Mary Meyer is a sometime writer, part-time philanthropist and full-time mutineer. After a couple of years working for Uncle Rupert in Wapping, Ms Mary is now a'roaming; she can be found in Da Bush at the Blueeyed abode, attracting proselytising Christians whilst flaneuring around Bloomsbury and nursing her novella in pyjamas at HQ. Meyer’s first attempts at poetry are mercifully now out of print but she is looking forward to the posthumous publication of her later works. With an eye on posterity, she also has a burgeoning portfolio of menageries – from belligerent badgers to recalcitrant rhinos, a consummate collection of Arsenal memorabilia and an assortment of glassware from pubs across the capital. Ms Mary hopes to inherit sufficient funds from her myriad benefactors to reclaim her birthright from Vermont’s Mary Meyer, doyen of MaryMeyer.com. In the meantime, the laconic Londoner will attempt to reassert her ascendancy via Ladbrokes and Hills. Watch this space.
Artists on your radar, shout them out!
Example, for example, and Emily Dickinson, Edward Maya, East 17, Ed Westwick, Evelyn Waugh, Edie Sedgwick and erm Nicklas Bendtner.
Which is your number one location - and what's it best for?
The Mind. Procrastination.
'Getting creative', what's it all about?
The sound of silence.
Your Life, Right Now - what's the soundtrack?
Criminal Minds - Baptised by Dub
The Soca Boys - Follow the Leader
Hanson - Mmm Bop
What is your idea of a jolly good time?
Orange. The colour not the shop. Obviously.
What happened the last time you were a complete disgrace?
Let's just say that three weeks on, I still cannot walk properly.