Wednesday, 16 August 2017

Juice cleanse my fucking bank account.

Ladies, girls, meterosexuals,

At some point in your life, I bet you have considered or been interested in 'a juice cleanse'. 3-7 days of consuming only juice in order to expel toxins, reset your systems and lose weight. Imagine hopping lightly about your day to day business, knowing your body contains only organic mush.

Well you would be hopping lightly.

Very lightly.

Because you would have had to sell all your earthly positions including clothes, shoes and gold teeth to pay for your fucking juice cleanse.

Yes, today I was so horrified at the price of juice cleanses, I came out of blogger retirement to express my rage.

To place the situation in greater context: I'm alone and bored when suddenly, I'm taken with the idea of a pre Christmas detox, but not any detox! No, the detox to end all detoxes. The type of detox that enables you to see sounds. The type of detox that makes your digestive system more efficient than a Nokia 3210. The type of detox that changes the way you live and while the unenlightened onlookers observe you 'sunbathing' you scoff at their idiocy, as they have no idea that you are in fact, PHOTOSYNTHESISING!

So, in my feverish rampage, I begin to Google. I open several tabs from the first page of results. 

' this looks good...nice packaging...oo kale, thats healthy...add to basket...7 day plan'

Do you know how much a 7 day juice plan costs?! DO YOU!?


For £720, I literally need it to make me immortal. 

I'd need to spend the rest of eternity dancing through space and time with the torso of Gwyneth Paltrow, and the legs of a jungle cat. 

I'd need to be so healthy, that as I entered or exited any room, wind would blow, slow motion would ensue, and everyone on the scene would be forced by a law of physics to watch me for 3 straight minutes, while Tibetan monks with pan pipes played a Beyonce tribute act.

I'd need to become so beautifully slender and glowing, that every time I uploaded a picture to Instagram, a Victoria's Secret model would hang herself.

Alas, these are non of the 'common side effects' of this particular juice cleanse. Although "loose bowel movements" and 'dizziness' were.

If I wanted to see someone shit themselves and faint, I'd watch the bulimic girl at my gym do weights.

Suffice to say, I didn't 'proceed to payment', and after I'd screamed out my window in Korean for half an hour, I calmed down.

I realised, I wasn't angry with the juice. I was angry with myself.

"Oh you mean because you've not been treating your body very well, and you realised that the fury you experienced was the manifestation of the all the deeply internalised feelings of inadequacy you've repressed with alcohol and dairy?"


I was angry because i've been slumming it in investment banking for a year when I could have been whisking up some prunes, getting offensively rich. 

More money, better hours, and the prospect of a career that doesn't make me feel like each day is just one step in the slow heavy-lidded march towards hissing a final dusty breath into the empty liquor cabinet of my family-less 18 bedroom home, aged 36.

Off to reassess my life choices.

The Mink Panther


Saturday, 13 December 2014

Stress is the cousin of Botox, so let's just chill the fudge out.

Sup mother lickers,

The last few weeks have been  head-explodey-phone-buzzin-liquor-hittin-to-do-list-dreading carnage. A couple of hysterical episodes later, I'm back to my normal still-got-stuff-to-do-but-the-leprechauns-who-visit-while-I-sleep-will-take-care-of-it self.

At the moment, things are stressful for a number of reasons mainly, because I'm coming to the end of my degree and a lot of work has to be completed (and by 'completed' I mean, 'started') and secondly, because I'm applying for jobs (see earlier blog post). With this in mind, I would like to reflect back on my time in this God forsaken hell hole at Loughborough and tell you all...

Things you should know about Loughborough

1) Slang doesn't always translate
In Liverpool, the word 'steaming' means sexually aroused. In the East Midlands, it means drunk. A few months into my time here, I discovered that the people of Leicestershire are not in fact wildly open about their sexual desires...they are however pissed a lot.

2) Tanflation
The further away you move from the Liverpool the colder and more expensive the sunbeds get. £7 to lie naked on plastic bench and feel as though I'm being breathed on by a sex criminal? No ta. I did that last night, and it was free.

