Accidentally showing my arsehole and lady bits to the nurses.

As bad luck would have it, the moment I started working in a hospital I was suddenly required to attend another for various cringe-inducing (but not life-threatening) procedures. My sympathy with the hysterical patients I occasionally encounter at work has gone through the roof since my unfortunate run-in with the Clementine Churchill Hospital. Continue reading

How not to chat up strangers.

I’ve always admired the bollocks it takes for guys to go up to girls they don’t know and strike up a conversation. The (outdated) social expectation that it’s a man’s job to make the ‘first move’ must be nerve-wracking. Especially when there’s no drink involved; I’m not a shy person but I need at least two and a half bottles of wine to be confident enough to initiate chat with a complete stranger.

However, being mindful of a guy’s nerves can only take you so far if they start spouting utter shite at you. Continue reading

I didn’t study art for four years to pick up dog shit.

No one likes to work for free, that is a given, and many (smart) people refuse to do it. Annoyingly though, for a lot of graduate jobs there’s this catch-22 situation: you can’t get a job without experience, but you can’t get experience without a job. Some proper arsehole came up with this in order to get free work from desperate graduates who are prepared to do anything short of sucking dick for a job. Continue reading

Gib’s redecorating disaster.

I foolishly volunteered to help my ex-univeristy housemate Gib move into her new flat with Knight (James) and Ellis (James). The previous owner had been allowed to run amok with sickly orange and baby blue paint, so understandably they decided to start afresh and repaint everything white. Ellis,  the son of a capenter, and Knight, a DIY afficionado, were perfectly well-equipped…Gib, however, was woefully inadequate and ended up covered in paint in a wailing hissy fit on the floor.