Such vile abuse! And they're all true, aren't they?
Jack Monroe #459 That westboro baptist church penis wig will haunt her forever
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Oh shut up Jack, no one cares.
So much of this on twitter! The ones with 50 - 100k followers (buy me a coffee and I'll interact) write big puff pieces about JM being bullied in the hope she'll give them a leg up when she reaches those giddy heights again. The ones with 5 - 10k who buy these people a coffee desperate to get on the next rung.
Collectively, this lot could be a force for good, eg. campaign to eradicate the need for foodbanks. They are certainly not the socialists they claim to be. More like a grifters' pyramid scheme.
Can you really just turn up a foodbank and be allowed to help without even giving a full name or having any ID? That seems like it might not be the best policy?
Imagine she turned up in a t-shirt by accident. "Oh, that must be Jack Munroe, the only person in Southend with tattoos! Hello, Jack!"
Hopefully this works!This is one of the best things I've ever read🪦
Can we get this in decent quality somehow?
Attachments
Leggy's old business partner...
Had to casually get in that the books are free.
I know another place that needs publicity at the moment where you can get free books.
You would think a POV campaigner would use a library.
She is such a nobhead
I know another place that needs publicity at the moment where you can get free books.
You would think a POV campaigner would use a library.
She is such a nobhead
I'm having a BUSY week at my Actual Job but having an occasional look at her Twitter feed and she really needs to start shutting the fuck up.
No doubt by the end of this week this chest-puffing mania will have been ushered out by a
comedown and she will be softly gently begging for the nefarious trollz to leave her alone and probably breadcrumbing unaliving herself
A more predictable cycle than the seasons.
No doubt by the end of this week this chest-puffing mania will have been ushered out by a
comedown and she will be softly gently begging for the nefarious trollz to leave her alone and probably breadcrumbing unaliving herselfA more predictable cycle than the seasons.
Jack harvesting the names and addresses of people in recovery.
Dies she not own any chairs? Why is she always pictured squatting on her worktops?
Happy to send out books for free but can't fulfill your paying Patreons rewards?
Alrighty then.
Does she not realise how bad this looks?
'happy to pop' 'drop me an email' 'i'll ping it over' OMG SHUT THE duck UP
Carrot, coconut and chilli soup SOUNDS like it could be really nice.
Going to have to Google who she stole it from and follow their original recipe
Going to have to Google who she stole it from and follow their original recipe
I wish she'd bloody hurry up and move. She's probably only moving within a mile, less has been said about Arctic expeditions.
She owns THOUSANDS of chairs. We've done a ChairWatch in the past. @Marmalade Atkins did a nice art piece of the various Jacks in her various chairs.
So she thinks she's a Very Useful Foghorn, does she?
Foghorns are used one you're IN a chilly, dangerous, obfuscating mess, not to bring one down upon you. I suppose they might be useful if the atmosphere around you is filled with unusual white clouds, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Foghorns are used one you're IN a chilly, dangerous, obfuscating mess, not to bring one down upon you. I suppose they might be useful if the atmosphere around you is filled with unusual white clouds, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I thought she didn't drink coffee, only some sort of grim slow cooker tea?
Jack Monroe is waiting in the wings. A few butterflies in her stomach, but otherwise she's fine. She's excited - this is a new experience for her. An audience of 200 business suits, all there to hear her talk. She has turned a corner. Life, at last, is good.
