After going to see The Mighty Boosh this week in Oxford I am compelled to ask; is it wrong to be attracted to a man dressed as an old woman singing a song about doing a shit on your mum?

Ok, people of Kittenclub world - I have a task for you all - I’d like everyone involved please, pencils down, eyes to the front of the class etc. I love making compilation cds and I’ve had an idea for one I need your help with. The theme for this cd is ‘The Most Powerful Intros of All Time‘, so I need all your suggestions for tracks with the best intros. Intros that give you a shiver when they start or immediately conjure up a certain emotion or memory of a certain time. Some artists are better at writing such intros than others and often, you can hate the band but appreciate the intro…Oasis for example.
I’d like to start the debate by suggesting a few….
Iron Maidon, ‘Run To The Hills’
Guns N Roses ‘Welcome to the Jungle’
U2 ‘Where The Streets Have No Name’
BUT I NEED MORE IDEAS! GO!

Today I was feeling about as attractive as a turd with a fungal infection and was keeping my head down as I attempted to find clothes that fit my small, mishapen body when a guy serving me in one shop said
'you're looking very cool today' to which I said,
'thanks' and he said again
'very cool'
so I said
'thank you' again and he said
'where are you going?'
and I said
'home'
and he burst out laughing, shaking his head like this was ridiculous, like someone who looked like me should never go home, ever.
If anyone is interested in copying my unique and very cool style I should tell you that I was wearing a faded black skirt that I recently ripped twice and haven't repaired very well and a black hoody and was carrying a primark bag. My hair is about 8 years over due for a cut and dye and my eye make up was half way down my face due to rain. I was also limping as I seem to have developed arthritis in my old age.

Which brings me on to those tediously dull articles that you sometimes get in magazines where they stop people on the street and ask them where they got their clothes from. I find this such a ridiculously uninteresting concept that I feel compelled to read all these articles very carefully, a bit like how you can't help staring a car crash as you drive by even if it happen 4 hours ago and there is nothing left to see. I think what I'm waiting to read is someone saying, 'I can't actually remember where I got this from because it's just an item of clothing and doesn't mean that much to me in the grand scheme of life and if it doesn't matter to me - the person wearing it - then by god, why does it matter to you?' I find fashion so boring and ugly at the moment that I fail to see how anyone can get excited about shopping. The look at the moment seems to be a combination of bag lady, granny and the worse bits of the 80's and the 90's all together. Everyone looks a total state. Next time you are on your local high street, count the number of girls wearing a woollen granny hat and wonder how after many years of evolution and progress and youth being the ultimately worshipped ideal, how my friends, it came to this.....

Hello world, you thought you'd never hear from me again and unfortunately you were wrong. I'm back to blog and this time it's personal. I'm now 29, as of last week. I don't really care about this much but apparently it is quite conventional and normal and in fact, highly recommended by society, the media and like, history that you should get married, get a mortgage, earn a salary in double figures and produce some babies around this time before your eggs shrivel up and die of loneliness and malfunction. In the year since I last blogged I have been concentrating hard on not doing any of these things and I think my hard work has paid off. Here's a small run down of last years events..........I watched some films, developed arthritis of the brain, joined a band, left a band, wrote some poems, did some singing in the kitchen, wrote a verse of a song, walked in the countryside, watched people cry, listened to people talk, got a certificate or two to say I could do this some more if I wanted to, wrote a journal about this, read a some books, got a different job - I am trapped, joined an online dating site by mistake, left an online dating site because it is hell on earth, I went to a castle, I went to the sea, picked up a heart shaped pebble, thought to myself 'I know just the person I should give this to', didn't give it to them, watched some gigs, watched some relationship sagas unfold in front of me, I went back onto medication, back into therapy, that didn't work out, my counsellor suggested I go salsa dancing so I sacked her and went mad, I smashed my acr up a little, I took some photos, one of which was in an exhibition recently, I hired a personal trainer but have found that I am still fat, I don't think my personal trainer understands me as a concept, I changed my diet about 86 times but have found that my skin still itches and my back still hurts, my best friend is going travelling for a couple of months next week, I am going to concentrate on my career - a bit like when your marriage ends, my career is as a professional loner. Not really, well slightly - my career is going to be me as a highly creative person who doesn't have to look after other people all the time, I am going to buy a guitar and write the next verse of my song, by 2025 I will have got to the middle 8. I have done several other things too but they aren't important.

