Do you know who I am?!

You all know of my love for the Twitter and you all know of my love for frequent culling days, hey, what can I say? It's a cruel world!

Well...my new pet hate...Z-list celebrities or in this case X-list "celebrities" acting up.

Case Study #1 - Olly Murs.



Wow Olly Murs, what a grounded fellow you have remained. How nice of you to share the going rate for just thirty minutes of your precious time. Now run along before they realise you spelt your name wrong on the autographs and ask for the money back. Un-follow.

Case Study #2 - Stacey Solomon.



Stacey, Stacey, you were the dippy lovable one in the show, I liked you, but turn up to a flight late and you wont be allowed to board...I don't think it's an Aer Lingus thing as such, just a general flying anywhere in the world thing. Perhaps speak to Olly Murs if you need help paying for the second flight? I hear he's raking it in! "Ridiculas" I know!

Alf

Ever tried to get a Taxi in Cornwall? It's hard!

I was down the West Coast continuing my trend research for SS11...Why Cornwall I hear you cry? Admittedly not really a fashion capital as such, but it's by the coast and the boats are pretty - enough reason for me.

On the second day we got the ferry over to Rock (the Island is called that). FYI don't ask the little fisherman ferry driver guy for "a receipt for expenses" - it's frowned upon and the locals laugh.

Upon getting to Rock, we realised there was very little there and tried to call a taxi to escape. "Ocean Taxis", had one taxi which was busy for the next three hours and the "Luxury Taxi firm " had two phone numbers both of which went through to an answer phone repeatedly...stranded. We asked in the lone cafe for another number, we were introduced to "Alf", he was supposedly really nice and we should give him a call...I did.

Alf was also not available for the next few hours either, BUT could pick us up from our hotel later, swing past picturesque Port Issac and take us to the railway station - perfect...Alf to the rescue!

Alf picked us up from the Hotel and drove us the 40 minute journey to Port Issac, where we wanted to take some more photos. We only needed an hour and so he said he'd wait for us and pick us up at quarter past four, bags were heavy so we asked if we could leave them in his car, he said that was fine..."See ya Alf! See you in an hour!"

WHAT?!?!?!?! Yes you read right, we actually did it...Why would we leave all our possessions in a stranger's car? Why would I go back and put my coat in there as well? Why did we think this man who we had met 40 minutes earlier would not steal our stuff? My BlackBerry with his number was in the car, in fact in the car I had left the following...

• New Burberry Bag
• Personal BlackBerry
• Work BlackBerry
• Clothes
• Shoes
• Wallet with cash, bank cards, company card.
• Train Tickets
• Oyster Card
• Door Keys
• Passport
• Work Pass
• Coat

Seriously, why didn't I just phone him up and let him know my PIN number and blood type? Oh yes, couldn't, he had my bloody phone!

For that last hour, needless to say, I was panicking slightly. Sure I wanted to relax take in the last few beautiful sights of the coastline (and it was beautiful) but wasn't really in the mood - how would I explain this to work, how would I explain that the three of us had basically handed over everything to a complete stranger and all we knew was his name was "Alf"?

Luckily for us Alf made a re-appearance and even joked when we got to the station and he handed us our stuff..."oh good, you're stuffs still here"...queue nervous laughter.

What have I learnt? Well, just because I'm out of London and I'm enjoying the countryside does NOT mean I should trust random old men...oh and I need to pack less.

Love Handles.

Shit, I have love handles, yes plural.

Slight podge was OK, well it wasn't OK, but I was on my way to sorting it out. I've reduced my carb intake, well over the last few days anyway, I'm doing sit-ups daily, OK, not done them for the last few weeks but at least I'm thinking about it.

Was just relaxing at home as one does on these Easter weekends, putting on some lounge trousers (I hate calling them that) was just doing them up when I saw it, two nasty love handles hanging over the edge. "Love handles" indeed...why call them that? There's nothing lovely about them! Hate Handles is far more in-keeping. "Muffin top" - not much better, but at least the title gives you a sign as to how you got them!

I'm now going to Plan B...No Carbs at all (after pasta tonight) and only fruit as snacks.

I am going on a beach holiday with the gays soon and there is no way that I want to look like the ugly, fat one that the other two invited along out of sympathy.

How many days do I have anyway? SHIT! 10 days!! 10 frigin days! That's just over a week, just short of two...right, I am going to only eat salads, no I'm not going to eat anything.

Desperate times and all that! Wish me luck, fat fingers crossed!