I'm so pretty, oh so pretty, I'm so pretty and witty and...delusional?

Everyone so often the Daily Fail will print an article so ridiculous I guffaw loud enough to wake the Marklar. Stories of ‘percecuted’ Christians who just want to discriminate against members of society are some of my favourites, that crazy black-haired wench with the life complex is another, but then…boy howdy….

Folks, meet Samantha Brick; or don’t meet her, for  should you meet her, the females among you- I naturally include myself- will be filled with impotent jealous rage at her stunning beauty, and the fellows will be over come with desire, want to flee  from their relationships and purchase bottles of bubbly and flowers to woo this gentle Aphrodite.

“Throughout my adult life, I’ve regularly had bottles of bubbly or wine sent to my restaurant table by men I don’t know. Once, a well-dressed chap bought my train ticket when I was standing behind him in the queue, while there was another occasion when a charming gentleman paid my fare as I stepped out of a cab in Paris”.

“I was walking through London’s Portobello Road market, I was tapped on the shoulder and presented with a beautiful bunch of flowers. Even bar tenders frequently shoo my credit card away when I try to settle my bill.”

Aw, ain’t that just adorable? Of course no true goddess could be content with simple male adoration, fie! A pox upon such one-sided flummery! No, a true goddess  must embrace  not just the adulation but also the wailing cries of those forever locked in the shadows of her feminine wiles.

“While I’m no Elle Macpherson, I’m tall, slim, blonde and, so I’m often told, a good-looking woman. I know how lucky I am. But there are downsides to being pretty — the main one being that other women hate me for no other reason than my lovely looks.If you’re a woman reading this, I’d hazard that you’ve already formed your own opinion about me — and it won’t be very flattering. For while many doors have been opened (literally) as a result of my looks, just as many have been metaphorically slammed in my face — and usually by own sex.”

Indeed madam, for how could those semi-formed mutants compare with such a staggering visage such as you. Why it’s clear no woman ever could, that humanity itself might totter and crash should your utter radiance be unleashed. What folly that any mere flesh and blood woman would risk entering your gravitational pull, would she not wither and burn vine with the mere sight of your limp hair and oddly shaped teeth?

I’m not smug and I’m no flirt, yet over the years I’ve been dropped by countless friends who felt threatened if I was merely in the presence of their other halves. If their partners dared to actually talk to me, a sudden chill would descend on the room.”

Fear not madam, tis the chill of the beta and the omega when faced with an alpha of such magnificence.

“So now I’m 41 and probably one of very few women entering her fifth decade welcoming the decline of my looks. I can’t wait for the wrinkles and the grey hair that will help me blend into the background.

Perhaps then the sisterhood will finally stop judging me so harshly on what I look like, and instead accept me for who I am.”

Presumably this will be the case, unless of course your every wrinkle is like a lining of spun gold, every sag and droop reenactments of splendour, who knows madam, perhaps time will be as kind to you as ATE, daughter of Eris! Wouldn’t that be something? No need then of sisterhood, no need them of anything.

 Observe, ATE and her Phthonos, do not stare upon their glory, lest yon eyes marble and fall from their sockets.