Then, just as she's readying to step on stage, she hears it. The event compere. He's reading an entry from her erstwhile blog, A Girl Called Jack. The one that went viral. The one that describes her life back in 2012, as a single mum in austerity Britain, no job, little hope, doing everything to make her benefit cheque stretch. 'Hunger Hurts' was the blog's title. The text is a mix of raw anger, tinged with desperation. The words land with brutal frankness. But they are words, too, that captured people's hearts and landed her a book deal. Words that led her here, waiting to go on stage, a voice for broken Britain. Over the loudspeaker, the compere reads: "this morning, Small Boy had one of the last Weetabix, mashed with water. Where's Mummy's breakfast? he asks, all blue eyes and two-year- old concern. I tell him I'm not hungry, but the rumbling of my stomach calls…”
She freezes. All her pre-event bravado, puff, gone. Instantly, she's back in her cold bedsit in the Essex seaside town of Southend, no carpets on the floor, nothing in the fridge, mould around the windows. Did she give in to the little voice inside telling her to turn tail? No. A few silent serenity prayers, a long deep breath, and she marches out onto the platform.
She gives it to them all guns. On what it's like to duct tape your child's shoes together. On how you can 'boil' pasta in a heatproof flask. On unscrewing lightbulbs to save on electricity. Meet Jack Monroe, the 34-year-old anti-poverty campaigner, with her tattooed arms and stack of "god-awful life experiences" up her sleeve, telling it as it is.
"Poverty is absolutely suffocating. It's exhausting. It's a world of lacking, basically - of lacking agency, choices, enthusiasm, energy, health, joy." That's her speaking today. She is back in her hometown of Southend. The moving boxes are out again. Following the end of a relationship, she now needs a smaller place. Exactly how many times she's moved house, she can't remember: 20 times in as many years, she guesses.
Her new flat is far from luxurious - a fact that betrays her Twitter trolls, who accuse her of cashing in on the poverty of others. Yet, the place is comfy enough, with enough space for her now 12-year-old boy.
Hard times came quickly. Born to David and Evelyn, a firefighter and a nurse from Southend, she got into grammar school but was expelled at 16 which she maintains left her with "little education". She began working in supermarkets and cafes, before eventually getting a job with the Essex Fire Service. After she had her son in her early 20s, struggling to juggle nightshifts and childcare, she told her boss she was quitting.
Almost immediately, she regretted it. But when she went back the next day, her manager wasn't interested. Then came eviction, stress, debt - and a rapid downward spiral. That was then, before that fateful night she pressed 'post and went to bed, thinking she might well "shuffle off this mortal coil”. A decade on, she is back on her feet.
This month saw her seventh cookery book hit the shelves, a timely collection of 120 low-cost recipes and money-saving hacks called Thrifty Kitchen. With hunger levels in the UK more than doubling over the past year (nearly 10 million adults and 4 million children are now unable to eat regular meals) according to the Food Foundation, she's publishing a free e-book of 30 recipes alongside the hardback, available via the Trussell Trust website.
USING HER VOICE FOR GOOD
Monroe is a regular habitué of social media (@BootstrapCook), which she takes to with a witty, often vituperative voice. She has a pugilistic streak, an asset she uses to fight the corner of the many social justice charities that she supports. "Basically, if there's an organisation doing something that I think is important, I say 'Hello, I'm a very useful foghorn. Allow me to shout about whatever it is that you need shouting about."
It's in that role that she has become a powerful spokesperson for charities like the Child Poverty Action Group, the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, the Trussell Trust, and dozens of other similarly aligned organisations. Her direct, often expletive-flavoured presentation style partly explains herr effectiveness as a campaigner. She talks of putting "politely worded press releases through the Jack translator" [read: "a little bit sweary, a little bit visceral, even a little bit rude"].
Back in front of those executives, for example, she didn't just retell her own story; she also regaled them with what they could do. "I got my phone out and I'm like, 'So, how much profit did you make last year? How much do your cleaning staff earn?' And I was like, You could literally double their wages tomorrow. Just by sending an email to your board, you could lift thousands of people out of poverty." Most of the suits looked a bit stunned, she recalls. "I have one sole purpose now and everything I do has to be a step further down that road - and that is that everybody in Britain should have enough to meet their basic needs, and I'm including in that joy and dignity and peace of mind"
Being shouty only gets you so far. What makes Monroe's voice cut through is the lived experience that accompanies it. If she had to choose one criticism of today's politicians (and she has many), it's how hopelessly out of touch they are. She recalls sitting down a few years ago with Henry Dimbleby, the man charged at the time with drafting a National Food Strategy. Off the bat, she suggested increasing the value of Healthy Start Vouchers, an NHS scheme that helps young mothers on low incomes to buy basic foodstuffs.
