I love Heather from Eastenders

My flatmate Grant (or Granny as we have renamed him) got me into Eastenders around Christmas time. I’d never been a massive fan at any time in my life really. I would dip in here and there when things got particularly interesting. I was obviously on the edge of my seat for weeks during the whole Trevor vs Wee Mo incident but besides that there is little I remember. Granny had been back home for Christmas and got into the habit of watching it daily with his mum. Given this intense period of Eastenders viewing he was able to get a pretty good grasp of what was going on in Albert Square and was soon hooked.

I love sweets

I’d be pretty happy to have 90 per cent of my meals based around sweets. Not even fancy expensive ones – I mean the cheapest, chewiest, most falsely neon coloured sweets available. I’ve loved them since I first accompanied my mum on shopping trips to the supermarket back in those halcyon, sugar-flavoured days. She would allow me and my sisters a pick ‘n’ mix selection from the array of inedible, jaw breaking, sticky, often peculiarly shaped treats.

They were clearly terrible for my teeth and general health since these days I have a mouth that has as much gold and silver in it as a display tray at Elizabeth Duke and I’m pretty short, pale, stumpy and as unfit as Rik Waller before his short stint on Celebrity Fit Club. Thanks, mum.

I love shitty magazines

My love of shitty magazines is what you would call a guilty pleasure. By shitty magazines, I mean the lower-end titles such as Closer, Reveal, Pick Me Up and Love It!. The ones that are around £1 or under.

I dearly love the random mix of celebrity insight, real-life scandal, fashion, and inane puzzles that fill their cheap glossy pages. My true soft spot is for the real-life stories from fruit and nut bars across the land desperate to share their tales of mortifying grossness and horror for £150.

I love ALF

People who know me will already be aware of my deep and sincere love of ALF. I’ve been in love with him since the first day our eyes met across my living room – he was on the TV “checking out the fridge” and I was sitting mesmerised chewing on a Wham bar. This must have been about 18 years ago and our love has only grown stronger and stronger by the day since then. I would describe our relationship as a wonderful, soft fuzzy dream where life is simply perfect now and forever more.

I love being invisible on buses in Birmingham

Recently I went on a little weekend trip to Birmingham. Sometimes it is nice to get out of the big smoke, you know? And FYI, English cities are massively underrated. They have everything you could ever want: Travelodge, TK Maxx, Nando’s, Po Na Na, JD Sports, all the faves. Purrrrrfect.

After getting settled in my hotel room I decided to take a trip into town for a snoop around the shops and local amenities of Birmingham. Luckily, there was a conveniently placed bus stop no more than two minutes from my hotel. A bus quickly arrived and I hopped aboard. After stepping onto the bus, John (who I was with) politely enquired with the bus driver about the price of a ticket to the city centre. The man said £1.20. So John slotted in his £1.20. I, however, assumed that he had popped in the money for both of us and trotted on past the bus driver breezily. We exchanged a polite smile and off I went to locate some seats that were prettily decorated with Big Mac wrappers and other unsightly shit.

I love Tube mice

I am not really a vermin lover, before you get the wrong end of the twig. I will, however, say that I do think mice and pigeons (even rats at a push but only if you can’t see their tails and probably more in cartoon form than live rats) are pretty cute to look at it in pictures. So, as much as I am not really into vermin I do have a marshmallowy soft spot for tube mice. When I say tube mice I, of course, mean the cute teeny-weeny little ones that spend their lives scuttling around the tracks of the shitty London tube stations probably spending the majority of their time dining on leftover shreds of doner kebab meat, Subway sandwich crusts and lapping up dribbles from a discarded Strongbow can whilst also managing to avoid a pretty gruesome death under the wheel of a Northern Line southbound train.