THE SLUT SPA….. The Finale

julia robertsjulia roberts pretty womenjulia roberts

I needed to get rid of him.


He told me to lye on the bed next to him. I did hesitantly. He cuddled me and told me I needed someone to take care of me. I agreed. It might have been nice if I wasn’t so uncomfortable.

He asked me for a kiss.

I kissed him

I did not enjoy it.

I wish I had

How easy life would be with him

He asked me what it would take for me to consider it being an ‘arrangement’

Now I really did feel like pretty women.

I wanted him to leave.

He left 10 mins later.

I kissed him goodbye again on the lips. Its felt strange. Like kissing someone’s dad.

I couldn’t sleep

I ordered more champagne. More strawberries. And ate all the peanuts, crisps and sweet suggerd almonds on top of the mini bar.

The fraggle messaged me on Facebook. We talked for about 2 hours. He couldn’t sleep either. Wen I cant sleep I watch stand up comedy. Particularly Dylan Moran. I like his manner. He makes me feel like I’m somehow safe. Somehow everything is better with Dylan Moran playing next to me  on my laptop. Wen the fraggle cant sleep he watches documentaries on the tsunami. And I thought I was fucked up.

It was 4am. I still couldn’t sleep. I had 2 beers. And half a glass of red wine.

I felt restless. And sad. And angy. And scared. And lonely.

I decieded I needed to cry.

And I did.

It felt good

I thought about my ex fiencee and how he left me for Italy.

I felt sorry for myself. And cryed some more.

Then I slept

I woke up the next day and felt a little thinner. Im not sure why. Maybe I cried out all the champagne.

I texted joe peece saying I was going to use the spa again and get some treatments. I was going to push this as far as I could. Plus I wanted to get some products as presents for ‘diamond’ my friend who had been minding my dog.

He didn’t object.

The treatments were all booked up. So I spend £300 in products from the shop and put it on the room. They also sold jewelry in the hotel shop. I bought my friend ‘diamond’ a fake diamond ring for £89.

And then I went for a swim.

I checked out around 4.30pm. After a chicken salad lunch in the garden alone . pretending to read The Guardian.


My friend called me and I pretended to be at my uncles house in west London. Not at spa in Henley on thames flirting with high class prostitution.

I checked out and ordered a cab all the way to Fulham to pick up my dog, meet diamond, and possibly slip another ‘ whats your price’ in.

The whole bill came to £967 including the taxi fare. My heart was racing. I wished i could just give them back all the champagne and treatments and have the cash. I could start to pay off my overdraft.I told her to put it all on my ‘partners’ card. And left.

I got to Fulham at 5.30pm and met a man called keith from ‘whats your’

He had very yellow teeth. No hair. And was verging on 5’5. I spend an hour with him and left. He put the ‘agreed date fee’ in an art magazine on the table. I didn’t check to see if it was there. I just wanted to get away and meet diamond.

It was all there.

I gave diamond £100 for looking after my dog. She is more skint than me. And it made me feel better about myself. I’m not sure she liked the ring. But it looked pretty on her finger. I wished id bought myself one too. But then it dawned on e that it was almost identicle to my old engagement ring.

I felt sick.

Sick that he had left me. And sick that it still hurt.

At least my nails looked good. And my skin was glowing. And I had a friend like diamond that I could tell everything too.

And at least I don’t have cellulite at the moment. Do u think I can put that on my CV?

I need a proper fucking job. I hate acting. And dates with fat ugly older men.

i need a therapist.

And to feel a warm muscly body up against mine that’s not over 50!

The end of the week came round. Id avoided seeing the fraggle for 3 days since id been back

I was trying to see how long I could go despite him messageing me EVERY bloody day!

On the Wednesday he had told me he was off to B and Q with his ex to help her buy a fence. I told him he would end up in bed with her. He said he felt bad and was just going to help her out  and couldn’t say no as she was ‘ being really nice’  I told him he was co dependeant and to be careful. And that he would end up fucking her

He messaged me later on.

I asked him if he was naked in her bed. He said no. but he had been.

I felt jelous.

I didn’t like that.

He said you can hardly get jelous with the amount of sex you have been having.

I wanted to know what she looked like.  Mainly just if she was thinner than me.  Standard.

Isn’t that what all women want to know first?!

or is it just me???


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The Slut spa

I arrived back from LA LA land to Heathrow.

It was a hot day.

I was wearing a long strippy tight blue and white dress that the manhore had brought me from bloomingdales. High sude wedges and a denam biker jacket.

He was waiting in his 4 by 4 at ‘arrivals’ in a shirt and blazer and belly that hungover his belt.

We kisses on both cheeks. We drove through Henley upon thames. Its beautiful. Quaint. Oldie worldly.


The spa was beautiful.

We sat in the gardens and drank pink champagne, and ate fish


The conversation was refreshingly honest.

We  laughed about the Hollywood manhore. And he talked about his daughter and wife. Apparently they are separated but still live in the same knightbridge house. Im not convinced. He laughed at the fact that the manhore had left me $300 dollars and told me to send him a picture of the $300 cheque ripped up with ‘ don’t come to London to visit. You cant afford it’

I told him what the manhore had said on the last night that we lay n bed together

Manhore ; are you in love with me yet? ( annoying upward inflection in voice)

Me; no


Me; why…..are u in love with me?

