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Jack Monroe #400 The utter narcissism of this obscure cook
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I was saving this for the Sloppies, but unfortunately I won't have time this year to do them. Thread 400 looks like a fine occasion to unveil my cursed creation though - especially as she's finally stopped causing chaos every 30 seconds!
We've had Potatoes, and then there was Pasta. After much research (googling "carbohydrates that begin with P") I asked an AI https://app.inferkit.com/demo to write another installment of the Hunger Hurts series.
I then asked another AI (Craiyon) to create the images for the article.
Trigger warnings: mentions of death, mental illness, blood. There were mentions of sucide in the original, I believe I've removed them all but just to warn you in case some have slipped the net.
This is Popcorn.
I don't know about you but I think it really captured her tone in certain parts, a bit uncanny!
The essay was completed on Sunday 31st July. You can imagine my 'delight' when Jack suddenly dropped 2 Hunger 2 Hurts.
We've had Potatoes, and then there was Pasta. After much research (googling "carbohydrates that begin with P") I asked an AI https://app.inferkit.com/demo to write another installment of the Hunger Hurts series.
I then asked another AI (Craiyon) to create the images for the article.
Trigger warnings: mentions of death, mental illness, blood. There were mentions of sucide in the original, I believe I've removed them all but just to warn you in case some have slipped the net.
This is Popcorn.
To say I disagree, in effect, with the prioritization of food purchases in terms of your net pay, would be a bit of a paradox.
My long-time friend, who is in graduate school, knows the value of a single avocado or banana, and she’s also aware that a single half of an avocado, peeled, can last for days if you leave it on the counter, or some fresh mint or dried herbs can keep for weeks, all for your daily breakfast. She knows that frozen organic veggies are of less quality than fresh.
We, the rapidly falling share-owners of this island, are furious and are tearing our hair out about it. All the pensions that people rely upon are being cut, but the wealth, which is the real culprit here, is constantly gobbled up. What if someone is earning a few hundred pounds a week on which they’ve maxed out their credit card, or used to supplement a pension for a single parent, then lo and behold, with the savings they’ve got, they have a job? How happy would they be? The current cliche about some impoverished pensioner living a simple life of bare bones accommodation and homemade bread isn’t even true anymore. Does anyone remember the furore over a third house owned by a pensioner in Dorset?
As Ms Rees-Mogg later added in her blog, “The pie-and-prune diet will be showing its age soon enough, but for now, this form of slow starvation is easy for the elderly to follow as all it requires is a little discipline and planning ahead. And don’t worry about running out of greens at the end of the week: just keep making a mixture of puréed greens, cooked chickpeas, onions, dried beans and spices and freeze it in batches, ready to go at the weekend.”
This is only sensible food policy if you’re old, but how many of the 150+ young people we talked to earlier this year, on our anti-food poverty campaign in Norwich, pointed out how good food was?
After all, there’s something to be said for a balanced diet when there is a price to pay for every thing.
Maybe you won’t win the argument, or the contract. Or your relationship is over, or your house isn’t sold. Or it turns out the kintsugi technique is a load of nonsense. Maybe you won’t win a debate with a politician, or get paid the amount you were promised. Maybe you lose your job. Or you get ill. Maybe the wind blows the door of the cupboard shut on your fingers, or the battery in your car runs out and you’re stranded miles away with no money for petrol. Maybe you get stuck on a massive roundabout for hours and you’re shivering and alone. Maybe it rains.
Dirty washing at a launderette, April 2013.
Two presents, from my niece and nephew, 2008. Both for my mum.
Anxiety, 2007.
I hope you enjoyed my trip back to that parallel world that was my twenties. In fact I probably wasn’t the most ‘normal’ of young people. But the very worst thing that can be said to someone who has suffered serious psychological trauma, either directly or indirectly, is to say “Don’t worry, you were fine when you were laughing, happy, strong, good looking and confident. You must not have been mentally ill at all”. To my mind all I could think was that I had put everything into my job, but I was still back here. And I still am.