3) The people of Loughborough are here against their will
This one took me a while to work out. I spent a lot of time wondering why people, particularly young people, would choose to live in Loughborough when it is so close to 3 other big cities. Then, my suitcase broke. Try and buy a suitcase in Loughborough. Just try. You'll find that there is a government conspiracy to keep captive the indigenous population of Loughborough. If you don't have a suitcase, you can't move house. Conundrum solved.

4) In Loughborough, there is such a thing as being "too dressed up"
The best way to combat this is to treat your heels like an albino kid you're ashamed of: they're only allowed out when it's dark. Wear anything other than jeans or a tracksuit during the day in this town and run the risk of being eyed suspiciously and asked through pursed lips, "Where've you been?" Unless you can blag that you've just attended the annual rugby/lacross/waterpolo/shaolin monk/Jack Wills appreciation ball, you will not have an acceptable answer to this question. Best to just mutter 'no where' then tell them where they can buy a discount tiger print onesie for tonight's 'Be a Tiger for a Fiver' rave... or whatever the theme is that night.

5)There is a 6:1 ratio of men to women
Last time a gender ratio was that unbalanced was after the fall of communism in Eastern Europe. I'm literally in the process of designing the web pop-ups for my mail order husband business. "HOT HOT HOT Young English Muscle Men Waiting To Treat You Like a Fucking Princess." Need to get the contact details of some middle aged women in Russia and Thailand too. KERCHING!

6) Alcohol is cheap!
Seriously cheap. It's a dangerous formula to mix cheap booze with dull surroundings, the temptation is to drink until everyone around you becomes tolerable. Of course, this only ever results in cripplingly embarrassing behaviour. The best way to combat this is to treat yourself like a closeted homosexual in an unhappy marriage...only come out once a week, under 4 inches of tranny make up that disguises you beyond all recognition...and of course wear arseless chaps...that goes without saying.

Never go to a campus uni 

The Mink Panther.


Tuesday, 11 December 2012

Why Graduate Applications Make the Baby Jesus Cry

Morning bitches and man-bitches!

As a finalist university student with an ambitious nature and a love of all things material, I have recently been dancing the graduate scheme applications jig. I approached the task of entering a graduate scheme with enthusiasm and hope but have unfortunately found myself  retreating terrified, rejected and exploited.

 However, if I can't make it into one of the Big 4 I hope one of you can. Therefore, to prepare you and to accurately illustrate my experience, I have crafted my very own graduate scheme application for you to complete!

Please find a quiet space where you will not be disturbed ( any more than you already are) and begin the first step towards a long and prosperous future with TYPICO Ltd.

TYPICO Ltd the corporate business corporation company! 

Who Are We?

TYPICO Ltd is a corporate business corporation company specialising in business, finance and corporateness. We meet the needs of some of the world's most corporate providers of business in the world of enterprise. We operate in 143 countries, reaching out to hundreds of thousands of enterprises with corporate solutions to various business problems.

The Benefits

TYPICO Ltd graduate scheme offers a number of excellent benefits and bonuses these include but are not limited to:

  • Excellent remuneration package (salaries between 17-160k)
  • Opportunities to travel (we have offices in New York, Maldives, Hawaii, Hong Kong, Bahamas, Skegness, Doncaster, Beirut, Downtown Bazra)
  • Immediate responsibility. From day one you will be propelled up the corporate ladder, with most graduates reaching a managerial position within 1-7 years
  • After 2 years you and your family will be entitled to full free health and dental, after 5 years you will become immortal.
  • Most graduates find that they can literally piss glitter and champagne within just 2 years!!!

Roles within the TYPICO Ltd family

Philangy Invigilator
Invigilating the philangys is a vital role in any business. You must be confident and reliable with a willingness to learn. You don't have to know everything about about Philangys to be a philangy invigilator, though a keen interest helps.

Corporate company finance business manager
To manage the business of corporate company finances you must be numerate and able to prove so in a simple numerical reasoning test *see below*. We accept candidates from any degree disciplines, though students with Masters in Economics and Finance are favoured. You must be able to work either in a team or alone and have basic communication skills. Those who cannot demonstrate any ability to interact with others or work need not apply.