Manhore; I’m in love with the idea of being in love with you ( annoying upward inflection in voice)


I mean what the fuck??!!! He said this in all seriousness. Not taking the piss. Not trying to be cheeky or funny. Who says that??!!

Joe Pesci has a good sense of hour. For an Albanian ; )

I got tipsy.

We went for a walk in the gardens after a few hours. He went for a snog. I managed to fob him off with a side mouth peck.  I asked him what he wanted to exchange for this spa day with a room attached as had previously said he couldn’t stay if he booked a room for me. He said he wanted nothing. I knew he was lying. I was too tipsy to care. And something about him wasn’t threatening.

He told me I could go and get what ever I wanted in the spa. I was like road runner. He was left in the gardens with dust and grass in his face.

I had a facial, massage and my nails done.


He text saying he had gone for a lye down in the room he had booked for me.

I floated reluctantly up to the 3rd floor where the room was.  Room 369. I shuddered at the thought of the 69 bit. With him.


I ordered more chanpage and a plate bigger than my head, of strawberries. I fely like Julia Roberts in pretty women. But without as good legs. Or smile. Or hair for that matter.


We talked again for about an hour. On love. On buisneess. On money. On sex.


He asked me what turned me on. I told him I liked guys who pick me up and really fuck me. I left out fraggles’s. I didn’t think that was appropriate for the mood.

I ordered more champange. And more strawberries……



13 orgasams in lost angeles …. ( part 2 )

los angeles LAX

I’ve suppressed so much anger this week I’m very surprised I haven’t eaten my own body weight in pastries. That’s what I would usually do.

I ate half a jar of his almond peanut butter for breakfast this morning .ricecakes and dry cereal. But im letting that go.  ( and breath)

 Plus …I had 13 orgasms in 7 nights


Most down to my clit vibrater. but still…. Its hard to find someone who u can feel that comfortable with to get that out in front of


I loved them

I climaxed so hard I screamed. And put up with the manhore shuving his fingers in my mouth hard whilst he screamed in a cheesy LA accent

‘ oh yeah baby yeeeeeeah !‘

I mean …. That is a turn off in itself . but when your about to climax you don’t give a fuck right?! I didn’t. i just needed it.

And I got it.

Thank god for my little vibrating friend. She doesn’t waste time. She gets to the point. And doesn’t feel the need to bullshit about anything,

She’s good

Why would she need to say how good she is!?

She’s secure within herself.

She’s very good at her job.

And I like her a lot.

I just hope she is happy

Why is it a she? ….

I think im BI sexual!


As I left his apartment there was a note on his dinning room table . with a cheque for $300

it read

buy your self something nice ’

I wanted to fold it into a small paper aeroplane and leave a note back saying

Dear sir/madam,

we regret to inform you that on this occasion your application has been unsuccessful. This is due to the fact you are dead behind the fucking eyes

 yours truly

miss E.D Opportunity 

instead i took the cheque.

I don’t like myself for that.

I’m getting off the plane and meeting *joe peece,. ( see blog oyster eyes) He has offered to pick me up and drive me to lunch with a spar day attached. No expectations

Im in

Im so in

Ive had a headache for the past 7 days. Its now moved down to my jaw. Thats what LA LA land has done to me. Make me ache. Ache for something real


I plan to see the fraggle in 2 nights time. He is comparing in east London at a comedy night.

Half of me wants to not go. Stay in bed and eat fat chips alone . and try and sort out my life by looking for a real job and a cheaper place to live.

But the better half , the Sharon stone half wants to turn up late in a ridiculously short skirt and stand at the side and flutter my false ( will buy some) eye lashes at his all night till he gets so hot and bothered he comes over and gets all flustered and asked me how LA was.



I HAVE GOT to do that.

; )


Im going to be fat ,old and wrinkly  one day soon. Then what will I do for fun?!!!


lights fade:


and we hear ‘ dirty Diana ‘ by Michal Jackson


onwards to the spar…… the slutty spar!

slut girl









13 Orgasams in Lost angeles …. ( part 1)

I’m sat on a plane from LAX to Heathrow

its over.

War Is Over

Whatever happened back then , with the manhore. Its over. Im so happy to be away . and feel ok with eating carbs again. Saying that , ive just eaten the ‘chicken and rice dish’ that they provide on the flight and I’m already getting evil looks form the ghost manhore, that is now in my head.

The really annoying thing is I do have feelings for him. Feelings other than mild hatred.

I nearly cryed the night before I left. Granted I was drunk. I have been every night I’ve been here. I’m using the fact that I’ve felt like a fat c**t all week and have needed to drown it outas an excuse/reason. That and the anger over comments like;

‘ bubble butt’

‘I do have coasters… you’ve made a huge ring on my coffe table with that glass’

‘you have your shoes on, on my carpet’

‘look at all this ( few leaves from outside on the bacony) was this you?’

pick it up, go on’ ( regarding a golf ball. In a tone I would use on my dog)

I feel sorry for him. the fact I know he is 53 and lonely. Can’t sleep. Is very critical of himself and others. Is unhappy. And hates himself. I can see that. Now I can see that.

I wanted to fix him and make it all better for him.

He would go crazy if I said that to his face. That’s his problem. And it all stems from what everyone thinks of him… its all about what others think!

I thought I was bad.

He blow-dries his hair. And uses hairspray. That alone should have set off huge warning signs.

