is this the worst and most self-absorbed piece of journalism ever written? (most amusing)

[whensantagotstuckupAITCHimney]

Without a word of a lie, this was printed in The Evening Standard the other day after the tornado. A friend of mine has picked it up and thinks it's worth celebrating in all its pompous, un-self-aware, London meeja whore bourgeois pig awfulness. it's not a piss-take. really it isn't.

"My tornado hell. This is to celebrate and remember the excellent article by freelance writer Caroline Phillips from the Evening Standard. When it was printed is irrelevant, the point is to keep it alive forever, long after the last landfill has rotted away, we are all dust, and your children's children's children may revel in the words contained herein." here

How she can compare it to an aeroplane crashing into the side of her building is beyond me.

God I wonder how she reacts when someone dies or is seriously ill or she has to deal with problems involving real people???

actually it's well worth it, archie, it's hilarious.

and twinkie... didn't you see, she has an excellent trauma therapist on permanent standby for just such these events.

She just reminded me of a Catherine Tate character - the overbearing mother who lives in a completely different world to the rest of us who thinks she's going to die if she eats a tofu, cinnamon and gooseberry yogurt that's one day past it's sell by date and who tells her children not to panic because she's accidentally taken a wrong turn in her armoured Range Rover and is driving through... Totten ham!!

What planet does she live on??!! My god!!

I had to share the original feature with my sister, who then recognised CP as someone she has passed on Hampstead Heath with daughters and Douschka. She clocked CP bcs she was rather conspicuous with a loud voice.

Someone has posted on my picturetrail saying the upsidedown man is not Adrian, but her builder , and the pic had appeared in an earlier property piece. (The caption definitely says it's Adrian.)

I feel sorry for the poor saps at the British Legion who had to share a room with her and listen to her drone on about her 'fragrant cream and lavender garden with its climbing roses, ancient apple and pear trees, camellias and jasmine'.

Dorothy my arse.

Oh my. I've never read such self absorbed twaddle. What a silly cow.

This is a section from her delightful article about Tarn...

"There are also cafes for that leisurely Pernod; bistros for steak- frites; Villefranche market where nuns stand in the shadow of the church selling convent-made damson jam; where foie gras de canard is piled high; where farmers with gnarled hands sell misshapen red peppers, trays of nectarines that taste as they should, Toulouse sausages, farm-pressed cassis juice and plump fresh goats' cheese"

"Leisurely pernod"!? "nectarines that taste as they should"? Eh? How else should a nectarine taste?

Have just read through whole of this thread in tears. Can you believe someone could be that far up their own arsehole?

One thing is bothering me though and so far no-one seems to have the answer - were the clementines organic?!!

ROFL icebat.

However hard she tries (and boy is she trying hard!) she's never going to win any awards for journalism, is she? She writes like a posh sixth-former, all cliched descriptions and pretentiousness. I wonder what the gnarled-handed farmers would say about their characterisation.

Mis-shapen? Mis shapen ? How could you dscribe my perfect peppers as mis-shapen, you stoopid facking Engleesh cow. Zey are supposed to look like Zat, zut alors! (rolls eyes)

Apologies to any of our French friends for the crude stereotype!

It's made my day lol lol lol lol !!!! It has reaffirmed my faith in God - I would have sent a tornado to her too

"Emergency services treated people for shock, kicked down doors, vacated properties." This is a particularly good sentence.

I am somewhat concerned that Douchebag, the dog, will need counselling to get over this trauma, and possibly even a Channel 4 series of its own to document such, in desperate attempt to prove it still exists when it so nearly didn't.

It must be a p* take surely surely surely????

OMG it is for real-have forwarded on to everyone I know....

OMG! I knew north Londoners could be up themselves, but this really takes the prize! I love that she's in Kensall Rise though, not Hamstead, but it's all right because she's surrounded by other aspirational middle class types with pretentious jobs, even private bankers who've been 'cut from their work' hahaha, ROFL. I think you mean sacked, love

my sis lives there, Says it all.
Do any teachers/nurses/council staff live there or is it all tv producers etc?
Smug bitch, honestly! Sorry she's lost her home but she's so spoilt! it truly is monstrous or even moustrous..

Do you know, I've only just noticed from one of the other articles what Darling Caroline was doing when the Apocalypse hit:

'Just before 11am in a fashionable part of north London, Caroline Phillips, a freelance writer, thought the apocalypse had come. Sitting at the front window of her home writing about the benefits of complementary therapy, she looked up to see the sky turn black. A grey tornado, taller than a house, spewing debris and roaring like a jet, was heading straight for her."I dived under my desk and started screaming hysterically,"...'

Caroline, Caroline!... Surely with all that research under your four jumpers, you could have thought to take a swig of Bach flower essence under the desk, or downed a bit of chamomile infusion?... It might have saved us the screaming in the loo later.

guffaw

Enjoying myself so much catching up on this thread I totally failed to notice my 20 month son helping himself to a wet paintbrush which had blackboard paint on it. He has redecorated the hall!

Don't worry Caroline it wasn't Farrow and Ball. Wilkinsons I think.

MN at its best (unlike the standard)
Bit of homeopathy doesn't do much to ward off tornadoes, does it?!
So relieved to at least be related to someone who is lucky enough to "live in a fashionable part of London", what a vicarious thrill that gives me

Is it fashionable? You couldn't pay me enough to live there!!!

this gets funnier every time I read it. I wonder why she already had a trauma specialist? Maybe Douschka shat on the Cath Kidston carpet..

Or maybe Adrian caused a bowl of organic grapefruit to be vomited across the sage-green stone while doing his yogic exercises one day.

it it the gift that keeps on giving, isn't it? i still snurk at the insurance guy stoping to admire her polished plaster walls...