Dufflebumper tax associate
Must have some experience in dufflebumping though TYPICO Ltd will cover the cost of any official dufflebumping qualifications. 

What to expect in our application process:

Here's an example of a few questions from a previous year's competancy test. Answer clearly and honestly with the company's competencies in mind.

1) Describe a time when a large winged bird of prey wanted to commit an act of terrorism and you, with the help of several compatriots came to a safe and diplomatic resolution. What did you learn from this experience?
2) Describe several examples of when you have saved an orphan on Christmas Day through the medium of song or interpretive dance. If you have never saved an orphan on Christmas Day through the medium of song or interpretative dance, you may refer to times when you have aided a puppy or a small woodland creature with  a tasteful nude drawing or a tune played with a tin whistle on any major religious holiday. What did you learn from these experiences?
3) In no more than 18 but no less than 15.5 words sum up all the work experience you have ever under taken in your life. 
4) In no more than 6000 words describe why you would be right for this job
5) in no more than 6000 words describe why you would not be wrong for this job
6) List in full every grade you have ever been awarded in any area of education or your life in general. Include pub quizzes, primary school spelling tests, compliments or criticisms given by family friends and neighbours dead and alive, Angry Birds and Temple Run scores and the exact time it took you to finish each Twilight book. Please be prepared to provide evidence of all achievements.

What's Next?

Should you be successful following the application questionnaire  you will be required to sit a basic numerical reasoning test. Below is a practice example. You will be allowed a pen and paper and a calculator. (However, you may also wish to have the following to hand: a set of scales, an Atlas, a copy of 'Accounting and Finance for Dummies', between 1-5 tabs of Ritalin, a pocket dictionary, Google translate and access to all the financial accounts of the FTSE 100 from the last five years.)

1) Hassan has 8 apples and is travelling on a train between London and Glasgow at 70mph

He creates a geometric shape with apples on his train table. The train stops at 4 destinations and the woman with the trolley is called Joan. 

Considering that Hassan has a meeting at 12pm and the train has 4 carriages, how many points should we give to Gryffindor? 
B) stockholme  
C) cannot say 
D) Joan 

2) Take a look at the graph below.

If the value of Handsets and washing machines in the fifth week of March was increased by 14% and the value of just washing machines was decreased in the third week of March by just 2%, suggest approximately what the profit margins of the first week of June 2012 will be if inflation is fixed at 3.8%.

Unfortunately, I have to stop the graduate scheme application here because this is as far as I've fucking got. Yeah that's right, about 18 hours and 2 rejections later I'm back at square bastard one. 

I may have failed the numerical reasoning test, 
but I got 100% on the 'spell boobies on your calculator' test. 
If anyone needs me, I'll be signing on.

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

Best take my top off and dance sexy in the rain because THESE ARE MY CONFESSIONS

OKAY, so Usher Raymond cheated on Chilli from TLC and got another woman pregnant and Kel (of 'Keanan and Kel') put the screw in the tuna. We all have confessions to make, here are 15 of mine:

1. Dear Imogen, Since moving to uni and moving in with you nearly 2 years ago, I have never once bought hair bobbles.

2. When I was eight years old, I hatched a dastardly, multi-dimensional plan to convince my mother that our new house was haunted because I hated my new school. Ma, it was me who was hiding under your bed stroking you feet in the night...not the sexy ghost.

3. The only reason I want kids is to give them ludicrous names/ dress them in hilarious outfits/ turn them into Youtube sensations. Charlie might have bitten your finger but Django Burke will disco slap your face clean off.  

4. I convinced my best friend in Junior school that sausages were pig penises.

5. I set my uni house on fire three times in one week, in several unfortunate toast-making incidents.

6. I set my bedroom carpet on fire accidentally, using only a mirror and the sun.

7. I once stabbed myself in the face with a knife trying to eat a piece of cheese.

8. I once accidentally glassed myself in the face when I was drunk. Big shout out to all who held my hair back and carried my comatose bloody body to bed...that weekend.

