Thursday, June 08, 2006


Don't get me wrong, I love Desperate Housewives, and I think Teri Hatcher is a good actress. Although Susan is ditzier than I'd like, but hey, she's a fictional character.

So last night, meeting a friend in Hampstead for coffee, waiting in the Waterstones (surely a name for an eighties band?) I flicked through Burnt Toast, and was, well, flabbergasted.

It's on the "you must buy this" shelf near the door. The blurb reads:

Toast, you know when you're trying to make it and you just can't get it right? It's too light or too soft, then totally burnt. Are you the kind of person who tries to scrape off the black? Or do you smother it with jam to hide the taste? Do you throw it away, or do you just eat it?

And I'm not kidding, it really does say that. Her entire life philosophy is based on the fact that she used to eat burnt toast because she didn't, like care for herself, but now she doesn't (eat it. but does care).

You just know that she went out for lunch with her agent, and when they were both a little too drunk to be intelligent anymore, she came up with this frankly half-baked idea, and because she's "a celebrity", someone's ghost-written it and it's a real book.

One I suspect I'm not buying.

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