Why I Want To Be Kris Jenner/A Kardashian

In today's blog-post I am going to tell you why I want to be Kris Jenner, or in fact any part of the Kardashian/Jenner clan, (apart from Bruce, anyone who watches Keeping Up With The Kardashians will understand what I mean.)
I am just going to say it. Kris Jenner is the greatest woman on earth, (bar my Mother of course who, incidentally, reminds me a lot of Kris Jenner's good bits.) To be frank, why wouldn't you want to be Kris Jenner? She lives in a huge house that is completely black and white so it is great if you have dogs as they only see in monochrome. She drinks wine all day, in fact I am considering getting one of my arms chopped off and having a wine glass put there a la an even camper Captain Hook, in her honour. She has about 5 billion daughters that make her about 50 billion pounds a day so she can spend lots of money on huge cars that look like converted tanks painted black and massive weddings for her favourite children (and Rob....)
Kris provides the best moments in Keeping Up With The Kardashians. It seems like she is the butt of every single joke, even down to the time that her lips swelled up in BORA BORA! (you have to shout the place-name like you are a Kardashian on the show), and we all laughed because it looked like she had got dodgy botox done in the room over the off-licence I used to live opposite in South London.
Kris Jenner is basically the Kardashian sister that never was. She lives her life through her three famous daughters, craving attention, constantly holding a massive wine glass full of white wine, driving around in that huge black car and wearing earrings that Pat Butcher would be envious of. But who cares? She is fucking Kris Jenner she can do what she likes.

Back to London, back to reality.

So I have now been back in London over a week and it is fair to say rather a lot has happened. Last week seemed to be a week in which we celebrated being back in London by not actually doing much about London and instead mostly bopped around a club to probably the least cool music East London has ever seen (forgetting Chas and Dave), naturally, therefore I loved it. Whilst waiting for the Tube on our way to said club we started talking to a man who said that he had got out of Belmarsh Prison that same day for a multi- million pound fraud and that he was now a billionaire. I found it hard to believe as he was holding a blue plastic bag and rather crumpled looking. He seemed nice though and he offered me a cigar. I politely refused and said that I would let him celebrate his release with the one he wanted to give to me.

This week I have discovered that I am good at writing on mirrors in toothpaste, that Brazil is a beautiful country and that cheese and wine nights aren't as innocent as they seem. Especially when I get a half price magnum of sparkling wine from Gateway 'supermarket' across the road. All in all I feel like this past  week has been the best week since moving to London. It was like another freshers week but with the knowledge that you can grind on down to ridiculously urban music you have never heard before in an East London club, in front of your friends and that instead of never wanting to see you again they will probably join you. For that I salute my new-found urban family. Tomorrow it is meant to snow (the Met Office have advised against anything but essential travel so the 1 minute walk to my lecture may not happen) and as I maintain that there is no more beautiful sight that a London boozer, fire blazing and punters laughing I will probably spend most of my evening in the Royal Albert, said 'Royal' provided by yours truly, obviously.

On the subject of royalty, one that I rarely ever mention, I would like to celebrate the
pure boldness of the Royal Family's press office. Today Princess Beatrice and Eugenie drove a Union Jack mini right through the centre of the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin. Press office I applaud you for providing me with a laugh at your unbridled patriotism and disregard for political relations.
Anyway bed awaits and a pile of books as high as a premium race horse. Better get started  now. As they say, "Every Little Helps".