To illustrate, she opened a supermarket app on her phone and clicked 'buy on various food items. In went apples, bananas, oranges, mixed frozen fruits, carrots, milk, onions. Then, turning the screen towards the food tsar, she started deleting them. Halfway through, she stopped. "That's what the vouchers will currently get you," she said. "I don't know if he'd never heard of Healthy Start Vouchers, but he certainly didn't seem aware of their importance," she says, explaining with a proud smile that the proposed increase made its way into Dimbleby's list of recommendations.
Similar ground-up insights frame Monroe's latest campaign, inspired by the unfairness of the cost of living crisis. She is currently pushing the government to give more weight to the disproportionate rising cost of ‘value' ranges in supermarkets - an issue of major concern to low-income shoppers, yet one overlooked in official inflation figures.
With her canny eye for publicity, she has christened it the 'Vimes Boots Index' The term is a nod to Terry Pratchett, whose Discworld series features a character called Sam Vimes, the man behind the 'Sam Vimes "Boots" theory of socioeconomic unfairness. Looking back, no one is more surprised by her dramatic turnaround than Monroe. She still shops in the same supermarket where she worked as a 17-year-old. Occasionally, people remark how weird it is running into her when they've just seen her on television.
THE LONG ROAD TO RECOVERY
Life remains no bed of roses, however. The scars of going without run deep. In Monroe's case, she's been diagnosed with chronic post-traumatic stress disorder, a contributing factor to her prolonged struggle with alcohol abuse. She also continues to have a difficult relationship with money. Occasionally, she treats herself to a posh packet of biscuits, but it leaves her feeling guilty. With her son, she admits to "going completely the other way". Although he was too young to remember the worst days, that doesn't stop her trying to make up for it now. "I've done a lot of therapy, so I've worked through this, but basically I've carried a lot of guilt around his early childhood. You know, the cold and the never-ending basic cereal."
The effects of long-term poverty aren't just psychological. Now when she speaks, her nose sounds bunged up, as if she has a permanent cold. "I didn't always sound like this," she says apologetically. Living in low-grade housing, she explains, has done permanent damage to her respiratory and immune systems. Yet still she shouts through her foghorn, a permanent thorn in the side of whoever happens to be in power. If people don't like her abrasive style, then "bollocks to them, quite frankly".
No one would begrudge her stepping back a bit, especially given the online abuse directed her way. Some common tropes: "Cosplaying as working class", "stands to inherit a fortune", "kid's dad as involved as can be" (and that's just from one single tweet). Why does she carry on?
Three reasons, she says. First, utter rage. That people in one of the world's most advanced economies are going hungry makes her "furious". Second, and more importantly, is evidence of people's everyday decency. She remains a believer in community because she has felt its power first-hand. People don't have to do much, she insists. A kind word here. An offer of help there. "You know, ordinary human beings lifting each other up." By way of example, she tells a story about divvying up food bank parcels with other single mums, when her son was small. She still goes to a food bank, only now as a volunteer. No one knows who she is because she covers up her tattoos and introduces herself as "Jackie".
And the third thing that keeps her going? Black coffee, she responds, without a pause - with plenty of sugar. "So, you know, burning injustice, the fundamental decency of human beings, and inconceivable amounts of caffeine."
