Ciggie, baby. . .?

HEALTH Passive 1

MPs have backed calls for a ban on smoking in cars in England and Wales when children are passengers.

Two things are amazing about this;

First, that such a ban didn’t exist before, and second, that there are people who oppose it.

Let’s just have an ickle look at some facts:

  •          Exposure to second-hand smoke has been strongly linked to chest infections and cot death in children.
  •          Research indicates that 300,000 children in the UK visit a GP each year because of the effects of second-hand smoke, with 9,500 going to hospital.
  •          Smoking in a car creates a concentration of toxins up to 11 times higher than in a bar.

For those who are struggling with the fiendishly complicated numbers above, let me help:

Exposing your children to smoke is very bad for them.
If you do this, you are an arsehole.

Yes, it is your right to smoke.
It is also your right to be an arsehole. Of course it is.

But it is your child’s right not to have to sit in a car filled with toxic chemicals, while you exercise your Rights.

Just because they are smaller than you, doesn’t mean their Right to Life is smaller. 

It’s not about ‘controlling’ you, and squashing your freedom. It’s not about do-gooding, interfering health freaks taking your nicotine away.

It’s about not killing your child.

And if people are stupid enough not to be able to stop willingly poisoning their children, then Laws have to be put in place to try and protect them.

Of course people will flout the Law. People who are that stupid ignore most intelligent things.
But it if stops one child from dying then it’s worth it.
It’s also about belonging to a society that recognises children’s rights, and stands up for them.

Well done all 376 MPs who managed to tell the difference between freedom and selfish arseholery.

The other 107 might want to go away and see if they can figure it out too.

Plotting and planning…


When hatching a Big Plan one needs to spend a lot of time alone, working out what the Big Plan actually is. This ensures that it is not a Big Disaster.

Many cloaks are swished, and daggers swung about a bit, avoiding the genitals, where possible.

Sometimes rude words are said. Loudly.

But eventually one feels one’s Big Plan is ready, and one needs to SHARE.

To dare to pull back the thick safety curtains of secrecy, and TELL.

In order to get some feedback, and criticism.

And pained looks of dismay.

This week I have finally started sharing details of my Big Project with a very few, very well chosen people.

Writers, mainly. Men and women. All part of what I prefer to call my friends, but business-speak would fetchingly call my ‘Target Market’.

So far the feedback has been whizz bang FAN-BLOODY-TASTIC, which has only served to make me very frightened indeed, as it means I might actually have to do this thing.

And so it was that I had a fantastically buzzy, up-beat business breakfast with the very lovely Ms @dexdiva (also to be found at ) who was, it is fair to say, very enthusiastic about the Big Plan, and had some great ideas and useful suggestions.

The temptation to snog her and carry around town all day shouting ‘THIS WOMAN LOVES MY BOOK AND WEBSITE IDEA!!!’ was narrowly resisted, mainly because it was pissing down with rain.

Much plotting has been done.
Many things are going to happen.

Soon. And cloaks will be removed. Fully.

And my Big Plan will be naked before you, and you will hopefully like it.



All systems go…



Book title sorted. (YAY!!!!! :-) )

Twitter name sorted.

WordPress blog sorted.

Website address sorted.

Facebook page sorted.

And now, with the help of the BEAUUUUTIFUL coffee above, I am writing the intro and a few sample chapters, ready for next week.

I can’t WAIT to share it with you all!

Very very very soon….

Oh, and I’ll be asking for your thoughts and experiences, so get ready, folks…

:-) :-)



And the news is…… *DRUM ROLL*…



The other news is that I am not about to tell you what it is.


You are allowed to hate me a little bit for this shameless teaser, but I promise that I WILL tell you soon.

And you will like it.
A lot.

And so now the next stage of the hard work begins.
Titles make it SO much easier to focus focus focus, and WRITE.

If you need me I’ll be cemented to the chair above for the next few weeks, writing like mad, and loving it.

Or just being mad and writing it.
There’s a fine line between the two, and I like to stray across it at regular intervals of about twenty minutes.

And THEN, my friends, I shall start to sneak little snippets out and share them with you.

And the fun will start. . .



Titles, titles, titles. . . aaaarrrgh!

My head is SPINNING with possible titles for my two new books.

This dizzying task is only made bearable by the fact that ‘title’ has the word ‘tit’ in it.

Other than that, it’s total pants.

So that’s tits AND pants in one blog. Lawks, I spoil you.

What is NOT total pants is Yumchaa, above.

It is, in fact, sort of like Heaven, only with coffee and free wifi and lovely tables and people so pretty and you want to sleep with them all instantly; or just sit in the corner drooling.


I think I might move in permanently, like a posh squatter.

Now, then…..about those TITLES…

More TV fun…


And they used all of this on just my left cheek. 

And so to ITV again, to start complaining.

Or rather, to discuss whether we Brits complain too much.

Before you all form a neat and orderly queue and apologise to one another for getting in the way, while saying ‘no, no, really, after you!’ and then tell me how much the British do NOT complain about anything, even when they’ve just been given a chicken sandwich when they quite clearly asked for a horse-meat salad, let me inform you that, according to a recent study done by people who care about such things, Britons now make more formal complains that any other nation in Europe.

Mais oui, mon ami, it’s true.
Which possibly deserves a complaint in itself.

Either this means there is more to complain about here than anywhere else, which, having seen the state of French public toilets, I sincerely doubt, or we are learning the art of standing up for our Rights and not getting shat on from a great height by huge corporations who don’t care about our hard-earned dosh.

But….should we complain every time a little something doesn’t go exactly as we’d hoped?
Isn’t there a case for laughing it off, and graciously  accepting that something things just go wrong?

I went on telly to have a debate about it.

And this is how it went.

All complaints to Daybreak please, not me. My customer services team are already snowed under…