Verbal Brand Consultant
and Advertising Copywriter

  • Oh Calcutta – make way for the alien

    Tuesday, November 17th, 2015By annablog0 comment

    I thought the British loved a queue but in India queues are king. The immigration queue at the airport snaked all the way back to the plane practicall. We were greeted after a fashion by a diminutive floorwalker. He was supposed to sort us into groups. Who was a diplomat? Who had come in from West Africa and might be a bit loose in the bowel department? Who was a westerner with an e-tourist…

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  • Small beds and scatting

    Tuesday, April 9th, 2013By annablog5 comments

    I’ve been in the land of cheese and novelty dildos, a land where a man in a Paisley cotton frock and cardigan can get on a tram, put a plastic colander on his head and attract no attention whatsoever . This is Amsterdam – where anything goes and frequently does. On my first night I go to Drag Central to play Deal or No Deal in a bar. Noel Edmunds is played by a…

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  • You’re nicked

    Tuesday, February 26th, 2013By annablog0 comment

    It was a dirty night on the east side of Brighton. I’d been hanging in a bar with some Swedish chick and her pooch – a scraggy canine with a shot jaw. I’d not eaten so my gut was growling and something about the bar that night was fraying my nerves. Maybe it was the weird Asian guy in a duffel coat who kept pacing up and down in front of our table, eyeballing…

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  • Dancing with lesbians

    Monday, January 28th, 2013By annablog0 comment

    Step, step, cha cha cha, step, step, cha, cha, cha. Bear with; just practising my ballroom – for I have been dancing with lesbians. I didn’t mean to – it was an accident. H, who has a Gold Medal in Rumba (from the Gay Olympics in Vancouver) invited me along to see his ‘show dance’ at the Same Sex Ball. ‘Oh, I don’t mind if I do’, says I, thinking I’d be doing a…

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  • How not to behave in an art gallery

    Tuesday, January 8th, 2013By annablog0 comment

    Another curious idiosyncrasy about the Germans – they don’t like you going the ‘wrong’ way in an art gallery. Take my visit to the Brucke Museum in Berlin; on entering I’d assumed the gait of your typical museum flaneur, ie take a few tentative steps towards a painting, stop, adjust handbag, fold arms, cock head, hitch hip and purse lips in casual contemplation, then cross legs, lean perilously to one side and at the…

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  • Ich bin eine Berliner – just for the week

    Monday, January 7th, 2013By annablog0 comment

    Ladeez und gentlemen, wilkommen in Berlin, a city of grand grafitti and decadent dog dirt, big cakes and long sausages; a city that loves to shove a stiff finger at the establishment yet tut tuts if a pedestrian crosses the road willy nilly on a red Ampelman. Other paradoxes: it’s bad form to woop like a demented banshee at the Berliner Philhamonik but absolutely de rigeur to let rockets off in the hand or…

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  • Sleeping with insects

    Monday, November 19th, 2012By annablog0 comment

    A few weeks ago, at about 4am, something landed on my head. It was lighter than a hamster but heavier than a sequin. Still half asleep, I batted if off and returned to my dream where I was making chelsea buns with Kevin Costner in the celebrity version of the Great British Bake Off.  In the morning, I found a small green stick on my pillow that on closer inspection, looked suspiciously like the…

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  • My hell in a sweat lodge

    Wednesday, September 12th, 2012By annablog0 comment

    On the final day of my Icelandic sojourn, the girls suggested we go to  a sweat lodge. Now this is not a particularly Icelandic pursuit but in the spirit of doing everything once, apart from incest and drinking your own wee, I agreed to take part. The sweat lodge was located in the back garden of a ramshackle bungalow, down a cinder path just off highway number 1 on the outskirts of Reykjavik. On…

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