Good morrow weary fellow travellers, it is indeed Friday once more. It’s been a right week, Flora is looking to make friends in her new home and has so far joined a line-dancing troupe and an advanced whittling club. Meanwhile, Iris has been in therapy, but the less said about that the better. Anyway ducks, make yourself a cuppa, relax and imbibe the bile.

10) You should be hankering for a body other than yours, remember?

Alcohol, bread and processed carbs. To us, that’s a night on the gin, with some kind of bread and cheese related food orgasm that involves waking up in the airing cupboard with a brie hangover. And a melty Wispa in a clammy mitt. But not to Kate Upton.

Or rather, Kate Upton’s PR machine. Either way. We’re told she eats nuts, berries, has some bizarre dietary foible about things that fly and an American magazine used her picture. Good enough for the Daily Mail, which, we’re told, talked to the Evening Standard, demonstrating that journalists don’t so much need to read widely as read another paper and paraphrase it.

This sad farrago ends with the words ‘…if I can help girls who are going through body image issues…’ Yes, you can, love; stop wanging on about your dietary foraging and tell them to ignore bollocks like this.

9) Sex Work

I bet that’s a clip-on tie.

‘How do we illustrate this?’ ‘How about a man with a massive, heaving erection being showered in money?’ ‘Nah, let’s go for a bloke in a tie with a woman in soft focus.’

The Telegraph have found a study that says successful people have more sex, so this is an opportunity too good to miss. Feel guilty about your work success, ladies (and we got here via the women’s section, remember), or lack of sex? Well they’re feeding on each other. Next week, you’ll be fired, your boyfriend’s nob will fall off and an erection will be something the (more successful) neighbours build in their garden.

8) Daddy Issues

As you don’t want to read this tragic and foul bead of leprotic pus, the story (courtesy of the Daily Mail) is that a girl was described as ‘fat’ by her lovely, twinkly eyed old dad and was told boys wouldn’t fancy her. So she lost lots of weight and is tiny. And says things like ‘he’s a pretty straight-talking guy’ and ‘he’s so lovely’ just in case you think, perhaps, that he’s a massive bell-end with no more right to force his revolting opinions on his daughter than, say, someone has to make a small hat from his scrotum.

Our recommendation is to print this story and eat a kebab off it. Extra marks for periodically glancing at stray sentences as you laugh maniacally and get your tonsils around food that is verboten for any woman that wants to cop off with a bloke.

 7) Clawing at Eamonn Holmes’ Trousers

There can be few things worse than lying back while Eamonn ‘Orange’ Holmes attempts to push his podgy member into your secret lady parts, but one of them has to be reading in The Express what Eamonn thinks of your prowess.

Poor Eamonn, his wife Ruth – if his appearance on the apex of cultural sophistication, Celebrity Juice, is anything to go by – makes him take his trousers off at the door on arrival home from a hard day’s being Eamonn Holmes.

He may as well have shouted ‘Shabba’ and done a grindey dance to prove his oozing manliness. So look, Ruth, you’re welcome round Chez Tights anytime and we’ll leave Eamonn outside. Humping the crazy paving.

6) Matchy matchy!

Whenever I meet Iris for a refreshing ale and a sausage roll, I always – like clockwork – phone her a steady 24 hours in advance, to arrange what colour we’ll be wearing. Can you imagine if, for example, I turned up in a washed out salmon pink and she was in spring greens?! We’d look ridiculous! So it’s nice to know, courtesy of the Daily Mail, that Danielle Lineker and Jackie Sinclair (who?) have definitely on purpose prearranged their colour coordination, and it absolutely isn’t in any way an accident that they’ve both turned up wearing a bit of blue. And they’re both wearing sunglasses! OMG so cute! They’ve probably got matching vaginas as well. Samesies!

 5) Kitchen cupboard racism

Gratuitous honey jizz shot, courtesy of the Daily Mail.

In their thousandth article about how kitchen cupboard essentials can be slathered about your decolletage to stop you looking old, Femail have spaffed forth some guff, encouraging us to rub our breakfasts all over our faces, presumably to stop us eating or going outdoors. Oats make a great exfoliator, Philadelphia is an excellent moisturiser and honey, well, honey contains hydrogen peroxide and, therefore, ‘can be slathered onto skin as a mask to treat infected acne spots and to lighten skin.’ Yes, you read that correctly, the Daily Mail’s beauty advice includes tips on how to lighten skin. Because, in Mail Land, to be beautiful, you must be young, tall, thin (but not too thin) and as white as possible.