Incensed over the fact that they are shooting all kinds of rubbish at the site of my old flat, 2013.
I’ve been back a lot. About six times now. Loving the Game Of Thrones series. Not quite loving Game Of Thrones itself. Because that’s how privileged people are, by ignoring those who aren’t.
Baked potato with mashed swede and gravy and meat, 2013.
Eating eggs for breakfast every morning. The kind of diet which will likely leave me obese but make my brain happier.
If you were upset about my recipe for rice with kidney beans and corned beef, the death of Smiles, the coverage of poverty or just want to be sure you are giving the charities you care about money as well as making the world a more sympathetic, life-saving place, please give any of the organisations you care about a direct donation.
Look in the right hand column of my website, that’s where you can donate to any and every charity you care about. Or not, if you want to continue doing what I’ve done, which is to make every single event about poverty a carefully orchestrated social media fiesta.
Yes I’ve done my bit for ‘the cause’, but not even my unfathomable and extremely satisfying gap year and early adult life with the least amount of responsibility in the UK will prepare
Blanket. October 2012. Slightly dodgy sitting up in bed, all three of us were tumbling around.
Mother, 2012.
I don’t eat a lot of rice, now.
House. November 2013.
The deposit on the house took seven weeks to come through, but by then I had arranged for my mum to be put into a nursing home in Scotland. She was getting very poorly in my damp, cold bungalow. In fact, if my mother hadn’t had heart problems, she probably would have died from stress as a result of living in that tiny flat with three sick and hysterical children for two years. Without mother support, I would probably be lying dead on the pavement in the gutter, somewhere in the middle of that estate, or in a central London homeless shelter, or even at a food bank, surviving on cheap food stamps alone. All three of us would have been hungry and growing up in poverty, living in the gutter, and nobody would have noticed, because we would be invisible. I would have gone to school hungry, been bullied, forgotten, ignored.
Charity, this is depressing. I’m sure you’ve seen the situations on the television and I hate it.
Couldn’t imagine it to be much worse.
What I’m not so keen on is the charity thing, as pictured above, which is always a struggle. The first person I saw I instantly hated and was disgusted and went back for a refund.
I hate supermarkets. No sympathy. This is me buying a sandwich, which was just what I wanted, all day, every day, last year.
And the one magic dish that really fills a gap, that can really make a clog of a budget actually yield a flow of good-quality, healthy, hearty, inexpensive meals, is pasta with a pureed tomato sauce. Pasta for the day, prepared with red-skinned ripe tomatoes, full of goodness and spicing and wonder. A whole bowl for three meals, with seasoning, and left-overs for lunch, and as many as you like for dinner.
The thing is, Kevin is always so nice to us. Yet he’s always insisting that he buys pasta, and so I feel sure Kevin doesn’t have time for making pasta himself.
The madness of Kevin’s austerity regime is that he believes he can have an impact on public life, yet never sees the things in life that really matter to ordinary people.
Kevin loves to go to celebrity chef courses.
What does Kevin know about an ordinary mother’s efforts to cook meals, even the basics, on an austerity budget?
All Kevin’s buying is expensive pasta. And Kevin’s failing to recognize that a week on nothing but pasta would be a bad thing. Because then all the other goodies would be eaten, because everyone’s got an empty belly, and they’ll eat anything.
Because Kevin’s white-wing followers have so completely bought into the simplistic idea that pasta would actually make a difference, they refuse to consider that it might be completely awful to eat pasta without anything to give it any flavour or zest or fragrance.
Kevin always puts pasta in his pasta dishes, doesn’t he, Kevin’s pasta sauces aren’t really more than the basics.
If you haven’t got time to walk the steps from the train station and down into the soulless underground tunnels of the downtown docks, on your way to work, you just haven’t got time.
No, you’re sitting at home reading newspapers that say ‘Money Will Never Be Tough For Long’, or that send you into that pathetic tantrum of pleading that all those thousands of families in debt because of this stupidly cruel austerity regime.
