet, the day you give birth, your husband and the Nurses walk in, with a new born CHILD.  I mean, what the FUCK, am I supposed to do with that?! If you handed a baby to a man….what do you think he would do? Pull out his moob and breastfeed? or shit himself, and call him Mum?!

Yet, there I am, being patronised and educated and shouted at (in my own emotionally hormonal just-had-a-baby-its day three hormone release-mind) telling you, “Breast feed, you selfish, posh, uncaring bitch”.  It was at that point I requested more Morphine (didn’t need it) and I then asked about vaginal lubrication as I was intending to have some form of “action” before the 6 week period of abstinence they recommend for C section wimps.  Everyone, even Medical staff, hate that sort of random, inappropriate, blatantly “wrong” request

Saying that… I got morphined out of my head.  Look, don’t judge. I mean…hey…TEN LAYERS of human flesh was cut to remove a HUMAN BEING (two humans on the first occasion for fucks sake…not that anyone gave a shit aside from the Dr pulling those shocked, afraid of light babies from my stomach) …not that anyone gave a shit, because apparently, people do this horrific act alone, without pain killers, all over the world….for “centuries”.

And I LOVE how its always some dumb arse Man, usually with a small knob, who quotes this shit to you. Simply to wind you up, or perhaps see, how crazy a woman can be, three days after birth (its always day THREE according to books, google, friends etc) and hormones are on a level one does NOT FUCK WITH.

When I gave birth to twins, I remember following one of my best friends (sister really, although she was trying to disown me this particular day) to the lift as she attempted escaping her visit to the Hospital, and left following a 45 minute visit to see me and 2 babies, who were mine….but I clearly was terrified of.

I held onto her hands, cried, begged her to stay with me and then, do you know what she did?!  She knows who she is…

She pulled out of her handbag a HUGE bottle of “Rescue Remedy” (natural shit people)…and sprayed it into my mouth while I cried and told her I was afraid.  This discussion was not with my husband but my sister/best friend. She saw the desperation in my eyes/face/soul. Id had not just a c section but a previous(unexpected) op before the babies popped out. I was terrified of going home.

She had not had a child (when she did she went all friggin natural to make me look like a lazy gimp) at that time so had no idea what the fuck I was on about, BUT, her hug, her reassurance, her kindness…. well… its all ive known from her for over 30 odd years to be fair. It sorted me out.

I stole her Rescue Remedy (that stuff worked better than anything else, simply because SHE had given it to me). I settled, slept, cried, looked at two babies in the cot next to me, decided “fucking no breast feeding” and then finally slept. That was DAY ONE. Now….nearly 6 years later and I’m doing this shit alone…. PIECE OF FUCKING CAKE.  A mum runs the show always. ALWAYS!

Its the man/men who always commnt on us women… joke about us, undermine our mental state, physical ability (they forget they fell out of their mums vaignas) and the comments these Neanderthal men make…well…look at the wet ones who get ill! These are the ones who get a slight blocked nose or high fever, and the world stops, his mothers called for chicken soup/cuddles and works been notified of his “Man Flu”. BUT, I give birth to two babies in a row (2 mins apart fuckers. TWO MINUTES TO GIVE BIRTH TO TWO HUMANS), and I’m looking unreasonable for requesting, diazepam, morphine, Xanax, some fucking space…. etc. Fuck off boys.  You know we rule so you make up any story you can to bring us down…

Us girls have this role for a reason. You lot (men) would never, ever, EVER, procreate and the world would end. We humans would be extinct if Men gave birth.

In fact, I think that the reason dinosaurs went extinct is because only Male dinosaurs could give birth, not the females.

Hence extinction.

Men = no life.

Women = joyous centuries of procreation.

I reckon, there was a meeting with God, Moses (dunno why but his name always pops up in biblical times) and a Tyrannosaurus Rex…

The conversation went something like this:

God: ” Now listen boys….someones going to have to start procreating before everything alive disappears. Whose up for the job?”

