1. Fashion Phones.
Hurrah, they've thought of something else they can attach a designer's name to. Whoop de fucking doo.
Would you buy a date from a cad?
For starters, David is a woman in drag. The stubble is definitely painted on. But that aside, do we really need a guide to men who will treat women really badly? What's next month, OWM's Guide to Cruising for a Bruising?
I'm sure the gentlemen in your feature will be very grateful for the free advertising. Doubtless more effective than leaving flyers in phoneboxes.
We'll confess to a soft spot for Katharine Hamnett. She's on our longlist for future fluffers. But Tesco?
Anatomy of a Marriage
Now then. We could talk about the subject matter, but we'll leave that to the SM lifestyle websites. We could talk about the subjects. Contracts for sexual contact? We can't get past the urge to yell 'YOU FREAKS!' which coming from us is a bit, well scary, frankly. We could ask about the cardboard erection. What? Where's the picture? Frankly we're too bemused to address any of those questions so instead we shall celebrate the fact that the first sentence is about shopping. Indeed the first paragraph is about shopping. In fact, four paragraphs later, we're still talking about shopping. OWM - sometimes our hatred for you almost collapses into affection. Almost, but not quite.
The abuse wasn't about sex. It was about control.
Good to see that OWM is following the advice of Grazia.
"The key is succesful women in trauma. But unlike the Daily Mail, Grazia seems like it is on their side. That's really clever."
What I know about men, by Carol Vorderman
I started to read the Men are from Mars book, because my girlfriend was banging on about it. I only got to about page 11. But my girlfriends have read it cover to cover. And I was: 'Why are you trying to analyse everything?' Because it's very, very simple. The old adage: treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen. That's it. It worked in the Seventies, it works now. But the mobile phone is the killer, not for me, but for my girlfriends, who are always bloody texting! It's too easy, and it's too much! I'd be freaked out by that if I were a man, wouldn't you? The old: 'Oh, he's only sent me 17 texts ...' Leave it for three hours before you reply, will you, not 30 seconds! That's what I'd do. But then, I like my space. I like time out. I don't like to be clung to, and I don't do clingy. Can't do clingy. No.We haven't read prose like that since we left James Joyce on the 192 bus. Was this interview taken by a journalist or a typist on a cocktail of work experience and crack?
Oh look, you can win a pair of stupidly uncomfortable high heels, in a competition sponsored by Compeed, who make potions to heal the wounds caused by stupidly uncomfortable high heels.
It's not often we say nice things, but we must admit this is genius.