Arrest me!


On Saturday the 8th of October, I flung myself in and grasped with shaky hands a variety of new experiences:

1. My first hen do.
2. My first penis straw.
3. Making my first cocktail.
4. My first cock fight.
5. My first time at a strip club.
6. My first time as a tourist attraction.

What a day.


It started off at noon, at the pub. Would have been a quiet drink amongst friends, if it hadn’t been for the fact that we were all dressed up in slutty Cops & Robbers outfits. (Oh, don’t worry – throughout the whole event we got slimeballs coming up to us with such beauties as “are you a REAL policewoman?” and – perhaps my favourite – “Please arrest me!”)

Now, as proven from the beginning of this post – I am not an experienced hen-do-goer (read that again.) But I am willing to bet with a large amount of money that Becca was the best hen ever! Not only did she demand as many fake (and – unknowingly to her – some real) penises as possible, but she was up for everything with a dirty giggle and an enthusiastic wiggle of her tutu. I have never seen anyone jump out of a chair so fast as when she did when one of the strippers asked for a volunteer!


But I’m getting ahead of myself. First hen do? Tick. And on the minibus up to London we got handed a huge bag of goodies each, which leads to… First penis straw – tick. Which was a lot harder to suck out of than you would think! (I chortled to myself whilst typing that sentence.) We all proceeded to get drunk, as we were given Alcopops, shots, and wine… When we arrived at Vodka Revolutions we were smashed and ready for our lesson in cocktails. We made all kinds – cosmopolitan, mojito’s, iced tea etc. And got to try them all!


The barman would teach us how to make them and Becca would choose two people who had to compete against each other to make the drinks correctly – and fast. The loser would have to take a chilli shot (one girl, Lisa, probably still hasn’t recovered from that fateful shot. She said it was revolting and made her feel incredibly sick). I was given the task of making the mojito. I personally don’t like that cocktail, but it’s my sister’s favourite and she said it was brilliant. I actually lost the race but because it tasted the best I didn’t have to take the shot! WIN!


When we moved on to a pub right outside Liverpool Street it was on to games… the point of which was to make us more rowdy and more drunk. Which it achieved impeccably.. Which brings me onto my first cock fight:

Two girls.
Two giant inflatable penises.
Two belts with Velcro pads.
One fight.
Put your hands behind your backs, girls… and knock those cocks off!
It was so funny, and attracted an audience of pervy young men (embarrassingly – for him - one did moonie us.)


Next, the strip club. And oh, what show. I have never been so shocked, and so aching from laughter in my life. And as mentioned previously, Becca made the whole night completely epic. Taunting the drag queen with her truncheon, accosting the strippers to the point where even they were giggling at her. She was the best hen in the whole audience, and made me laugh so much!

After a long day (12pm – 12am!) of non-stop drinking, me and Brooke made our way home on the tube. Where we became… tourist attractions! Everyone wanted a photo of us. We posed, smiled, and got on a sweaty tube in our police outfits… Let’s just hope those tourists didn’t think we were actual police women! Because our drunken slurring summary of the night’s antics would not have represented the Force brilliantly…



How to get over a broken heart...

Dress up like a panda apparently!


This was the night of my sister’s flat party – zoo themed.


Earlier that afternoon I went to see how the decorations were coming along. My sister, Brooke, sneakily slipped into conversation how she had told everyone coming that I was the face painter of the night! I stared, the pressure building up before my eyes and a tiger suit hanging off their boiler. Now, I am not one to shy away when boasting about my A* art GCSE, but having never touched a person’s face with paint in my life, this seemed to surpass even my capable artistic abilities. Scolding Brooke, I went home and Googled animal face paint and Youtubed how-to’s for the rest of the afternoon.

I should have known that there would be alcohol.


This meaning that firstly there wouldn’t be a complaint if my face-painting was rubbish (that is, until, the next morning in the clear light of day when the Facebook photos would hit the reality of my unsuspecting victims). And secondly, that after drinking pretty much the whole Fat Frog punch bowl to myself I had the confidence of Picasso. “Give me my canvas!” I called. “Pass me my brush!” I laughed, tripping over my own gangly legs.

I looked down and saw that my sister had not prepared for my expertise. She had passed to me what I can only describe as wax. It was not face paint. (This soon dawned on my sister the next day, where she found her carpet stained in this disgusting mixture – and to this day no amount of Vanish has removed the stains.) She had bought a kid’s size, 3 coloured ‘facepainting’ set from Poundland. I guess that hour on Youtube was not needed. So for the rest of the night, for anyone who wasn’t dressed up I took a crayon to their face and drew on a nose and wobbly whiskers. Job done.


The rest of the night was full of drunken dancing, singing and dares. Find the peg! Don’t drink with your drinking hand! Guess the name of the leopard! And definitely, definitely, don’t get stuck with the humping gorilla.




Gidd Gidds.

Here is a photo of me:


I aspire to be a writer and photographer.

If I could live on 3 things for the rest of my life, they would be: pasta, crisps, and scones. So anything beige.

I'm learning to drive, and want to drive so bad, but I can't be arsed to learn all that theory stuff.

Here is a photo of me and my two besties (I am the one with the box on my head):


If I was an animal, I'd be a panda because I wear too much eyeliner.

I love partying, getting drunk, and experiencing interesting things.

I get inspired easily.

My idols are Zooey Deschanel, Daisy Lowe and Marina Diamondis, from Marina and the Diamonds, because they are strong, confident and aren't afraid to be different (plus, all brunette).

I hate my smile, but love laughing more than anything.

I think I'm weird. and funny.

I want to love life.

I talk too much about myself.

Oh, and this is my blog (I am pointing at the screen.)