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Lucy Benedict

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Brexit means...
     Brexit means, according to our omnishambles of a Prime
Minister, ‘Brexit’. Very good, well done. But what does it actually entail, in
practical terms? So far, it seems to translate into the real world as loss of
access to the single market, the end of ...

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Rounded Balls
     It’s going to be on my headstone, isn’t it? “Ed Balls, she
totally would have”. Despite my best efforts, you lot are a load of filthy smut
lovers and that remains my most popular blogpost by a fuckload. It’s also the
most shambolic and chaotic I’ve eve...

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I'm in your head
     This is a truth I hold dear. Some people cannot
write. In the same way that I cannot draw, some people cannot write. We can all
have a game stab at it, throwing words out there into the world, but the truth
remains: some people cannot write. Or rather,...

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Speech Marks
      I say I’m a ‘bit obsessed with graffiti’. I may be slightly
underselling my feelings there. I’m more than a bit obsessed. I am consumed by
it. It started, a these things do innocently enough, with a bit of light
reading and the odd like and retweet. I...

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Head desk
      I’ve always had a desk. Always. From the rickety little
wooden toy school desk with lift up lid & fake inkwell, to the vast
mahogany expanse of my teenage homework years of paper pile ups, discarded ink
cartridges, and abandoned glasses of Ribena, the...

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Warning shots
         We need a word. A word that means ‘that feeling of grim
satisfaction when your warnings were ignored and things have gone tits up as
you knew they would’. That inward sigh and tut of disapproval that accompanies
an ‘I told you so’. That feeling of ...

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Fighting Talk
     It’s my birthday tomorrow. I shall be 37, which feels like
an odd age to be. No, not ‘old’, I’m not one of those wankers who bleats about
feeling ancient because it’s their 23 rd birthday (as an aside, fuck,
those people are annoying. The temptation to...

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Works like a charm
     When did we stop guarding against disaster and start hoping
to attract good fortune? Not me, obviously, I live life in a default BRACE!
BRACE! position, hoping that whatever comes next won’t leave permanent damage,
or at least the kind that can be artf...

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Tinned ravioli
           Here’s a story that will tell you how much of an over
empathic twat I am. When I was about eight or nine, dinner was quite often just
me on my own at the kitchen table for one night a week. My siblings were then
sidling along the paths of teenage...

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The truth about love Part II
The truth about love      I wrote that nearly 18 months ago. 'The
truth about love'. Seems a bit glib now. It was true, still is, in
some ways. There are no lies in it. But the truth as it is now, is
that it was based upon a false premise. I was not loved ...
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