Suzanne Moore is a writer for the Guardian and the New Statesman. She writes the weekly “Telling Tales” column in the NS.
Smoking for David? It could only be Hockney. Smoker extraordinaire, and not a bad painter either.
Altercations often happen on my bus. I stare into a phone just like everyone else.
Jean-Claude had certainly not been in love with me when I was conscious.
“Can you tell us who he is? So we know which one to photograph?”
I didn’t really know what tonsils were but my 'uncle' Peter had taken me to see the Beatles.
"He ran around, biting like the bastard he was."
Mr Greenaway pursued me and another girl in the class and I felt almost literary. Then my mum went and ruined everything.
“I just want to explain about the ham,” I said.
Suzanne Moore learns to drive and finds an accidental therapist.
The Zombie PM
The doomed premiership of Theresa May