I thought I would give you a little insight into one section of my world right now. The world of le internships. Also known as work experience, also whispered as slavery.

It's widely accepted that you must graft before you get to where you want to be, if you don't you have to either be extremely lucky or have a daddy who plays golf with the CEO of your chosen company. So far I'm not confident in my luck, I haven't ever won the lottery and my dad thinks golf is boring. But I guess if those fatties from Scotland who won £161 million on the euro millions applied for a job at Elle Magazine they'd get it, because currently that shit is just elusive to me.

[I'm writing this while listening to my So Solid Crew play list and I can't concentrate properly. Can one of you trendies put on an old skool garage night? Tankyoupliz]

I don't particularly have any horror stories to tell you. Only mild stuff like being sent to John Lewis to get specific bin bags for one of the features writers. I've been sent to someones house to pick up their suitcase, I've had BORING times where I've ended up hiding in the fashion cupboard, doing Roley poly's in there (I will never be a lady of the world with her pinky out).

The stereotypes of the majority of internships going to the Hettie's, Lexie's and Molly's of the world is not a lie. Last year I took on a week internship at a really big magazine (it's pinky is always out). I won't say the name because I'm paranoid but just know they called me up about 2 days before I was due to start so I had to clear my entire schedule (Judge Judy re-runs. No I did actually have shit to do that week).

It also meant I would start the internship on my 22nd BIRTHDAY but I still ran forward to the opportunity with open arms. So basically it was that badman magazine on roads.

And let me tell you

I was surrounded by them SW "My names Binty yaaah" type London girls. They were nice enough, HOWEVER we all started off in the fashion cupboard but it turned out that I had been placed there by accident, I was actually supposed to be at a desk so already I was segregated, everyday Jim Crow. Then on one of the days I walked into the cupboard and heard the tail end of "it's just we don't have much in common with her" ...maybe it wasn't about me but I also know they used to go for drinks after work and I was not invited #FOREVERALONE. Anyway that place, as fancy pants as it was, ducked and dodged my queries about the expenses they said they would cover and in the end they didn't pay me. This is where the slavery part comes in.

We are apparently in a 'recession' most places do not have the budget to take on new staff, most places are letting people go so in turn a lot of places seem to have this constant 'intern' role. It's usually a role where you do the job of someone who would actually get paid a salary except they just don't pay you or they have the right to pay you some meagre wage. The long term placements usually entice you in under the pretence of a mythical job being offered later on.... next thing your last day comes ... and the day after you're unemployed. Because in actual fact these places probably knew they wouldn't take you on from the day you walked in. Interns seem to be a lot more easier than keeping someone on. Especially if it's in an industry where people are constantly willing to work for free. Don't hate le playa hate le game I guess.

So right now I'm stuck in limbo. Or purgatory but I don't even know anymore if I would consider this idolised office job at 'MatNags' as my heaven. The placement I'm at right now it seems a lot of fun but the staff on the mags that have been around for a while seem to be brain dead. More and more I don't associate these magazines with writing and having my dream job, in my mind I start to smell stale coffee, tea, and microwave meals (because no one actually leaves their desks for lunch). Small talk about gym visits before they came to work. And I don't think they would let me put my So Solid Crew play list on the communal radio.

I have dreams to go and work abroad, maybe my brain thinks I'll be able to escape the mundanity I'm currently witnessing but truthfully it's all probably the same thing but with a different accent.

But that's enough of my 21st century woes.