But Kevin’s followers are blind, and Kevin knows it. He knows that his followers will accept his own nonsense about the fantasy benefits of a week of pasta, in any circumstances, no matter how absurd. It’s his job, his way of proving to his followers how angry he is, and how mean everyone else is. It’s a fantasy that he can be the hero of public life, simply because his followers believe him.
Maybe Kevin thinks a week without pasta would make a difference, maybe he thinks that, although it would only be a change that would be forced on his own constituents, and his government would just grumble a little and take it to mean that they’d actually have to stop cutting public spending and forcing people into poverty, forcing people who depend on public services into real, bloody despair. But a week on no pasta or cooking would make a difference to everyone who experiences that hopelessness.
You wouldn’t believe what a week of pasta might do, because none of you would know.
Tell Kevin’s supporters to see how important, how vital it is, to stop paying his debts. Tell Kevin’s followers to see how just one week without pasta, a fortnight without a car, or without a home that hasn’t been given away or sold off in a pissing frenzy of white-wing ideology might change the lives of real, working-class families. Tell Kevin’s followers that he is worth far more than his cheap shoes and that the thousands of families who are paying his debts to pay for his pasta and his kitchen and his holiday in Thailand that was taken before he could even earn enough to pay his staff in the first place.
Kevin’s supporters, with the best of intentions, would then tell Kevin to go to hell, and put the pasta back in the cupboard.
If Kevin is mad at me for telling his people that something could be done about the crisis he’s inflicted on them all, and that what he wants isn’t going to help, then at least let him know that his followers will put that pasta back and find someone else to harass.
If Kevin has any doubt that what I’m saying to him isn’t some kind of pathetic begging, then he’ll know.
If Kevin was scared that his pathetic and insidious personal debt crisis would get out of hand, he could stop it right now. It’s right there on Twitter, staring him in the face.
Kevin’s Twitter feeds, the ones that he freely gives out for anyone to flood with calls and questions, and if they aren’t answered promptly by this man, people can flood Twitter and Facebook and his own website with messages of desperation.
He could also shut off his Twitter account to stop all the abuse he receives, in the same way that he tells other poor, desperate families to do. It’s Twitter, Twitter is free, and he can shut it down at any time.
If he doesn’t shut it down, he can prove his own utter and unassailable stupidity by losing.
But it is not your job to be part of the problem, it is your job to work with people like Kevin, to work in the system and help to see that the system is not over-punishing and underfunding the public services that are trying to stop working people from starving, going into debt and dying because of the sheer stress that they’re under.
Or you can just be mean to everyone, call everyone mean, and tell them that nobody’s working anymore, that everyone is being paid rubbish wages and working for rubbish companies and that everything is going to hell in a punchbag because people like Kevin keep borrowing from the Scottish Government’s public services and never being able to pay it back.
Are you willing to fight that fight for us, to fight the small group of people trying to tear a whole nation down because they’re not getting a cup of warm coffee in the morning?
Or would you rather just pretend that nobody is struggling and not actually work to solve the real problem, to tackle real, existing problems, rather than endlessly helping people to fill in spreadsheets so that they can get the money they think they deserve, while stealing and destroying the lives of their neighbours, the people who will fill in your spreadsheets if you decide not to.
It’s time to take a step back and look at that.
____
Jack Monroe, founder of this site, has selected those items which most reflected her feelings about life as a single parent, and life in general.
Together they form a profile of a typical day for her. This is unedited, unreplied to and generally unedited prose, sometimes poignant, sometimes humorous, sometimes honest.
If you find yourself often falling into one or more of the traps outlined here, then please take the time to avert them, before they cost you more than you can afford.
THIS IS NOT A RELATIONSHIP ADVICE SITE.
Don’t go there if you are looking for advice on a relationship.
Do go there if you need a good cry, or to let out some anger, or to work through some problems.
If you’re here looking for a relationship, good luck, but I can’t help you.
If you’re looking for a way of releasing your anger or rage or sadness or worry or disappointment, then this is a good place to start.
