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They call me the genre spanner... And I'm a trained First Aider. I'll give you mouth-to-mouth. That's a promise. I'm Cat, not Lucy. It's a pun but noone seems to get it. I always, always go out with the wrong boys. Real numptys. I like men who are poetic, often leading me to boys in bands. Never go out with boys in bands. They are fecund and stubborn. They will only leave, owing you money and an explanation. If you are a boy in a band who I dated and reading this I don't mean you. Ha. But you thought I did. You're so vain. I would love to be good at poetry but succinct leaves me inept. My kidneys are wonky so I need to drink lots of water which means I need to pee just about all the time. You don't want me on a long car journey. I am always late or running late. I have the best intentions but things are always happening to me. If I'm not late then I'm falling over and if I'm not falling over then I'm walking into something and if not then I'm saying the wrong thing. I say fanny a lot or flange. Often to my gran's church friends. I know that as a feminist I shouldn't be using vagina in a negative sense but... I've started saying fandango as an insult because it has that same alliterative fff quality. I know that computers have the capability of human thought and feeling and I know this because computers universally hate me. As does all technology. I cannot work my upgraded mobile. I need a haircut but I don't have the time or the money. My friends are better than sisters because I chose them. I haven't forgiven you and I'm not apologising, I just don't remember what the problem was. And I'm deliriously optimistic in that I have no sense of the future or consequences. My bank balance will back this up. I love my job. I should be nicer to my mum and I know I will regret this in the future. My grans are 85 and 93 and fabulous. I have good genes. When I was doing my first degree I wanted to join the FBI. I downloaded the application forms. What fandangos the Americans are. I have a lot of pet hates. A lot. I hate rudeness but I can't wait to be old enough to be legitimately cantankerous. I have let myself get portly. My arms and legs are ok but my belly has an independent existance. I like to eat and to sleep. Mmm. I'm incapable of doing only one thing at once. I read at traffic lights because those 30 seconds bore me. The Mighty Boosh is amazing, as are potato scones. Those Dyson hand-dryers at airports and Central Station are genius.