Then, just as she's readying to step on stage, she hears it. The event compere. He's reading an entry from her erstwhile blog, A Girl Called Jack. The one that went viral. The one that describes her life back in 2012, as a single mum in austerity Britain, no job, little hope, doing everything to make her benefit cheque stretch. 'Hunger Hurts' was the blog's title. The text is a mix of raw anger, tinged with desperation. The words land with brutal frankness. But they are words, too, that captured people's hearts and landed her a book deal. Words that led her here, waiting to go on stage, a voice for broken Britain. Over the loudspeaker, the compere reads: "this morning, Small Boy had one of the last Weetabix, mashed with water. Where's Mummy's breakfast? he asks, all blue eyes and two-year- old concern. I tell him I'm not hungry, but the rumbling of my stomach calls…”
She freezes. All her pre-event bravado, puff, gone. Instantly, she's back in her cold bedsit in the Essex seaside town of Southend, no carpets on the floor, nothing in the fridge, mould around the windows. Did she give in to the little voice inside telling her to turn tail? No. A few silent serenity prayers, a long deep breath, and she marches out onto the platform.
She gives it to them all guns. On what it's like to duct tape your child's shoes together. On how you can 'boil' pasta in a heatproof flask. On unscrewing lightbulbs to save on electricity. Meet Jack Monroe, the 34-year-old anti-poverty campaigner, with her tattooed arms and stack of "god-awful life experiences" up her sleeve, telling it as it is.
"Poverty is absolutely suffocating. It's exhausting. It's a world of lacking, basically - of lacking agency, choices, enthusiasm, energy, health, joy." That's her speaking today. She is back in her hometown of Southend. The moving boxes are out again. Following the end of a relationship, she now needs a smaller place. Exactly how many times she's moved house, she can't remember: 20 times in as many years, she guesses.
Her new flat is far from luxurious - a fact that betrays her Twitter trolls, who accuse her of cashing in on the poverty of others. Yet, the place is comfy enough, with enough space for her now 12-year-old boy.
Hard times came quickly. Born to David and Evelyn, a firefighter and a nurse from Southend, she got into grammar school but was expelled at 16 which she maintains left her with "little education". She began working in supermarkets and cafes, before eventually getting a job with the Essex Fire Service. After she had her son in her early 20s, struggling to juggle nightshifts and childcare, she told her boss she was quitting.
Almost immediately, she regretted it. But when she went back the next day, her manager wasn't interested. Then came eviction, stress, debt - and a rapid downward spiral. That was then, before that fateful night she pressed 'post and went to bed, thinking she might well "shuffle off this mortal coil”. A decade on, she is back on her feet.
This month saw her seventh cookery book hit the shelves, a timely collection of 120 low-cost recipes and money-saving hacks called Thrifty Kitchen. With hunger levels in the UK more than doubling over the past year (nearly 10 million adults and 4 million children are now unable to eat regular meals) according to the Food Foundation, she's publishing a free e-book of 30 recipes alongside the hardback, available via the Trussell Trust website.
USING HER VOICE FOR GOOD
Monroe is a regular habitué of social media (@BootstrapCook), which she takes to with a witty, often vituperative voice. She has a pugilistic streak, an asset she uses to fight the corner of the many social justice charities that she supports. "Basically, if there's an organisation doing something that I think is important, I say 'Hello, I'm a very useful foghorn. Allow me to shout about whatever it is that you need shouting about."
It's in that role that she has become a powerful spokesperson for charities like the Child Poverty Action Group, the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, the Trussell Trust, and dozens of other similarly aligned organisations. Her direct, often expletive-flavoured presentation style partly explains herr effectiveness as a campaigner. She talks of putting "politely worded press releases through the Jack translator" [read: "a little bit sweary, a little bit visceral, even a little bit rude"].