However, be warned: you may come away from your visit here with a greater understanding of the emotional turbulence of being single, but more questions.
If you want to ask anything that's not on this page, then please use the contact form.
You will get a personal reply from me within a few days.
Follow Jack Monroe on Twitter:
(it put the wrong handle here so I've removed it)
Use the share buttons to support the site if you like!
I look forward to hearing from you.
Thank you!
Jack Monroe
Co-founder of This Ain't The Lyceum and All The Rest
A consultant psychiatrist, writer, presenter and mindfulness instructor. Please check out my skillset.
If you think you’ve got what it takes, then get in touch.
Email: Jack Monroe.
Website: (removed as not the correct website)
Licensed to practise Psychology in the UK since 1986. (1958 truthers, this one's for you I guess!)
Author of bestselling books on depression.
Charity trustee for Mind.
Fee: £5.00
_____
My long-time friend, who is in graduate school, knows the value of a single avocado or banana, and she’s also aware that a single half of an avocado, peeled, can last for days if you leave it on the counter, or some fresh mint or dried herbs can keep for weeks, all for your daily breakfast. She knows that frozen organic veggies are of less quality than fresh.
We, the rapidly falling share-owners of this island, are furious and are tearing our hair out about it. All the pensions that people rely upon are being cut, but the wealth, which is the real culprit here, is constantly gobbled up. What if someone is earning a few hundred pounds a week on which they’ve maxed out their credit card, or used to supplement a pension for a single parent, then lo and behold, with the savings they’ve got, they have a job? How happy would they be? The current cliche about some impoverished pensioner living a simple life of bare bones accommodation and homemade bread isn’t even true anymore. Does anyone remember the furore over a third house owned by a pensioner in Dorset?
As Ms Rees-Mogg later added in her blog, “The pie-and-prune diet will be showing its age soon enough, but for now, this form of slow starvation is easy for the elderly to follow as all it requires is a little discipline and planning ahead. And don’t worry about running out of greens at the end of the week: just keep making a mixture of puréed greens, cooked chickpeas, onions, dried beans and spices and freeze it in batches, ready to go at the weekend.”
This is only sensible food policy if you’re old, but how many of the 150+ young people we talked to earlier this year, on our anti-food poverty campaign in Norwich, pointed out how good food was?
After all, there’s something to be said for a balanced diet when there is a price to pay for every thing.
Maybe you won’t win the argument, or the contract. Or your relationship is over, or your house isn’t sold. Or it turns out the kintsugi technique is a load of nonsense. Maybe you won’t win a debate with a politician, or get paid the amount you were promised. Maybe you lose your job. Or you get ill. Maybe the wind blows the door of the cupboard shut on your fingers, or the battery in your car runs out and you’re stranded miles away with no money for petrol. Maybe you get stuck on a massive roundabout for hours and you’re shivering and alone. Maybe it rains.
Dirty washing at a launderette, April 2013.
Two presents, from my niece and nephew, 2008. Both for my mum.
Anxiety, 2007.
I hope you enjoyed my trip back to that parallel world that was my twenties. In fact I probably wasn’t the most ‘normal’ of young people. But the very worst thing that can be said to someone who has suffered serious psychological trauma, either directly or indirectly, is to say “Don’t worry, you were fine when you were laughing, happy, strong, good looking and confident. You must not have been mentally ill at all”. To my mind all I could think was that I had put everything into my job, but I was still back here. And I still am.
Incensed over the fact that they are shooting all kinds of rubbish at the site of my old flat, 2013.
I’ve been back a lot. About six times now. Loving the Game Of Thrones series. Not quite loving Game Of Thrones itself. Because that’s how privileged people are, by ignoring those who aren’t.
Baked potato with mashed swede and gravy and meat, 2013.
Eating eggs for breakfast every morning. The kind of diet which will likely leave me obese but make my brain happier.
If you were upset about my recipe for rice with kidney beans and corned beef, the death of Smiles, the coverage of poverty or just want to be sure you are giving the charities you care about money as well as making the world a more sympathetic, life-saving place, please give any of the organisations you care about a direct donation.
