confession

confession is good for the soul. or so they say.
there are times when we need to stand up, take stock and own up.
there are times when we can no longer sweep it under the carpet, no longer deny, no longer hide the shame.
this is one of those times.
a time to step up, to man up, to confess.

yet even now, even at this point i baulk at it, the challenge to come clean is almost too much. easier to walk  away from it and keep the deep, dark secret just that: a secret.

but i have come this far.
i can't back out now.

so i stand before you, penitent, head bowed and in hushed tones i admit, i confess that i, pat, love the daily mail.
yes i know it is a heinous thing to admit to. i know that is a love that should have remained unnamed.
now that it is out in the open i feel relieved, i feel lighter, i feel saved.

to admit i enjoy reading the rantings and ravings of columnists such as liz jones, peter hitchens, amanda platell, quentin letts, melanie philips and, of course, richard littlejohn,
i love the non-stories, the celebrity love-ins and the celebrity attacks, the misogyny, the misleading headlines and sheer propaganda that passes as news.
most of all i love the comments from the mad, deranged readers of the mail who come together in internet cult of psychosis and delusion.

yes i am pat.
i am an addict.
i am addicted to the daily mail.
help me.