TRex: “Nope. No way hosay…too painful mate. Why do us blokes have to do everything? Already we’re hunting and killing. Plus shagging anything that looks remotely attractive or has huge boobs. I’m exhausted mate. Its over mate. I’m done giving birth. Its painful, and I hate feeling all fat and unattractive for months while something inside me eats everything I digest and gives me headaches, wind, blocks my sinuses so I snore like a mutha fucker and my ankles resemble cankles before that little sod of a dinosaur arrives.  I’m not pushing any more dinos out my penis again.  Have you seen how small the hole is that that baby dino has to come out of?! IM NOT DOING IT ANY MORE. Its over. “

Moses : ” I don’t know why I’m involved but maybe, just maybe, a female, you know, those long haired creatures we penetrate whenever we need a shag….perhaps they can do this God? I mean, I dont want to sound like a wimp or anything, but quite frankly…I’m with T Rex on this issue.

I am NOT giving birth to any more dinosaurs either mate. They bite and breast feeding is a bitch on my nipples.  My nipples look like friggin Twiglets…mutilated mate. The calories alone are impossible to sustain while breast feeding, especially at this time of month…with harvesting and Jesus has stopped producing wine & all that free shit….. Get the women to do something for a change, rather than just sitting there crying, brushing their hair and trying to avoid us blokes for sex. Theyre annoying as it is.”


Lets see if those long haired lunatics who are clearly emotionally unstable, can do like us males. If they are capable….we shall allow them to push humans out of their bodies. I don’t think they can do it. But ok, sod it….you men are obviously exhausted, sitting around, eating, fighting, spitting, killing, hunting, scratching your arses…and moaning.  LET THE WOMEN DO IT”.

Female dinosaurs were notified of God, Moses & T-Rex’s conversation.  Their response?

“NO FUCKING WAY ARE US GIRL DINOS DOING ANY OF THAT BULLSHIT.  NOPE. EITHER THE BOY DINOS CONTINUE, OR OUR SPECIEIS IS DOOMED. I mean…have you seen our vaginas and the SIZE of those babies? Nope, never ever. I want to keep my vag in tact and unless we get morphine, us girls refuse to take on this role. The boy dinosaurs need to keep procreating or extinction is inevitable”.

There you go. Dinosaurs became extinct the minute the males didn’t want to do it anymore.

Us women took over the human birthing side of things and did what needed to be done, in order for life on planet Earth to continue.  We rule the world.

Anyway…back to reality….ish…

I had TWO epidurals before hearing a leading Consultant at The Queen Mary Hospital in the Lindo Wing, in Paddington (yes where Prince William & Kate…future King had Prince George…I think that’s his name?!). Before beginning my C Sec, this TOP Consultant said words no expectant Mum in labour should ever hear:

“Ive never seen this before….”

He then performed a 45 minute surgery before beginning the C Sec as they discovered something unusual pre C sec…I think it was a Unicorn in my Vagina and of course, that had to be removed first.  Then they began the joyous process of cutting 2 babies out my tummy. Yep…the twins…..

Did my husband stay there with me that night, stroking my hair and telling me how amazingly proud he was of me? No. Of course not. It wasn’t about me. Women give birth every day you silly cow….get over yourself!

If a man gave birth….we’d know about it literally every 0.0 seconds (at least)…yet WE give birth and its expected.

One of my friend’s fella’s was sooo tired “waiting around” he popped to a KFC ….and missed the whole thing. Then told her off for being so “precious” about it. Twat. I ran him over that night in the car park, with my 4×4 Mummy wagon…”by accident”, of course. Ungrateful, selfish, c@nt.

I’m amazed at how life can change you, almost cyclically. Who I assumed I was, as a wife, Mother, daughter, even friend…changed in the space of a couple of years.  My smug “ex-patness” disappeared the minute I returned home to freezing, high taxes, traffic filled roads, chavtastic London.

