Scrawny wenches.

(This post is sponsored by most of a bottle of Highland Park. I've finished the stats and won't start the report until tomorrow. Logic has the rest of the night off).


Having a bit of Italian genetics can be useful. I've never been in danger of falling asleep at the wheel when driving, despite having low blood pressure. My blood pressure is maintained by being constantly enraged at every other driver on the road. Nevertheless, I stopped bothering because of all the tax and the tax on top of tax and because there were so many idiots allowed out there and because I didn't like it.

Another bit of Italian genetics applies to my preference where women are concerned. I am not at all attracted by someone who weighs less than a photograph of themselves, nor by a skeleton covered in painted latex. I like, as they say in Yorkshire, summat t' get a hold of. The chunkier women, somewhere between Lisa Snowdon and a barrage balloon, are the ones I like. Scrawny wenches are scrawny because they don't like food and because they are obsessed with fashion. I, with my bolognese-stained string vest and ability to rage with my hands, like women who know how to cook. Let's face it, if you can't cook pasta you can't cook at all. It's easier than boiling an egg. If a woman has no flesh on her bones she's going to feed you on tofu and cucumber and you can't last long on that.

So this piece of beef jerky is hauled up by the Hairy Male as an example of a typical teenage girl. I don't care all that much, I'm way too old to bother with teenage girls and currently regard any woman under 30 as a giggling idiot. This one isn't giggling but fits the other criteria very nicely.

''I'm 5ft 6in and weigh 7st 7lb.

You are scrawny. Get a lasagne made with real tomatoes, not tinned or supermarket ones, some decent butcher's mince rather than the extruded cereal-laden lard you normally get and a proper pair of red and white sauces. And real cheese. Then have another. Otherwise you'll be literally gone with the wind.

At the moment I'm a size 8 but I can squeeze into size 6 skinny jeans. I would love to be a size 0 which, I think, is a UK size 4, but I can't see that happening.

Size zero is 'dead'. In fact it's 'very very dead'. Even Tutankhamun isn't a size zero and he's been dead for thousands of years. It is not an attractive look, he hasn't had a girlfriend for a very long time. UK size 4 refers only to exhumations of bodies more than ten years dead. If you can get into size 6 skinny jeans you are thinner than the average archaeological exhibit. Quite how you can regard that as a good thing will always elude me.

My Dad gives me £50 at the start of the week and that's meant to cover my lunches and my train fare to college.

Fifty quid pocket money? How the hell are you so malnourished? How much is this train fare anyway?

But I always buy about two packets of cigarettes a week which cost £12, so there's not much left for healthy food.

There's £38 left. That buys more apples and bananas than anyone could eat in a week. You could buy rollups which will cost a fraction of your current tobacco spend. If you're on 40 a week (amateur) you'll get that and more out of a fiver's worth of rolling baccy, even at UK prices. You can even get menthol filters. I've tried them, in combination with liquorice papers, and it's really funny.

This is the 'oh, I can't afford healthy food' bollocks again. Most healthy food is growing wild at the roadside. I have filled buckets with blackberries, raspberries and wimberries (they are not blueberries but look similar) and all of them were growing wild and free of tax or profit. Apples are cheap. Most ordinary fruit is cheap. Lettuce and cabbage, well, I wonder why the supermarkets bother to charge at all. They can only be making trivial amounts of profit. Even meat and fish. Come on. Watch for the markdowns at the end of the day. You can buy steaks and whole fish for pennies. Don't give me that 'I can only afford overpriced and overprocessed and overpackaged fast food' rubbish. You are a lazy bitch. Admit it.

By 5pm I was starving and I ate a bar of Galaxy, a full bag of prawn crackers and a current bun.

I'm sure a current bun was a better option than an antique one. Daily Mail, if you're looking for a proofreader, I offer reasonable rates. Sarcasm is added for free.

In the evening, I told my mum I was going to a friend's house to study, but went to the pub with my boyfriend. I had a glass of water with lime in it and a glass of cola.

You lied about going out for water and pop?

I didn't order alcohol in case one of my parents' friends saw me - I hate living in a village sometimes.

Now we are into a whole new dimension of stupid. She lied to her parents and went to the pub where her parents' friends might spot her and report back, but she thinks she is invisible if she only drinks water and fizzy pop.

This is the future of this country, you know.

The brain is largely made of fat. The nerves are insulated by fat. It's a particular form of fat called myelin. You need it. Fat really has to be in your diet.

Otherwise you end up believing that lime flavoured water makes you invisible and that Tutankhamun without the bandages is a look that will attract normal boys rather than serious weirdos.

I think I'll stick to the more substantial women. At least their brains are working.

They can cook too.