When you work for yourself and from home, three things are true:
1. You invariably look like sh*t unless you know someone is coming or you know have to leave the house. A little like this, in fact, although there is the added ingredient of overwhelming stress here:
2. For the work-from-homer, there is no water cooler / lunch break / quick chat with colleagues to break the boredom of the day. This is why Twitter was invented, although it has been hijacked by Demi Moore and the Fry.
3. The Daily Mail on-line showbiz pages are perfect for providing a little light relief: the chance to giggle at someone else’s cellulite perhaps, tut at Tiger’s extra marital revelations or feel superior to the disaster that is Kerry Katona.
But occasionally, i.e. today, the viewing of such pages is extremely counter-productive as a method of escape from the stresses of life. Occasionally, instead of feeling superior or mildly smug, you feel any one or a mixture of the following – jealousy, envy, resentment and downright hatred. Sometimes the pressure of life is so great that when you see other people having fun, enjoying life or doing something infinitely preferable to what you are doing, you just want to kill them.
Quite simply, the only way to wipe this ‘look how much fun I have in my life’ smirk off Sinitta’s face would be to take a hedge trimmer to her stupid leaves. And to her 6yr old plaits. I am not having fun this week, Sinitta, so I don’t want to see you hoovering in foliage, thanks.
So Abramovich has given you his yacht for a week, huh Gwen, any other time I’d have said good on you, but NOT TODAY! Today I would stand on the back of your flip flops, crush your pork pie and smear that bloody perfect lipstick all over your porcelain face. Then throw you overboard, keeping your cute child and selling him for a large amount of money on Ebay.
I feel slightly better after that.
I must now go make up with Mr Moregeous after shouting at him a lot this morning.