- Notice
BlendedSlop
VIP Member
I think she's late 
She literally cannot be on time for anything. I'm mortified for her.
She literally cannot be on time for anything. I'm mortified for her.
BlendedSlop
VIP Member
Couldn't sleep so gently, softly tracked down an eyewitness account of Jack rocking up to Conference. PayPal details below, tysm x
13:15
Jack enters the conference centre and swaggers up to the main auditorium doors. A burly security guard stands between her and glory, arms folded.
"Hi, I'm Jack Monroe - writer, author, campaigner, activist, cook, TV presenter on hiatus, sideboard collector, daily Pythagoras user, ballot spoiler and lover of classic sweets -"
"Yes Mx Monroe, we're aware of your body of...work. However, there seems to have been some mistake. We have you down as being in the Regency room, just down the hall there."
"No, you must be mistaken. I was voted the 19th most important gay in 2014, was diagnosed gifted and once cooked a three-course dinner for Mary Portas, for fuck's sake. I'm simply too well-known to be relegated to a fringe panel."
"I'm sorry Mx Monroe but I can only go by what it says here. You also appear to be *checks watch* 45 minutes late to your panel..."
"Yes, well, my train was delayed, I had a SEVERE stitch in my side from running all the way here and just as I got to the building I had to take a life-or-death call from a political prisoner wondering what to do with an old can of banana blossom, that OK with you?? Did the cabal put you up to this!?"
"Cabal? I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Never mind, I'm currently beingheld to account trolled by a mendacious group of ephemeral ninnies and am consequently seeing haters behind every sideboard."
Chewing her bottom lip (making sure to avoid the 50p size hole) she briefly mulls the situation over. Maybe she is mistaken after all. The Regency sounds suitably grand, so she'll probably feel right at home, and a whole herd of potential new Patreons could be in attendance. Her mind made up, she scampers down the hall.
Another security guard stands watch outside the Regency suite. Sadly, this one takes his job very seriously indeed.
"Hi, Jack Monroe. I'm here for the panel on food poverty."
"Let me see your ID pass, please."
"Shit, I must have left it on the counter in WH Smith while paying for my two bags of massively overpriced sweets."
"Then I'm sorry, but I can't let you in. You could be just anyone."
"Look, I'm slightly late for my speaking slot. I can show you my tattoos."
"I'm sorry, tattoos are not a valid form of ID."
"How many people do you know who have the Hippocratic Oath tattooed on them?"
"That would be none. Also, you should have kept your legs shut. I know that's a complete non-sequitur, but I had to say it so you can include it in your anecdote later about how you were victimised yet again."
"Get to fuck!"
Jack deftly kicks the guard in the shins then crawls under his legs as he doubles up in pain. She sprints for the Regency suite door, the world suddenly turning to slow motion.
"Come back here!" she hears him roar behind her in hot pursuit.
Grabbing a fistful of Opal Fruits from her bag, she throws them over her shoulder, hoping to induce a comical pratfall she can tweet about later for sweet engagement. Unfortunately, the guard is wise to her attempt at sweet-based sabotage and avoids the scattered cuboid smol slabs. He catches up to her and grabs her by the cuff of her 'Georgie from IT' anorak.
"White trash don't get to go to Conference," he snarls.
Suddenly a voice booms from across the hall.
"What do you think you're doing? Unhand that person at once. I'll have you know they're my dear comrade and I invited them here personally."
The guard gulps as Comrade Corbyn strides towards him. Sure, he's not the leader of the party anymore, but the guard still recognises his authority in this situation.
"Um...apologies for the misunderstanding, Mx Monroe. Please proceed."
Jack turns to shoot her saviour a toothy grin. "Cheers Jez," she gushes, following up with a signature awkward laugh. "I'll ping you over a copy of my new book when it's out in the Spring."
She pauses briefly before the doors to collect herself and go over her speech. As a former foodbank user and single mum on benefits...
That'll do.
13:15
Jack enters the conference centre and swaggers up to the main auditorium doors. A burly security guard stands between her and glory, arms folded.
"Hi, I'm Jack Monroe - writer, author, campaigner, activist, cook, TV presenter on hiatus, sideboard collector, daily Pythagoras user, ballot spoiler and lover of classic sweets -"
"Yes Mx Monroe, we're aware of your body of...work. However, there seems to have been some mistake. We have you down as being in the Regency room, just down the hall there."
"No, you must be mistaken. I was voted the 19th most important gay in 2014, was diagnosed gifted and once cooked a three-course dinner for Mary Portas, for fuck's sake. I'm simply too well-known to be relegated to a fringe panel."
"I'm sorry Mx Monroe but I can only go by what it says here. You also appear to be *checks watch* 45 minutes late to your panel..."
"Yes, well, my train was delayed, I had a SEVERE stitch in my side from running all the way here and just as I got to the building I had to take a life-or-death call from a political prisoner wondering what to do with an old can of banana blossom, that OK with you?? Did the cabal put you up to this!?"
"Cabal? I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Never mind, I'm currently being
Chewing her bottom lip (making sure to avoid the 50p size hole) she briefly mulls the situation over. Maybe she is mistaken after all. The Regency sounds suitably grand, so she'll probably feel right at home, and a whole herd of potential new Patreons could be in attendance. Her mind made up, she scampers down the hall.
Another security guard stands watch outside the Regency suite. Sadly, this one takes his job very seriously indeed.