Back in front of those executives, for example, she didn't just retell her own story; she also regaled them with what they could do. "I got my phone out and I'm like, 'So, how much profit did you make last year? How much do your cleaning staff earn?' And I was like, You could literally double their wages tomorrow. Just by sending an email to your board, you could lift thousands of people out of poverty." Most of the suits looked a bit stunned, she recalls. "I have one sole purpose now and everything I do has to be a step further down that road - and that is that everybody in Britain should have enough to meet their basic needs, and I'm including in that joy and dignity and peace of mind"
Being shouty only gets you so far. What makes Monroe's voice cut through is the lived experience that accompanies it. If she had to choose one criticism of today's politicians (and she has many), it's how hopelessly out of touch they are. She recalls sitting down a few years ago with Henry Dimbleby, the man charged at the time with drafting a National Food Strategy. Off the bat, she suggested increasing the value of Healthy Start Vouchers, an NHS scheme that helps young mothers on low incomes to buy basic foodstuffs.
To illustrate, she opened a supermarket app on her phone and clicked 'buy on various food items. In went apples, bananas, oranges, mixed frozen fruits, carrots, milk, onions. Then, turning the screen towards the food tsar, she started deleting them. Halfway through, she stopped. "That's what the vouchers will currently get you," she said. "I don't know if he'd never heard of Healthy Start Vouchers, but he certainly didn't seem aware of their importance," she says, explaining with a proud smile that the proposed increase made its way into Dimbleby's list of recommendations.
Similar ground-up insights frame Monroe's latest campaign, inspired by the unfairness of the cost of living crisis. She is currently pushing the government to give more weight to the disproportionate rising cost of ‘value' ranges in supermarkets - an issue of major concern to low-income shoppers, yet one overlooked in official inflation figures.
With her canny eye for publicity, she has christened it the 'Vimes Boots Index' The term is a nod to Terry Pratchett, whose Discworld series features a character called Sam Vimes, the man behind the 'Sam Vimes "Boots" theory of socioeconomic unfairness. Looking back, no one is more surprised by her dramatic turnaround than Monroe. She still shops in the same supermarket where she worked as a 17-year-old. Occasionally, people remark how weird it is running into her when they've just seen her on television.
THE LONG ROAD TO RECOVERY
Life remains no bed of roses, however. The scars of going without run deep. In Monroe's case, she's been diagnosed with chronic post-traumatic stress disorder, a contributing factor to her prolonged struggle with alcohol abuse. She also continues to have a difficult relationship with money. Occasionally, she treats herself to a posh packet of biscuits, but it leaves her feeling guilty. With her son, she admits to "going completely the other way". Although he was too young to remember the worst days, that doesn't stop her trying to make up for it now. "I've done a lot of therapy, so I've worked through this, but basically I've carried a lot of guilt around his early childhood. You know, the cold and the never-ending basic cereal."
The effects of long-term poverty aren't just psychological. Now when she speaks, her nose sounds bunged up, as if she has a permanent cold. "I didn't always sound like this," she says apologetically. Living in low-grade housing, she explains, has done permanent damage to her respiratory and immune systems. Yet still she shouts through her foghorn, a permanent thorn in the side of whoever happens to be in power. If people don't like her abrasive style, then "bollocks to them, quite frankly".
No one would begrudge her stepping back a bit, especially given the online abuse directed her way. Some common tropes: "Cosplaying as working class", "stands to inherit a fortune", "kid's dad as involved as can be" (and that's just from one single tweet). Why does she carry on?
Three reasons, she says. First, utter rage. That people in one of the world's most advanced economies are going hungry makes her "furious". Second, and more importantly, is evidence of people's everyday decency. She remains a believer in community because she has felt its power first-hand. People don't have to do much, she insists. A kind word here. An offer of help there. "You know, ordinary human beings lifting each other up." By way of example, she tells a story about divvying up food bank parcels with other single mums, when her son was small. She still goes to a food bank, only now as a volunteer. No one knows who she is because she covers up her tattoos and introduces herself as "Jackie".
And the third thing that keeps her going? Black coffee, she responds, without a pause - with plenty of sugar. "So, you know, burning injustice, the fundamental decency of human beings, and inconceivable amounts of caffeine."
She either doesn't drink any coffee or take any sugar OR she's the biggest caffeine and sugar fiend ever known, depending on who she's talking to.
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