Julie Burchill
Julie Burchill
Julie Burchillis an English writer. Beginning as a journalist on the staff of the New Musical Express at the age of 17, she has subsequently contributed to newspapers such as The Sunday Times and The Guardian. Describing herself as a "militant feminist", she has several times been involved in legal action resulting from her work. Burchill is also an author and novelist: her 1989 novel Ambition became a best-seller, and her 2004 novel Sugar Rush was adapted for television...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth3 July 1959
I've always thought of beauty therapy, 'alternative' treatments and the like as the female equivalent of brothels - for essentially self-deceiving people who feel a bit hollow and have to pay to be touched.
Oh come on, John, ... I don't think that was demeaning, I thought she was a sweet girl. I got friends who behave like that. Haven't you?
People often yearn back to more innocent times, but more and more, as I get older, I find myself hankering after more jaded days.
Amsterdam has more than 150 canals and 1,250 bridges, but it never seems crowded, nor bent and bitter from fleecing the tourist.
I am not one of those fat birds who feels miserable because models are thin. Frankly, I feel more insulted by the idea that unless I see other fat birds in fashion magazines, I will be reduced to a sniveling wreck of a human being.
My dad didn't drive - the only dad I knew who didn't.
The pictures from the first professional photo session that the young David Beckham submitted himself to are extraordinary. He has a barely suppressed smile, as though he and the cameraman are complicit in the understanding that this is not yet David Beckham we see and that there is an element of deceit in selling the photographs as such
A cynic should never marry an idealist. For the cynic, marriage represents the welcome end of romantic life, with all its agony and ecstasy. But for the idealist, it is only the beginning.
Being a monarchist - saying that one small group is born more worthy of respect than another - is just as warped and strange as being a racist.
Amsterdam has more than 150 canals and 1,250 bridges, but it never seems crowded, nor bent and bitter from fleecing the tourist.
What sort of sap doesn't know by now that picture-perfect beauty is all done with smoke and mirrors anyway?
Gluttony and idleness are two of life's great joys, but they are not honourable.
Covering up, so far as I can see, is often the accompaniment to far more truly shameful behaviour than stripping off.
Punk was over in two years. That was the only damn good thing about it.