Pure convinced Silicon Valley & TfL are in a secret alliance. They’ve turned London into a minefield of chips where the battery 'over-dose' analyzes your fingerprint till it dies the second you hit the Congestion Zone. Then you’re stuck with an £18 fee and those 'Ice Agent' short cables that snap if you even look at them—costing more than the sweat off a Bitcoin. I’m sticking to the finger scanner though... thief can stitch a finger back on, but they can’t stitch your head back on just to bypass a toll! Total rip off.

My mom treats her designer Italian furniture like a shrine. We aren't allowed to sit 'inappropriately' in case we bow the cushions and if the blankets aren't replaced to showroom standards there’s hell to pay. We're basically the Addams Family if they all secretly wanted to dispose of each other... none of us even look alike (pretty sure my sisters the milkmans) and moms the only glue holding the museum together.

I pretend I’m patient and "working on myself," but the cheek of some people makes me seethe. I was in a long line at Lidl, basket on the floor to hold my spot. I turned to get some lollies and this tall man in a long grey coat just stepped into my space with his loaf of bread. He actually said I’d turned away so the spot was his—even though my basket was right there! I didn't say a word. I just used my basket as a line of defense against the breaded invader and pushed right past him. I ended up so close to the lad in front of me it looked like I was feeling him up! The man in the grey coat starts shouting "What are you doing?!" I just looked him in the eye and said—totally calm—"What do you want to do? Punch me in the face?" I thought, you think you can just intimidate me with a long coat and a loaf of bread? He actually broke into a smile then, because I’d called his bluff. I just told him, "I bet if I was a man you’d never have tried that." I might look calm but I’ve got no time for people who think they can push past just because they think I'm small.

Locked out in my house coat with no phone. Had to beg the supermarket to use theirs looking like a fugitive, then sat on the stairs for an hour picking my nose and judging people's clothes. Pure regret. Wallah—brother-in-law shows up and jimmies the lock with a credit card. Felt like a very poorly dressed burglar.

I WhatsApp my second phone at 3am. It’s a disaster. My 'brilliant' notes get buried under screenshots of air fryer ads and rants about the BBC. Finding a joke in there is like trying to bounce a ball off your head while on steroids, sleepwalking nude into traffic.