Because Twitter is for dicks.

It was under a year ago that I wrote 10 Reasons Why It’s Fucking Awesome Being Single to show…well, how fucking awesome it is to be single. I still stand by that. However, recent events (and an error in judgement) have transpired and I seem to have acquired a boyfrie relationsh  person of the male persuasion who I spend my free time with; an Insignificant Other, if you will. Anyway, this person sports a full beard, which is lucky because I happen to have a real thing for facial hair. I know I am not the only woman with a fetish for fuzz; for beard and tash-lovers everywhere, he is a comprehensive list as to why being non-shaven is a haven…

1. Stubble rash is the new hickey

Nothing says ‘pre-teen party’ like a hickey on your neck; the perfect accessory to poor judgement decisions, chart music and badly rolled cigarettes. Hickeys look tacky and trashy; it looks like some acne-ridden, VKD-fuelled whippersnapper has been sucking on your neck harder than Edward Cullen. Stubble rash, however, says: ‘Everyone, I have just hooked up with a man! A proper suit-wearing, newspaper-reading, mature adult!’ which is a far better image to have. I’m not saying that a red rash around your face and neck is ideal, of course, but at least it fades; bitemarks, however, require half a bottle of foundation and several days of wearing a scarf no matter what the weather.

2. Make-up for men

Got a weak chin? Grow a beard. Acne? Beard. Weird mole on your upper lip? Grow a fuzzy friend to cover it up. We women are blessed with products to turn us from Alistair Campbell to Naomi Campbell but men do not have the same advantage. The answer? Cultivate that man-hedge.

3. It just looks cool

What do Burt Reynolds, Che Guevara and Ernest Hemingway all have in common? They were all pretty badass. And they did it all with some gnarly facial hair. Now I’m not saying that all of the stuff they did was completely down to their lack of shaving, but just look at the statistics. Math doesn’t lie, my friends.

4. Manliness

Men have testosterone. Testosterone creates facial hair. Ergo, facial hair is manly. Imagine Justin Bieber with a beard; wouldn’t he look 70% less like a teenage girl? Actually, maybe he shouldn’t grow facial hair, because then I might fancy him…and that would be just wrong.

5. Girls love it

Well, this one anyway. My motto is ‘no fuzz, no us.’ Beards can be stroked, kissed, groomed, you name it. It makes us jealous that we can’t grow one. I have actually thought about this though; if women could grow facial hair, our beauty routine would take so much longer. Think about it: ‘So we’re going to Oceana tonight, I need ten minutes to shower and shave my legs, fifteen minutes to do my hair, twenty minutes to do my makeup, twenty minutes to wax my moustache…’ Maybe this was a blessing in disguise.

6. You look outdoors-y

A clean shaven jawline says ‘I spend my days working in an office cubicle, filing papers and having a chat by the water cooler.’ A rugged beard says ‘I spend my days climbing mountains, wrestling bears and banging chicks’. It’s true.

7. No effort required

So you want to grow a beard? No problem! It literally requires no effort on your part. Just sit back and let biology do all the work. Cometh the hour, cometh the man who throws his Gillette razor into the bin and cries ‘no more!’

I must add that my Insignificant Other did make a facial faux pas once when he shaved it off for a costume, and I was not impressed. If you’re a woman in a similar situation, do what I did and lay down the law with this rule: if he shaves, you don’t. One of us has got to be fuzzy, and we both know who it should be…

So the other day I was flyering for a play outside my student union and a girl comes up to me with a camera. She then asks to take my picture for the ‘Spotted: Style’ section of the student newspaper; for those who are not acquainted with ‘The Leeds Student’, this section entails a page of photos of bland, uninspiring hipsters that the rest of the student population make fun of as they read the paper during lectures. All I could do is stand there, smile frozen on my face as this girl snapped my picture. ‘Oh God,’ I thought, ‘I’ve become a hipster.’ 