My blog…well, I couldn’t write when we returned, as some of you discovered. I stopped cooking, something I love possibly even more than writing, and yet, above all this….I felt, well, for those of you who have gone through divorce, or the throes of it….empty, or should I say, destitute?

Devoid, blank, barren, deflated, clear, hollow….exhausted.  I couldn’t write a single word of piss take (which you know I normally live off!), nor could I raise anything but a depleted dry smile, when anyone asked me if I was “Ok?”

My unceasingly painful divorce brought out, a new, able-bodied hale (not hell….I’m not going all Southern on y’all) of a woman.  Suddenly my new circumstance brought an exuberant, passionate spark back into my world .

I’ve surprised myself in what I can do daily (yes, ladies, minus staff, of any kind), 3 young children under FIVE YEARS OLD (THREE CHILDREN…in case this didn’t sink in before!!!!), cooking, cleaning, driving (fuck me, do I drive some miles daily, in London school-run traffic), everything alone….and yet….so genuinely, healthily, realistically, happy.  I’m finally home, and content.

Content that I haven’t got anyone living in my home anymore. ie. Domestic Help…that didn’t cook any meal ever, “help” properly anyway… unless you want shit ruined or burnt or lost, a person who listened to zero/anything I said yet listened to everything the “Captain” said, clean my own home properly, nor did she drive…therefore I was always her bitch anyway.

The day our “Help” of 4 years left London, was the best day of my life.  I was finally free to run my own house, my own family, my kids were mine again, they were safe, without being suffocated by middle class guilt, apologetic queries, constant intrusion, and a continuous spying eye on my guilt-free, normal life.  I was gullible in how much I trusted these people (“Help”), any person, in my home, that wasn’t my family, or my friends. And I was right to do so.

Do not, if I can state one thing in this New Years blog, for those newbie ex-pats, trust any of your staff. Ever. Respond as you may, and I know you will. BUT, I had someone, who I thought was a kind, wonderful trusted person in my home (oldish, and missing teeth people), yet, turned nasty at the last post. Lied and reported incorrectly, on things that are even now…still, upsetting me.  Pleased they left? Yep yep yep…Au pair in the New Year?  Never ever fucking again will I have another woman in my home, whether I work 100 hours a week, I will make sure, I am the one who puts my children to sleep at night, feeds them and bathes them… no one else gets that pleasure, or memory, but their mother. Me.

Therefore….moving forward…. no mentions of The Captain, nor the ex Helper (questions privately always welcome though on the Helper side, but zero on the ex please) moving forward. Also, before I get some sort of legal bullshit through… I’m not in any way stating The Captain and Helper had some sort of “situation”. In case that becomes some Trolls issue. I’m stating clearly, 2 very different issues and neither relate to the other.

So….I’ve had numerous emails, letters, and parcels (thank you!!) and would love to hear how the Hong Kong Wags\Hags are doing. Ive got to say, London is amazing.  I’m finally home. HOME…I bet some of you miss “home”.

I’m a Londoner born and bred after all….

First…British Humour…well….I missed this. Ive got to say…British humour is a gift. A style. An understanding that only us “Brits” appreciate, reflect on, giggle at, despite how rude, disgusting, anti PC it is….G-d did I miss that. We have zero shame in laughing at other peoples misfortune. Zero shame in laughing, full stop, at sarcasm, wind-ups, slap-stick bullshit….we have ZERO shame full stop.  Its genius when you think about it.

We laugh, a lot, at things other nations find disturbing.  We’re quite friggin brilliant, because of our perception on what others find disrespectful, we “Brits” find, austere, yet contemptuous. Our appreciation of having “a laugh” is sardonic, mocking, offensive….brilliance if I could be that honest without pissing other nations off. I missed that vulgar, mordant air.  People don’t seem to understand humour unless they’re from Great Britain…or Scotland (I love the Scotts…related to a gazillion of them).

