Right, I’ve got my Frau outfit and hat on and I’m hanging out at Aldi with a grater and a bag of mushrooms- if I don’t get approached by Jennynumnums I shall howl and claw at the floor until the security guard (softly gently etc) is forced to remove me …
Jack Monroe #469 Spam fits my macros.
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I feel claustrophobic just looking at the gardenJust flicking through sales and it’s not hers and I’m don’t mean to judge - I’m a messy person - but this amount of stuff is making me jittery (I’ll delete if not allowed) https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/131030093#/?channel=RES_BUY
In other news, I was dealing with a whistleblower earlierwho described the issue as mendacious and then about 7 other words that also mean mendacious. I had to keep reminding myself that it couldn’t possibly be Jack.
Really insightful post this. Brilliant, thanks for sharing!I cannot impress upon you how little most normal people in Southend knew of or gave a crap about Jack Monroe until recently
She’s never done any of the regular volunteering stuff blah blah that she claims; she was never a local character or popular/someone you’d say hello to in the shops. She’s just always been a little anon nobody locally, despite all those cringey efforts not to be (poetry and open mic nights I’m looking at you), some attention-seeking antics, and scribbling a few columns for the local paper a decade ago.
For people who have been involved with her at some point, they know she’s a liar, they know she uses people - but then she moves on or gets iced out of a group, so they put her out of their minds. And so she stays a nobody.
Don’t get me wrong, plenty of locals are aware of her ‘celebrity’ status but just sort of don’t give a tit, on the whole. She’s not one of our “Southend boy/girl done good” type celebrities where everyone’s a tiny bit prouder of Southend because that person/group comes from Southend.
And so, she’s just not been on most people’s radar until recently. But the fraud stuff, the crazy lies (40 tramadol is mega lols for anyone who’s ever taken a tramadol, which is plenty of us), the Twitter meltdowns, etc. has got people paying a bit more attention and interest even if it’s the watching a car crash type of interest. And so people are now talking amongst themselves about her, gossiping about how much money she’s grifted off well-meaning gullible internet people, how she managed to get a media platform for her lies for so long. Tattle has all the receipts, Molly did a digest of these threads, the info is all here on the internet including in Jack’s own words. She can’t wriggle out of it, people are finally taking an interest in her
In my own wider circle I know there are now three regular lurkers here from Southend () - and this is despite me maintaining a strict RL boundary that I will not raise it in conversation with anyone except my mum and dad!
I don’t believe D&E have known either the extent of what she’s been doing all this time, or what to do those times when she has obviously gone off the rails a bit more than usual. She’s a grown adult after all, and the tricky family relationships stuff is, well, tricky, especially when there’s a kid involved. And when you’ve lived for so long with a dysfunctional person in your life, you maybe accept their dysfunction as normal in a way that outsiders wouldn’t. So I think they’ve just sort of let her get on with her things, to keep the peace, and that’s been fine because nobody has given a crap about Jack Monroe. But now people are talking, I would assume that D&E are waking up to the scale of what she’s been doing, and I think they would understand why it’s bad. I suppose we’ll see.
I’m counting on her softly, gently, meekly approaching Twitter to post an ‘Um, Hi’ tweet using her Dickensian prose to hint at brittleness and fragility myself.
I don’t have tea but I assume she got ditched for simply being a dreadful person
I wonder if Jack is the sort to be constantly shoving their phone in their partners face, like a new parent with 200 photos of their ugly baby.
"Look look look look.. they tweeted this about me so I said this look look.."
Couple that with the overall social media addiction, I've had an ex that would scarce look up from the devices, I reckon she'd drive any normal sane person around several bends and a roundabout.
I really hope she has been sent to a professional to seek help. Her son deserves much better. The very fact that people on her real ife have walked away shows that they are tired of her bullshit and that they needed get away before she caused them more grief and stress. I have also been wondering about these other jobs she had in emails where they jobs for this year or next as i haven't seen or heard from her in months. Apart from the car crash interview.
Cringed myself inside out at the New Statesman article. So many 
🫣 moments.
I’ll pick my favourite few:
• The most important thing about bananas is to buy Fairtrade ones...
I feel as I type this that it may be one of those things I’m disproportionately passionate about
Were the flat laid bananas fair trade? I don’t think so…
• This whole part made me bilious.
On to lighter matters. A friend called to say that she had tickets for Nile Rodgers and Chic at the Roundhouse in Camden and to ask me if I wanted to come disco dancing. Being 27, I wasn’t the intended audience, but instead of asking, “Who?” I had a listen online in the days before. The wonders of modern technology: no more hovering around the radio all afternoon, waiting for a song to come on so we could push down the play and record button simultaneously and impress it on to a cracked old cassette . . . It’s just a quick search away now, which is more efficient but somehow less thrilling.
We went along in our band of four, in luminous shirts and flat, sensible shoes, quite unlike the ones I went dancing in during my heyday as a shots dolly at a local nightclub (there are photos somewhere, but thankfully I don’t have any and nobody would believe it was me anyway). It was a hoot: a happy-go-lucky, shuffling, disco hoot. We managed to be out by 11pm, too – it really wasn’t like that in my day.