Look in the right hand column of my website, that’s where you can donate to any and every charity you care about. Or not, if you want to continue doing what I’ve done, which is to make every single event about poverty a carefully orchestrated social media fiesta.
Yes I’ve done my bit for ‘the cause’, but not even my unfathomable and extremely satisfying gap year and early adult life with the least amount of responsibility in the UK will prepare
Blanket. October 2012. Slightly dodgy sitting up in bed, all three of us were tumbling around.
Mother, 2012.
I don’t eat a lot of rice, now.
House. November 2013.
The deposit on the house took seven weeks to come through, but by then I had arranged for my mum to be put into a nursing home in Scotland. She was getting very poorly in my damp, cold bungalow. In fact, if my mother hadn’t had heart problems, she probably would have died from stress as a result of living in that tiny flat with three sick and hysterical children for two years. Without mother support, I would probably be lying dead on the pavement in the gutter, somewhere in the middle of that estate, or in a central London homeless shelter, or even at a food bank, surviving on cheap food stamps alone. All three of us would have been hungry and growing up in poverty, living in the gutter, and nobody would have noticed, because we would be invisible. I would have gone to school hungry, been bullied, forgotten, ignored.
Charity, this is depressing. I’m sure you’ve seen the situations on the television and I hate it.
Couldn’t imagine it to be much worse.
What I’m not so keen on is the charity thing, as pictured above, which is always a struggle. The first person I saw I instantly hated and was disgusted and went back for a refund.
I hate supermarkets. No sympathy. This is me buying a sandwich, which was just what I wanted, all day, every day, last year.
And the one magic dish that really fills a gap, that can really make a clog of a budget actually yield a flow of good-quality, healthy, hearty, inexpensive meals, is pasta with a pureed tomato sauce. Pasta for the day, prepared with red-skinned ripe tomatoes, full of goodness and spicing and wonder. A whole bowl for three meals, with seasoning, and left-overs for lunch, and as many as you like for dinner.
The thing is, Kevin is always so nice to us. Yet he’s always insisting that he buys pasta, and so I feel sure Kevin doesn’t have time for making pasta himself.
The madness of Kevin’s austerity regime is that he believes he can have an impact on public life, yet never sees the things in life that really matter to ordinary people.
Kevin loves to go to celebrity chef courses.
What does Kevin know about an ordinary mother’s efforts to cook meals, even the basics, on an austerity budget?
All Kevin’s buying is expensive pasta. And Kevin’s failing to recognize that a week on nothing but pasta would be a bad thing. Because then all the other goodies would be eaten, because everyone’s got an empty belly, and they’ll eat anything.
Because Kevin’s white-wing followers have so completely bought into the simplistic idea that pasta would actually make a difference, they refuse to consider that it might be completely awful to eat pasta without anything to give it any flavour or zest or fragrance.
Kevin always puts pasta in his pasta dishes, doesn’t he, Kevin’s pasta sauces aren’t really more than the basics.
If you haven’t got time to walk the steps from the train station and down into the soulless underground tunnels of the downtown docks, on your way to work, you just haven’t got time.
No, you’re sitting at home reading newspapers that say ‘Money Will Never Be Tough For Long’, or that send you into that pathetic tantrum of pleading that all those thousands of families in debt because of this stupidly cruel austerity regime.
But Kevin’s followers are blind, and Kevin knows it. He knows that his followers will accept his own nonsense about the fantasy benefits of a week of pasta, in any circumstances, no matter how absurd. It’s his job, his way of proving to his followers how angry he is, and how mean everyone else is. It’s a fantasy that he can be the hero of public life, simply because his followers believe him.
Maybe Kevin thinks a week without pasta would make a difference, maybe he thinks that, although it would only be a change that would be forced on his own constituents, and his government would just grumble a little and take it to mean that they’d actually have to stop cutting public spending and forcing people into poverty, forcing people who depend on public services into real, bloody despair. But a week on no pasta or cooking would make a difference to everyone who experiences that hopelessness.
