Author Archives: anna
My name is Anna and I have woodworm. It’s a bit like having nits but instead of having crawly things mooching around your barnet, you’ve got beetles running rampage in your turtlenecks and ‘pooing’ sawdust all over your slinkies; and when they’re not pooing or burrowing, they’re making love on your curtain rail. I tried [...]
When I lived on a Brixton council estate many moons ago, I was kidnapped by my neighbour, a drug dealer called Junior who wanted me to be his baby mother number nine. As a sweetner he tried to give me one of his recently cut dreadlocks which he’d thoughtfully put into a gilt frame. Apparently, all [...]
At my Friday night film premiere, I made the briefest of appearances on the big silver screen. It wasn’t like that on the night of filming; ‘lady with loud laugh at cocktail party’ had chit chatted her way through a very crucial scene. As usual, I was professional right down to my finger tips and [...]
Last night I had a nocturnal extravaganza in my pyjamas. The Prince of Pop has never been up my strasse, but for some reason, in my dream, I was getting jiggy with Michael Jackson. We caught each other’s eye in my Grandma’s rhubarb patch and by the time we’d wandered up the garden path towards [...]
I’ve just been to see a film about a man with a cough; it started as a tickle but then developed into death. Set in the sleepy idyll of rural Calabria, Le Quattro Volte was fabulous if you like goats, trees or smoke. It was a little sparse on plot: elderly goatherd has a tight chest [...]
I have a few things to say about Berlin, city of a thousand sausages. The other week, I was staying in the very colourful Schoneberg district where Christopher Isherwood and other light-footed gentlemen used to galavant with impunity. At the end of my road, there was a. a big pork emporium where men in blue [...]
Last Friday, an animal (possibly a bird or a fox on stilts) shat inside my jeans. I wasn’t wearing them at the time; the incident occurred while said jeans were on the line, drying. The excrement was the colour of a beige cardigan and it caused me some consternation because I didn’t see it until [...]
Netball brings out the wind in me. I don’t know what it is, but as soon as I get that bib on, I start evacuating, top and bottom. It doesn’t happen during Pilates, which is odd when you consider that Pilates is all about sucking in hard the vagazzle – a bit like you do [...]
I’ve had a very green and rambly weekend. On Saturday, me and friend X did an 8 miler around Devil’s Dyke culminating in a cup of tea in a ponsified barn. The man at the kiosk, after fleecing us £3 for a small piece of gloop-topped cake with scratchings of old sawdust in it, told [...]
Another day, another French film stuffed to the gunnels with crying and kissing. In a nutshell, we had a bunch of Gallic miseries on holiday doing a lot of moaning while their supposedly bezzie mate lay dying in hospital, having come off his scooter after a night snorting absinthe in a Parisian brothel. We never [...]