What does she mean by “in my day”. She was 27 when she wrote this. I take from this whole thing that she has nothing to compare this experience to because she’d never been on a pals night out like that before. bleeping flat shoes and home at a sensible time. At 27?
I think this might be the one thing that makes me feel sorry for her. My mum’s in her mid-late 70s now and says ‘in my day’ talking about being a mod in the 60s. I’m aghast at how little a life Jack has lived.
🫣 moments.I’ll pick my favourite few:
• The most important thing about bananas is to buy Fairtrade ones...
I feel as I type this that it may be one of those things I’m disproportionately passionate about
Were the flat laid bananas fair trade? I don’t think so…
• This whole part made me bilious.
On to lighter matters. A friend called to say that she had tickets for Nile Rodgers and Chic at the Roundhouse in Camden and to ask me if I wanted to come disco dancing. Being 27, I wasn’t the intended audience, but instead of asking, “Who?” I had a listen online in the days before. The wonders of modern technology: no more hovering around the radio all afternoon, waiting for a song to come on so we could push down the play and record button simultaneously and impress it on to a cracked old cassette . . . It’s just a quick search away now, which is more efficient but somehow less thrilling.
We went along in our band of four, in luminous shirts and flat, sensible shoes, quite unlike the ones I went dancing in during my heyday as a shots dolly at a local nightclub (there are photos somewhere, but thankfully I don’t have any and nobody would believe it was me anyway). It was a hoot: a happy-go-lucky, shuffling, disco hoot. We managed to be out by 11pm, too – it really wasn’t like that in my day.
What does she mean by “in my day”. She was 27 when she wrote this. I take from this whole thing that she has nothing to compare this experience to because she’d never been on a pals night out like that before. bleeping flat shoes and home at a sensible time. At 27?
I think this might be the one thing that makes me feel sorry for her. My mum’s in her mid-late 70s now and says ‘in my day’ talking about being a mod in the 60s. I’m aghast at how little a life Jack has lived.
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Yes what happened to the all the toot toot? All up her nose I expect.
At this juncture I wish to officially start the campaign to have
DRAMATIC PAUSE .. Still I rinse
as the thread title as it will make us all chuckle for days.
DRAMATIC PAUSE from the Slop Empress herself, rest of it from @imBUSY
DRAMATIC PAUSE .. Still I rinse
as the thread title as it will make us all chuckle for days.
DRAMATIC PAUSE from the Slop Empress herself, rest of it from @imBUSY
This is so interesting, thank you for taking the time to post it. I know this is a bit of a basic response but it really does bring home to me once again just how much social media makes it possible for a person to construct a fake life and a fake status that is so totally removed from real life and people will believe it if it coheres with their existing desires and beliefs. I mean, we all knew that already, of course, but Jack is such an egregious example that it bowls me over every time I consider it properly.I cannot impress upon you how little most normal people in Southend knew of or gave a crap about Jack Monroe until recently
She’s never done any of the regular volunteering stuff blah blah that she claims; she was never a local character or popular/someone you’d say hello to in the shops. She’s just always been a little anon nobody locally, despite all those cringey efforts not to be (poetry and open mic nights I’m looking at you), some attention-seeking antics, and scribbling a few columns for the local paper a decade ago.
For people who have been involved with her at some point, they know she’s a liar, they know she uses people - but then she moves on or gets iced out of a group, so they put her out of their minds. And so she stays a nobody.
Don’t get me wrong, plenty of locals are aware of her ‘celebrity’ status but just sort of don’t give a tit, on the whole. She’s not one of our “Southend boy/girl done good” type celebrities where everyone’s a tiny bit prouder of Southend because that person/group comes from Southend.
And so, she’s just not been on most people’s radar until recently. But the fraud stuff, the crazy lies (40 tramadol is mega lols for anyone who’s ever taken a tramadol, which is plenty of us), the Twitter meltdowns, etc. has got people paying a bit more attention and interest even if it’s the watching a car crash type of interest. And so people are now talking amongst themselves about her, gossiping about how much money she’s grifted off well-meaning gullible internet people, how she managed to get a media platform for her lies for so long. Tattle has all the receipts, Molly did a digest of these threads, the info is all here on the internet including in Jack’s own words. She can’t wriggle out of it, people are finally taking an interest in her
In my own wider circle I know there are now three regular lurkers here from Southend (
I don’t believe D&E have known either the extent of what she’s been doing all this time, or what to do those times when she has obviously gone off the rails a bit more than usual. She’s a grown adult after all, and the tricky family relationships stuff is, well, tricky, especially when there’s a kid involved. And when you’ve lived for so long with a dysfunctional person in your life, you maybe accept their dysfunction as normal in a way that outsiders wouldn’t. So I think they’ve just sort of let her get on with her things, to keep the peace, and that’s been fine because nobody has given a crap about Jack Monroe. But now people are talking, I would assume that D&E are waking up to the scale of what she’s been doing, and I think they would understand why it’s bad. I suppose we’ll see.
