Two posts today, what am I thinking.

So this is a ridiculously old piece of spoken word, and tbh it was written as a thank you to the person who inspired me to start writing. According to my notes on my phone, I wrote this on 4th November 2013. I haven’t spoken to him in a while, but there is also a link to one of his pieces on Youtube…I think you’ll agree that he’s fucking incredible. His name is Neemz and ma fav b, you’re da best.




trust dat big ol’ hart o’yours

So lately I’ve been offering advice/getting swept up/confused by the idea of time and what length of time allows us to justify our feelings.

Let me explain, so I’ve been having this debate about quantity and quality essentially. I argue that it doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone, you just know if your feelings are genuine and others have argued that that is bullshit and you can’t possible know how you feel about someone after a few weeks. Maybe it’s about having a sixth sense? Like you have to have confidence in yourself to be able to say ‘fuck yeah, I’m into you’. 

The same can be said for platonic relationships too. How soon did you look at your now bbfl and have that ‘did we just become best friends’ moment? I argue it can happy quite quickly, but I’m pretty ruthless with my emotions. If I like you/wanna fuck you/wanna marry you, then you’ll know, and if I have no time for you what so ever, you’ll also know. 

I think it all comes down to having faith in your own thoughts and feelings. But also having the ability to stand back and say ‘this isn’t right’. 

It takes me ages to find someone to fall for or want to hang out with for a dangerously long amount of time but when I do, it happens hard and fast, and I genuinely can’t get my head around the idea that some human beings can bottle it up for months before saying ‘hey, you…you’re fucking amazing’.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, have faith that what you’re feeling is pretty spot on and you should never have to justify your thoughts and emotions, or dilute them, because it feels weird to be, well feeling, so strongly after a few weeks. 

Go tell dem home slice, goat mouthed mammy fucker, dope holders dey da bomb xoxo

spunk spa for the shit female

I wouldn’t really count myself as a feminist. I wouldn’t really count myself as a girl half the time, bearing in mind I swear like a sailor and pursue girls like Katie Hopkins pursues media attention. But lately I’ve been questioning my allegiance to my vagina…all because of porn.

Since I was young and had access to the Internet I’ve watched porn. Before that I would have to scramble under my uncles bed to find his vanilla motorbike magazines only to enjoy the not so hot biker chicks with dead eyes. However, over the past year or so I’ve come to enjoy watching porn more and more. I talk openly with my friends about it, I feel good about watching it, I make time in my day to catch a few vids but my biggest concern…maybe not concern…is the type of things that make me cum. And I guess there is something to be said about my love of watching guys cum all over a pretty girls face. Does that make me a bad woman? I don’t mean ‘oooo I’m bad, spank me’, I mean…am I just awful?

It’s degrading, it’s pretty unflattering, It’s messy and I fucking love it. I find nothing really gets me off as quickly/amazingly/moistly (not a real word) as booking an appointment into the spunk spa for a funky, frisky facial. And don’t get me started on deep throating and the magic chute that just doesn’t seem to choke on a massive dick. I’m kind of jealous of these girls – they must have spent time practicing on something – dildo? Shampoo bottle? Butternut squash? In fact I’m still reeling from a pretty hot fuck last week which saw me begging a guy to put a belt around my neck and urging him to let his warm juice trickle down my face, into my mouth and onto my tits. One of my theories is that in my day to day life, I have to appear as a strong, grown up responsible female, whose job involves cajoling with the elderly, tending to sick children and being an all round “lovely young lady that any nice man would be more than happy to date”. So when the bedroom door is locked, the anal beads lubed up and I’ve successfully negotiated being tied up with my legs behind my head without getting a cramp – being someone’s submissive sex toy just seems really fucking appealing.

Like I said, I wouldn’t regard myself as a feminist – but when I open my trap it’s only ever to complain how woman get fucked over in literally every sense of the word, how women are also the most amazing fucking beings on planet earth (probs the universe, but then again aliens would be fucking cool too) and how, as seen from previous posts, woman should be able to be as open, explicit and crude about what they enjoy in the bedroom as guys are. So maybe I am a feminist….feminists unite…feminists berate me…feminists tell me what the fuck is going on?

SPOKEN WORD: Documentary

So, do you remember my first blog a couple of weeks back I mentioned that a friend had written an article about ‘happiness’. Well it’s ironic because he’s brought me anything but happiness and I guess, like the angsty, arty wanker I am, I just had do some spoken word about it. It mentions something I’d like to talk about in another blog – endgame. But for now, listen to my dulcet tones as I try and channel my inner goddess aka Kate Tempest….



Flicking the bean, brushing the beaver, drilling for oil…whatever you wanna call it, today I want to talk about masturbation – specifically female masturbation.

Today I went to The Institute of Sexology exhibition and now all I wanna do is wank. I remember during a science lesson when I was about 14 being asked by two of the boys at my table whether I masterbated. I allowed the fellow females at the desk to answer first and they all denied any involvement in finger fancy fun. I’m ashamed to say that I followed suit – I denied everything and said ‘oh yeah, never done it…it’s weird’. I’ve never really been able to forget that moment and I’ve always kicked myself for not telling the truth – because the truth is – I’d been doing it for years! 

The older I get the more I realise masturbation is a gift – for men and women, and since battling depression I’ve started everyday – well nearly everyday – with a quick flick. And I can honestly say I think it’s helped my sense of self esteem, it’s helped me wake up and feel ready to attack the day and overall it just leaves you feeling fucking good. I don’t have the luxury of waking up every day next to a gorgeous girl or guy so I’ve had to take matters into my own hands – literally. But I really can see the difference.

Self love isn’t just about feeling good on the outside, but it’s also about feeling good on the inside. I don’t just mean drink plenty of water and get that kale down ya neck – I’m truly advocating getting yourself a rampant rabbit, putting on some naughty music/porn and showing yourself how fucking sexy you really are! It’s also, according to the bonk boffins, beneficial for actual sex. Knowing what turns you on, where it feels good and whether you’re a clit or g-spot kinda girl will only become properly apparent when ya explore your own dirty depths. 

So why don’t you, for woman all around the world, polish ya pearl…you glorious girls! 

For anyone looking for some fun toys be sure to check out LoveHoney for some great rabbits, vibrators and anything else that might tickle ya fancy! 


As well as divulging in blog posts, I also like to dip my toe into the world of spoken word. Kate Tempest is my hero, and you’ll undoubtably hear her in this piece I’m putting out into the world, but this is Sex.


I’ll be putting up some of my other pieces at some point I’m sure. Just remember – it’s just a bit of fun.

If you have a voice, make it count.