Vivienne

Distinguishing features: My genius IQ and 42DD tits. Atheist vegetarian radical feminist anti-monarchist. Look, I am a really miserable cow and am just not sure if my colossal bosom is enough to make men overlook that. Music-wise I like anything that has any kind of ENERGY - which oftens means ANGER, hence the predominance of punk and old-skool rap in the above list. But it can be sadness, celebration, anything. I love really good quality pop and dance and disco and rawk too. But THE BEST POPULAR MUSIC IN THE WORLD IS MADE BY THE BRITISH LOWER CLASSES AND AFRICAN-AMERICANS. No question. Contrary to popular belief (and quite possibly common sense), I do actually like some men - those I admire include John Lydon, Winston Churchill, Oliver Cromwell and Chris Eubank. I just don't suffer men gladly is all. I use extensive consumption of film and literature as an escape from SQUALOR. I am on medication for my mental agony but I like laughing more than fucking and can be a well cynical Cockney cunt when I want to be. I like writing about myself. I like sun, sand, sea, BIG CITIES and heathens from hot countries. New York City is my favourite place in the world and it is my life's ambition to emigrate to the UNITED STATES (and get my goddamn PhD!). As well as America, I am obsessed with the lonely neon lure of fame and am a critical watcher of all things celebrity and showbiz-related. However, I advocate a return to the days when our stars actually meant or said anything vaguely noteworthy and gave us value for our money (Courtney Love at least does that). Take that most enduring totem of empty trendiness, Kate Moss - she has been feted as the face of a decade and an icon for a generation and yet despite being in the public eye for 15 years she has yet to utter a single memorable, interesting comment. She is the epitome of style over substance. My top hates are cowardice (and all the 'isms' and 'phobias' that derive from that), the monarchy, political correctness and God/Allah/Buddha/any imaginary bastard that occupies and exploits the weakest and most vulnerable part of the human mind and chloroforms its capacity for autonomous thought. Something about the bitterest cynics being secretly the biggest failed romantics is probably the best way to describe me. Oh, and the lyrics to 'I Just Wasn't Made For These Times' by the Beach Boys, of course. I'm probably not as clever as I think I am.