Giving F**ks and Other Stories


The other day I read a refreshing article about giving a fuck about things. I can’t find it now to reference but the gist of it was, in a world full of people giving zero fucks, wouldn’t it be a good thing if we, the people, gave a bit of a fuck?

I read it and I thought, you know what? I do give a fuck. Most of the time I give too many fucks. I can’t relate to Maria swirling around the Alps showing off how many fucks she doesn’t give AT ALL. I cry and get anxious and stressed because of all the fucks I give.

I wish I was more of a zero fucks diva but it’s just not in my make-up.

I realise that the whole ZF thing isn’t about not caring about people or things, it’s more of an unapologetic attitude and that should be applauded too. Of course. Being who you are and loving yourself and not giving a flying fuck what people think is a good thing. Wearing a pair of trousers that look like pajamas in public and not minding that you’re obviously too fashion forward for your local high street because people are looking* is a great thing. And not entertaining the negative attitudes of others, in anything you care about, is the very best thing, for your own sanity and self-esteem. Fuck them!

But can there be a balance somewhere? It’s okay to not be cool sometimes, isn’t it? To cry in public, laugh until you snort, fall over – to give great big swirling fucks about the future, inequality, puppies, people you really like, bad customer service, rudeness, awful politicians and the current government, alpacas, good grammar and terrible puns? I think so.

We can’t all be hipsters with poker faces, hash tagging #zerofucks over pictures of craft beer on Instagram. Which I guess in itself goes back to giving zero fucks about being cool.

All roads lead to zero fucks and I’m tired now and I’m going to bed. Goodnight.

*True story.

Beards & Germs

“Oh, you’re growing a beard? Cute.”

The hipster has done many things. He* has killed off many well-loved things over the short time he’s been King and as I type this I can’t think of a single relevant example. Tea? Knitting? Scooters, maybe?

You know you’ve seen an adult (hipster) on a scooter at some point and you’ve probably had to fight the urge to gently nudge him off as he passes. It’s a child’s toy, the scooter: walk or cycle like a grown up and get off my pavement, man!

This way of thinking actually goes against my personal philosophy and I don’t really mean it. If you want to firmly grasp the things that make you feel young and free, what business is it of mine? You do you, I’ll be me. I’m trying to seamlessly segue into an actual point here, bear with.

God bless you, hipster

The one thing the hipster has been credited with destroying is The Beard. Over the last few years we’ve witnessed a massive increase in beard wearing amongst the male population. Now you can’t move for jostling against a lumberjack or the captain of a naval ship. Thank God.

But the hipster has somewhat over egged the pudding (Brighton, you may be the hub) and now every other man and his canine companion is rocking a similar look and people don’t like that, it seems (I’m cool with it personally). I think the general feel is that being a beard wearer is not just for Christmas, and that only wearing it while it’s cool is disingenuous. Isn’t that the fatal flaw in the hipster make-up? That they’re massive big fakers with no real passion for anything; jumping from bandwagon to bandwagon?

To counteract the hipness of the hirsute male, a recent article did the rounds revealing just how much bacteria actually hides inside those bad boys (the beards, not the hipsters). I didn’t read it, because DUH. Hair is designed to collect the nasties, isn’t it?

Armpit hair, pubes, eye lashes; it’s their main function. Is it so surprising that men with big beards may also be collecting crumbs of food, spittle and germs? I share a bathroom with a bearded honey and he does this old-fashioned thing called washing: his face, his beard, his bits. It’s not hard, honestly, I’ve seen him do it.

So, no, this news is not shocking and it doesn’t put me off my one true love, and it doesn’t remotely turn me off the idea of men with big beautiful beards. I love them in all shapes and sizes and colours and styles; and it will take way more than a bit of grubbiness to convince me otherwise.



*Or she, obvs, this ain’t an exclusively male thing. Beard wearing, maybe, but not hipsterism in general.