In My Defence… (Charlotte)

Sarcasm is my default tone of voice. That is the only way that I can speak. This tends to upset people a lot, especially foreigners, who just don’t get the sparkling wit and humour of understated British humour.

Coffee is Life juice. Proof: The Coffee Song, by Frank Sinatra. ‘Hey Pedro, get the flashlight, I cannot find the soogar!” Just listen to it. I promise. Also better than running on unicorn blood – I haven’t got an eternal debt to live a half-life for spilling the blood of an innocent creature. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice. Also coffee is like tiger blood, and I am, as Charlie Sheen would say, Twinning.

I AM IN RAVENCLAW. Except my friends think I am in Hufflepuff. One even made me this cool door sign- It’s fucking painted. With actual paint. I’m not even mad, just impressed.  Image

‘I slept really well last night’ Hey! I have slept. and it was very nice. 2009 I think it was. Also people complain that I don’t wake up easily, which seeing as I once slept through a fire alarm might not be entirely unfounded. I need my beauty sleep ok. Like really need it. Seriously, have you seen my face recently.

Stephen Fry is amazing. He has done so much, made a hilarious Jeeves, as well a genius barman among other things in Fry & Laurie. Also his documentaries are well worth a watch, especially on bipolar disorder as an integral part of the sufferer’s identity. His twitter page might as well be my home page.

The thing with embarrassing nicknames is that you don’t choose them for yourself. I don’t know why people just see me fall over or forget my name or something and then decide that I should have some ridiculous nickname. Also for Penelope my namesake is a slightly odd narcoleptic elderly woman from ‘Vicious.’ Woop-de-fucking-doo.

Image

Dearest Penelope

Its not that I hate Taylor Swift. Oh no. It’s more like every cell in my body squirms and attempts to turn itself inside out whenever her whiny voice caresses my ears not unlike a cheese grater in the hands of a retarded child caresses a carrot, to the point that I would rather put a cowbell on every strand of my hair and sleep in a hurricane for the rest of my life. Apart from the one about having a good day. That one’s alright. Don’t tell Emma.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s