It was not the epiphany I was expecting on a Monday morning, especially as I wasn’t even wearing my Adidas hi-tops that day. Fortunately, I’m not a pedigree hipster; I refuse to use Twitter (too self-centred), don’t own a vinyl collection (too pretentious) and haven’t grown a Victorian moustache (too masculine). Yet I wear jumpers knitted by a blind pensioner, can define the music genre ‘future garage’ and button my shirts up higher than a Dungeons and Dragons Master. However, even I have my limits. While browsing through the Urban Outfitters website I realised that some ‘fashionable’ items are far too pretentious for even my Instagrammed eyes. 

1. Religious iconography

Because after all, nothing says ‘I’m a smug atheist’ like a crucifix pattern on those ASOS leggings. The worst part is now I see hamsa hands and dios de los muertos skulls on everything; the bastardisation of religious iconography for the sake of style is a little sickening in my opinion. 

2. Fake Moustaches 

Interestingly enough, I have a fetish for moustaches and all facial hair in general; Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes was like softcore porn for me. But I can’t fucking stand those stupid moustache symbols on rings, hoodies and necklaces that girls wear; the rule should be if you can’t grow one, don’t wear one. That’s right, I’m having a bitch about kitsch. 

3. Camo Pattern

I definitely don’t understand the concept of wearing camouflage pattern when you’re walking around Brixton instead of Libya. They should invent urban camouflage for fashion followers, but it would just be a pattern made up of cigarette butts, chewing gum marks and pigeon droppings. I hate pigeons. 

(‘Fun’ Fact: I went to school with the model wearing this on behalf of Urban Outfitters, and she is one of the loveliest people I have ever met. She’s allowed.)

4. Anything with ‘YOLO’ on it

I actually stopped and stared when I saw a girl walking past with ‘You Only Live Once’ printed on her jumper. I still don’t know whether it was an ironic statement or an invitation for me to shoot her in the face. 

5. Peplums

This actually has no concrete reason, I just…hate them so much. Something about an unnecessary flaps of material around your waist for no apparent reason. The only thing I want around my waist is the arm of a bearded, tattooed man holding me up because I had one too many Slippery Nipples (grenadine, sambuca and Bailey’s if you were asking), but I guess that’s not a practical alternative. 

So there’s my judgement passed on the current trends of 2013. Imagine me shaking my head smugly while people wearing these items walk past me. All whilst wearing gold hoops, disco leggings and a sweatshirt with a stag on it. No, I can’t see the hypocrisy here at all. 

However, apparently even that wasn’t enough for me to make the final cut of the student newspaper. When the latest issue came out I thumbed through the style section with dread only to find that my picture wasn’t included in the section. Hmm, maybe I should have worn my Adidas hi-tops after all. 

If you have something to share to the world, the internet has so many ways of doing that now - Facebook, Twitter, Google+, 4Chan, Myspace, Youtube, Craigslist, Flickr, Ebay…I could go on. Of course, there are blogs, which you obviously know about. From exploring the vast world of Tumblr I have decided that there are five categories of Bloggers that are posting in the internet world - which one do you fall into?

P.S Please don’t take offence from this post - I can’t exactly criticise bloggers when I’m doing exactly the same thing. I’m insulting myself too.

1. The Re-re-re-blogger

Because originality is so, like, 2009. Every post has about 2000 notes on it because it has bounced around hyperspace for ages. This person will have so many gifs on their page that the lag makes our computer need a shot of espresso. 

2. The Moaner

‘Wah, life is so hard, nobody understands me’. Yes, the emo culture is still alive and thriving. Fair enough if you have actual problems - in this case blogging is a way to unite a group of people going through the same hard time. But in a world of famine, human rights violations and pedophilia, does it really matter in the grand scheme of things if your boyfriend broke up with you?

3. The Photo-Album

Pictures, pictures, pictures - some good photography, some…questionable. This is the least offensive type of blogger - as a fellow blogger said, ‘I just like having a lots of nice pictures to look at when I’m sad’. Fair enough. 

4. The Cynical Wannabe Journalist

This is where I am totally guilty of this crime. We cynical bloggers act like we know best, whereas in fact, if we were any good at journalism we’d probably be…well, an actual journalist.

