I am a great liar. I know, it’s not a particularly endearing character trait, but I try to only whip it out for small scale jobs, like pretending to door-to-door salesmen that I’m only 17 or offering a detailed description of a nightmare train journey to my boss as the reason why I’m late, rather than saying that crying until I was sick was the reason that my schedule got knocked slightly out of whack.
I’ve never really had a head for numbers, but I know all the important ones.
The worst thing that I have ever done in exchange for money was repeatedly writing, editing and being with a 30km radius of the following quote; “Poor people have big televisions. Rich people have big libraries.”
I have a complicated relationship with Ricky Gervais.
As does everyone who’s ever encountered him, I would imagine.
Yesterday, when I heard the news that Victoria Wood had died, I longed for my mum’s bed.
Timehop is as close to an on-phone game that I ever get. Used merely to remind one of the most mundane moments of life so far by some, to me Timehop is a daily puzzle in which I have to match up a seven year old tweet with the name of whichever boy it was aiming to impress at the time.
The Life Changing Magic of Not Giving a F**k took advantage of me.
The Black Country Embroidery Society are total bitches.