Suzanne Moore is a writer for the Guardian and the New Statesman. She writes the weekly “Telling Tales” column in the NS.
You can't hate them all, can you? Actually, I can.
“What? No way! I’m not having dinner with a racist,” said one of my daughters. “But she’s lonely,” I said.
We never saw a noodle – it was all foie gras lollipops. One man announced he wouldn’t be at dinner as he was “popping over to Kowloon for a bit of prostitution”.
M Train is an extroadinary book about creation and the sheer loneliness of making art.
“Mum,” I said, “they don’t employ me because of what I look like. It’s for what I write.” She had no truck with that and never would.
It was indeed a terrible situation to lose your dream job because of excess baggage.
To be a woman in the public eye these days, or actually anyone who can operate a Twitter account, means to be subject to abuse. But support can come from unlikely places.
At that time we did talk about the occupation of Ireland. Now we have to pretend we didn’t and it’s all the jolly UK and thank you, England for the peace process.
The reason I think John Prescott is great is that he is married to Pauline. The woman is a goddess.
I was to be evicted for being illegally in accommodation for homeless people. They, Camden Council, would then have to rehouse me, as I had a small child.
Across the political spectrum, the New Statesman introduces you to the personalities who shape our world. Where else would you find Jeremy Corbyn, Tony Blair and Theresa May in the same place?