You wouldn’t believe what a week of pasta might do, because none of you would know.
Tell Kevin’s supporters to see how important, how vital it is, to stop paying his debts. Tell Kevin’s followers to see how just one week without pasta, a fortnight without a car, or without a home that hasn’t been given away or sold off in a pissing frenzy of white-wing ideology might change the lives of real, working-class families. Tell Kevin’s followers that he is worth far more than his cheap shoes and that the thousands of families who are paying his debts to pay for his pasta and his kitchen and his holiday in Thailand that was taken before he could even earn enough to pay his staff in the first place.
Kevin’s supporters, with the best of intentions, would then tell Kevin to go to hell, and put the pasta back in the cupboard.
If Kevin is mad at me for telling his people that something could be done about the crisis he’s inflicted on them all, and that what he wants isn’t going to help, then at least let him know that his followers will put that pasta back and find someone else to harass.
If Kevin has any doubt that what I’m saying to him isn’t some kind of pathetic begging, then he’ll know.
If Kevin was scared that his pathetic and insidious personal debt crisis would get out of hand, he could stop it right now. It’s right there on Twitter, staring him in the face.
Kevin’s Twitter feeds, the ones that he freely gives out for anyone to flood with calls and questions, and if they aren’t answered promptly by this man, people can flood Twitter and Facebook and his own website with messages of desperation.
He could also shut off his Twitter account to stop all the abuse he receives, in the same way that he tells other poor, desperate families to do. It’s Twitter, Twitter is free, and he can shut it down at any time.
If he doesn’t shut it down, he can prove his own utter and unassailable stupidity by losing.
But it is not your job to be part of the problem, it is your job to work with people like Kevin, to work in the system and help to see that the system is not over-punishing and underfunding the public services that are trying to stop working people from starving, going into debt and dying because of the sheer stress that they’re under.
Or you can just be mean to everyone, call everyone mean, and tell them that nobody’s working anymore, that everyone is being paid rubbish wages and working for rubbish companies and that everything is going to hell in a punchbag because people like Kevin keep borrowing from the Scottish Government’s public services and never being able to pay it back.
Are you willing to fight that fight for us, to fight the small group of people trying to tear a whole nation down because they’re not getting a cup of warm coffee in the morning?
Or would you rather just pretend that nobody is struggling and not actually work to solve the real problem, to tackle real, existing problems, rather than endlessly helping people to fill in spreadsheets so that they can get the money they think they deserve, while stealing and destroying the lives of their neighbours, the people who will fill in your spreadsheets if you decide not to.
It’s time to take a step back and look at that.
____
Jack Monroe, founder of this site, has selected those items which most reflected her feelings about life as a single parent, and life in general.
Together they form a profile of a typical day for her. This is unedited, unreplied to and generally unedited prose, sometimes poignant, sometimes humorous, sometimes honest.
If you find yourself often falling into one or more of the traps outlined here, then please take the time to avert them, before they cost you more than you can afford.
THIS IS NOT A RELATIONSHIP ADVICE SITE.
Don’t go there if you are looking for advice on a relationship.
Do go there if you need a good cry, or to let out some anger, or to work through some problems.
If you’re here looking for a relationship, good luck, but I can’t help you.
If you’re looking for a way of releasing your anger or rage or sadness or worry or disappointment, then this is a good place to start.
However, be warned: you may come away from your visit here with a greater understanding of the emotional turbulence of being single, but more questions.
If you want to ask anything that's not on this page, then please use the contact form.
You will get a personal reply from me within a few days.
Follow Jack Monroe on Twitter:
(it put the wrong handle here so I've removed it)
Use the share buttons to support the site if you like!
I look forward to hearing from you.
Thank you!
Jack Monroe
Co-founder of This Ain't The Lyceum and All The Rest
A consultant psychiatrist, writer, presenter and mindfulness instructor. Please check out my skillset.