Blowdry-480x340 adam sandler

Have you ever been out with a guy and been introduced to his semi friends and you just know you are one of many many many. The next face passing through. It became obvious.

but I thought ‘ who am I to judge’ look at what I do!!! AND I write a blog about it.

I could of dealt with the fact he usually dates models and brings them out regularly to these  dinners and this charity event we were going to all week ….. but to have a guy not really be that interested in what u have to say or anything about your life. I find that pretty fuckin rude

The problem with LA is everyone is so so scared and desperate that they’re not gonna make it or get what they want in there career that they just turn into little dead heads. However genuine and nice they were in the beginning…. Its drained out of them.

Deadheads are constantly on there best behaviour , looking beautiful and ready to upset nowone. and always trying to get Exactly what they want.  Like snakes.

This alone makes me want to upsey EVERYONE in LA. Get  drunk.  Get Loud. Get Obnoxious, and then take the piss outta anyone and everyone who looks like they have a spoon up there arse. Or ASS as they would have to say

 ‘Eat a carb, have a pint of beer and let your fucking hair extensions down’

The manhore has no idea its over.

I don’t know how to break it to him


We had some very cuddly moments. Mixed with all the shagging.

But his temper and set of values makes me feel sick. So however many orgasms he gave me I have to let him go.

I have too……. don’t i?!


to be continued……


American Manhore stay away from me



You know that horrible metallic taste that you get after you’ve been sick. I have that now. I’m sitting in a coffee house in Beverley hills. I haven’t been sick

I knew I was walking into the lion’s den in terms of beautiful skinny people everywhere. But. But. My worse fear  came true.

With the words from the Hollywood manhore who i have come to see

‘ have you ever been skinnier? ‘


‘what does your face look like’

I said ‘better’

I shouldn’t have. But its true.

I hate that I said that . and hate that its true. And I now hate him.

He was flicking through photos on his I phone of English actress’s that have made it in America. As he was saying he may be able to help me get an agent out here. I gave him some names

‘kate winslet’

his reaction

‘ your way hotter than her’

I replied.

‘well she’s a really good actress… its more about that where I’m from’

next was ‘ carey mulligan’

his reaction

‘ your cuter than her’

I said well she is also v good. And looks really young

Next was ‘ keria knightly

The disturbing thing apart from the fact he then went on to flick through many many photos of keria knightly looking skinny and beautiful…. And staying… ‘wow shes hot, she’s beautiful ect’ was that he didn’t know who any of these actors are! Has he been in a victoria secrets bubble for the past 15 years?

I think so.

The metallic taste is back

Then came the skinny comments and I wanted to  throw myself on his carpet (that you are not allowed shoes on) and cry and tell him to go fuck himself all at the same time. Instead i pushed it down into my chubby gut. and said my friend was outside and left. She wasn’t .

i waited outside his apartment for 25 mins.

she picked me up and we went for coffee. I couldn’t hear allot of what she was staying as Id glazed over.

The convo eventually went to the Hollywood man I was staying with and she gave him a very bad review. I knew he was a player. But I didn’t know he was a ‘I heart models’ player.

Fucking yuk.

I don’t hate models. I used to be one at 15 years old. But I hate men that only date models. It turns my stomach.

Feeling fat at a size 10 is something I experience in London every day. so you can imagine.

I came back from coffee and told him I was making other plans and leaving the next day.

He was pissed off. Or as they say here ‘pissed’

I wish I was pissed. I want to get so pissed that I can’t walk. Or feel. I wanna get pissed with the fraggle in east London in baggy 80’s trousers and scruffy unwashed hair.  I wanna laugh and not give a fuck about the size of my thighs.

Hollywood manhore went on to say ‘he has treated me like an absolute gentleman with the upper most respect for me’ That was unfortunately true up until that day. He had taught me how to play golf, bought me a sweater to play in as there was a strict dress code. Taken me to a barbeque in a house that could have been Madonna’s. And sushi dinner with the guy who made Angelina jolies engagement ring.

At breakfast he had been texting and setting up dinners pretty intensely with friends who are producers and an agent that he knows. I told him i appreciated what he had done but I hadn’t come out here to do that. Just to see him and see how we got on. After we had had 2 months of us texting Dailey and many viber calls. I wanted to know whether there was any major potential with this Hollywood man of 52. Plus the idea of being a stepford type wife appealed to me and also repulsed me all at the same time.

Does anyone else get that??!

Within the argument were some rather disturbing moments that I can not let go right now …. These are some of the things he said

Re skinny comment;

‘ well I was just saying how committed to your career ARE you?!!!’

within the heated bit of the row;

‘ if you were a guy I would smack you across the room right now’

also later on

‘move over bubble butt’

I went out with my friend Ralph that evening. He is an actor i know that just happened to be in LA.

I didn’t go with manhore to his friends birthday as planned.

We both arrived back at the door of his apartment at the same time. We laughed about the fact he had garlic breath and had eaten his own body wait in that, pasta and oily salad. He said he has body issues too. I replied from the other room

‘ Clearly! ‘

I fell asleep whilst he was in the shower. Woke up this morning at 7am and he was in the spare room.

I ate some almonds for breakfast and felt guilty.

He said he had been in the spare room cos he was coughing and didn’t want to wake me.

I couldn’t go back to sleep so left his apartment with my laptop, the baggyist summer trousers I could find in my case and took my fat bubble ass to coffee.

I kissed him goodbye.

