And look...

... what happens when you google Pixie Lott. That's ME!

MY FIRST PUBLISHED ARTICLE!

My first published article with byline. I am a little bit proud.

HERE

(fuck it, I am a lot proud. probably only triumphed by mummy)

LolCleggz and a weekly report

One week down at The Kent Messenger Group! So far I have reported on Pixie Lott , the London Marathon, the Election and a single mum who is being maltreated by the council.
Local news is a lot more fun than I expected.

However, might be more cut out to do magazine editing after all. We will see, only the future can tell.

I discovered the funniest election thing so far. Lolcatz ("I can haz cheezburger?") has become LolCleggz! They are brilliant!


pictures are shamelessly nicked from popbitch.com

The Queen and I

I am going to see the Queen!

No, no, not Lizzie (frankly, I don't think she would enjoy Heaven) but the Queen of Kick-ass Boom-Booming Popelectro Bbbbeats - ROBYN!

I know, my tummy just wont settle.

She is playing at Heaven in June and I've got two of the pre-sale tickets. Yey! I have been a massive fan for as long as I can remember - we are talking me as a five-year old singing 'Do you really want me' at the Daycare Centre. Others have Madonna, Beyonce and even Lady Gaga: I have Robyn as my ultimate female icon. Wow.

Bangkok protesters use children to fight their battle

Photo: Marcus Wennstam, aftonbladet.se

Swedish newspaper Aftonbladet reports from the violent protests in Bangkok where the government critical 'Red shirts' are preparing to go into acual battle with the military. their strategy? Sending children armed with slingshots to the frontline. Aftonbladet writes(my own translation): "The warriors are made up mostly of boys in their late teens. They wear black clothes and red scarves. But in the front are also children not more than 10 years old. One of the boys are posing proudly with his slingshot. he is wearing a white plastic helmet on his head and a simple mask covering his mouth. Instructed by one of the older boys, he clenches his fist and stares into the camera. His enemies are waiting a couple of hundred metres away. Thousands of soldiers armed with automatic weapons, water canons and tear gas."

Am I the only one who hears "Cambodia, Pol Pot, Khmer Rouge" ringing over and over in my head?

Scandilous Life meets Pixie Lott

Guess who is off to interview Pixie Lott about her new Lipsy collection this afternoon?

Yes, ME, ME, ME!

I am getting a press pass and everything. My first real press pass. Now this is what it's all about. I'm jumping in my chair and doing 'retard claps' and humming along to Miss Lott's 'Band Aid'

On education

One thing that amazes me about my adopted home-country is the hatred of good education.

"What did she say?"

Yeah, that's right. "David Cameron went to Eton - what an upper-class twat, we can't have him - and Nick Clegg went to £28k a year Westminster School, he is not in touch with the working classes"

Wtf? Westminster School has the highest acceptance rate at Oxbridge Universities, is that not evidence enough ? (and don't give me that bias crap - I went through the application process for Oxford Uni, and that sort of bias is left behind) And Eton, how exclusive and selective it might be in the end, is jawdropping.

But no, that's no good for the Brits. Why would 'a man of the people' i.e. working class have a better understanding of how to run one of the world's greatest nations that one that has had the best education the country can offer?

It is all beyond me.

Tell me Britons, if you had a choice - would you put your kid through public schools?

I wouldn't.

If I had an extra 28.000 every year per future child I would send them to Westminster School in a hearbeat.

... and also, to Jackie Madden (the woman who so loudly protested against the idea of free schools during Cameron's speach in Romsey yesterday): Of course they will take money from the state schools - the whole point is to give each student a school funding that will go with each student - wherever the child attends. So yes, the state schools will miss out - but only if there is another schools that is better. I went to a free school started by a group of parents who thought the existing local state school was abysmal - creating something better because the opportunity was there. Saying schools will "loose out" because of the competition like saying (in the words of D. Cameron) "Isn't is terrible that the BBC has to compete with ITV?" And invest in a Wonderbra - they were all over the place.

Photo: dailymail.co.uk

The end of an era - pt. 2

It is the same feeling I had when I left Sweden. I know I am going to something good and exciting, but leaving my loved ones behind is harder than I thought.
I had my last night at LAB/Academy Bar yesterday and bathrobe-clad vikings, ducks and sailors all joined in and made it a good one. Danny set the bar for the evening at the start of shift when he put on my frilly black knickers (don't ask me why he chose to ask ME for extra undies) underneath his Presidents' Club bathrobe. Delightful.
I cried in the end. Loads. I am going to miss it. The bar, my little work family and all the regulars that I have gotten to know. I salute you. Thanks for the Jäger.

