Bad Behaviour

bad made of grass

I was minding my own business in Hyde Park, hoping I’ll never have a bench named after me, when a dog called Jekyll tried to rape me. His panting owner, whose red face made me reach for my SDSM, blamed me for his pooch’s bad behaviour. “Don’t encourage him,” Big Red shouted, like it’s my fault his pet is a rapist. There’s not much a blast of SDSM can’t cure but this victim blamer was inflamed with outrage so I didn’t waste my NIOD on him.

What kind of a weirdo calls his dog Jekyll? Names are important and that’s just not the right name for a sex offender. In China, people change their name when they want to change their luck. I was supposed to be called Vivien after the bi-polar beauty Vivien Leigh but my dad got drunk on his way to register my birth. He forgot the time. And the date. And the name. All he could remember after a night on the single malt was that I had been born in Grandfather Money’s bed; though Grandfather wasn’t in it at the time. The registrar preferred screwball comedienne Carole Lombard to mad, bad Vivien Leigh so my evil twin got to be Vivvy. Read More…

The 2.0N Club

Colours 2.0N Serum

My VH addiction was in full swing by the time I’d moved from Beijing to Soho and joined the 2.0N Club. It sounds like a cool nightclub for people who like carb free drinks instead of a foundation that looks invisible on the skin. Obsessing about getting my mitts on 2.0N is weird for me because the minute I wake up, I don’t put on make-up. My husband Dangerous insists that I look better without it. He’s never got over the time in Kiev when two nice girls I met in a cafe gave me a makeover. ‘You’d look quite pretty if you wore ten inches of panstick,’ Svetlana told me; while Verushka attacked me with gigantic false eyelashes and a can of superglue. Read More…