Without feeling

Actress feeling… which is tricky to describe.

Basically you pretend really well and u even convince yourself. But deep down u know its just a show darling…. All a fucking show!

I still have that metallic taste in my mouth.

welcome to HOLLYWOOD kiddo


I want to eat chips  with loads of ketchup and mayo in front of a fire with someone I love.

And who loves me even if I’m fat

Don’t we all want that?

Isn’t that the problem?

If it happens. It everytually will end.

In my experience everything ENDS.

I want something to last forever

Don’t we all?

Isn’t that the point of ‘Dating’?!

Thoughts people ….. thoughts?

Oyster eyes


Date number 5 on ‘what’s your ’

Expected fee – £150

 Bentley seafood restaurant; Piccadilly circus, London

It was pouring with rain. But I blagged a lost property umbrella from my gym that morning.

I didn’t know what to wear. I settled on a ….. wait for it…. I know your on the edge of your seats…

A long navy blue cashmere coat, black shift dress with knee-high boots and black tights.

He was at the bar alone. The waitress walked me too him.

It was pleasant.

Ironically his eyes where very small and oyster like.

The oysters were the best I’ve ever tasted. And I ate raw snails for the first time.

They taste like snails. Not chicken

Very snailish

He was looking for ‘ a long-term mutual arrangement’ his wife has been very ill with MS for 12 years. She was bed ridden. I felt upset for him. I had judged him as another grey haired rich promiscuous perv.

Does having a wife with MS make you immune. I don’t know.

Nothing interesting happened apart from he gave me an extra £50. He slipped it in my cashmere coat as we walked down Piccadilly in the rain under my lost property umbrella.

I thanked him.  I kissed him on the side of the mouth and went straight to the bank to deposit the money. I then went to Selfridges to spend a £50 voucher that had been burning a hole in my wallet for 3 months.

I had taken back something that a man had bought me. And got the credit, what did I ever need with elbow length black leather gloves!?

That one I had met through ‘sugar’

We had met 3 months previous for lunch and he had treated me to a few items. One being an all saints leather jacket ( Smiley fucking face)

He had wanted a long-term ‘arrangement’ I had freaked out afterwards cos I thought he was too old and too fat for that kind of thing to work.

It’s not that I hate fat people. I have been one. And have slept with a few. I think jack black’s is one of the sexist guys alive. Followed maybe by nick helm.

I don’t know what is was.

Maybe I hated myself for using him for free clothes and dinner.

Or maybe I just wasn’t attracted to him. and wasn’t desperate/ broke enough to pretend.

So clearly I texted him on my post oyster snail champagne £200 high whilst I was in Selfridges spending my £50 voucher on a black blazer and ghetto gold earrings.

Sharon stone in casino KEEPS coming out.

He was there within 30 minutes.

This is too easy.

We had dinner. And laughed about the fact I never called him after our first date/ shopping trip.

Lets call this guy ‘Joe Pesci’

He drove me home and we talked about what I wanted in life.

He told me he could give me what I wanted, everything financial to make me very very comfortable for a few years till I meet ‘the one’ and wanted settle down.

This is a very tempting offer.

Would you do it?

I feels like selling my soul to the devil. It shouldn’t. He is not the devil. He is a nice man.

But what would my mum say?!

I got home. Changed out of my high-class hooker outfit into my 80’s MC hammer pants, dirty converse , ‘hole’ sleeve less t shirt and but on my all saints leather jacket.

I got the bus to Camden and met my flatmate and her friend to see a band in a dingy pub for 5 pounds.

After we walked to a sing along Amy Whinehouse night at the ‘purple turtle’ and spoke about strap ons.

They both were like  ‘ yeah I’d do that ’

Is this what everyone’s doing now?! ..…. Fucking there skinny jeans wearing floppy  haired boyfriend’s in the arse’s with strap ons??!!

I’m so outta the loop.

Or hole.

I don’t wanna be in the hole. Thanks

I’m already in a fucking hole.

We sang ‘ total eclipse of the heart’ at the giant screen accompanied by the very married live band and the rest of the sweaty room. I danced with a 23-year-old Pete Doherty wannabe with bad breath.

The next day I went to the gym.

MOOD CHANGE and Que music ; Nicki Minaj ‘I am your leader’

listen to it now if you can.

Now I haven’t told you about this one.

This one is personal trainer that I’ve seen 3 times over the last few weeks. I met  him at the start on the dating diary whist on  (a normal dating site) He is fairly normal. Well I thought. Yeah….. wait for it.

I met his friends on Edgeware Rd on one of our dates, they were all laughing and smoking sheek. then we all went to the playboy mansion casino in a convoy of sport’s  cars with personalised number plates. On a Sunday afternoon.

Normal, right.

He has the body of Nelly. And the teeth to match.

I think that’s HOT.


He picks me up in his bmw convertible with his gangster wrap pumping.

We trained together. at my gym. He then stretched me out after. At my gym.


We then had a sauna together.  He kept eyeing up my arse.


We went to get some extra keys cut (cos im going away to L.A tomorrow)

Not so HOT

He handed me £20 and i bought summery food and wine to make us lunch back at my house/ just a room.


We kissed in my small kitchen over a protein shake.


As I was cooking the turkey breasts it went south


I had him in my hand.

I have NEVER felt one that big before. I said ‘ fuuuuucking hell’

He said

‘ Don’t look down’


It resulted in something from ‘u’ that’s all I’m gonna say. But without the orgasm noises.

