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Jordan – born Pamela Rooke in Seaford, East Sussex – was an audacious young woman from the start.
I get a rush of gratitude that I was a teenager when we had the mindless proletarian jollity of Slade and Wizzard.
To my horror, I found myself smirking in amusement or “Mmm!”-ing in agreement on damn near every page.
This is not the story of a “bored and sad and lonely” girl, but something much better – a wonderful writer.
Paul Gorman’s book seeks to “track the exciting highs and calamitous lows” of the magazine; frankly, I’ve seen more epic journeys on The X Factor.
There’s a pleasing, utterly unself-pitying sense of anger in this collection of essays.
In this week's diary, Julie Burchill explains why she's returning to the shul – and her secret to good health.
Desire makes us feel fully alive, when even love can’t reach those unsafe spaces that make life worth living.
Imagine my disappointment when I discovered that we were the only souls in attendance at Brighton’s most depressing crematorium.
"Nutcracker", he said, looking back over his shoulder and winking at me.