Second, and this seems shit but I still need to air/share….we have the shitty/horrendous London traffic which is a shocker. A real piss take.

I need to (in theory) travel 15 minutes up the road to drop the twins (theoretically…I stress again) and yet, this journey takes approximately 1.2 hours (round trip) to drop the twins in the morning (& I can manoeuvre my massive 4×4 around those roads like a pro), then another 45 minutes to go 20 minutes (35/40 in traffic) further up the road to drop my baby, No.3 child (for those of you who remember the surprise bundle, lovingly named “Mrs Chan”…simply because she knows Kung Fu, burps, beats staff, and is blatantly rude to everyone, despite being 3 yrs old. Shes basically like a lot of Chinese mainlanders….Rude, aggressive…yet surprisingly cute (unless you annoy her).  Err…did I just cross the un PC line?  Probably. Do I give a fuck? Nope. Not even a smidge….that country ruined my family.

I have to say, as this is my first write up after a very long time…and writers block is a mother fucker….its been nice getting back into the swing of things.

You guys, living abroad, in that bubble of ex-patdom….it can or will, explode eventually.  I have thought for a while now, when asked, “do I miss Hong Kong?”

My answer, in my knackered, pre-divorce (soon “post divorce”), 3 kids under 5 years old, state of mind, is this how life is?….. not for one single minute do I ever want to be an ex-pat again…unless I’m certain I’m comfortable with what the routine/people involved are going to be.

I don’t ever want to go back to that bubble again.  It was destructive to my life, my marriage and my… core…for a while. If I’m allowed to be honest.  Pissing you off there in HK?  Probably.  Do I sound bitter? I think you’d hope I am, just to understand my thought process.  But…. I’m genuinely, from the bottom of my soul, not at all.  I never ever want to return to that period, or life again. I’m happy to be home. Even, with the casualties and minus The Captain.

I don’t want to upset you guys by writing this from London, my home….my “beloved London” if I want to quote words I’ve used before, when back home for a summer.

My history, my family, my friends….me….this is who I am.  This is where I belong, in order to recover from divorce, and in order to regroup.  I have, or should I say, had, the most incredible friends, and experience, in Hong Kong. A life and the most loyal people, that have been constant in my life, even when I left, 3 long, eventful years ago.

One thing, if I can pass this on, without people getting pissed off (and yes, I sound slightly beaten, but trust me, I’ve never felt stronger in my entire life), BE WHO YOU WANT TO BE.  It doesn’t matter where you are in the world, the sky is always going to be blue, and your character, your soul….well….it’s always going to remain the same.

Ive got recipes to write up….some good ones now the cooking juices are FINALLY flowing (yep…cookers block to for over a year)…and again, to those whove written the most amazing emails and messages, thank you for pulling me out of one of the toughest times ever. I’m off the floor now, and ready and to fucking kick some NW London arse….I’m soooo over being polite to wankers who don’t fucking give a shit about how rude they are to people. Nonces poncing around in flash cars, with expensive gear (watches, bags, earings, personalities…).

In fact…. my blog over the next term of my kids school, is going to be based on NW rudeness.

There’s soo much vile behaviour daily here…. even my kids, all aged under 5, point things out.  I stopped at traffic lights the other day and gave a “Big Issue” seller (he was approx. 55 years old), a fiver (that’s a £5 note to you ex-pats) without taking a mag.  This seller now, whenever he sees me stuck in joyous traffic, will grab “Nobbly Bobblies” if I just “waited a minute luv” because he saw me buy these for my 3 munchkins one day. He told me how horrible people are in the area.

” No one ever does that luv, while sat in traffic”… My response? “What a load of wankers” were my words (whispered obviously as I always, always, always, always, always have three children with me) while he was a lot kinder. He said it again, that “no one had ever stopped at traffic lights” and handed him a fiver and didn’t take a magazine…

It was cold, he was stood outside a Tesco Express… I was sat in my Mum Mobile (which I LOVE, don’t get me wrong… I LOVE a fast car, especially one that ferries 7 people around & plays music loud/irresponsibly)….