5. The Project

You know the type - their blogs have a general goal or theme to, I dunno, watch every single Disney movie, or to do that thing in Julie and Julia where she cooks all of those weird recipes. These are by far the most interesting ones, because (generally) it’s an original idea that you can follow week by week. The only thing is that, as one of 7 billion people, it’s probably impossible. Ah shit, there I go being all cynical again…

1. Never, ever, EVER trust a politician

When I watched Question TIme (you know, the really famous one with Nick Griffin), the real fraud was not the bigot masquerading as a nationalist. The one is disguise was Jack Straw. At the start of the program, he gave a really passionate anti-racism speech and I was like ‘Wow, this guy’s different’ - until the efficiency of his party was challenged and he did the classic question dodging that all politicians have a GCSE in. Bastards. 

2. Tories can be really fucking contradictory sometimes

A common Conservative viewpoint is ‘Immigrants are taking our jobs’. The other common viewpoint is ‘Immigrants are taking our benefits’. Stealing employment or welfare? Make up your mind, it’s making us take you even less seriously than before.

3. Some people are liberal just to be cool

You know the type - the ones who use the term ‘bourgeoisie’ as an insult but you just know there’s a smoked salmon bagel in that trendy Che Guevara satchel of theirs. It’s fine to hate on the bankers, Tarquin, but the reason your last name is Barclays is because your Dad made them what they are - wankers. 

4. Apathy is the easy option, but it gets nothing done

Because our generation was never taught politics, most people, when asked about their political views, just smile, shrug and say ‘Ooh don’t ask me I don’t know anything’. That’s not our fault. But our country’s fucked right now and that excuse doesn’t cut it anymore. Our leaders are a shiny-headed fuck and his gimp. It’s time to take a stand. 

5. We should all boycott watching the Iron Lady

Not because I have a thing against Meryl Streep - in fact, if I were a fifty-year-old lesbian I would be pon that. No, it’s because I don’t want to watch anything that puts a favourable light on the woman that caused one of the biggest class divides in England and set us all back about forty years. She’s not a loveable villain - she’s Hitler with a vagina. Also, you know that by purchasing that Cineworld ticket a percentage of that goes directly into her pocket. If I wanted to give money to a massive bitch, I’d sponsor an Alsatian called Betty for Dog’s Trust.

6. We are not as fucked as America

Republicans scare the shit out of me. For starters they’re uber Christian - not the English kind of Christian where you go to Church on Easter and occasionally donate to the St. John’s Ambulance. No, this is more the ‘love Jesus or die’ kind of Christian. Also, they’re anti-homosexuals and anti-abortion but pro-firearms - basically, killing unborn babies is wrong but it’s fine to kill grown people, including the gay couple from across the road. Yeah, I can totally see the logic in that. 

7. Nothing will change unless we have a politician who didn’t go to public school

Seriously, The House of Commons is like the Class of ‘76 Eton Reunion in there. When you’ve lived such a sheltered and over-privileged life, how the fuck do you know what the average person has to go through? It’s easy to tell us to cut down on emissions when they’re burning pandas in the winter, or cutting the NHS when Hippocrates himself is sorting out Cameron’s bumps and scrapes. We need an Everyman: a politician who grew up on a council estate and went to a state school so they have perspective on what it’s like to be working-class in modern England. Sadly, this is more unlikely to happen than John Prescott to sign up to WeightWatchers.

8. The state of the world would really depress me if it wasn’t for satire

Not only can you learn pretty much everything you need to about politics from Mock the Week, but the fact that everything’s pretty fucked at the moment can become humorous in a single round of ‘Scenes We’d Like To See’. Frankie Boyle, we salute you. 

