03/09/2015 12:58 BST | Updated 03/09/2016 06:59 BST

Six Open Mummy Letters to Some Famous People


These days it seems, a celebrity only has to miss her period and mum bloggers are jostling to be the first to a write an open letter to her foetus. While I am generally not a fan of them, open letters are clearly mandatory in the blogging world and I don't want to be known as 'that blogger' with her head so far up her arse, she never took the time to dish out unsolicited advice and opinion to someone she doesn't actually know. So I have written six mini open 'mummy' letters to some celebrities, in a bid to secure some credibility...

Dear Kate Middleton,

I think you have lovely hair and a dead genuine smile and everything, but with loads of respect, I don't really care that you are now a mum of two. So, while many-a blogger might like to drop you a line about how to cope with a couple of kids, I'm not sure I can sincerely do that when our lives are so ridiculously different. You have been trained to drink tea according to royal etiquette; I slurp it (cold) from a Dolly Parton mug. You have to sit in a certain manner; I don't really sit down much. You curtsy; I cuss. Do you get my drift? So my advice for you is to write an open letter yourself and thank everyone for their kind concern, but explain that unlike, say, a single mum living in a bedsit without much cash or family to lean on, you're not too badly off, and therefore, grateful as you are, you'll probably ignore the many missives from people you have never met. In fact, feel free to blank me too, yeah?

Take care now,


Dear Mummy Pig,

I am in awe of your incredibly upbeat style of parenting. When my toddler jumps up and down in muddy puddles (thanks for that by the way), I must confess I rarely say: "Never mind, it's only mud." I'm afraid I tend to swear under my breath and wonder where I'm going to get a clean outfit from given everything else is in the bastard laundry bag. And when my other half loses his glasses, I never chuckle and call him 'silly' - I call him a knob. I think, Mummy Pig, you need to let rip a bit. Give Suzy Sheep's mum a ring and see if she fancies a night out? Get bladdered, stagger home at 2am singing the Bing Bong Song and stay in bed until noon the next day. Daddy Pig can bring you a bacon sandwich in the morning... Oh, sorry...

Look after yourself,


Dear Gwyneth Paltrow,

I owe you an apology. It's true I have found your earth mother views quite irritating. I felt judged by you, as I'm the sort of mum who lets her kids watch back-to-back Ben and Holly, while you prefer yours to watch cartoons in French and Spanish. But I realise scoffing at you for being an affected bore who psychobabbles about "conscious uncoupling" and "co-parenting", was also, perhaps, a tad judgey too. So now you have my (obviously life-changing) apology, here are my sage words for you: Maybe dilute some of the pretentious parenting advice on your site Goop with realistic stuff for the rest of us plebs? For instance, Swiss Chard Spanakopita Pie as a lunchbox idea is really, really not happening in our house, so why not list the oven-ready range of cheesy bites at Asda as an alternative? Or I can give you my recipe for Dairylea on toast..?

Speak soon,


Dear Holly Willoughby

I love you. Don't be scared or anything but I really feel like if we met, we'd definitely be mum friends. I'll admit I'm not exactly the sunny girl-next-door type like yourself (I'm more the haggard hag across the road), but I admire the elementary manner with which you talk about motherhood. You're like the antithesis of the soul-searchy shit spouted everywhere in the celeb world. Stay sweet dearest Holly, and give me a call some time? Maybe we could take our kids to soft play together or I could drink wine in your kitchen? You know, whatever...

Love you,


Dear Tamara Ecclestone,

If I had taken a 'brelfie' while breastfeeding my children it most certainly wouldn't have looked anything like your now infamous poolside shot. Mine would depict a hunched woman in a tea-stained dressing gown slumped on the couch in front of Homes Under the Hammer - imagine a zoned-out Meatloaf with knackered jugs. It wasn't pretty. Knackered jugs aside, all the hoo-hah since you tweeted that photograph is a complete mystery to me. A breast, bottle, one of those weird yogurt drink tubes - it's all just a means of sustenance for a child and doesn't have to be perceived as some sort of political statement. So my suggestion for you is to take a load more breastfeeding photos while your tits still look that good.

Good luck to you,


Dear Fellow Mum Who's Not on the Telly,

"But I am not famous!" I hear you cry. Oh, but you are the biggest star of all, Fellow Mum. (Stop spewing. This is good shit - mummy bloggers practically break the internet with stuff like this). My counsel for you? Don't take any advice. You're doing fine. I know you're far too smart for the sort of motherhood-makes-us-sisters guff you get on those nauseating e-cards, so I'll put it in terms that I believe suit us both; you're an excellent mum - more wine?



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