I know, I know, I should rise above this kind of tattle and subvert my energy towards more pressing matters like how scientists can cure travel sickness, but this one comment really got my goat and quite frankly ruined my journey. In fact, I spent the entire day thinking about it - stewing over it - trying to come up with a good comeback.
Where I do live is London. The next best thing. The amazing, outstanding, cultural city (which I don't need a green card to reside in). And I know, that to many people, their NYC is London. They dream of living here, they dream of the cobbled streets, and of The Thames, and of the georgian houses - the same way I dream of Central Park and Bagels and Union Square.
Pubs in the UK are increasingly attracting female drinkers, so why are so few of them named after women? Queen Vics and Queen's Heads apart, there's precious few with real women's names.
Sure, there are great times for boozing hard, but when the weekend rolls in, we say get up and get out there; this is the best city in the world after all.
Provoking Audrey was the last thing I wanted to do but I could not help myself. I would say the devil made me do it - if I believed in him. As it was, I could only blame myself for my demonic outburst.
I started panicking, putting posters up, contacting every cat loving organisation and tweeting frantically, and if I'm honest it's been a shoddy few weeks since that night. We miss her incredibly and can't get over how much.
Intolerance breeds intolerance and laws that allow bigotry and racism as though they were a part and parcel of society are exactly the thing that encourages such attitudes. When we look at injustices far and wide it's so easy to express distaste but we must look closer to home and deal with the injustices and attitudes that are being imposed.
I am hugely frustrated. Frustrated by a species slow to grasp new concepts, content to doggedly hold on to the status quo, with a terrifyingly strong grasp.
The problem with Emin's statements is that they propagate damaging myths: about what it is to be an artist, a mother, a woman. And as Virginia Woolf tells us, it far harder to kill a phantom than a reality. It's like looking for nits, or searching for proof for jealousy: resolution can only be reached by discovering what we don't want to be true and in the absence of that we are condemned to continue the search.
The Chelsea bunch are now all back in London and with the return of series 8 comes the return of our very own heartthrob, Andy Jordan. He makes it clear to, well, everyone that he is "gutted" that Louise has found herself a new beau.
I remain stuck in flat-moving-limbo-hell. In February, I agreed a price of £343,500 for a 400 square foot flat in the dodgy end of Islington, London N7. And because of some diabolically tedious legal wrangling over a lease, The Vendor and I have not been able to exchange contracts...
Jon Stewart is one of the most revered television personalities in America and judging by the reception he received at the Debate Gala of his new film, Rosewater, he's held in equally as high regard this side of the Atlantic.
I am proud to present the first UK exhibition of the photography of Mikhail Baryshnikov, world famous dancer, choreographer, actor and accomplished photographer. 'Dancing Away' is a visual representation of Baryshnikov's very personal interpretation of dance and performance; an expert dancer's reflection upon his own metier.
During my time in the capital I have become increasingly aware that we really do have it all, world-class museums and galleries, diverse restaurants, outstanding architecture and whimsical bars.
Smiling at me from across his dining table, Emile Cohen serves the most important reason for understanding the Jewish Iraqi experience. Last summer's Gaza war and the ongoing situation with ISIS in Iraq/Syria- means we are in a period of profound regional transformation, some of which, threatens the existence of minorities in the Middle East.
I've experienced homophobic abuse in London three times. The first happened when I was 22, and I was caught in a heaving Friday night crowd outside Tottenham Court Road tube station. Across a sea of faces, I made eye contact with a young, white male with a shaven head. He snarled at me: 'fucking poof!'