But I didn’t . you know.

Well….. you know.


I got rid of him by 6pm cos I had to pack. Plus I wanted my own space back.

I met a guy 2 months ago whilst in LA. I was there visiting, on my back from spending 2 months in Montana working on a horse ranch trying to ‘find myself’

Yes. I’m still looking.

Waste of time.

( But I can now know now to cut a baby bulls bollocks off. And have shagged a real cowboy. So that’s 2 things off my bucket list )

We spent a few evenings together amongst friends.

Then one night together.

I remember waking up on top of him wearing his sweat pants and nothing else.

He had his hands in my hair and I was nuzzled in his neck we were sleeping as if we were one person.

My flight left in 3 hours. He wanted me to stay and ‘hang out’ some more. I clearly panicked and threw my clothes on in a drunken stoned haze.

He followed me to the lift in his boxer shorts. For a man of 53 this guy looked amazing. He could pass for 40.

i said ‘ I’ll be back’

I’m not sure if I really meant it.

2 months later. and he’s booked a flight for me to come and ‘hang out’ for 8 days.

I’m on the plane now. Right now!

I’m nervous.

I can’t remember what he is like to kiss.

He booked the flight 3 weeks ago,

I wish I had made him come to London to ‘hang out’

I’m nervous

And I’m on my period

It’s all wrong.

I arrive in LAX in 7 hours.

What the fuck am I doing??!!!

To be continued……

( if u like this post/blog please repost or tweet it ect. i can’t. as its anonymous! )

Diamond DICK head

A diamond-encrusted platinum skull by British artist Damien Hirs

Does a place called ‘Malmuk’ even exist!?

Apparently date number 4 (the fat Arab on whats your was from there.

He showed up an hour late and sat down opposite me whilst I was on my laptop and said in a very weird foreign accent

Always vorking darlink’


vench or Italian!?’

I said vench. Which I thought meant French.… fish… low fat…. Yes. Good.

He then took me to café rough! A so called diamond mercent. Cafe rough!??!!

Then I should have known.

then I should have left.

Instead I was so hungry and angry I just smiled and asked him about his job , where he lived ect. Anything to make the following expected 3 hours pass quicker.

I ordered the salmon salad. With pink champagne (apparently that’s one of the lowest fat drinks you can get. Apparently) I’m fucking obsessed. I know.

He was v rude to the young polish boy waiter looking man . I smiled at the him as I ordered in a…. I know he is cunt, but I’ll get you a good tip kinda way

The next hour was spent with him showing me photo upon photo of diamonds, money and gold.


photo diamond didck hed

In between texting. I didn’t mind. It meant I could break eye contact and look at my phone to see if anybody had texted me. Anybody . any fraggle. Any old fraggle.

He then kissed my hand.

He then got up and said he needed to make a call to ‘ Some Chinese stupid client’

He but £60 on top of my bag.  He said he would be right back. And left.

I knew i would never see him again.

I finished my salad, his salad, my drink. Then his drink.

And Waited for 30 mins.

The polish waiter looked on. He lent me his I phone charger for 5 minutes.  I got a text from the diamond dick head saying

‘ I go to get more cash to offer you overnight to get to know each other better ; ) ‘

I payed the bill quickly. It came to £40.

I gave the polish boy £10.

I kept the extra £10.

And left.

I put the £10 on my oyster card at Knightsbridge tube station.

I was back to square one.


I listened too ‘work ( explicit edit) Iggy Azalea on my I pod on the tube.

Listen to it now if you can.

CUT TOO; 8.30pm Hoxton square.

I drank a few drinks with the fraggle and deano and another friend who seemed like the kind of man you could tell everything too. He had kind eyes and a beard.

It was weird with the fraggle. Weird as in maybe its all in my head and there is nothing there between us. It was disappointing.  I strutted about in my red lipstick and was all ‘yeah look at me i’m kool’ and he was very fraggle like and reserved and scarcastic. i held his eye contact a little longer to see what happened. I got mild butterflies.


I wanted to put him in an intense stare off and slowly push his fraggle hair from his face. And kiss him slowly on his feminine lips. Leaving a (‘lady danger’ from mac) lipstick print on the side of his delicate gay mouth.

Instead I went home on the number 214 bus. I wanted to eat 5 McDonald happy meals on that bus home. But instead felt my feelings. and texted my beautiful friend ‘ diamond’ (that may or may not be a fake name)

If I was mega rich I would give lots of it to ‘ diamond’ I feel as though she is the younger sister I never had. Even though I have already got a younger sister. She is in allot of pain with an addiction. I know this addiction well. I want to help her.

But I cant.

It all costs money.

Money I don’t have.

One day this will all make sense.

One day I will be able to pay my rent.

One day I will be successful.

One day Simon Pegg and Steve coogan will have a bitch fight over who wants to work with me most.

One day diamond will get better.

One day this will all make sense.

One day.

Lights down. And que track

‘ goo goo dolls IRSH’

‘Whats YOUR price……’


So …. What IS your price?

How much would it take for you to go on a date with a fat older man in his 50’s that is probably married? ( if you were unemployed, lost and were struggling to make your rent)

How much would you do it for? When I say do it…… I mean dinner or lunch. NOTHING else. Unless of course he turned out to be hot.

Silver fox hot.

