Today I'm going to be tackling a British institution. Partly because I'm going to see Rage Against the Machine on Sunday and have spent the days since receiving my ticket regressing to being a 14 year old; partly because I tend to dislike things that are called British Institutions which are not related to Eastenders or Dame Judi Dench (because I defy you to find me a person who doesn't like Dame Judi Dench - how could you not? she could beat Dame Thora Hurd in a fight and still be able to stagger home and down a pint of real ale).
But mostly because aforementioned "institution" appears in The Sun newspaper and is therefore the epitome of everything that stinks about our beloved country (reason 1, topless women on page 3; reason 2, David Cameron; reason 3 owned by a rabid Australian who wants to rule the world and may well do so; reason 4 was edited by the woman who beat up Ross Kemp (see prior Eastenders note); reason 5 it's written by posh people using language your average 8 year old would think sounded thick, because that's how they think the proles wish to be controlled; reason 6 for the excuses people give me for reading it, believe me I will not think more of you because you think the astrologer in The Sun is really accurate - I could go on forever but I already have.)
Anyway - the force of my rage is directed straight at Dear Deirdre today. For anyone who isn't lucky enough to work in a press office or to buy The Sun newspaper (for the horoscopes / sport news / because you're thick as shit and want to be spoonfed idiocy) let me explain a bit about Deirdre.
Deirdre is the advice columnist in The Sun. On a daily basis she doles out advice to people who have accidentally managed to shag other people. Be it their brother, their mother, their boss or their boss' partner (n.b it was always "the best sex I've ever had" so if you want good sex please climb up your brother / mother / boss etc like a rat up a drainpipe - but keep a sharpened pencil nearby to write to Deirdre with your regrets) Deirdre can relieve the pain of modern existence by telling the aforementioned loser what to do to correct this shagmania they seem to have developed.
Accompanying this is always a photo story - examples in the last few weeks have included advice on rape not being a nice thing to do, even if the girl is very very drunk (we the feminists salute you); on not going out with some dodgy jailbird with floppy hair even though your parents don't like him AND (my personal favourite) just because they go away for a bit doesn't mean your herpes have been cured.
Being a girl who could never let such art go to waste, I've done a bit of doctoring in the name of art. When I drove across California and Oregon with the lovely Roxanne Laker in 2008 I took a quote book with me, in it are numerous incredible statements made by numerous incredible people. Worthy of Dear Deirdre herself? I'll let you all decide that..........
One day I'll take a class in how to use Photoshop. Until then we're all going to have to suffer