‘May I bet on your vote?’
‘May I bet on your vote?’
‘May I bet on your vote?’
‘I don’t call it a comb-over, I prefer the phrase “hair system”.’
‘Apparently the grandchildren are good for our brains.’
‘…And they all lived anxiously ever after.’
‘You’ve had work done, haven’t you?’
‘The cat’s brought a mouse in to play with.’
‘The dog’s been on the internet again.’
‘And on that cliffhanger, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what happens next.’
‘He came off Snowzempic.’
‘It’s enlightening but not in a good way.’
‘I prefer something based on a true story.’
‘You were the future once.’
‘I’m afraid he’s a young white male.’
I’ve been fat and I’ve been thin; I’ve been pretty and I’ve been plain – ugly, even. Throughout this, my self-esteem has stayed generally constant, as if you’re going to base it on something as ephemeral as physical beauty, you’re going to run out of road very quickly indeed. This objective attitude to my own appearance reminds me of a funny story from the infant days of the internet. Imagine my surprise one morning to receive a message from an unknown recipient informing me that they had film of me masturbating to online pornography which they would make available to a wider audience should I fail to pay a ransom.