Wednesday 21st October

After years of avoidance and denial, I finally decided to bite the bullet and apply for a credit card. I must say, I derived a strange thrill from filling in my online form. This was a step towards financial independence. No longer would I have to tap the parentals for cash. A shiny new piece of environmentally unsound material was to be my passport to adulthood.

Alas, it was not to be. I have been rejected THREE times in thirty minutes. My bank doesn't want me, I'm not one of Sainsburys' Finest, even Tesco have pissed on my independence day parade. Every Little Helps, eh? Like hell it does. Why won't you help me, Tesco, huh?

I feel thoroughly despondent. Rejected. Alone. Am watching some woeful BBC3 documentary on chav weddings and eating a Sainsburys' Be Good to Yourself hot cross bun. I wish I could say it's a bitter irony to swallow but it actually tastes rather good. And less than 3% fat, too.