Then you could do what you wanted with him. I wouldn’t judge.

So far I’ve done 3 pay’ed on line dates on this website ‘ what’s your’

I have made £375 altogether. (less , if u take into consideration travel expenses which unfortunately are not included)

It now seems silly and a complete waste of time to actually meet someone on a date and NOT get paid. This is ridiculous I know.

And possibly dangerous.

If I ever actually meet a nice man that I’m attracted too, I might just wait around to be paid after we have spent a few hours together chatting at a bar.

The first looked like a red faced old bull. He worked in IT. He lived in kent. Need I say more.

I resisted the temptation to just ask for the cash up front when we met outside Covent garden tube station. I instead waited till right at the end and sort of said in a pathetic fake laughy blushing way, as we walked back from the restraunt to the tube.

‘ So…. how does the money thing work…. I have never done this before’ ( imagine fake coyness in my voice and facial expressions)


‘I think I just give it to you.’ He said

That was the most amusing moment of the entire evening.

Then he handed over the £150.

I kissed him on the cheek at the bottom of the escalater and thanked him for the sushi dinner. then scuttled away.  Feeling like a cheap sushi hore.

But as I opened my hand and saw the wad of 10 pound notes I suddenly felt like Sharon stone in casino And like I could do anything I wanted in life. ( I was also wearing a vintage fur coat)

The second ( the next night) looked like a small pointy field mouse mixed with moley From mighty mouse.


I met him in a bar near where live. I wanted to save on travel costs. He wore a suit jacket, an open shirt and boot cut jeans and very pointy shoes. I took him to a comedy night in Kentish town that I have a gig at in 3 weeks time. The possibility of seeing someone I knew was high. But something about that made it all more sick / funny?!

The third. (And my favourite so far)

We met outside the national portrait gallery in Leister Square. He was there all of a sudden in my face smiling and kissing both cheeks.

We both trotted up the the café on the top floor and he ordered the ‘ strawberry and kiwi tea infusion’

I had a strong black coffee.

He was quite interesting. A late 30 something entrepreneur. His dad had been an ambassador. They had lost everything when he was young. But he had made it all back. Plus some.

He shared some story’s about ‘Dates’ he had been on, which I’m presuming were paid because they all involved eastern European women….one turning up with the opening line ‘ I’ve just snorted 2 lines of cokecain and done some meow meow so I may be a little wired’

we agreed that at least she had been chatty. And that was surely a positive.

One other wanted him to throw the money AT her.

2 hours later we trotted out of the gallery and I was £75 richer. He had put it in a card with my ‘ whats your price’ name on it. It was a birthday card.

I liked that

The 4th one is meant to be any minute now. I’m in a café in Knightsbridge opposite Harrods waiting for this fat Arab to show up. I’ve been waiting a while. I haven’t eaten since breakfast  ( its now 5pm and I ate cold cheap porridge at 5am)

I’m really hoping to get dinner.

I’m wearing a spotty black and white dress, a black fur coat , vintage looking peal earing’s, red lipstick from mac called ‘lady danger’ and purple suede heels.

Half of me feel’s like a hooker.

Half, a stylish young lady on her laptop waiting for her friend (who would be a fashion buyer /stylist/media type) to show up. We would go for a large glass of red wine that would be served in a very clean glass. We would  slag off our high powered jobs, how we don’t have any time for our fiancés or dogs or wedding plans and then talk about how difficult we find  it with our (to be) sister in laws. we also maybe planning a couplesy picnic on Hampstead heath that weekend.

Fucking Yuk.

I’m so glad I’m penniless, single and unemployed. And cried myself to sleep last night. Sometimes crying feels good when you let it happen. But only wen your alone.

I am resisting the strong urge to just fuck it off and go and meet the effeminate fraggle  ( see previous blog ) and Deano in shoreditch for drinks.

I need a fraggle detox. An exorcism. I have not seen him since the day we went for breakfast, despite him texting EVERYday.

Whats that about??!!

Is the fraggle lonely?

Is the fraggle bored?

Is the fraggle trying not to text his ex girlfriend?

Or Is the fraggle secretly in love with me.

As I said. I need a fraggle detox. An exorcism. and fast.

Im going to wait for the FAT ARAB.

I’m starving. and need this £150

The Trap of the Effeminate male Fraggle

Red 2I think I’m in trouble. In the midst of all this dating I have developed feelings for a silly effeminate creature that turns out to actually be a man.  When did this happen?!

I feel like I am in trouble.

He was performing at my 6th open mic comedy gig. I saw him sat in a dark corner a few seats along. He had hair like a fraggle ( you remember fraggles rock don’t u? hair exactly like that ) I liked him automatically. You know those people you just see and you know you like them.

He has become a friend. Inviting me out over the last few weeks. The first night he introduced me to a very beautiful stand up comic who I thought was his girlfriend, as he has mentioned he had one. Turned out SHE was on a date ( is everyone on dates???!!! ) I brought my Irish friend ( the one who is also online dating and likes polish girls with huge tits from the first blog)

After he had introduced us, the effeminate creature flounced off to Shoreditch to meet other friends. And the rest of us decided to stay local. One of the guys from the dating website I’m on was in the area, so I told him to come along and meet us. I had been chatting to this one for 2 weeks on ‘what’s app’ and I thought it was about time we met!

He walked in. I turned to my Irish friend ‘ oh god. That’s him’

He was short. Shorter than he had said.

