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What is
especially important to you in a
relationship?
Punctuality, knowing when to
shut up, allowing me to grope your shapely ankles.
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What makes you
laugh?
Bumbags,
people with big round moon faces, doing impressions of
Gangsta Rappers with a Yorkshire accent, singing Girls
Aloud songs in inappropriate public places. |
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What do your
friends mean to you?
I suppose they are a not
unpleasant distraction from the monotonous abyss of
modern life. |
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What do others
admire about you?
My beautiful peggy purse. I
keep my camera in it. |
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What makes you
proud?
My
ability to dress even better than I did last year.
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What are you
afraid of?
Getting dopiaza on my favourite
lilac shirt. |
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How important is
money to you?
I
don't need money. My artistic integrity is all that
matters and a slave cannot serve two masters. I am not a
prostitute. Or an octopus. |
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Do you like
animals?
I
tolerate them with resentment. I have a cat called
Delilah whose favoured method of rousing me from sleep
is to stand on my chest, kneading the bedclothes and
drooling wetly onto my face. |
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What negative
characteristics do you have?
Having no trace of motivation
or direction, believing in nothing, living like a
recluse, listening to dreadful music, mumbling, being so
tactless in conversation that I make people cry and pull
their hair out. |
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Do you get
jealous?
Yes.
People with clear, radiant skin send me into a foaming
tangle of jealousy. |
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Describe your
looks to a blind person!
I'm over here. And stop bumping
into the furniture, you freak.
I've been assured
by various people that I bear an uncanny resemblance to
Nicolas Cage, Joe Dimaggio, Vladimir Smicer (who plays
for Liverpool FC, apparently) and, rather more
upsettingly, Jonathan Bloody Edwards.
And get
your grubby little hands off me. I don't know where
they've been. |
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Describe your
dream man/woman!
She must have a preposterously
over-inflated sense of importance, enjoy having a bit of
a fumble, dress like an ill-coordinated hippy and,
despite all evidence to the contrary, must believe she
can sing.
Most importantly, however, she already
knows she's fabulous and gorgeous (and I'll remind her
incessantly) without her having to seek constant
reassurance or mess about in front of the mirror every
bloody half-an-hour. |
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Would you like a
family and children?
Oh God no! I may be persuaded
to adopt a needy orphan, but the thought of passing on
my genetic characteristics to some innocent child makes
me feel sick. |
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What kind of
breakfast would you cook to entice your partner out of
bed?
Black
pudding, fried slice, fried egg, fried tomato, mug of
tea, Morrison's own brand "Wheat Biscuits", salted
porridge, exotic fruit salad decorated with monumental
ice sculptures and rose petals, glass of
freshly-squeezed passionfruit juice (with ice), toast
and Dairylea Triangles, pancakes with Nuttella, Vienetta
(whole), Müller Fruit Corner and a packet of Jaffa
Cakes.
In a trough.
You fat bitch.
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What does growing
old mean to you?
Eating shepherd's pie and
smelling of wee. |
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What do you think
about affairs?
It's difficult to say, having
never had the pleasure, but I suppose the furtive nature
of the relationship could prove moderately exciting.
Then again, after the initial thrill has worn off I
expect I'd end up feeling cheap and used. Like a
plaything. Or a two-a-penny lady-pleasing toy. Or a
dirty dish rag.
So, hands off, you naughty bitch.
I am not your trinket! Go and get some marriage
counselling and leave me out of your love
triangles.
I do have SOME self-respect, you know.
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My home is my
castle. Does that go for you too?
Totally. I can barely move for
all the flaxen-haired princesses milling about up my
turrets and I'm for ever tripping over piles of
crossbows in the courtyard. You wouldn't believe the
cost of re-pointing crenellations these days. Shocking,
my dear.
Actually my house is rather nice. I have a
lovely piano and recently I inherited my friend's
Victorian harmonium, which makes the place look like
something out of the Addams Family. |
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What do you find
embarrassing?
Being seen in public in the
company of ugly people with bad hair. |
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You're playing a
game. How important is winning to you?
Winning is everything.
Emotional blackmail, violent tantrums and competing only
against the intellectually disadvantaged will always
ensure victory. As we know, losing is for losers.
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Everyone has a
dream. What's yours?
Having my (as yet unwritten)
darkly romantic début novel discussed with zeal on Late
Review by Germaine Greer and Tom Paulin, who would both
fail spectacularly to grasp the intricacies of my
literary symbolism. |
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