Send us a text

In which I lose yet another ****ing body part; the podcast hits TEN THOUSAND downloads; I relive the sheer and abject joy which was Beth's wedding; we celebrate our wedding anniversary with "The Terrible Jamie", and Beth serves up some bargain champagne; there is a much needed return to normality, and I freeze my own vagina off in the process; I fail to dress appropriately for the circumstances; Jamie mortifies me in public and I reminisce on family walks I have known and loved; and I share my top tips on how to survive Easter with small children in tow.

Send us a text

In which the podcast welcomes its first ever guest...... Mr IKINTST!!! We celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary by recording a podcast together; Jamie proves that he should never be trusted in charge of a Covid test, and gets thoroughly confused about the origins of Dame Judi Dench; we relive the glorious days of Betamax and share our contrasting pre-wedding preparations; my infamous lack of any sense of direction strikes again; it turns out that moving house is more confusing than you'd think; I have a difficult cinema experience; my bath suffers a trauma; and we discuss all of the reasons why babies really need to come with an instruction manual.

Send us a text

In which I reflect on one whole year of a global pandemic; I fail miserably to fold my shopping bags; I confess to having no clue what a sourdough starter is; there is a bit too bloody much whatabouttery; we discuss the lost art of darning socks and the relative merits of hairy toes; once again, my cat is a total dick; and I look forward to my 15th wedding anniversary and share some of my favourite absolute debacles from my wedding day.

Send us a text

In which I reflect upon the awful events surrounding the murder of Sarah Everard, and the outpouring of appalled grief as women everywhere have felt able to share their experiences of sexual harassment and abuse at the hands of men; I get overexcited about going for a walk; everyone goes back to school and I say a massive thank you to teachers; Jamie is a little bit of a ****ing liability; Beth takes a Covid test; there is  high drama chez us on Friday night; and I reminisce over a couple of my favourite comedy moments from when the children were small.

Send us a text

In which it is fucking freezing; I panic that I've broken lockdown laws, and propose a "collab" with KSI; part of my body gives up on me; Mr IKINTST and I achieve #couplegoals; in a family personal best, nobody licks the dentist; Jamie fails miserably in his application for the GBBO and startles the Ocado driver; my dad alarms his neighbours; I lose my shit at the Government and experience my own personal version of The Krypton Factor; and I celebrate a new lockdown achievement.

Send us a text

In which we reflect upon a bonkers week; my children are deeply disappointed in the Government's choice of priorities for their roadmap out of lockdown; I brace myself for a return to the school run and the challenge of getting Jamie dressed in anything other than a duvet; my car is in for an unpleasant surprise; and we book a trip to the dentist..... in honour of which I take a trip down memory lane..... and reveal all of the reasons why you never, ever, want to have to take my children to the dentist with you.

Send us a text

In which my cat is an utter dick; I reminisce over McDonalds parties in the 1980s and we go on a Grand Day Out; my tumble dryer is also a dick; my oldest friend brings out a book and it is just WONDERFUL; I go on a walk and sound like a sex pest; Beth plans a funeral; Jamie has a terrifying midnight encounter; and I explain why you might want to avoid our toilets if you're planning on visiting any time soon.

Send us a text

In which lockdown hits hard; I buy a ****ing spiraliser; I also buy a shit load of flour; we discuss how it's really quite horribly tough right now; I reminisce over some of my more random lockdown purchases; poor Jamie has a run in with some nose pore strips; I am a total dick in pursuit of beauty perfection; I contemplate making Christmas dinner in a bikini and share my gravy-making secrets (not a metaphor); Jamie has a hair cut; Mr IKINTST and I have a bonding experience; and I probably won't be submitting my audition tape for The Good Life any time soon.

Send us a text

In which the end of Dry January hits me hard, and I share details of hangovers I have known and loved; reminisce over the most middle class drinking session ever; discuss why Blue Curacao and Cointreau are Very Bad Things; demonstrate the world's worst seduction technique; share the drinking moment from my student days that I still feel deep-seated guilt over now; get absolutely livid with insomnia and the utterly ludicrous process of falling asleep; we find ourselves stuck in Lockdown Groundhog Day; and Beth makes banana bread. Badly.

Send us a text

In which I piss myself laughing at my series of utter DIY **** ups over the years. Including my complete, total and abject failure to mend my dishwasher; the reasons why you shouldn't trust my dad to mend your plumbing (it's clearly a family trait); the worst way to mend a toilet door, ever; the relative merits of Naked Painting; and why Mr IKINTST is unlikely to leave me alone with a pot of paint, ever, ever again.