So, hands up who forgot it was my birthday this weekend? Yep, you know who you are. Slaps wrists all round. Actually, thanks to the wonderful world of Myspace loads of people were alerted to this great event and I had complete strangers wishing me a happy birthday literally in the street because of this. Random. This year so far has been weird, I haven't posted since January cos of many things - health trouble, boy trouble, band trouble, depression trouble, lack of news trouble (although as R always says 'you ALWAYS have so many hilarious tales to tell everytime I speak to you'). I got offered a new job, I think I'm turning it down tomorrow - it would mean money and responsibility and probably a self esteem boost. I'm only little, I can't cope with these things yet. God, I'm only 28. Next they'll be expecting me to buy a house, get married and have children. F**k that.

Anyhoo, big news 2007; I joined a band or a band joined me, I don't know which it is. I haven't done any kind of music since 2001. It is weird. I realise that I am essentially really lazy. I turn up each week to band practice having done nothing inbetween and they expect me to start singing. WOAH. I have been retired for 6 years - take it easy on me. The first few weeks they found my singing off the top of my head thing amusing but you can't keep singing about rabid cocks and beans on toast forever. Oneday you need to commit to an emotional theme and actual sentences and go with it. Last week I wrote an actual verse with music and played it to my band, they sat there with their mouths open afterwards. Those 4 lines said more about my current mental state than a years psychoanalysis, I'm not sure they were ready for it. A bit like bringing your therapist on your second date to fill your new boyfriend in on your general issues. A bit like that second date also being at the colonic irrigation clinic. Oh well, maybe they just couldn't believe how shit I am at playing the guitar. Probably the latter. I love my new bandmates tho - they rule. We all have vaginas - it's going to be brilliant, if I can just write a second verse.

Happy New Year, Dream Kittens Everywhere

This year I am bringing crazy back - I have already started as I mean to go on. With much gin, lesbinaism and being chased out of a party by a crazed American girl screaming 'fuck off out of my house you little whore' or words to that effect. It was the best new year I'd had in ages. How was everyone elses? I had a crap Christmas though and was thoroughly relieved it was over - went to Leciester, city of my goth-stalking days and stayed in my grandmother's freezing cold, dusty house. Only good thing about Christmas was my brother giving me GnR Greatest Hits and being able to rock out to all the memories on every car journey I have been on since. (Incidentily GnR almost got me arrested last year when A, M and me drove out to a secluded spot we like by the gas works in town and spent a steamy hour trying to record Sweet Child O Mine into A's phone so that when I call her she will hear me singing our fav GnR tune. The recording session was proving more difficult than we'd anticipated - A's phone kept making me sound like Barry White, it was all very funny until the Police turned up, told me we were trespassing and proceeded to search my car for drugs - what are the chances?! They didn't find any because I don't tend to store narcotics in my glove compartment. M had an ounce of something or other on him but for some reason they weren't concerned with our actual bodies so let us go). That's it for today, I have stuff on my mind I am trying to avoid thinking about and the time has come to stop writing this and deal with it. Hope everyone is happy and stuff - see you all soon.

Fame (kind of) At Last

As a joke, my brother was given a crap low budget video for his birthday a few weeks back called 'Oxfordshire Ghosts' made by a guy called Richard Felix. It looked like it was going to be rubbish but it was - excelling itself in bad film making and lack of self awareness. Felix is a man in a black suit who, considering he claims to work for Most Haunted on Living TV, has no idea about the art of film making and speaking on camera. He talks so exceptionally slowly and with such weighted pauses for (lack of) dramatic effect that years pass and you realise that you have died of old age and have come back to haunt the living and he is still on his video introduction! At the end of each segment he freezes, staring at the camera like he's fallen into a coma until the cameraman remembers that he is supposed to pan away at the end of each part and shakily moves to focus on a bit of floor or wall. You can tell Felix is making the script up as he goes along and that his research has consisted of asking a few locals if they've ever seen a ghost. Now lets face it, when you ask this question it's a bit like asking if you've ever been on a reality TV show i.e - who hasn't?!. We don't actually see a ghost on the video, despite the suspense-building crap classical music but we do see Felix's arse climbing some stairs, a haunted toilet, a gate outside Oxford Airport and shockingly, a grave yard (who'd have thought it - on a ghost video...). This graveyard is 2 mins away from my shop and I have often sat in it amongst the discarded syringes and used condoms and contemplated my life (the syringes came in useful here). Felix tells us that apparently there is a ghost of a woman who walks around shaking her head in this graveyard....I can't bring myself to break it to him that this could be me (see life pondering above for explanation).

