The day I woke up… to hear that only Tracey Thorn loved me
It’s unusual for musicians to become writers. The trajectory of yearning is meant to be the other way around. When…
Britain has fallen out of love with Italy – as have the Italians
On reading recently that Italian is the fastest disappearing language in America, my thoughts were mixed. I felt fleeting sorrow…
Julie Burchill: Why I’ve given up cocaine
It always amuses me at this time of year to observe the fuss people make about quitting booze for a…
The lost joy of swearing
Upon discovering that Sinéad O’Connor has converted to Islam, I was about as shocked as a Yuletide shopper hearing the…
Julie Burchill is bored by Robin Green’s account of her time at Rolling Stone – and says hippies still stink
The last time I saw a copy of the New Musical Express — the ferociously influential 1970s pop paper which…
Hooray for Meghan Markle, a very modern adventuress
I’m keen on all sorts of my fellow females — broads, gold-diggers, career girls — but the best is the…
Why do the Japanese despise sex?
There are two sorts of people: those who can’t wait to grow up, and those who wish they never had…
Is Prince Charles so fond of Islam because he distrusts Jews?
It has long been my belief that whereas the quality of gentiles drawn to Judaism is very high (Marilyn Monroe,…
Sex and sycophancy at Rolling Stone
Many moons ago, I worked at the New Musical Express magazine, which transformed me from virgin schoolgirl to the fabulous…
The return of Lady Muck
My sainted mum was of untarnished working-class blood — she worked, variously, as a cleaner, factory hand and shop assistant…
The joy of sex
Your typical Trollope-loving, Brahms-bothering Spectator reader probably won’t be aware that the most recent winner of Big Brother was a…
Alt-hate
At the start of the year, a Facebook friend messaged me, telling me that she and a chum had been…
Fallen idols
David Hepworth is such a clever writer — not just clever in the things he writes, but in the way…
The EU is a feminist issue. I’m voting to leave
Britain is trapped in a bad marriage with the EU. It’s time to leave
My Brighton’s gone all Brideshead
My town is overrun with drunken Mileses and Gileses and Violets these days. Cross these oafish students at your peril
Paris: go while it’s still friendly
Julie Burchill hymns the joys of post-attack Paris
Chrissie Hynde writes like an angel on angel dust
‘The day I found out that Suzi Quatro wasn’t a dyke was the worst day of my life!’ a teenage…
Julie Burchill vs celebrity memoirs
I learned from this little lot that if one has read The Diary of a Nobody, then one can derive…
Losing my son and the end of my life’s summer
Hedonism, tragedy and me
The uglier the man, the uglier the attitude
The uglier the man, the more he demeans women
The rock novel that makes Mötley Crüe dull
Novels set in the music business (from blockbuster to coming-of-age) are few and far between — far less than in…
Tel Aviv
Just so you don’t get it confused with the City That Never Sleeps, Tel Aviv — my favovurite place on…
Why I won’t be going on Celebrity Big Brother — despite being tempted
Why I had to say no to Celebrity Big Brother
The swankier the hotel, the sulkier the tourists
Unusually, I didn’t leave the British Isles until I was 35, when I went to the Maldives for a fortnight.…
Working is good for you — even if it’s unpaid, in a charity shop — or writing book reviews for The Spectator
Work is a funny old thing — a four-letter word to some, the meaning of life to others. There have…
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