In-between worrying about Edwina Currie upsetting Jack Monroe, gay rights in Russia and Tamwar Masood being labelled the Eyeore of Albert Square in EastEnders I’m starting to crack up. I haven’t even got the time or really, inclination, to worry about my Twitter followers not finding me utterly compelling and hilarious. Edwina was bang out of order when she sullied Channel 5’s live Big Benefits Debate with personal (and completely un-related) comments to budget food blogger Jack Monroe, but mostly she made me stop thinking about recent flood damage and remember people are still relentlessly being treated unfairly by governments. And not just in the UK. What about Sochi?! I should be making a stand against Putin’s terrifying totalitarianism and opposition of anything not proscribed by him as ‘traditional’ sexuality by refusing to watch the Winter Olympics. But before I can even reach Russia on my light up globe I am reminded the dog needs feeding and it’s second rate Aldi stuff that, granted, she seems to enjoy, but I feel guilty about as I eat my (only marginally better) microwave meal. And who am I to complain? At least the dog and I are fed and aren’t being abused by a newly-alcoholic fictional father in the east end of London. I’m in the grip of guilt right now as I consider turning off my computer and slinking into bed like my reflection in its blinking off-switch won’t see me and silently judge me for not staying up all night to keep typing in order to buy the Aldi dog food. And I’m angry about Sochi and a world where people can’t love who they want and the wider implications of people like Edwina Currie, and their ideas on a democratised nation. But sometimes it seems that there is too much inequality, injustice and ignorance to face. It makes me feel weepy and weak and ridiculous ideas about dog food grip me. It is insane to expect one person to care deeply and importantly about every issue, as much as I would like to. That is what Twitter is for. The collective whom will I know continue the good fight on all fronts, for everyone. They may not think me funny but they’ll keep the fires burning, devoting their time to feeling bad about stuff until I can resume position tomorrow, getting righteously and riotously angry, while I drift off to sleep.
I’m a freelance TV and features writer based in Ireland but also covering the UK. Originally from Essex, now out in the country, Vogue Talent finalist 2013. Lover of words, particularly a good pun, can be quite sarcastic. I have written online and in print on crafts, popular culture, women’s issues, TV and entertainment for Let’s Knit, The Vagenda, The F Word, The Conversation, London Metro and Irish News Review as well as others.
Open to commissions firstname.lastname@example.org
Waking up at 3am with Morrissey’s First of the Gang to Die in my head got me thinking about the new press regulations.
In which I slate “The Rules”
Caitlin Moran wrote something recently which I took to mean it’s time for ardent feminists to put down their weapons. At least for a while. We all know Caitlin has been held aloft as the face of feminism, so this might seem a bit contradictory but she’s right.
I expect something nebulous to happen as I reach 6.66km on my pedometer. It never does, but that’s what I’ve been doing in case you’ve been wondering. I’ve also been doing a bit of work here and there which is why I haven’t been here. I know, I know, it’s been awful. Anyway, I hope soon to return on a more regular basis but for the mean time you can find me writing a weekly news round-up for the Irish News Review here: http://irishnewsreview.net/category/nibs you can follow on twitter here: @irishnewsreview