A clear sexist mind

Am I the only one who thought Timbaland's first line in 'If We Ever Meet Again' ft Katy Perry was "Would somebody like you do it in a place like this"?


(oh yeah, he is actually singing "What's somebody like you doing in a place like this")

It's a holiday, let's celebrate!

Look, look, look! It is still sunny in London! Balham is glistening in the sunshine and I am awake!
The strange thing(or one of them) about Balham is the number of estate agents down the high street, just between the numbers 73 and 154 (about the walk from my house to my fave local pub - i.e. not that far) are 14 estate agents. Mad...

Frightfully dead shift last night, yet still managed to stay alert and energized due to shedloads of espresso and some scandinavian shenanigans.

Wore this one to work - explains all.

The end of an era

I am bracing myself for my second-to-last shift at LAB tonight. After working for the company for 1,5 years (first bartending at massive FAIL ChelseaBar, then waitressing at legendary LAB, with a short three month stint at Townhouse in Knigthsbridge, before coming back home to Soho where I belong) I am leaving. There will be many many tears, probably even more Jäger. I love LAB and those who have passed thorugh over this year have all become part of my London family.

Me and another scandilous Swede, Victor

Glenn smashes drinks

My big sis and former boss Sarah who is now going to be my boss again at graphic bar

Victor and Danny behind the bar

Ready to rock out another shift

My beloved french croissant Machi and Vix

Photo: Des Yatigammana

(oh yeah, and I've ordered temporary tattoo paper so that I can try out possible tattoos on myself. I promise they will not say 'Ian forever' nor be a butterfly. Stay tuned for news)

"Um, doctor, I need you to get this off my penis. I don't know how it got there I SWEAR!"

This is the Rape-Axe. Bascally a female condom with little 'shark teeth' on the inside. Rape-Axe goes inside vagina. Braindead jerk decides to rape girl with Rape-Axe. Penis goes in Rape-Axe but does not come out. The Rape-Axe 'bites' back and has to be surgically removed from the guy's penis. You see the little teeth in the picture? Yeah, they latch on and cause extreme pain.
Hell yeah.
And also, it effectively makes rapists hand themselves in. If they do want the Rape-Axe gone from said genital - they need to go to the hospital.

I think it is brilliant. However, both boyfriend and my flatmate, after they stopped ooh-ing and ouch-ing, pointed out that it could very possibly turn into a weapon against a cheating partner and how that would ruin the purpose of this rape protection device. I say, if you've cheated, you deserve the biting condom.

Truly a frabjous day

Okey chicks and chickpeas, before I ladidida out into the glorious sunlight in my flowery playsuit and the fake Chanel's, can I just say : HELL YEAH NICKY BOY! Go Clegg! Let's hear it; Liiiiiiiiib DEM!

Toodles!

I'M ALIVE!

I have just come out at the better end of my second-worst near death experience (the first being when I was in the Costa Rican rainforest on the back of a cantering horse and all of a sudden night falls, and its pitch black within fifteen minutes). Hot Bikram Yoga.

Five minutes in and I thought I was going to die. As flexible as an 85-year old and about as toned as the Muffin Man, it was pain, pain, pain. Now, 90 minutes after the class finished, I think I might go again tomorrow. I must be part sadist.

I research better than the researcher

I am deeply immensed in articles about gender equality/gender theories regarding South Africa as a research for my Guardian International Developement Journalism Competition piece. They're written by my brilliant cousin Johanna who is on her way to start her PhD Candidate in International Developement Relations (or something even more complicated) in Roskilde, Denmark this autumn. She's quite good at what she does.

It is needed to go through tons and tons of research for this, and my brain is working feverishly. I better save this for the journey home and take a shower and get my arse into gear. I am, after all, going shopping this afternoon. Mantra: "I don't need new shoes, I don't need new shoes, I don't need new shoes, I don't need new shoes, I don't need new shoes."

... aaaand our reporter Sara Malm reports from Stockholm

Finally climbed out from underneath the rock I have been hiding. Jeez...

Friday morning: 17 degrees in London, and I'm out in my tish and sunglasses (fake chanel, very nice), high-kicking and jumping all the way out to Stanstead Airport. The plane took off. Despite the XXL woman next to me not understanding that you sit down on airplanes, which automatically led to me having her gigantous arse in my face the whole two hours, my tummy was full of butterflies - I was on my way back to where it all started. Sweden.
And I landed... in Mordor. 6 degrees, pissing down with rain and still patches of snow on the ground. Joy.

Now; going to the chiropractor to sort out my back and, what is hopefully, the last remains of my accident a year ago when I was hit by a black cabbie.

Apart from that: Why is it impossible for me to get to ANY pre-election polls over here? It is like I am in a political vacuum! My part-Brit soul needs to know!