4) I ordered a bloke with a beard…

Look into his smouldery eyes ladies.

More from The Telegraph: this one is about a survey from an extra-marital website – presumably this is a website for people who love marriage so much they have had an upgrade to be extra-married? Anyway, apparently ladies (you know, all the proper ones who fancy blokes) are all gagging for tall, beardy men who dress elegantly (I’m envisaging a partial waltz as he be-trousers himself) and have smouldering eyes. Smouldering eyes is something that requires an Optrex Eye-bath in my opinion, but then maybe I’m an unnatural woman.

But in case it looks like we’re all just shallow wenches after a tufty man in a waistcoat, there’s reassurance for the guys; we also want someone romantic with a GSOH. I have my own GSOH, waistcoat and beard so, to be honest, I’m not sure what a man such as this can bring to my life. I am short though, so a tall one might be handy, as he could get stuff down from high shelves in Sainsbury’s, so I can leave my fold-out step stool at home. Ah, romance.

3) Dame Helen’s knees

You will all have, no doubt, heard about this already on BBC news or CNN or from that woman in the post office queue, being as it is this week’s major news story. Sorry to bring it up AGAIN, but… Helen Mirren’s got knees. KNEES. A pair of them, according to Feminist broadsheet the Daily Mail. Not only that, but she aired them BOTH on television. I know, I know, I’m sorry to discuss such smut here, in our safe place. But really Helen, first it was hardcore muff flick Calendar Girls and now this. There’s nowhere to go from here except Spring Break Gone Wild or a sordid blue number about the Queen’s ankles, co-staring Jim Broadbent and a former Harry Potter star in a breakaway role.

 2) A massive pile of arse

This morning, as my inamorato left for work, I smugly lugged my laptop to Costa, to purchase an urn of coffee and one of those sexy toasted sandwiches with cheese and mushrooms and 100% natural flavourings and preservatives. It didn’t work out, dear readers. Firstly, on the way in, a window cleaner with no teeth told me – with great difficulty – that the coffee machine was broken and customers were leaving in their DROVES. Unperturbed by this, I channelled my Auntie Maureen and ordered a nice pot of tea, but DISASTER, there were no toasties on the shelves. Honestly, what’s becoming of this country? First the railways and now breakfasts are letting us down. It’s a bloody disgrace. Anyway, I bravely sat down and commenced my sexist news scan. Going to The Sun’s homepage, I was confronted with a massive, MASSIVE image of an arse that filled the entire screen. There were barely any words – just 100% arse (which is, coincidentally what David Dinsmore is – he is 100% pure arse). At this point my computer froze, and I was left sitting there with cold tea, no sandwich and an arse.

I presume this arse has done something newsworthy? Has this arse pledged to defy party line on fracking? Has this arse won Wimbledon? No, my friend has just told me that Wimbledon isn’t on yet. I’m flummoxed. Anyone?

1) How chic are your curtains?

Slovenly women:  how clean is that carpet on the stairs? Is your cat untidy? Are your scatter cushions all wrong? Then PANIC – you live in a shithouse and all your friends are bitching about your dado rails behind your back, at fun parties you’re not invited to you because you’re DISTGUSTING. Yes, according to Femail (who reference an impartial ‘study’ conducted by Air Wick), our mates judge us according to how ship shape our living rooms are. This is all utter dross, obviously, but the article does bless us with what is, in my opinion, the greatest sentence ever printed in this noble newspaper: ‘A comfy sofa and posh coffee are the next best ways to win over your mate, while your shoes should be neatly stacked, your skirting boards clean, and shame on you if your curtains are outdated.’ I’ll just repeat that once more, to ensure you all got the message: ‘SHAME ON YOU IF YOUR CURTAINS ARE OUTDATED.’ Ignore this warning at your peril, you desolate cat-bothering slatterns.

…

So arses, beards, oats and shagging … oh, to be a woman. Enjoy your Friday, darlings, we’re retiring to the airing cupboard with a bumper pack of Wispas.