“I’m a friendly, considerate person looking for a room. I love London and all it has to offer. I like cooking, gardening, swimming bla bla” couldn’t give a fuck mate, can you pay your rent and clean the shitter?”
Another day, another notification that my ex boyfriend has viewed my LinkedIn profile. I wonder if he’s jacking off over my bachelors degree.
I’m not sure what’s wrong with me today but I’m being really fucking nice to everyone and it’s starting to really freak me out.
I occasionally enjoy buying my clothes from charity shops. But whenever I go into one, I am pretty much certain that all of the best items have been taken by the staff. “Oh no that Gucci bag is a bit broken. It can’t be sold I’m afraid”
Yeah right. Let us buy it you thieving c**t.
That moment when you realise you’ve been sponsoring some panda you’ve never met for the last 6 months when you’ve got fucking bills to pay.
“I’m a size 10”
Every celebrity that’s a size 14. Oh fuck off. Finish your chips.