9. I know how to shuffle cards, pick locks, and hot wire a car because I have Googled it. am a top scouser.

11. I once called my boss and said I couldn't come into work because i'd been arrested, I hadn't been arrested, I was just drunk.

12. I once told my mum that the reason my hand was cut and swollen was because i'd fallen on actual fact I had gotten into a karaoke bar fight. Bitches get stitches.

13. I didn't vote in the general election because I was too drunk to find my way to the polling station.

15. I did vote in my local election...for UKIP (If you understand our electoral system you'll know that this was a protest vote. If you don't...well to you, I'm just a big ignorant honkie)

15. I once missed an interview for a really good job because I was dancing to Beyonce in my underwear for three hours. I have no regrets.

Live fast, die young, bad girls do it well.

Good girls live to a ripe old age, then gradually decay into a slow pathetic menopausal pitt of nostalgic misery.

Big love!!!



"When are you going to do a new blog?" "You never blog anymore!" "Why don't you blog these days?" I'M FUCKING BUSY!!! (Busy fucking)  And sometimes, I use all my chat on real life interaction.

Alas, i'm back in Loughborough, and after 14 solid days of crying and convincing the locals I've not been sent from the future to deliver them a grave warning about the revolution of the sewer people I've decided to be a bit more productive.

SO, I got myself an American death row penpal. But he was boring and fucking selfish. Always going on about "It wasn't me blah blah the killer's still out there, I was framed blah blah I dont want to die!". How about asking about my day for once, dickhead? Everyone's got problems. So yeah, i'm ignoring all his letters, even the stupid film he sent me called "Evidence of my Innocence". What the fuck even is that, an indie film? And who under the age of 95 has a video player? Try flowers next time, mingebag.

So, after that debacle, I decided to blog on.

Anyway, this post is aimless, I have too much insight and thought to focus on one topic (and by "insight and thought", I mean ADHD) this post is really just to check in, say hi, ask about the kids, and make promises about seeing you again that I will never honour. Just see me as your cool uncle who, as you get older, you realise is most likely just a charming paedophile with an alcohol dependency.

In a bit, 

Be cool,


Monday, 14 May 2012

"What are you training for?" "LIFE!!!"

Morning campers, did everybody sleep well?

Oh, that's thrilling! Anyway, back to me...

I recently decided that my fitness levels were too low and my measurements too high. To combat this, I spent a couple of days living on dust and fresh dreams, this made me want to taser people more than usual.

Then coincidentally, I remembered that every month some money disappears from my bank account, and goes to someone called "La Fitness". After much investigation, I discovered that La Fitness is not a french magazine or even a porn site, it's a gym! And, apparently i'm a member!

Being a member of LA Fitness is a bit like being a member of Shoreditch House. It has a pool and lots of pretentious, skinny people. However, they outright refuse to serve you a martini, and there is no one to buy coke off in the toilets.

Just kidding, there is. Her name is Linda, tell her I sent you.

After checking the location of this LA Fitness place, I remembered I had actually been there several times before, but I had been calling it "The Sunbeds". So off I wandered, to a magical place where people gather to get tanned and skinny and show off their lycra onesies.

On first arrival I must admit I was slightly disappointed. I looked quite out of place in my thong leotard, neon sweatbands and leg warmers, and came to the conclusion that dance music videos are not a good referencing tool for gym attire inquiries.

Crossing the threshold I turned left (opposite direction from where they keep the sunbeds and salon) and was greeted by a gargantuan pit of sweating, heaving men...a sight I very rarely see when I am sober enough to remember my own name and have enough money for a taxi. 

Nevertheless, I made my way over to the running machine (I had seen these on films!) and proceeded my exhausting work out. 20 minutes later, feeling half a stone lighter, I had a quick 10 minutes on the sunbeds and took myself proudly home.

Feeling like I was getting the hang of this exercise lark, I decided to attend something called "Body Step", one of the many timetabled classes at LA Fitness. Yes, that's right! There are fun activities available constantly between the hours of 7am and 9pm! As I realise this, I begin to think this place is like a holiday camp for adults with body dismorphia. After attending the class however, I realise it isn't at all...