If you think you’ve got what it takes, then get in touch.
Email: Jack Monroe.
Website: (removed as not the correct website)
Licensed to practise Psychology in the UK since 1986. (1958 truthers, this one's for you I guess!)
Author of bestselling books on depression.
Charity trustee for Mind.
Fee: £5.00
_____
So I fed this website one paragraph at a time from Pasta & Potatoes, (and a couple of her most banger tweets) and told it to write the next 500 to 750 characters until I'd run out of my free character limit (twice) The only guidance I gave the AI was to include the words "Twitter" "popcorn" (which it ignored! Thanks pal, not like it's the title of the essay or anything!) "Bungalow" "White-wing" and "magic pasta."
Although I haven't added anything to this essay, I have had to remove sentences and paragraphs, because for some inexplicable reason if you give an AI a taste of Jack Monroe essays it starts writing some intensely triggering tit. Almost as triggering as the shite real Jack comes out with on the regular.
I have no idea why it took such a dislike to Kevin. Clearly it also recognised her love of ending tweets/blog posts with a "thankyou" but corrected the spelling.
After hitting the word count on my laptop and then my phone, removing countless mentions of suicide, amending a sentence to chop out a graphic description of a hospital procedure (then deleting another paragraph in which the AI threatened to harm Kevin, I'm a bit worried Jack is a poor influence for the machines) and finally removing several instances of repetition where the AI just said the exact same sentence in different ways back to back to fill out multiple paragraphs - the Popcorn was ready.
Although I haven't added anything to this essay, I have had to remove sentences and paragraphs, because for some inexplicable reason if you give an AI a taste of Jack Monroe essays it starts writing some intensely triggering tit. Almost as triggering as the shite real Jack comes out with on the regular.
I have no idea why it took such a dislike to Kevin. Clearly it also recognised her love of ending tweets/blog posts with a "thankyou" but corrected the spelling.
After hitting the word count on my laptop and then my phone, removing countless mentions of suicide, amending a sentence to chop out a graphic description of a hospital procedure (then deleting another paragraph in which the AI threatened to harm Kevin, I'm a bit worried Jack is a poor influence for the machines) and finally removing several instances of repetition where the AI just said the exact same sentence in different ways back to back to fill out multiple paragraphs - the Popcorn was ready.
The essay was completed on Sunday 31st July. You can imagine my 'delight' when Jack suddenly dropped 2 Hunger 2 Hurts.
Another dodgy thing about this is similar to the singles charts scandal of the 90s, she possibly bumped her sales artificially in the book charts and made it look more popular and get more free PR as a best seller. If those donations were put through as retail sales rather than a donation- dodgy!
Those are shocking visitor numbers when she has such a massive SM following! Imagine what it could be if she was adding stuff regularly! She could have Amazon idea lists linked to her niche (although I'm not sure there if a "shite cookery" niche) and make some decent income from it - again, given her SM following, because we all know Amazon affiliate income isn't great.
I have a tiny following and my website gets almost the same number of visitors as hers, but I'm not lazy and can be arsed to update it and I bet you do with yours, too! Have you checked her domain authority? Might get Inspector Clouseau on the case if not.
I mean, they're only going to draw more attention to her grift and inconsistencies by doing this.
Yep, just checked and someone has already replied with a link to AM's blog.
Both. Too lazy to even come up with recipes while she’s raking in money for nothing and too stupid to realise it looks terrible for her MO to not have any discernible output for her 400 hour weeks...
Do you think she's been reaching out to people for support on twitter?
Her DA is 55, which is SO good, she could make real money doing reviews etc. It's because she'll have links from all the papers etc...sigh.Those are shocking visitor numbers when she has such a massive SM following! Imagine what it could be if she was adding stuff regularly! She could have Amazon idea lists linked to her niche (although I'm not sure there if a "shite cookery" niche) and make some decent income from it - again, given her SM following, because we all know Amazon affiliate income isn't great.