I do, however, if I’m allowed to be honest, hate the area I live in right now. My kids though, love it…and this is where they are schooled. This is where I cannot, as a single parent, change or shift their lives any more than has already been done.  They need to keep a grasp on some form of continuity. Their school, their area, their friends…. I have to do this for them.  Bad Mum? No. I’m doing everything right now, including breathing this toxic air, for my kids.  They are my only priority. My daily priority. My sole responsibility…I love I have no “Helper” or Au Pair, here to ruin or confuse that.  This is my role as a Mum, and Ive got this. I’m always, from now on, going to get this.  I spent years trying to fall pregnant with the twins, the No.3 was my surprise…. why would I hand the most joyous sweetest taste in the world, to put your heart & soul to bed, to anyone but me, their Mum.  I want to do that.  I never did that enough in Hong Kong, because we were out….or I was in hospital with one of my children, and felt I was neglecting the other two. As a Mum, my role….. its so clear now.  And this clarity, is because of my own, amazing, mother.

At the age of 38 years old…. my Mum, travels nearly 2 hours by bus (health reasons) to come and make sure her child (Me…the dumbass fuckwit) is ok. My response and appreciation to this? I act like a pathetic, cringe worthy 9 year old, literally requesting (I did ask this btw) if I could “climb back into the womb for 2 years until the shit has settled”….Mum asked me for a Divorce there and then. I explained kids are “for life, not just for Xmas”.  She didn’t give a shit and is now filing a claim for my being a selfish dick. ” A Son is a son until he finds a wife…a daughters a daughter for the rest of yo ur life ….” As the tale goes..unless its me….then youre kinda fucked as I LOVE my Mum (call her about 28 times a day at least, and that’s before 10am….) my Mum loves me (of course she does!?) but I think we’re exhausting her…just like my three kids are doing to me. Anyhow….

There is some pitiable shit going on daily, that I personally, find unacceptable as a human being. Snobbery and cliques, do have, on a level that is deplorable, no right (no one does to be fair) to be arseholes. I respect NO ONE, in this realm. Nor, do my children.

I know my blog portrays someone who loves to swear and bitch but one thing I hate more than anything else in the world, is rudeness. Rude people…. OMG.

I hate bullies and anyone who thinks they’ve go the right to be a dick, simply because they drive a 4×4 of any kind…namely a Range Rover. Wanker and c%nt come to mind…most of the time. Do I keep this thought in….?? Nope.

I don’t stand there talking about it either. I’m just surprised people still assume its the 80’s and we give a shit what you drive… Loving my new found free style thinking. Share your thought’s everyone. If people are rude, dress them down….OPENLY. Turns out….they don’t like that.  They’re bullies. I HATE bullies.

Minus a husband, armed with 3 wonderful kids,2016 for me…well…its a whole new healthier chapter….

And to my HK Mums/Dads…..

You girls/boys are my heros.

Those of you ….who stay at home…entertain, look after your kids alongside the annoying intrusion of “Help” that’s meant to alleviate the stress, you guys…. your job is JUST as important, if not more, with or without anyone else in your house. Don’t undermine yourselves ever. I’ve had soo many conversations with people about this when I lived in HK. Your role is not “redundant”…run the show. Kids are hard work. Only a parent whose with them all the time, with or without the intrusive/belligerent help, knows this.

2016…..its going to be a great, yet very interesting year.  When the kids go to bed, and I’m done cleaning, washing, ironing, defrosting, organising school bags, sorting diaries, waking continuously every night from a cold, cough, water bottle refill, night terror….I’m still the fucking Don of my Castle. Just me..and my three (I think I’ll make that up as a Doormat for the new house we have to move to eventually!). Single Mums rule.