His eyebrows had been waxed in the middle…. Which alone is not an offence… but also they had been shaped. You know the way 20 something year old Spanish and Italian men do?!

He had a huge dressing on the side of his face. He had apparently just had a growth removed.


But worst of all. He didn’t listen. You know those people who just talk over you continually. They don’t stop to absorb. Conversations are a two-way thing. I think anyway. Well , there not with my mother but then who has proper conversations with their mother ? right?!

I smiled and listened and laughed at his drippy jokes.

It was getting more difficult to pretend that he was interesting as I got more drunk .

I caught the eye of The beautiful blond stand up  and did the wide-eyed ‘ help me the fuck out’ look

She moved fast. It was impressive. Grabbing my hand she said

‘ do wanna come for a fag babe’

‘yeah… I do!’ I said quickly

He dressing man then grabbed my other hand and said

‘I thought you said you had given up?!!’

I was too drunk and empowered by the beautiful blonde stand up to remain polite

‘ well…. Ive started again!!!!’

We left the pub. And started to running down dean street in Soho laughing and spilling our wine.

‘ Fuck it …. You’ll never see him again!’  She said

We ran to Soho Square and smoked a Marlborough light sat on a concrete step.

Then realised we had left my Irish friend and HER date in the pub with dressing face man.

Dressing face man then texted with

‘ I’m off xx ’

If someone clearly leaves you like that and doesn’t return…. Why would you text them?! Ever again?!

Is running away not a clear enough indication that they are not interested?!

The next day he sent another text

‘ Any more date’s lined up this week? x ’

I didn’t answer.

The effeminate fraggle creature, which I find strangely attractive, invited me out again the next week to an attractive female friends party. I wondered this time whether he would stay longer.

I told him about a new 6 foot black guy I had just been on a lunch date with that afternoon (I wont go into this as nothing interesting happened apart from he was and is VERY very hot. So hot its ridiculous )

The effeminate fraggle creature told me about the only person he had loved. This wasn’t his current girlfriend. This made me annoyed. And sad. And kind of jealous. All in a one moment. How is that possible?  Very odd.

We danced and I felt stupid. Which I never do cos I can dance. I can dance Good.

There were some IT looking, very middle class kids in a circle doing one of those dance off’s…. The effeminate creature barged in to the middle of the circle with his fraggle hair flowing and danced …… and of course…… they loved him. This was irritating as that what I should have done. Instead I danced at the side like a knob ginning.

The night progressed to Dalston were we picked up another one of his stylish attractive successful female friends in a cab. This was getting ridiculous! They seemed very close.

I got lumbered with a fellow Manc at the bar who was off his tits on EVERY drug that has ever been created and kept trying to pass me some under my bar stool . I should have taken it… by this point it was 4am and the effeminate creature was joined at the hip with his attractive female friend.

I should have taken the drugs. But instead I left and got a sweaty kebab and chips and humus and pita and helium on the way home. ( claiming to the Turkish guy serving that my boyfriend was in bed and has sent me out. I even had a fake phone call with the fake boyfriend)

I should have taken the drugs.

The effeminate creature invited me out again this week. To see a band in angel. He said I may fancy his ‘good looking’ friend Deano. I told him I felt too fat to leave the house, and especially for the area of angel ….. I could have maybe dealt with seeing a band in Tottenham or Peckham but I was defiantly too fat for a cool gypsy dirge type band near angel. He told me to send him some pics of how fat I was. So I did. He told me I was pushing my belly out . and also that Deano liked fat chicks.

So I put my fat pants on and left.

The effeminate creature wasn’t giving me any attention again and Deano wasn’t hot. So naturally I filled them in about the ridiculously 6.6 fit black guy who turns out to be a helicopter pilot with a private jet!  Seriously.

The band was good. The lead singer looked like Hugh Jackman. I danced drunken beginners swing with him. He was good. But it was beginning to dawn on me

I Like the effeminate fraggle creature male. And more than a Hugh Jack man lookalike who is the front man of a rock band??!!!. What is WRONG with me?!

I told you I was in trouble.

Reasons why liking the effeminate fraggle creature is not good

  1. I think that he may leave me for will young if we got together ( he admitted that he has a man rush on him. yuk!)
  2. I think that he is better than me and I dislike being with anyone who is
  3. I think his ex girlfriend maybe prettier than me, have bigger breasts and own better clothes. They are always breaking up and getting back together. Not good.
  4. He will be a much better and much more successful comic than I will ever be
  5. If I stop dating I may get fat
  6. He may want me to wear a strap on one day
  7. He has lots of very attractive female friends, which may make me act like a baby.
  8. He has major potential to be a contender for ‘the one’ which is a reason in itself not to pursue. but also ;

A)   he isn’t rich. ( I would have to work)

B)   Isn’t black. ( no giant cocks. Or beautiful mixed race babies )

C)   Couldn’t beat up anyone. let alone a male intruder

I crumbled towards the end of the night.

I turned to him and said (whilst looking like i was in pain and also trying to stick my little tits out, because stupidly I hadn’t worn a padded bra)

‘ I think i……….like you’

he smiled and said

‘ you only like me because I don’t like you….

… you’ve shown no interest in me! ’

I told him that despite being out of work as an actress for over 7 months that in fact I’m very good at it. And suddenly I realised that maybe this was true. As long as there is no script involved. I AM very good. But unfortunately there usually is.

