I’ll show you wear to shove that iPhone


Dear ‘Eye Liner and iphone Hipster’ who cut in front of me,

Your tee shirt is too small. It does not say ‘indie’ – it says ‘I-don’t-know-when-to-use-hot-or- cold- wash.’ Maybe a little bourgeois skill wouldn’t go amiss….?

You’re ordering a fair trade coffee. Yes, I understand that you think you’re saving little African children, whose photos you collect on your wall like arty postcards. But you do realise that your pre-ripped jeans will have been produced by a little Chinese girl in a factory. The only difference is that it’s convenient to drink Fair Trade. It’s not convenient to stop wearing jeans.

May I also add, that by cutting in front of me, I am going to talk very loudly about the artistic brilliance of Britney. Then I’ll wait until you start to shudder convulsively before saying how I feel the lyrics of Katy Perry speak to me on an emotional level.

And , my dear hip one, you may have cut in the line, but I am laughing last. Because I’m a boring, middle class girl who paid attention in Chinese class, instead of being ‘hip’ and arranging my toenail clippings into a sculpture.

You think that the tattoo of a Chinese character on your arm is deep and ethnic. You probably think it says something profound like Love or Honour.

It says Vegetable.

Enjoy your coffee!




This could only happen in New Zealand…and apparently Australia


On my first night out in my new city Melbourne, I was going out with new friends, and enjoying the new feeling of anonymity.

Tonight I was in Melbourne. And in Melbourne, unlike Auckland, you don’t run into your Ex, your Ex’s new child bride and your chemistry teacher on one night.

Tonight, I wasn’t going to see anyone I knew. I wasn’t that girl who vomited over her crush on the school trip in year 10. I wasn’t the girl who could tell you the full names of every member of the Weasley family. I wasn’t someone who gets annoyed when people are promiscuous with commas in sentences.

I could be anyone! Someone cool! Fun! Interesting! 

And the first person I met that night, in one of these sticky, smoky places where a drink is the price of a nose job, was a prefect from my old school.

Not quite as anonymous as I’d hoped then…