I really feel sorry for D&E, I know many on these threads disagree with that assessment but ime it is so hard when you have a narc in the family, because their behaviour is so manipulative and deceitful that many outside the family are taken in and assume YOURE the bad guy. And it’s difficult to correct that assumption without looking petty or unhinged. It’s crazy making, so you end up just keeping quiet and living with it, trying to keep the peace.
I don’t think D&E are perfect people or perfect parents by any means cos there is no such thing as a perfect parent (hello Philip Larkin
) , I just think the current day mess and deception is all on Jack.
Eyepatch AND the Mary Poppins profile pic? You’re spoiling usRemember when Silver spotted the eye patch in the background of a photo last year?
View attachment 1916372
What a lovely leisurely pace this thread is moving at. Old articles, fish comparisons and animal smells, all human life is here.
All her food looks like the infected people in The Last of Us. Which I shamelessly want to chat about because I am deeply in love with Pedro Pascal.
All her food looks like the infected people in The Last of Us. Which I shamelessly want to chat about because I am deeply in love with Pedro Pascal.
Also I am much older than Jack and did indeed do the whole ’press record on your tape player when the top 20 was on the radio on Sundays‘ thing. But she wouldn’t have done that ever. She’s too young.Cringed myself inside out at the New Statesman article. So many
I’ll pick my favourite few:
• The most important thing about bananas is to buy Fairtrade ones...
I feel as I type this that it may be one of those things I’m disproportionately passionate about
Were the flat laid bananas fair trade? I don’t think so…
• This whole part made me bilious.
On to lighter matters. A friend called to say that she had tickets for Nile Rodgers and Chic at the Roundhouse in Camden and to ask me if I wanted to come disco dancing. Being 27, I wasn’t the intended audience, but instead of asking, “Who?” I had a listen online in the days before. The wonders of modern technology: no more hovering around the radio all afternoon, waiting for a song to come on so we could push down the play and record button simultaneously and impress it on to a cracked old cassette . . . It’s just a quick search away now, which is more efficient but somehow less thrilling.
We went along in our band of four, in luminous shirts and flat, sensible shoes, quite unlike the ones I went dancing in during my heyday as a shots dolly at a local nightclub (there are photos somewhere, but thankfully I don’t have any and nobody would believe it was me anyway). It was a hoot: a happy-go-lucky, shuffling, disco hoot. We managed to be out by 11pm, too – it really wasn’t like that in my day.
What does she mean by “in my day”. She was 27 when she wrote this. I take from this whole thing that she has nothing to compare this experience to because she’d never been on a pals night out like that before. bleeping flat shoes and home at a sensible time. At 27?
I think this might be the one thing that makes me feel sorry for her. My mum’s in her mid-late 70s now and says ‘in my day’ talking about being a mod in the 60s. I’m aghast at how little a life Jack has lived.
If she weren’t such a thundercunt I’d feel sorry for how little sense of self she has.
Jack Mango has proper Boomer energyCringed myself inside out at the New Statesman article. So many
I’ll pick my favourite few:
• The most important thing about bananas is to buy Fairtrade ones...
I feel as I type this that it may be one of those things I’m disproportionately passionate about
Were the flat laid bananas fair trade? I don’t think so…
• This whole part made me bilious.
On to lighter matters. A friend called to say that she had tickets for Nile Rodgers and Chic at the Roundhouse in Camden and to ask me if I wanted to come disco dancing. Being 27, I wasn’t the intended audience, but instead of asking, “Who?” I had a listen online in the days before. The wonders of modern technology: no more hovering around the radio all afternoon, waiting for a song to come on so we could push down the play and record button simultaneously and impress it on to a cracked old cassette . . . It’s just a quick search away now, which is more efficient but somehow less thrilling.
We went along in our band of four, in luminous shirts and flat, sensible shoes, quite unlike the ones I went dancing in during my heyday as a shots dolly at a local nightclub (there are photos somewhere, but thankfully I don’t have any and nobody would believe it was me anyway). It was a hoot: a happy-go-lucky, shuffling, disco hoot. We managed to be out by 11pm, too – it really wasn’t like that in my day.
What does she mean by “in my day”. She was 27 when she wrote this. I take from this whole thing that she has nothing to compare this experience to because she’d never been on a pals night out like that before. bleeping flat shoes and home at a sensible time. At 27?
I think this might be the one thing that makes me feel sorry for her. My mum’s in her mid-late 70s now and says ‘in my day’ talking about being a mod in the 60s. I’m aghast at how little a life Jack has lived.
I’m not sure why we are pondering the details of the LJC split when we still don’t have the answer to the far more important question: WHAT HAPPENED IN DORDRECHT??
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Bored so having a read of Mrs Gloss
When was she sober again?
When was she sober again?
Attachments
With or without arse bite?Jackfest/Fraufest has to have Big Dave in charge of the rifle range. Us fraus get 10 shots at the tin cans, hit 5 or more and you win a toy dinosaur
Reading between the lines LJC got fed up with Jack being a self-absorbed spendthrift, and Jack was angry because she thought Louisa was tight-fisted. As has been observed,Jack has frequently thrown LJC under the bus regarding finances.
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