Everyone has been talking about Samantha Brick's article in the Daily Mail this week, describing how her good looks have made life a bit difficult for her over the years, as females have shown her nothing but jealousy in the face of male attention. What really interested me were the things that she claimed random men had done for her and given her, and how these acts of generosity had led her to the conclusion they were done because of her dazzling beauty and pretty smile. Following that logic, I decided to see if any of these incidences had ever happened to me, like they have for Samantha, and if so, maybe I could publically declare that I must be a real looker too....
Samantha Brick was given a bunch of flowers from an unknown gentleman while walking down Portabello Road. I frequently get shouted at by a seemingly unwell gentleman on North End Road, who likes nothing less than to call me the C word several times in a row. Unlike Samantha, he doesn't keep this act of affection for me alone, but shares his good wishes with most people that pass him.
Samantha Brick frequently gets her tab paid for her or even ignored by bartenders when she tries to pay. I too have had my bar tab paid and been wined and dined by a dashing young man, but I have to pair his socks and wax his back hair. And I'm normally designated driver, so the only bubbles I get are in my Perrier.
Samantha Brick has a tough time with her female boss, who treats her badly out of jealousy, and criticises her dress sense. I also have a female boss who like nothing more than to throw broccoli at my face, throw my lipgloss in the bin and encourage me to wear a flower skirt and purple hair, in the style of Upsy Daisy. She also insists on having me clean her bottom on a regular basis. I'm still hopeful of a promotion, but for now, "Daddy" is the front runner.
On aeroplanes, Samantha Brick is sometimes sent free bottles of champagne. The last bottle I was handed by a steward on an aeroplane, was full of milk, was slurped by my daughter and promptly reappeared all over me, at the start of an eight hour flight.
Samantha Brick struggles because her friends are all worried she is going to steal their husbands away from them. I once upset a female friend, as her male soulmate loved nothing more than to hump my leg under the table. However, he was always distracted by a Pedigree Chum chew or a tennis ball. Perhaps I should suggest this to Samantha?
Finally, Samantha Brick hates going to dinner parties because other women are unfriendly to herded to her good looks. Dinner parties are a rare treat for me, due to a shortage of babysitters, and when I do attend I struggle to find anyone who is interested in how long raisins and sweet corn can last in a child's digestive tract. Funny that!
So, to conclude, I really don't think I can possibly compare to Samantha. Let's be honest, who can? My husband shared a wonderful nugget of advice with me, when I told him about this blog earlier. He read the article and some of the twitter backlash, and earnestly told me that the only way he can truly tell if he is drunk is if he looks in the mirror and thinks "I am pretty good looking". That is when he knows he needs to stop. Maybe Samantha should cut back on the (free) champagne.
Samantha Brick was given a bunch of flowers from an unknown gentleman while walking down Portabello Road. I frequently get shouted at by a seemingly unwell gentleman on North End Road, who likes nothing less than to call me the C word several times in a row. Unlike Samantha, he doesn't keep this act of affection for me alone, but shares his good wishes with most people that pass him.
Samantha Brick frequently gets her tab paid for her or even ignored by bartenders when she tries to pay. I too have had my bar tab paid and been wined and dined by a dashing young man, but I have to pair his socks and wax his back hair. And I'm normally designated driver, so the only bubbles I get are in my Perrier.
Samantha Brick has a tough time with her female boss, who treats her badly out of jealousy, and criticises her dress sense. I also have a female boss who like nothing more than to throw broccoli at my face, throw my lipgloss in the bin and encourage me to wear a flower skirt and purple hair, in the style of Upsy Daisy. She also insists on having me clean her bottom on a regular basis. I'm still hopeful of a promotion, but for now, "Daddy" is the front runner.
On aeroplanes, Samantha Brick is sometimes sent free bottles of champagne. The last bottle I was handed by a steward on an aeroplane, was full of milk, was slurped by my daughter and promptly reappeared all over me, at the start of an eight hour flight.
Samantha Brick struggles because her friends are all worried she is going to steal their husbands away from them. I once upset a female friend, as her male soulmate loved nothing more than to hump my leg under the table. However, he was always distracted by a Pedigree Chum chew or a tennis ball. Perhaps I should suggest this to Samantha?
Finally, Samantha Brick hates going to dinner parties because other women are unfriendly to herded to her good looks. Dinner parties are a rare treat for me, due to a shortage of babysitters, and when I do attend I struggle to find anyone who is interested in how long raisins and sweet corn can last in a child's digestive tract. Funny that!
So, to conclude, I really don't think I can possibly compare to Samantha. Let's be honest, who can? My husband shared a wonderful nugget of advice with me, when I told him about this blog earlier. He read the article and some of the twitter backlash, and earnestly told me that the only way he can truly tell if he is drunk is if he looks in the mirror and thinks "I am pretty good looking". That is when he knows he needs to stop. Maybe Samantha should cut back on the (free) champagne.
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