I was finding Felix's commentary and lack of camera awareness so funny (at one point he interviews two people in a hotel bedroom half a mile away from the camera and actually manages to stand right in front of one of his interviewees so you have no idea what she looks like, the other interviewee hides behind a wardrobe - I have seen better presenting skills at the junior school I used to work at on show and tell day) that I was almost crying with laughter when all of a sudden we noticed something familiar about the setting of his final haunting. 'I am standing inside one of only two haunted phone boxes in the UK' Felix tells us as he stands inside the phonebox at the top of my lane. 'Oh my god - that's our village!' my brother says, 'fuck'. We sit stunned as Felix tells us that this phone box has been known to ring in the dead of the night and those who have answered it have received a 'ghostly message' and have been traumatised for life. Now as anyone who has been to my house will know, I don't exactly live in the throbbing centre of civilization. Here is not where the action is, here is a small hamlet that barely features on the map, doesn't even have an original name and no one has ever heard of it. If you search for my village on multi map or wherever it doesn't recognize it or gives you a map of a straight line through some fields. It is not really a place that exists - so to be featured on any kind of video, no matter how crap is pretty amazing and to actually have something notable here is surprising to say the least. Although it did cross my mind that the most surprising thing in this story is mostly that if this phone does ring in the dead of the night - who the hell is it that answers it? There are about 3 people here and they barely go out in the daytime. Spooky...Someone must of though and this person must have reported this experience to the ghost hunting world and Richard Felix (a Derby man) saw fit to come all the way down here in 2003 to stroke the phone boxes shiny BT walls. Since the pub closed down, the phone box is the only actual feature of the village. My friend and I used to go and call people we fancied from school on it when we were about 12 and try and get their parents to accept reverse charge calls - had we known it was haunted I think we would have probably stayed the hell away (perhaps the ghostly phone calls are these boy's parents ringing us back demanding we leave them the fuck alone) none of them ever did accept our reverse charge calls....Tonight I drove past the phone box slowly, looking at it with new eyes and I had to admit, Felix has a point - it is a scary phone box - mostly because it seems so out of place - there is nothing else here. I wonder who it was that decided we needed one - perhaps it was a psychic medium workign for the phone company who knew that this precise point could be a direct line to the spirit world.

So there you have it, ghostly goings on seconds from my house. The scariest thing out of all of this however, is that Richard Felix, who has the cold dead eyes of a serial molester has been within metres of my front door. Shudder. To get your local Felix ghost tour video/DVD - go to Ghost DVDs and enjoy, you'll laugh, you'll cry - you won't be scared in the slightest, well maybe by the wobbly camera work but not by the content and you never know, maybe the post box at the end of your road has a ghost in it. Or your garage or your left shoe or your toaster.

I'm so bored I could vomit out my brains and then eat them and then vomit them out again and then...you get my drift. Today I have been tearing stuff off my walls and ruthlessly throwing cds out - I thought I had some great music in my cd collection but last night my eye fell upon a Linkin Park album and things have not been going well since. I blame university, I aquired a worrying amount of nu metal whilst I was there. I could try and console myself with the fact that this was 1998-2001 and the beginning of the genre and it probably seemed cool and edgy at the time but I don't know if I believe myself. So now I have detoxed my music collection of nu metal and I have a large box containing aforementioned L****n P**k cd, Papa Roach, Lostprophets etc etc and I will go and distribute them amoungst the homeless tomorrow. Or something, I don't really know what. The good news is that I have never purchased anything that Fred Durst has been involved in so I'm not totally unsavable.

So did everyone see Courtney Love on Jonothan Ross on Friday? I caught most of it after stumbling in from an evening out - I think she was pretty marvelous, a true survivor. She was more or less together and coherent and intelligent. I loved the fact she admits she still falls for troubled, artistic men that are a mess. Join the fucking club...I was hoping to grow out of it but if Courtney Love can't do it then I sure as hell won't! JC however was an arsehole, as always - apparently before the show Juliette Lewis invited him to her gig the next day but after he'd been interviewed and was a total tit about Americans and the environment and all that bollocks no one backstage spoke to him so he figured the gig offer was off. I can't type his actual name cos my good friend works for him and gave me this info confidentially and don't want to get her into trouble but you all know who I'm talking about.

