I try not to write about Brexit in any detail. This is partly because it irritates me, and partly because instead of polite debate it usually triggers only vitriolic outpourings from halfwits online.
I once wrote about Donald Trump and the dubious comments he has made about women – not to mention the paying off of porn stars.
In doing so I mortally offended a couple of the Trump Fan Club’s senior leadership team, who came out in great defence of the president.
Sadly, this defence consisted purely of abuse of me and my name – because we all know that our names speak absolute volumes about our characters, our ethics, and our personal moral codes.
The abuse centred mainly on the fact that the pair of Trump-lovers suspected I was ‘the kind of woman who pretends they’re a feminist but expects a man to hold a door open for her’.
The intellectual giants didn’t progress their rhetoric any further than this nonsensical nugget and instead garnered a fair amount of online abuse themselves for what was perceived as being a rather duff argument.
But I digress. Brexit. What the hell? I am writing this before the No-Deal vote and I am hoping that MPs will insist we leave with a deal. If we have to leave, we need a deal.
This seems obvious, but it also seemed obvious once upon a time that America would never vote Trump in as president.
It seemed obvious once upon a time that the UK would never vote to leave the EU. But here we are.
Back in January the Royal Pharmaceutical Society warned that pharmacies were struggling to obtain common drugs such as painkillers and anti-depressants.
Conversely, today, I did battle with a guy in Tesco for a multi-pack of Snackajacks because he was ‘stockpiling just in case’.
What is one person’s pain relief is clearly another person’s flavoured rice cake.
Either way, we find ourselves in the Brexit boat together.
Let’s hope we can still get hold of enough duct tape to paper over the gaping holes in the side.
Why is menstruating taboo when half the country does it?
Statistics say 49 per cent of British schoolgirls have missed a day of school because of having no sanitary protection.
Period poverty is in the news at the moment and the Scottish government last year promised £5.2 million of funding for schools, colleges and universities, to provide free sanitary products.
Periods have, for centuries, been a taboo topic, which is bonkers given that 50 per cent of the nation spend approximately 35 years of their lives bleeding for around five days per lunar month. More than five years in total.
You can guarantee if men spent five years bleeding from their penises we’d all have heard much more about it.
Would a standard three-day weekend actually satisfy us?
There was an article doing the rounds this week about introducing three-day weekends.
The rationale is it gives folk time to indulge in pursuits that benefit them both physically and mentally.
We all feel more motivated and rested when we are treated to, for example, a Bank Holiday Monday. But if the three-day weekend became standard would the novelty wear off and result in our muttering ‘a four-day weekend would be really lovely right now’?
In any case, only Saturday and Sunday are weekend days so we’d have to call it something else. Plus, we’d need to start it on the Thursday for risk of losing our nearly non-existent Bank Holiday Mondays.