Mum & The Broadband Installer


Thursday, 9.30am.

Mum: You look thirsty. Can I offer you a cup of tea?

Broadband Installer: No thanks.

Mum: Oh, Ok. If you are sure. I’m very good at making them. [Leads man to corner of room] Here is where I think the old broadband connection was.

Broadband Installer: Yes, that looks like it. [Kneels on floor as Mum exits the room] Got it.

The Broadband Installer looks up at bookshelf to find copies of pornographic material including copies of GUM, Madame in a World of Fantasy and an orange book called DRUGS by Glenn O’Brian & Cookie Mueller. He gasps.

Mum re-enters the room in a strappy red dress, leopard-print brassiere, and patent red stilettos. Walks over to Broadband Installer, who is still bent on his knees, and puts her hand on his shoulder.

Mum: So, tell me, how did you become a broadband installer?

My friend SATTY4


Satty4 was tired. Every Saturday he walked the five miles to the Post Office (often in the pouring rain) to deliver the porn that people had bought off him on eBay. Earlier that year his ex-wife had stolen their car and run away with the neighbour, so he could only walk. He made it very clear on his account that he would only post on Saturdays. That was that.

Pornographic & Tragic


Listen, Stud.

First things first.

This isn’t my first porno, but it will be my last.

The miracle fish says I’m fickle.

I would call myself passionate.

So would my co-stars.

Mistress Donna's Diary


Tuesday, September 16th, 1969

Today was a long day. I spent it on set for this new magazine by SWISH publications called Claws. I did it as a favour to Darren; I owe him, he’s many a times got me out of a sticky situation or two, and I like him. Besides, he says Claws is going to be the hottest new thing, and Darren knows about these things.

It promises Cat Fighting, Apartment Wrestling, Hussies Grappling and more. And I’m to be their first centrefold, not bad. They made me cut my nails. The shoot mainly involved pulling my co-star Ivanka’s hair. Ivanka didn’t mind, I’ve known her for years and she seemed to like it, kinky bitch. So no harm, no foul. It was intense, exhausting work and I couldn’t wait to get home to Pimlico and have a bath.

I still love the No.24 bus route, even after all these years. It’s so scenic: from Victoria, through the leafy squares, down to the river. I always sit at the back on the bottom deck, in the left-hand corner. It’s the farthest away from all the pushchairs and screaming children. It’s not that I don’t like children, I really do; I always thought I’d have one of my own someday, maybe. Anyway, I usually sit there because it’s close enough to the doors for a quick exit and slightly secluded. Sometimes, if nobody is looking, I take my stilettos off and rub my feet along the plastic seat edge, or along the banister with the bell. It’s like a massage. I was looking forward to doing that all day.

But today was different. It was rush hour and the only available seat was at the front of the bus. Livid. It’s only a short journey, I told myself, over before you know it. I sat down and after a few minutes, I realised I was actually enjoying the ferocious drumming of the engine and how it vibrated the base of my seat. It felt soothing and hypnotic. A surprising result.

At that moment, I glimpsed the driver in the reflection of the glass. I think he’d been looking over, checking me out. Who can blame him? He wasn’t a handsome man, but there was something striking about him. His hair was greasy from all the city fumes, and swept back revealing a large forehead and sharp cheekbones. He had big, full lips like a model and was chewing gum like a cow chews grass. I hate people chewing gum but not this time. I liked it. I was confused. He looked normal and totally unremarkable, the sort I never go for. Nothing like Darren.

My mind began drifting off. I imagined the driver stopping the bus, bursting through his compartment door and pulling me out of my seat, ripping my clothes off. Kissing my neck as he pressed me hard against the bus window. I could smell him, taste him. Oh God…

The moment ended as quickly as it began, throwing me back to reality as I saw the driver turn, wink at me and pick his nose. I shuddered in disgust. I think more at myself than him: What is wrong with me? Is that what I want? Who I secretly desire? My stomach turned and I jumped off. It was several stops before my destination and it meant walking 10 minutes in my sore heels but I didn’t care. As I walked I kept asking myself, Who are you really? And I promised myself I’ll never sit at the front of the bus again.

Ms. Candida's Shopping List



Dog bowl

Perrier (glass bottle)

Sink unblocker, extra strong

Black stockings, 30 denier

Coco Pops

A Love Letter


Mistress Candida,

My name ist Hans. I come from Frankfurt, Germany.

I have been a big fan since reading your columns in Madame magazine. I am sure you get fan mail every day but I cannot stop thinking about you. In fact, I cannot get you out of mine head. Will there ever be a chance we can one day meet?

As a token of my love for you I have enclosed a strand of my dog, Manfried’s hair. He is my best friend.

All mein liebe,


An Ebay Dispute


queen.467: I bought two copies of Janus from you and it took over a week to get to me. Frustratingly, I couldn’t give it to my partner as part of his anniversary gift. Then, when I finally received there were marks all over it. Red, sticky patches. What on earth! There was no mention of this in the eBay description.

satty4: I’m sorry but as I clearly state in my profile I only post on Saturdays. I do not have access to a car, and that’s the only day I can walk the five miles to the post office. It’s a long story involving my ex-wife and our neighbour. How strange about the marks. Without seeing it, it’s hard for me to explain. Can u send photo?

queen.467: Attached. I went to smell it, it reminded me of a mix of ketchup and rat poison?

satty4: Yes, that looks like ketchup. These copies of Janus belonged to my ex-wife and she had a thing for condiments. Not sure how to explain the rat poison. If you could post them back to me I’ll be sure to give you a refund.

Isabella Burley is the editor-in-chief of Dazed & Confused. In September 2018, she published her first book project Sisters by Jim Britt, 1976, which revealed unseen outtakes from one of Commes des Garçons’ most iconic campaigns. She has previously consulted for brands such as Helmut Lang.