FryingPanFire

Allow me to be a bit smug with this little number:

After an enforced day off, I hauled my languid self to Ladbroke Grove to the Mutate Britain show for its private view. Knowing full well I wouldn’t get anywhere near seeing the art, I busied myself by fixing a grin on my face and calling people “darling”.
I did, however, catch up with a few old [...]

Despite the fact that photographs from the first day of the G20 protests in April 2009 show me astride an armoured personnel carrier in black bra and blue boiler suit with another woman straddling me in red stockings and lipstick heels, the Crown Prosecution Service has charged me and 10 others with impersonating police officers. [...]

It was at a party held in honour of a friends’ baby. The air mingled idealism with Afghan hash. And children – the spawn of the liberal. Some ran around naked, all were grotesquely cute and had names like Nova.
At parties like this, the conversation invariably turns to babies and pregnancies. I’m sure it’s lovely [...]

The public has waited and we’ve urned it. It took around two years and half a million pounds, but the London home where poet John Keats composed On a Grecian Urn, On Melancholy, and La Belle Dame Sans Merci is set to reopen this Friday. The Grade I listed house in Hampstead (a museum since [...]

“If you don’t move, we’ll move you!”
“Press!”
The line of fluorescent yellow police officers pushed. A sea of bodies wavered, toppled, then crashed on the Kensington street.
“Angela!!!” I was holding on to the tripod. The camera and cameraman had long since vanished to another part of the steadily advancing police line. I grabbed Angela’s red-coated [...]