I have a tiny following and my website gets almost the same number of visitors as hers, but I'm not lazy and can be arsed to update it and I bet you do with yours, too! Have you checked her domain authority? Might get Inspector Clouseau on the case if not.
Slithering into DMs on a tide of self pitying tears and snot.
My personal opinion (just an opinion m'lud) is that she's treating the money paid to TT like an advance on a book.
She said she'd made 10 grand on the first day which is highly unlikely.
Then she shat herself because she realised she had to stump up the money. She paid 3 payments to TT, one for a random figure like £6432.17 (can't remember the exact amount!) then two identical payments of EXACTLY £2.5k.
My theory is the first payment was the actual profits but she had to round it up with her own cash. She either transferred the 2 payments from savings OR got 2 people to lend/give her £2.5k each. Harold was around then and Big D was probably feeling generous.
In her mind that £5k is HERS and she needs to recoup the money. She's still selling the tshirts and I'm certain she's pocketing it until she makes another £5k to pay pack whoever lent it to her. Like I said, like an advance for a book.
(As I said, just a theory m'lud and if she was honest and transparent with her finances then no one would be thinking like this)
That’s a VERY flattering photo. Was it manipulated?
Yes, absolutely. All done in a effort to tar anyone questioning her story with the same brush.
If that is with all her love what do you get if she hates you.No charity turns down free publicity and Jack is totally open about getting work with Google, Hellman’s, Del Monte, Linda McCartney etc so the ‘the charities want to remain secret’ is ridiculous. Even IF they wanted to remain ‘secret’they can’t because there are rules about transparency.
Again, this issue is wider than Jack just being an idiot-these sorts of issues with unanswered questions make others sceptical and lose trust which does have a harmful impact on others. Jack puts her attention seeking thirst and narcissism before things that really matter yet again.
Also, if she did end up having to pay anything out of her own pocket, I can’t imagine her not clawing it back. She is utterly obsessed with money because, again, the real priority is always Jack. Me me me and me again.
I only hope she did have to dip into her massive pot she’s creamed off the gullible idiots paying her patreon. If you look at this, the questions come thick and fast.
Eg
1. Payment for recipes: You already get paid for recipes as you write books for which you are paid (and a lot of idiots purchase patronisingly to give to food banks). You also surely get ad revenue. You also get gigs like Daily Kitchen Live/Lorraine as people conclude you must be a ‘cook’. Other cooks-both famous and barely known have exactly the same amount of ‘alllllll the admin ‘ yet don’t beg strangers for cash.
2. Charity work done for free: Like what? I know all about your make up collection but precious little of all this free work. Plenty of people spend their free time volunteering without expecting others to fund them.
3. School talks?:Insert sure Jan gif. Was there even one? (Parents presenting to their kid’s school in an assembly or whatever also happens all the time for free).
4. ‘The good stuff that makes a difference’: Thanks for that, much clear.
5. Clearly it IS a donation service because you give these people nothing and you got most of them signed up because you make people think you’re poor. Normal people don’t unscrew lightbulbs unless they’re utterly skint. You post screenshots of empty bank accounts and play victim.
Hope this helps Jack. Get a job. I know you tweeted to someone the other day that ‘this will all blow over, it always does’, but this really won’t.
Oh yeah she sets her thick flying monkeys on you. Still preferable to one of her recipes.
I think she truly hates that this is the type of thing that comes out of a period of silence. We entertain ourselves, and the devil finds work for idle forensic fraus to do.
To say I
and 
at this masterpiece is an understatement. I had to step outside to finish ; absolutely brilliant!I find this twitter silence very ominous. Something wicked this way comes!
Sigh.
DIVA are also hiding negative replies.
DIVA are also hiding negative replies.
Wow, she really doesn't have a bleeping clue about using her platform/audience, does she? What a wanker!
And Diva magazine can duck off & do one, too! Unless it leads them to actually READ AM blog, of course, then that could be a game changer - bet they don't though!
You come to this canal, on the day of the 400th thread and you tell me I get no chapeau
Oh do duck OFF
- Status