Anarchists, WAGs and Vitamix orgasms

Darlings! You will not believe the adventures I have been having! In my work life I have been busy doing Secret Squirrel assignments, and in my private life I have attempted to become an anarchist. Listen up peeps, I went to the Bristol Anarchist Bookfair. Now, bearing in mind it was organised by anarchists and therefore should have been a complete shambles, it was well organised and had a good selection of stalls, albeit ones selling mainly the same things. It perhaps should have been called 'The Another Dinner is Possible and Big Silver Keith Mann Bookfair' since those books were available on every stall. Aside from filling my vegan designer handbag with books about mohicans, being unemployed and wearing boots that lace up to the kneecaps, I discovered a stall selling the most interesting things. 'HANDMADE VEGAN SEX TOYS'. I looked at the lady on the stall who looked as if she relied quite heavily on her wares and tried not to laugh. I really wanted to ask her if they were fair trade and organic as well, but didn't, because she was a scary punk. It was so much like being in Crawley town centre in 1987 where the great unwashed frequented with their mohicans to scare young children. I predict demos outside Ann Summers shops by hippies bearing placards reading, "make all sex toys vegan".

The best thing about the book fair was the Hunt Sabs stall where they were selling cold Linda McCartney sausage rolls and some chocolate concoction which was AWESOME. I was only able to pop in to the bookfair for the first hour, so most of the anarchists were still in bed because in their quest not to conform with the rest of society they were at home being fed cider (no product placement here of non-vegan cider) through an intravenous hole in their bodies which was created in a backstreet tattoo parlour. Or they were busy sewing patches onto their smelly unwashed denim jackets whilst listening to punk music about people murdering each other or something. Big up the Sex Pistols darling!

Anyway, back to the Wag lifestyle, I can only handle punks once a year for an hour, but my current ambition is more pressing than punk. I am desperately trying to get my dirty hands on a Vitamix. Listen up darlings. For those who were at the Bristol Vegan Fayre there was a roll up smoking dude called Steve Sparks who was pimping his Vitamix machine. This is an all singing, all dancing machine that makes soup, ice cream, smoothies, bread, ground coffee, nut butters, bread dough, nut milks, and orgasms. I want one, I want one now. An orgasm and a Vitamix. There was this dude pimping his lifestyle machine and I was on my hands and knees begging for it. (Apologies Mummy and Daddy if you are reading this filth). I am gagging for it. www.vitamix.co.uk

I hope to be reviewing some products for the next issue of Off The Hoof, it's highly likely to be products like wine, beer, sex toys, or a Vitamix machine. Though knowing my luck Super Kazza will get the good stuff and I'll be left to review products such as lentil soup and straight edge bibles.

Since I am having notitions about being knocked up by my husband I suspect that my next blog will see me turning from Media Tart into Earth Mother. Go and spend the afternoon in Harvey Nicks while I stay at home and cook lentils. On the subject of Harvey Nicks I am now going to have a total bitch about fur. I have been told explicitly by Advocates for Animals www.advocatesforanimals.org.uk that Harvey Nicks don't sell fur. So, if my darling darling Harvey Nicks don't sell fur, then why the hell are other fashion houses (clothes shops to you mere plebs) selling it? For instance Colleen Rooney, (the one who is married to that footballer man who looks like he should be in a Shrek movie) shops in Cricket in Liverpool, which according to Merseyside Animal Rights is a purveyor of fur. Just like Harrods. I mean, WTF is that all about? Just because you're loaded (like me) doesn't mean you want to have a dead animal hanging over your shoulders. If I was going to parade around town with something around my neck it wouldn't be the pelt of a fox, it would be the arms of a very fit and sexy man. Preferably one who is willing to fund my high maintenance lifestyle.

Anyway darlings, I have to go. I am currently having fantasies about the following; The Incredible Veggie Roadshow in London on the 26th September, the Eco Veggie Fayre in Croydon on the 1st November; beer, sex and rock and roll, and the possiblity of becoming Straight Edge for a month just to see if they are all as mad as they come across.

Mwah Mwah darlings!!

XXX

UberBitch H Latest Blog August 09

Darlings! I have been indulging in a little culture in Swindon. "Swindon!" I hear you cry, "has as much culture as a fat person's TV remote control tuned permanently into Jeremy Kyle!" - Well darlings, you're wrong - we spent the day at the Swindon Mela, a celebration of all things Indian, and my opportunity for a full on binge of samosas. Oh luvvies, it was devine! Obviously being Swindon it was full of fat chavs, but the fantastic music, stalls, and atmosphere was great compensation for having to constantly walk in the stench of Benson and Hedges smoke coming from the 13 year old pushing a pushchair standing in front of me. Having initially arrived in a bit of diva strop because the rest of the world were at Womad 20 miles up the road and I was standing in a park in bloody Swindon, I calmed down when I got my first plate of samosas. The majority of the stalls were vegetarian, with a large proportion of them having a vegan option too. By my 15th plate of samosas I could have been wandering around Dehli in my four inch stillettos with the shits, for all I cared. Finally we settled down to watch the live music, well, I say "we" settled down, but my husband / man I married for his money / person who pays my credit card bills / sat down, while our perfect children ran amok, ruining it for everyone else. The music was divine darlings! Big up for the bloke who got me dancing! Some bloke called Jaz Dhami - big him up!

On my holiday to Swindon I also had my first experience of a 'silent demo' - what? No megaphones? The silent demo was in aid of the proposed closure of Borders book shop in Swindon. The company are apparently closing five of their UK shops and Swindon happens to be one of them. This may be because people in Swindon prefer to spend their money on binge drinking and clubbing rather than books, but hey, the Swindon Festival of Literature proves that there are at least some people in the town who are turned on by something other than what's already on offer in the town, such as binge drinking and crappy shops that you can find on any high street. Presumably these people thank the dear Lord that they are in easy reach of Cheltenham Book Festival and a motorway to get out of Swindon as quick as they can.

Listen up fellow bitches. Get your megaphones and Vegetarian Shoes DM's on. Quick. In celebration of the summer I went for a leisurely muse in a health food shop the other day. Oh I do love to mooch amongst the lentils, oh I do love to mooch amongst the Scheese. Well, much to my horror as I was eyeing up the prunes something so utterly disgusting caught my eye - a bottle of "protein drink." As we all know, there's a well known health food shop where at least half their shelves are filled up with bodybuilding crap, but this my darlings was an independent health food shop where not only does one not expect to find bodybuilding supplements, but one does most certainly not expect to find products with a Nestle logo on the back. Yes, that's right, I might be deaf and sporting the most WAG-like hearing aid, (available in brown, ginger, black and peroxide blonde) but I am most certainly not blind, and was horrified to see a Nestle logo on a product in somewhere I spend my husband's hard earned cash on delights such as Redwood Cheeses and mushroom pate. In utter disgust I approached the shop assistant and pointed out my surprise that they were selling Nestle products, I politely asked them to remove their products and was reassured that "the product was ordered by accident." Two days later I returned to the shop and found that the product was still on the shelf. Well, fuck me, they really are stupid. Do they honestly think that people who shop in their shop would do so if they knew the company were lining the pockets of the worlds largest baby killers? I think not. Having initially approached them in a lovely calm manner, this time the bitch gene kicked in big time and I threw the idea of a shop front demo into the mix. Then in a panic, literally shit in my agent provocateur knickers and left. So much for being an anarchist.