I’m going to accept this year….alone…with 3 children to rear, raise, corrupt and educate.  I couldn’t be prouder of them for their resilience, and kindness, and, also my own “old-school” parenting style. My “entourage” have done me so, soo proud. I never knew how amazing my kids were, until I had to grab a life raft and hold on….and yet, it was my three children who threw it out to me, and pulled me back in.

Happy New Year YYTM readers….. I’m off the floor, and waiting to hear how you all are.

Recipes and horrific date stories to follow…if I can ever leave the house….


Nancy Kissel found guilty in Hong Kong Milkshake Murder trial appeal

Nancy Kissel’s Appeal Rejected in Court


For those of you who didn’t know anything about this case (as I hadn’t until I arrived in Hong Kong), this whole story is gripping.  As an ex-litigation lawyer, maybe I’m a little too fascinated but nothing in this case makes sense.  How did this woman, Nancy Kissel, go ahead and just kill her husband like that….. AND then sleep in the same bedroom as him for a few days until getting some workmen to help her move his dead body. BLOODY HELL!!!??

I’ve read some comments on Asiaexpat and some things seem to be said by people who actually knew the couple, and others from scared ex-pats (like myself!) who think….. what could have gone sooo wrong when this (what appeared to be) nice, normal family moved to Hong Kong.  I kept giving the Captain updates while I read this book (in just under half a day as it as soo gripping.).  If there were any similarities between us as people or women, it shit me up.

For a start, not all ex-pat wives are complete materialistic arseholes who come here to spend loads of their husbands hard-earned cash.  Some of us are just getting on with a new life, and with young babies (my case), its fucking hard.  Yes there are days I want to kill my husband…. but not literally, and its usually over the complete mess he makes in our flat from the minute he walks in (seriously…. he’s so messy it like he strips off as he walks in.. shoes… socks…. belt…tie….wallet…. its like following a trail of breadcrumbs if you ever want to find him).

Anyhow….back to the murder…. To be fair, aside from her initial difficulty settling into  Hong Kong life, where, and I quote from the book “Never Enough” that “men flourish.. and women can flounder” here … the rest of her personality seems a little, well, unhinged!?  She claims she had put up with years of sexual and physical abuse which made her finally snap.  This is a woman who people said was quite pushy when she wanted her own way, at times very rude, loudmouthed and often fucking outspoken (again, I’m not saying this personally … although I agree having read up on it, but this is all out there on the internet).

Had she have called the police the minute she killed him, she may have had a slightly different sentence as it would have been totally unplanned.   BUT, she didn’t.  She hid him (in a rug in her bedroom) and went shopping for new furniture to cover up all the blood from bashing his skull in.  It was all pre-meditated right from the start … I mean… drugging his drinks months before, and then the fatal “Milkshake” that she asked her daughter to hand over to her Dad.  What must be going through that child’s head now?  Apparently she did all of this to be with her lover back in Vermont, who by the way, is now married to someone else and has asked the Prison Nancy Kissel is staying in to stop her sending him letters (shes didn’t write to her kids apparently for months but, this bloke who doesn’t give a crap about her…. well he got a shit loada letters he doesn’t even want).

What a nasty piece of work.  Why not just get a fucking divorce and at least she wouldn’t be in jail for life, her ex-husband would have met someone who genuinely cared about him, and maybe her kids would actually be talking to her.   Apparently her family and “supporters” are worried about her massive weight loss.  They don’t think she will survive life in jail. Well….. err… call me old-fashioned but WHY THE FUCK DO THE CRIME?! What did she think the police were going to say when they found out?! “Oh it’s alright. She’s a Gweilo (* AKA “foreign ghost”, or in my opinion, a fairly derogatory term for someone not chinese) so let her go..!”

Now I’m not one to be judgemental about people (throwing stones in glass houses &  all that crap) but, taking anyones life, is wrong on every single level.  It’s as simple as that.