"Hi, Jack Monroe. I'm here for the panel on food poverty."
"Let me see your ID pass, please."
"Shit, I must have left it on the counter in WH Smith while paying for my two bags of massively overpriced sweets."
"Then I'm sorry, but I can't let you in. You could be just anyone."
"Look, I'm slightly late for my speaking slot. I can show you my tattoos."
"I'm sorry, tattoos are not a valid form of ID."
"How many people do you know who have the Hippocratic Oath tattooed on them?"
"That would be none. Also, you should have kept your legs shut. I know that's a complete non-sequitur, but I had to say it so you can include it in your anecdote later about how you were victimised yet again."
"Get to fuck!"
Jack deftly kicks the guard in the shins then crawls under his legs as he doubles up in pain. She sprints for the Regency suite door, the world suddenly turning to slow motion.
"Come back here!" she hears him roar behind her in hot pursuit.
Grabbing a fistful of Opal Fruits from her bag, she throws them over her shoulder, hoping to induce a comical pratfall she can tweet about later for sweet engagement. Unfortunately, the guard is wise to her attempt at sweet-based sabotage and avoids the scattered cuboid smol slabs. He catches up to her and grabs her by the cuff of her 'Georgie from IT' anorak.
"White trash don't get to go to Conference," he snarls.
Suddenly a voice booms from across the hall.
"What do you think you're doing? Unhand that person at once. I'll have you know they're my dear comrade and I invited them here personally."
The guard gulps as Comrade Corbyn strides towards him. Sure, he's not the leader of the party anymore, but the guard still recognises his authority in this situation.
"Um...apologies for the misunderstanding, Mx Monroe. Please proceed."
Jack turns to shoot her saviour a toothy grin. "Cheers Jez," she gushes, following up with a signature awkward laugh. "I'll ping you over a copy of my new book when it's out in the Spring."
She pauses briefly before the doors to collect herself and go over her speech. As a former foodbank user and single mum on benefits...
That'll do.
LennyBriscoe
VIP Member
I had a wee Grunka there and it was just like old times - multiple pages to read and a shiny new thread 
.
When she was tweeting again about having to carry shopping home (🥱) it made me think of my lovely dad. He fell ill when I was 5 and developed epilepsy as a result so had to give up his job as a Bus Driver. Back then (mid-80s) it was a lot harder to claim everything you were entitled to benefits wise and we were poor, no doubt about it. Every Tuesday he would collect his benefits from the Post Office and have a walk to our local convenience store which was more expensive but he wasn’t allowed to drive and he was a proud man. He would then walk home with the shopping and I never heard him complain once about it. He shouldn’t have been carrying things but he would insist on going himself.
So, so many people have experienced real hardship in life and not just financial hardship. She is insulting countless people by embellishing this period of her life and milking every last penny she can from it. My memories of both parents is that they made their best of things and got on with it and did what they could to shield us from how tough things were. SB is not going to have the same assessment of things imo.
.When she was tweeting again about having to carry shopping home (🥱) it made me think of my lovely dad. He fell ill when I was 5 and developed epilepsy as a result so had to give up his job as a Bus Driver. Back then (mid-80s) it was a lot harder to claim everything you were entitled to benefits wise and we were poor, no doubt about it. Every Tuesday he would collect his benefits from the Post Office and have a walk to our local convenience store which was more expensive but he wasn’t allowed to drive and he was a proud man. He would then walk home with the shopping and I never heard him complain once about it. He shouldn’t have been carrying things but he would insist on going himself.
So, so many people have experienced real hardship in life and not just financial hardship. She is insulting countless people by embellishing this period of her life and milking every last penny she can from it. My memories of both parents is that they made their best of things and got on with it and did what they could to shield us from how tough things were. SB is not going to have the same assessment of things imo.
Brian Butterfield
VIP Member
Sideboard Bob
VIP Member
The late, great Terry Pratchett once wore this to a WorldCon (the world sci-fi convention).
Jack‘s would say something like, “ My grandfather’s DEAD, Nigella was BUSY, THAT MAN couldn’t make it. Hi I’m Jack Monroe”
blurstoftimes
VIP Member
I'm shocked that she hasn't moved onto carrying her belongings in a rag on a stick
Sideboard Bob
VIP Member
SKILLS!
So this definitely explains why she’s been filling up her social media with Trussell Trust posts for the last couple of weeks. Completely self-serving.
Orphan_Black
VIP Member
She's probably in Bournemouth, seaside resorts are interchangeable like herbs.
SweetTransvestite
VIP Member
Yes, jolly good job everyone. No one will be going to bed cold, hungry or desperately despondent about the future for themselves or families. You've solved it... Opal Fruits for everyone!
Flash123
VIP Member
ON A BOOTSTRAP LIMITED overview - Find and update company information - GOV.UK
ON A BOOTSTRAP LIMITED - Free company information from Companies House including registered office address, filing history, accounts, annual return, officers, charges, business activity
find-and-update.company-information.service.gov.uk
An interesting view on what a taxpayer is…… income tax clearly isn’t on Jack monroe’s radar. I look forward to Jack monroe’s visit to the Labour Party conference 2021
Orphan_Black
VIP Member
Ispyabudgetbeanblogger
Chatty Member
People-huv-tae-know
VIP Member
'During the poverty'
GinAndJuice
Member
Presented with no comment 
bowiethesdmn
VIP Member
She is a fucking panel