...It's a holiday camp for bored, middle class housewives who, after sending their children off to school and beating their Filipino maid with a broom, realise there's little else to do. So, off they trot to enjoy class after class, stopping only to allow a part of their soul to die as they receive yet another lazily spelled text message from Mr. Bored Middle Class Housewife: 'workng late, i'll eat at th office cx'.

I'll never be a housewife. The only person who'll meet me at the end of an aisle is that fucking security guard in Tesco who always catches me with Pick n Mix, and the only thing that will ever grow inside me is MY HATRED OF THE WEST.......Shut up, this is so innap.....ALLAH AKBAHHH...I'm not going to tell you ag..DEATH TO THE...GET BACK IN MY HEAD JIHADIST ME!!!... all got a bit weird's still a bit awkward isn't it?...let's have a short interval...

She's well fitter than that Eric Prydz slag.

Anyway, Body Step. Basically, a class led by a man who makes Gok Wan look like Kurt Cobain. Taking the cheesiest songs from your nan's youth, he manages to translate any lyric into a vaguely erotic motivational exclamation.

"Yes ladies, that's right! YOU just can't get enough!... YES! We're rising up the challenge of our rivals ladies!!! ...OOOOO Barbara, the old grey mare ain't what she used to be...SHE'S BETTER!!"

Yeah. He's the devil.

I've decided to stay away from him because LA Fitness seems like the type of place to have a "you break it, you buy it" policy, and his tiara and wand both look expensive.

My gym experiences haven't all been horrible however. There was an absolute God in the pool at the same time as me last week, though I don't think I have much of a chance with him...We passed each other at the exact moment I considered the idea that he, the elderly overweight woman in the yellow swimming cap and myself were all just taking a massive bath together...

...Now i'm just the mental twat who laughs menacingly in the deep end and nearly drowns herself, only to emerge seconds later from the watery depths...still laughing.

He left the pool area shortly after this episode.

 Off to cash converters to see if there's any reasonably priced tiaras.
...or tasers


The Geneva Convention doesn't mean shit.

"I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at 10, Downing Street my bedroom at a house in Loughborough.
It is with huge regret that I inform you my kingdom is at war.  
Up to the very last it would have been quite possible to have arranged a peaceful and honourable settlement between Germany and Poland our enemy and ourselves, but Hitler they would not have it.
Myself and our ally (Imogen, my housemate)  are today, in fulfilment of our obligations. We have a clear conscience. We have done all that any country could do to establish peace. 
Now may God bless you all. May He defend the right. It is the evil things that we shall be fighting against – brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution – and against them I am certain that the right will prevail"

Let me explain...

About a week ago, some suspicious activity within my house suggested acts of illegal espionage were taking place. Eager to investigate the matter, I observed more closely and came to the conclusion that an invasion was imminent. 

I strategised an ambush on the enemy, which took place at approximately 1400 hours on 12.05.12. At present, there are no known plans for retaliation and the enemy has retreated.

There are no more ants in my house.

"But seriously, like loads of people get a couple of ants in their house, why are you talking about them as if they're some kind of threat to your safety?"


Yesterday, after noticing 4 ants in my house I decided to go to my bunker, retrieve a WMD and blast them back to the Stone Age (I got one of Imogen's flip flops and stood on them). Looking down at my genocide and laughing, I decided to leave their lifeless bloodied corpses as a warning to other spies and mercenaries, with the intention of cleaning them up later. Returning a couple of hours later, I discovered the bodies had gone.


These are the Ghurkas of the ant community. No ant gets left behind.

To be honest, although admirable, their commitment and organisation terrifies me. I'm half expecting them utilize their carpentry skills and ensnare me as they fly out of a giant wooden horse. 

I've since used a chemical weapon along the weakest points of my borders (I put talc by some holes, they hate talc, the soggy bastards). This has so far proved impenetrable. 

If my enemy retaliates, i'm going to make Hiroshima look like a fuckin sneeze.

If you don't hear from me soon, i'll probably be at the Hague on trial for war crimes.
Off to go and conscript some child soilders,
Anyone got Joseph Kony's number?