I'm a straight-talking, hard-nosed bitch and everyone knows it. I like a drink. I'll smoke a cigar in the club with the chaps but just because I wear a dress, don't try to mess with me if you want to come away with your balls and dignity intact.
I like myself this way. It's got me this far in a man's world and I plan to get a lot further. I haven't got time for sentiment or love or care; I haven't got time for anything for that matter, except, of course, spitting my thoughts onto an electronic page and hitting send. No time for revising, no time for regrets. That's how I make my living but really there's not much else to living except work. I'm a hack. God, I love that word, it's so hard and it's damned hard profession. A man's word for a man's job? Men, pah! Do they still really believe they run things? Are they still perpetuating the myth that they are anything but tragic parodies of their ancestors? Isn't obvious that men are just raging hormones on stick and pathetically easy to manipulate. We let them believe what we like. Let them parade, let them try to 'drink me under the table', I'll be the one at the head of it in the board room tomorrow.
Time's up
Inspiration: @AlexLSpeed responded to my plaintive request for inspiration.
He said pseudo-celebs on Twitter. This is how I imagine Fleet Street Fox.
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I would really welcome constructive comments or perhaps even some inspiration. To be honest , I would settle for some encouragement.