I can’t remember what happened after that. I have flashes. One is us;

squirting water in each other mouths and laughing.

Then us kissing at a bus stop.

Then me touching his thin delicate fraggle hair.

Naturally I went on date number 2 with the 6 foot black pilot the next night. We ate fish in Chelsea and had £23 each champagne cocktails in Sloan square. All I could think of was 50 shades of grey. Lets call him Mr grey.

That and how The conversation was hard work. But his face and the free dinner and drinks made up for it.

effeminate fraggle creature was texting me throughout the evening. He invited me to join him….. and …….. yes friends…. In east London. I slurred my excuses and left mr grey.

£35 pounds later and I’m back in the company of the effeminate fraggle. The taxi driver commented on how I had down graded from the very hansom man who had put me in the taxi cab to the effeminate fraggle male who had taken me out.

CUT TO; The next day.

We were still dressed. From the night before. and in my bed. Kinda cuddling. I attempted a blow job. It didn’t quite work out. He attempted to but his hand in my knickers. I resisted. As I wasn’t trimmed up enough to let  an effeminate fraggle creature pass judgment on that area.

We went out and had breakfast. and took my dog for a walk in the park.

He made me laugh allot.

He held my hand.

He stroked my upper arms. ( ive never been so happy that I exfoliated my upper arms in my fuckin life)

I started to try and do my 5 minute set in front of him. As he has never seen it before. It went wrong. Like one of those stories that’s ends in ‘ you just had to be there…. It was soooooo funny’


This is why I never date people that I think are better than me. They are intimating and I start to behave like someone else. Someone unfunny. someone annoying. Someone who I don’t like.

I’ve spent all today thinking about the effeminate fraggle . I keep replaying his smile that turns into a laugh like a clip from a Julia Roberts rom com in my mind. He has THE best smile into laugh I have ever seen. Ever.

On a fraggle

These feelings may be because he never texted Saturday night . or this maybe because I really like effeminate fraggle creature male

Either way I’m in trouble!

Either way it feels like a trap.

Either way I have found a new website . . . .

Its called ‘Whats.your.price’ and guys bid for a date with you. You get paid for dating?! This is surely the dream job right?

You meet in a public place. Get dinner bought for you and get cash for sitting opposite a lonely 40 something in a suit who has a face like a bull.

This is my moral justification for entering into ‘Whats.your.price’ world….

I’m poor. I’m single.

Plus I think I’m in trouble regarding feelings for the effeminate fraggle.

It’s a fucking fraggle trap . and I AM NOT FALLING into it.

Tonight I’m meeting a bull faced 43 year old for £150 cash.

UN necessary drama

Un- necessary drama… that’s what a recent male friend said that I should call my non existent Edinburgh show. It kinda sums it all up. UN necessary.

That male friend and me just had a non break up break up…. Don’t you just hate thows??! … when your not actually together but u break up anyway. We had had a few drunken kisses over the course of a 6 months in-between lots of hanging out and a bit of bed hugging. He said he wanted more and couldn’t just be ‘friends’. I even had tears in my eyes…but….. I still didn’t want to be his girlfriend. I really didn’t. I wish I did. I prefer black men with massive arms that ask you what your favourite colour is on a date. They look pretty and their place is clear. Bed sheets.

The male friend that I just didn’t break up with is called Bernard ( no names are EVER changed in this anonymous blog BTW)  I will miss Bernard. He was very Sweet. Very deep And very Jewish. He talked too much. And I liked cutting him off and insulting him with a smile, I think he liked it too. He was passionate about things that annoy him. I’m passionate about things that I hate. We also did things in unison like bursting out laughing as a girl ordered ‘ an indian tea’ in a café in Tuffnell park. An indian fuckin tea?/!!

I will miss him. He believed in me. Or believed he would somehow end up in-between my thighs if he ‘believed’ in me. Either way. He believed in me. I will miss Bernard.

And so life goes on. People come and go don’t they?! I hate that. I really do. Maybe its more so in London town. Or just more so with the opposite sex?  I want people to stay forever…….

apart from my family. They can leave.

My mum was asking how my stand up had been going the other day. I said ‘ yeah really good’

she sounded surprised.

‘is it very cutting edge?’ she says in a voice that I swear is getting slower and more religious/judgmental as the months go by

‘errrrrrrr I dunno, not really mum’ I said


‘Its sort of a puppet show’ I said

she comes straight in with …

‘ is it characterisation?’

That doesn’t make any sense. Does it?! ‘Characterisation…. Of who?! and she didn’t go on to ask . Im still trying to work it out.

‘eeerrrrr …..yeah. ‘ I said

and that was that.

It was easier than going into what the ‘puppet show’ was actually about, which is about ……masturbating in bed whilst your ex boyfriend reads reviews on new blackberry phone models on his laptop next to you, blow jobs with strange cocaine addicted Scottish actors, ‘fuck lists’

This puppet show is called  ‘ And the cunt left me’ i’m not sure she is really to see this yet. But it’s my uncle’s 60th this weekend and i’ve said i would do my 5 mins as the entertainment. I wish i could invite Bernard for moral support.

I will miss him. He could have been my new parent. But then who wants to fuck their parent. That was the problem … I only ever wanted to cuddle him. for hours.

and so the search continues….. but ‘its about the journey and not the destination‘ right?!!

lets all be sick in that persons face