Have just finished listening to Sharon Osbourne reading her autobiography on audio cd. Not something I would have purchased myself but my brother works in a bookshop and gets lots of freebies - now there's another woman who's lived a life. I must bloody do something with my life, I do try but things always come to a full stop after a while. I'm doing a course at the moment, retraining again, but I had a confidence knock last week and now I don't even know if I'm doing the right thing anymore. I keep planning really interesting photography projects and then losing interest half way through. Agh. I think I may have attention deficit disorder. Attention deficit disorder but no nu metal cds on display - horah. Any ideas for a life/career change, you know where to write it...

Raining. Nothing happening. Send events. Stop.

So I was going to leave retail before Christmas but then I didn't get around to it so here I am yet again wrapping up Christmas decs for people and pretending to be impressed when people say to me proudly after purchasing something 'well, that's all my Christmas shopping done!' and then look at me expectantly for fucks knows what really - a mexican wave? A round of applause? A celebratory hug? I mean really, is it really something to be proud of? I would probably rate saving a kitten's life or travelling to Africa to build mud huts for orphened swans or organsing your underwear drawer more highly than completing your Christmas shopping at the start of November. But we are a deluded brain washed society with our priorities all scuwiff. My pet peeve with Christmas shoppers at the moment is not simply that they exist at all but the sheer amount of plastic bags they use. It seems to be a regular thing that not only will people say they would like a bag when you ask them, despite clearly carrying about a dozen others but that they would also like some spare bags to put the items they have just bought in and give to people as presents. This is amazing on two levels - the first being that environmentally this is shockingly careless and ignorant and secondly - that they think a shop plastic carrier bag is actually special enough to use as a gift bag for someone! I feel that if you don't care about presentation that much then just give the gifts as they are or in newspaper. Hell, just drive by the recipiants house and fling said items at their front door covered in faeces, it amounts to the same message - I don't value you enough to warrent wrapping this for you nicely. A free environmentally damaging plastic bag is all you're worth to me. Happy Christmas.

By the way, I had to get rid of the fridge door cos people were starting to abuse it and be mean which is sad cos lots of your messages were really sweet and funny - thanks to everyone who wasn't an arsehole and used it for positive messages!

Ok, let's get one thing straight. This 'Katy 4 Glyn' business you see above you is a work of fiction and delusion in the mind of Avril Lavigne obsessive and internet radio DJ, David and should not be taken seriously. I have not and never have had a thing for Glyn from last summer's Big Brother - quite the opposite in fact. So please, lets all move along now, there's nothing to see here...lets ignore the fact that David has concocted this little world in his head where I lust after teenage boys with thin heads who don't know how to look after themselves or boil an egg, let's wipe this from our brains and pretend it never happened! And if anyone is interested, being able to turn on a washing machine and make toast without calling your mother for advice is very high up on my list of preferences in a human. If this applies to you and you are available, phone numbers to the usual address please.

For those of you not already in the know, which is probably most of you - the extremely lovely Paul and David do a radio show on UK Nova Radio (Tuesdays 7-9), it is a hilarious mix of genre-spanning tunes and chat with the occasional bit of live music in the form of David on guitar and Paul on vocals and laughter thrown in for good measure. A few days ago David asked me which song I would like dedicated to me this week which is cool and very sweet. Usually they are happy to play anything but this week I couldn't think of anything so I suggested that David play something he thought suitable for me based on what he knows about me and lo and behold last night I was very honoured to be the first record played! Very honoured that is until the opening bars of Whitesnake's 'Here I Go Again' kicks in. Now don't get me wrong - I love 80's rock as much as the next woman, heck - I was even in a band once that got reviewed as an 80's throwback band which went down very well at the time but this particular track is about someone who spends their life alone, walking alone in fact down a road they've always known...let's check out those lyrics for ourselves...

'And here I go again on my own,
Goin down the only road I've ever known,
Like a hobo* I was born to walk alone...'

Excellent, thanks David - based on what you know about me you think that this sad tale just about sums it up! It's the vote of confidence a permantly single girl needs. Oh and what's this? You have just told everyone live on air that I love Glyn off Big Brother too? Embassador, with this musical dedication you are really spoiling me! Tune in to Paul and David's show next week when David will dedicate 'Who Let The Dogs Out' to me and tell everyone about the time I accidentily exposed myself to my swimming teacher.

*Fact fans may like to know that in the 1987 version of this track, this word was changed to 'drifter' for fear of anyone thinking Whitesnake singer, David Coverdale was singing 'homo'. Honestly...