And I hate to admit she has a point, but she does, because why should she have to be like Polly, all: “I love you, I love you, I love you” like a crazy person? Maybe Miriam just enjoys having sex. Everyone is different.

Then she got half a pine nut stuck in her braces, but I didn’t tell her and let her prance right into her geography presentation.

Wednesday, January 31 #Falling

Tonight Mum WhatsApped and was like: “How’s Polly?” and I was like: “Brain-dead and floating in an estrogen-induced delirium,” and Mum was like: “Oh, don’t be mean, Phoebs. It’s a nice thing for her. Just wait until you fall in love.”

I was just like: “I will never fall in love.”

And what a stupid expression that is in the first place: To fall in love.

Like you fall into a ditch or something.

Maybe people need to look where they’re going.

Thursday, February 1 #WorstNightmare

I told Kate I was invited to Jacob’s party, hoping she’d say I wasn’t allowed to go, but of course she was like: “Great. I can drop you off and collect you if you like.”

I told her I’d take the bus because, let’s face it, it’s not like I’m going to be there for long.

I have nothing to wear, and everything I do have is covered in cat fur.

I hate my life.

Friday, February 2 #consumerism.com

Now that it’s February, everyone has jumped on the bandwagon that is the pointless frenzy about Valentine’s Day. I reckon Valentine’s Day was only invented so people don’t die of absolute boredom in winter.

After the Christmas sales, everyone’s like: Now what?

Enter Saint Valentine, and off we go again, spending money on meaningless crap, chocolates that now have hearts on them instead of Father Christmas, and stupidly overpriced cards.

I actually saw a card that said: HAPPY VALENTINE’S TO A GREAT SISTER-IN-LAW.

What does that have to do with anything?

Oh, and because love is in the air, the much less horny mother designer cat of the very horny escapee daughter designer cat is going in for the shagfest.

Kate’s decided to only take that one up to High Barnet now because the other one is most definitely already up the duff, and the dirty weekend costs like £500 per cat.

I wonder if you can buy shares in designer cat sperm, because Kate should.

In fact, I should.

Saturday, February 3 #PartyHell

I knew I’d have a terrible time at Jacob’s, and I did.

If it’s at all possible, I hate parties more than ever now that people have turned them into communal make-out sessions.

Tonight we played this game called Seven Minutes in Heaven, which is actually seven minutes in the toilet.

Miriam Patel (dressed like she’s forgotten to put on actual clothes and looking at me specifically): I would just like to mention that not everyone in this room is sixteen and therefore old enough to be legally sexually active. That means intercourse. FYI.

Me (dressed in actual clothes): Intercourse. LOL. (Because who says that?)

Miriam Patel (giving me a death stare):…

Me (considering her skyrocketing levels of phenylethylamine):…