'Jasper has all the gear and no idea'
Jasper has all the gear and no idea.
One summer when Jasper was fifteen he was sent to help out on his uncle’s farm. Percy didn’t have the heart to tell his sister her son was more trouble than he was worth.
But now Jasper’s regaling his new neighbours with tales of a childhood spent hunting, shooting and lambing ‘on the family farm’. He omits the time he forgot to check the safety on his 12 bore and, startled by a hare, shot poor Percy.
Jasper never much liked the country, all that mud messed up his Nikes and he spent most of the time either on his PlayStation or trying to crack his uncle’s Internet filter.
But now, in … Read more →
'Sharing a bath with the great unwashed is Cate’s idea of bliss'
When Cate lived in Bayswater she used to swim in the Serpentine, but after moving south she’s discovered the lidos of Brockwell and Tooting Bec.
Sharing a bath with the great unwashed is Cate’s idea of bliss. Impervious to the medley of old man back hair, Love Island body lotion, belly button fluff, verrucas and peeling skin, she powers forward with a strident breaststroke.
The heaving throngs are invisible to her. Focusing on a 6 inch patch of unoccupied water she imagines she’s on the Amalfi Coast; she’s just so lucky to have open water like this in Brockwell.
The Art Deco surrounds add a sense of heritage; her morning constitutional is a timeless experience, much like the one Marlene … Read more →
'Claudia frantically types a name she hasn’t heard of into her email’s keyword search '
Claudia is super cool. She gets invited to all the best launches, parties and previews.
Claudia is the scene – if she’s not there it’s not happening. Her insta-game is second to none. Always just out of shot when Tatler’s photographer comes around, she obsessively checks Bystander all the same.
Hang on. SHIT! Wait! Bear with.…
What? Where was this Hugo? Why would you say something and not tell me? Well where did you see it? No, hang on, where?
Claudia frantically types a name she hasn’t heard of into her email’s keyword search. Shit! Buggery BUGGERY! She doesn’t even know the brand, and definitely wasn’t at Annabel’s for the launch.
It might be okay – she probably got an … Read more →
'Ursula feels most at home with Corbyn, the rescue tabby, and secretly wonders if there's actually any point in having a baby '
Jeremy cycles seven miles to work and frets about the mortgage on their Canonbury fixer-upper.
Ursula loves health food shops and anything ‘chemical free’, wilfully unaware that a chemical is, quite literally, any substance. A long-suffering doctor once tried to explain that chemicals do not, actually, have a morality. He gently told her that even pure mountain water, just like the Voss she was clutching, is a chemical. But Ursula feels reassured by the nice, natural sounding words all the same, and pictures of trees on Wholefoods labels make her feel like she’s doing her bit.
Wringing her hands, she turns casual kitchen suppers into environmental symposiums. Volunteering to help, she arrives early with home-made hummus and chases her host … Read more →
'Shelley thinks Homer’s Odyssey is an episode of The Simpsons'
Shelley sells corporate software to companies that don’t yet know they need it. She likes to drop terms like idea shower, and close-of-play into conversation at the pub.
Actioning her bar order and explaining the benefits of squaring the circle to a 16 year old who was only in the market for a whiskey and coke, she systematically commits high treason of the English language.
As she espouses the merits of blue sky thinking and looking under the bonnet, the poor girl pleadingly makes eye-contact with the barman, willing him to extricate her, hoping her fake ID won’t be clocked.
Flicking her poker-straight hair, Shelley gathers up her Canada Goose and thinks she’d better shoot off after her second vodka … Read more →
'His toast is too well done. He sends it back'
Vlad is at Le Bristol, he’s rocked up for breakfast five minutes after service finished and is clicking his fingers at the waitress. He leans back and stretches, his black cashmere turtleneck straining to expose his diamond Hublot.
He orders a double espresso, an egg white omelette with chives, orange juice, salmon teriyaki, and a side of sautéed spinach. His toast is too well done. He sends it back.
Olga hasn’t called in four days. He decides to fly Ulrike to Paris that afternoon. Olga was old anyway; she hasn’t looked as hot since she started uni and doesn’t seem as impressed with him anymore.
He calls Ulrike, and, holding the phone high, puts her on speaker; ‘Eeey babe, … Read more →