‎”Religion says do, Jesus says done. Religion says slave, Jesus says son. Religion puts you in bondage while Jesus sets you free. Religion makes you blind while Jesus makes you see…” ♥

Call me an idiot, but I could have sworn that Jesus had something to do with a religion - wasn’t there a whole religion based around Jesus? Guess not…

I am from Dorset, a land of cider, sheep, casual incest, and the largest rate of ketamine addiction. Moving up to Leeds has literally been the best decision ever made, an opinion only strengthened by my month-long christmas break back in the West Country. I got bored after day four. Here’s why living in the country slowly drives you insane:

1. The Bus Services

I am used now to sauntering down to the nearest bus stop to be greeted with an electric board that lovingly says, ‘Hey, it doesn’t matter where you need to go, there’s a bus going there in like 2 minutes’. The beauty of convenience. When you live in a shitty little town, there’s like two bus services, entitled This Way and T’Other Way. Every single bus, no matter what is said on that ridiculously-hard-to-read timetable, will be at least 20 minutes late, and even then it’s only going to take you to yet another shitty little town. Oh, and the buses only come on the hour. And if you miss the last one, you are, as the saying goes, Royally Fucked.

2. Everyone knows everyone

How lovely, it’s like a large extended family. An extended family that commits regular incest. Pick a random, decent-looking person of the opposite sex (and heaven knows they’re hard to come by) and somebody you know has either been out with them or hooked up with them. Personally, I like my men to be like wet cement - completely untouched. Also like wet cement, once you have come into contact with someone you leave an imprint of yourself that will go down in history as ‘The Time That Daisy Hooked Up With Gay Max, 12th October 2009’, which everyone will remember and will always bring up. Always. 

3. The nightlife is practically non-existent

There is one bar in my hometown. The first time I went there I had an amazing time, chatted to some interesting people, and had a good dance. The second time I went there exactly the same people were there and the same music. And the third time. And the fourth. Repetitiveness is not fun. The question, ‘So where are we going to go this time?’ does not exist in the country, because it is a stupid question to ask when there is one, and only one, place to go. 

4. The accent

I think the Dorset accent is absolutely hilarious - you know, the whole ‘Alllllroight my lovurr? I drink my cidurrr on my tra-urrr all the time!’ The only problem is with the West Country accent is no matter how intelligent you may be, you will always sound stupid. Even if you say something like ‘I did some equations and I came to the idea that E=MC squared!’ it comes out as, ‘Well my lovurrr, Oi did my equashuuuns and Oi came to the oidea thaaat E equaaaals em see squarrrred!’ You never hear a rocket scientist with a Dorset accent. NEVER.

5. There is only so much cider you can drink

On a hot summer’s day, an ice-cold cider is like an apple-y orgasm. But I am a self-confessed non-cider drinker. If you’re in the local Wetherspoon’s and you order a gin and lemonade, everybody looks as you like you asked for the latest copy of Nazi Weekly. 

6. Everyone is white. Everyone.

So much for multiculturalism. Prepare for either a range of politically incorrect jokes, or patronising positive racism. When my half-Nigerian friend came to visit, he was asked if he was a rapist and if he knew how to steal cars. On the other side of the bigot coin, when a Sikh family moved in practically the whole town came to the door saying things like ‘SO NICE TO HAVE PEOPLE LIKE YOU HERE!’. The saying down here should be ‘Once you go black, get the fuck out of our town.’ 

7. Everyone is a Tory

Being a Dorset Tory is definitely different to being a regular Tory. We’re not talking about the mild kind of Tory who works in the private sector and isn’t a big fan of benefits, we’re talking hardcore right-wing Tories. The Thatcher-loving, ultra-nationalist Tory. Example: I was doing a charity car wash to help an orphanage in Nepal. When I asked most people to donate, they were like, ‘You should help people in our country before you put the foreigners first’. And I washed their car for them. Bastards. 

8. Being ‘ard

Even though Dorset is in one of the most-middle class areas in the country, you still get people my age who think they’re in a Guy Ritchie film. Example: There was a ‘gang’ in my town called the CMT, which for all you non-gangstas out there means Criminally Minded Thugs. Sounds terrifying already, right? Well, apart from spraying really crap graffiti everywhere, they once broke into a house and stole a toaster. If I were Vinnie Jones right now, I would be shitting my pants.

9. The few people who manage to escape become really overly scathing about the country

Like me. So take my comments with a pinch of salt, because there are obviously loads of really nice things I can say about Dorset - the countryside is beautiful, I have amazing friends there and a hell of a lot of good memories. I just really like drinking gin and lemonade.