The rise of moral superiority and the death of empathy: how the quest to demonstrate wokeness is making us mean

So You’ve Been Privately Shamed

I know someone who likes to feel like they have the moral high ground. About absolutely everything. And really enjoys demonstrating that they are, indeed, morally superior and here’s why. It’s exhausting. Continue reading

On Sober October

By the end of a week in Majorca I was day-drinking with abandon. Beer O’clock crept earlier and earlier. A Cruzcampo at 4pm. Then at 2.30pm. A cava or two with a tapas lunch. A cold beer in the pool under the midday sun.

It was lovely. I didn’t have a single hangover. It was the kind of low-level drinking, spread out over many hours, which did nothing more than leave me slightly zen. Continue reading

The Revenant: A Film Review

This review comes late, but prompted by the fact that it’s the Oscars soon and I had a half-written piece lying dormant within my laptop, I felt compelled to finish it. Because I loved this film. A few minor gripes aside, it’s the best thing I’ve seen in a long time.

I was ready to hate it, I really was. Word of mouth reviews like ‘I couldn’t wait for it to be over’ and ‘the bear attack goes on for TWENTY MINUTES’ were a bit of a deterrent, but with a large plastic cup full of red wine in hand I readied myself for a gruelling two hours and thirty-six minutes. Continue reading

Why I’m OK with being a Basic Bitch

I’m loving the new series of Peep Show. When I’m feeling especially self-deprecating I sometimes say there’s a touch of the Mark Corrigan about me, although as you don’t know me personally and  may therefore take that literally I won’t say it here. The first episode brought to light something I’ve been thinking a lot about recently. Mark might say he likes watching documentaries about William Morris with his new flatmate, but really he’s just a basic bitch. Jeremy put it scathingly brilliantly:

‘The problem for you is I’m your friend. I know you, Mark. I know you like to pretend that you’re this stuffed shirt who reads incredibly boring books about dead people killing each other with bayonets and typhoid, but I know the truth. I’ve watched Grand Designs with you. That smile when some eco-glass gets delayed on its way from Antwerp and the nice couple gets pushed over budget. That’s the real you. … You’re this pathetic human who likes Twirls and Downton and Bond and burgers, so don’t come the big guy with me because it won’t fucking wash.

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On Self-deprecation: Don’t Believe The Hype

I read recently, in a feature in The Times Magazine about the ladies who work for Tatler magazine (have you seen the trailer for the documentary? It’s on tomorrow night and looks totally brilliant), that one of the supposed ‘rules’ of being posh is the ability to be self-deprecating. Now, I have no clue how to be posh and I certainly don’t claim to be any kind of poster girl for how to behave. In fact, I put my foot in it so often that I might as well leave it hovering close to my mouth at all times. I am, however, quite self-deprecating by nature.

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The Magic of Charlotte Tilbury

A couple of weeks ago, I popped into Selfridges with mum to pick up a sample of the YSL Fusion Ink Foundation. I’d been to Harvey Nics first, where they told me they had ‘run out of samples’. Run out of samples my arse, they just didn’t want to give me a freebie. Pro tip: take your own little pot, then they can’t be stingy about it. It’s only fair to give someone a teeny tiny sample before they spend thirty quid on something which might not suit them.

Anyway, I digress, which is also exactly what I did in Selfridges. Having caught sight of the Charlotte Tilbury stand, I was drawn to the rose gold packaging like a moth to a flame and promptly forgot what I’d entered the shop for. After 0.3 seconds of browsing, Mum and I were invited to sit down in plush black velvet seats under Hollywood-style mirror lights. Then a makeup girl showed us product after product, and we oohed and aahed. Continue reading