Rule Britannia, sweetie.
Don't hate me, I'm on the FP once again. I apologise profusely, and promise not to do it again. I've had my brilliant, entertaining and fabulous years of fun breaking all kinds of rules in the industry of nudie internet modelling. It's time to stop being a trashy self-obsessed fried-haired gash-lipped good-for-nothing embarrassment that occasionally squeezes her drunk arse in between the popular sets of all the cute fresh young suicidegirls with lush L'Oreal hair and artistic tattoos, who lounge dreamily next to hotel windows on clean bed sheets. Don't get me wrong, I do love those pictures as much as the next chap, but I love myself more. This 'retirement' is a happy one, I enjoyed myself terribly on this site, truly the honour was all mine.

Naturally I am shameless enough to make my exit by jumping on the Diamond Jubilee bandwagon of our glorious Queen. What filthy arrogance, you say - so sue me, darling, you've known me for years so don't act all surprised now. Queen Elizabeth II has perched on Great Britain's throne for 60 years, and moi - nearly 8 on Great Suicidegirls. I owe some thanks for this pleasure, first and foremost to my brilliant partner in crime, Albertine, who made my far-fetched fantasies into beautiful combinations of pixels. Also the ever-encouraging, wonderful Missy, whose protege I am lucky to have been during my years as Suicidegirls radio contributor and model. And Vivid who let me lovingly kill her one time in Chelsea Hotel... and all the other fabulous creatures I met through this site. But enough of this cheesiness - I'm starting to have flashbacks to the acceptance speech parody in the Beauty Queen Gone Wrong video I did for SG a while back (I just re-uploaded it after it'd been lost from this site).

Anyway, I shall still stick around, fret not. I'll be drinking cheap booze while taking photos, making weird outfits, or snogging your girlfriend. I'll be bad until I age disgracefully into an overly made-up old bag with a dusty collection of strange experiences. And then Suicidegirls will ask me to do a "where are they now" set - sometime in 2030ies - and if I'm still here I shall absolutely do it, creepy futuristic glamour and decay, in higher definition and more pixels than any of us could yet imagine possible, revealing every flabby pore, every silicone-botched wrinkle... Eeeew, exactly! I can't wait either.

For now, though, excuse me as I run out to frolic around street parties of London and celebrate the kitsch and glory of British Royalty by consuming excessive amount of Pimms and cucumber sandwiches under Union Jacks flapping pathetically in the rain. Long live the Queen!








PS She fucking kills me. <3