Wednesday, 26 April 2017

RIP Unicorn

I have been thinking about the history of the unicorn. To me, this seems like a perfectly reasonable thought process to embark upon. Not in the least bit strange. Though what will follow, does get a little bit odd.  

I was interested to understand how unicorns came to be inscribed upon the fabric of modern Western society. Not exaggeration. Look around you. Unicorn-overload.  I wandered onto the World Wide Web, virtual spade in hand, to do a some light Internet digging. With the benefit of hindsight, I should have donned some gardening gloves because things are about to get unexpectedly grubby.

In modern times, the friendly unicorn can be found everywhere.  We see him on women's underwear and an extra cute unicorn type character within the likes of My Little Pony.  Yet historical representations of the beast are a million miles from the elegant, rainbow pooping unicorns we imagine today. Unicorny descriptions do vary across sources. But overall, it is safe to suggest that anything the historical unicorn loses in majestic grace is more than made up for in the macarbe.

In particular, I happened upon one account which describes a ferocious, death-defying unicorn being lulled to sleep by the breasts of a virgin. This unicorn is intimately attached to said virgin, and, (yikes) said virgin is quite naked. I kid ye not. As you'll no doubt agree, this revelation registered about a ten on my weird-as-shitometer and swiftly stomped all over my long-held images of pink, fluffy, magical creatures with shiny horns.

Here we have a unicorn that gallops around pillaging the townsfolk, that can only be tamed by the boobs of a virgin! This explodes my unicorn soulmate metaphor into the cosmos, in the most icky of ways. It is not the stuff of dreams but the fabric of nightmares.  On a metaphorical level, it’s a​ typical play on female innocence calming the wanton, horned beast. Therefore isn't exactly a celebration of the myriad power of womanhood but quite the contrary, with a hefty sprinkling of yuck.

These weird ideas are from the past. And thank goodness for that.  Nevertheless, my uni-horn discoveries have put me right off my 'favourite’ socks, which are pink, have eyes, fluttery lashes, and, yes, you've guessed it, horns.  

On this day my unicorn soulmate metaphor is no more. RIP.

With love,



Tuesday, 18 April 2017

Wordy gathering

On this Tuesday 18th April 2017, I celebrate my blogaversary. Let the excitement flow! Nine years ago today, this gathering of words commenced.

I probably need to mark this prestigious occasion by raising a glass or two. I will not do this sarcastically. Though I feel like I'm making a joke at my own expense. No, this is a genuine celebration. This blog has been my outlet to joy, pain and pointless rambles. It is cathartic and transformative. Some of the biggest relationships of my life so far commenced since it began. I have documented their trajectory within. The greatest of these, was the birth of my daughter.

Thoughts by The Renegade Glitter Fairy, how I adore thee. 

Here's to beginnings. To endings. To bits in the middlings. Most of all, here's to words!

The RGF xx

Friday, 14 April 2017



I'd love to play this song on guitar. Of course there is that slight issue of being unable to play guitar. Coupled by the troubling fact that I don't own a guitar. Otherwise my journey towards expert strumming in a Heartless Bastard's stylee looks sound.

Thursday, 13 April 2017

It is time

The first record I bought was The Buggles, Video Killed the Radio Star. This song comments on technological advances and grieves the emphasis on image in video rather musical focus through radio.

In certain respects this song connects my thoughts to Ludschuch. A place that is emblematic of a desire to retain heritage and a refusal of the progress which threatened it. The Luddites met there. There are other stories associated with the space. In general there is a nature theme running through them.

Ludschuch, in turn, reminds​ of Tolkien. Whose books have been described as a metaphor for industrial age that ripped through the countryside. His fear that human's were emphasising greed-power as opposed to soul-power were portrayed through the elves, ents and orcs in Lord of the Rings.

Change is necessary and progress can be marvellous. Yet progress should not destroy otherwise it is the opposite of it's alleged intention. Music should never be secondary to image, as represented by the video star. If we must worship nature, the very stuff of life, in secret, as the Luddites did then humanities priorities are in grave question.

I see Sauron as a terrifying representation of a power crazed society. Where money and control is deemed more important than oxygen. Trees are ripped out. Resources are monetised. Human life is secondary to wealth.

We need to return to something pure. We must value human life over money because money has no value without​ humanity. What use is power if the planet is dead. There would be nowhere to wield it. Appearance is irrelevant without a soul to wear it. As someone once said, we do not have a soul, we are souls.

We must re-prioritise. It is time.


Tuesday, 11 April 2017

Monday, 10 April 2017

Fake messages

Positive aspects:

  1. Correct 'you're'. 
  2. Correct 'we're'.

Negative aspects:

  1. The message is from two men. Well possibly. It may very well be from twenty men. Hmmm I wonder what their motivation is, I think we can safely assume it's not marriage.
  2. There is no profile picture. Though if there were, it would be fake.
  3. Annoying text language abbreviations in the form of 'lol'. My goodness, even the fakers use annoying text language. 
  4. For some reason the 'compliment' was amusing. You message, include a sex focused compliment then actually laugh out loud at it. This is all kinds of wrong. 
  5. The message is clearly a copy and paste. If you're going to approach a woman for sexually untoward reasons, at least customise the damn message (and don't lol at the 'compliment'). 
  6. Dave and Steve are two of the most common English names. Though it is more than feasible that a Dave and a Steve are living in a flat in London somewhere, I seriously doubt that the message is from any of them. At best, the message practically screams fake names and at worst, dodgy sex ring. 

I have no words. This is so unlike me. I'd laugh to hide the pain, if I wasn't bombarded with messages like this all the time. No, I'm afraid laughter will not be possible. Like Elvis, it has left the building. However, I believe I can manage a weakly executed grimace.

The RGF xx

Sunday, 9 April 2017

A long way

Although I gently nod towards the irony within, I find that I've come a long way. I don't feel like I did a few months ago. Nor as I did a few weeks ago. I will never forget my second love but I'm finally letting him go.

This is my progress song. Hidden irony notwithstanding:

Saturday, 8 April 2017

Benedict Darcy Batch

As if my delicate disposition can cope with such imagery. Benedict Darcy Batch! Though I realise he has portrayed the wet shirted Mr Darcy emerging from the lake before, which, I believe, was for an advert. Oh how the Cumberladies swooned. Yet
imagine Benedict as Mr Darcy. Full role. My heart is fluttering out of my chest at the prospect. Swoonathon.

Edit: he was Darcy in the lake for charity. Thanks Google.  

Better still, imagine Benedict Cumberbatch and Brian Cox in the same room, at the same time. Ideally, whilst I too inhabited the time and space. The excitement-a-meter has just landed on explosive. 


When I spot the signals, I rather hope they'll appear in Gandalf mode - interesting shapes formed from pipe weed. What I'm saying is metaphorical. I'd like a potential romantic someone to send me a clear sign. One that's impossible to miss. I'm not requesting a wisened old Wizard who puffs da 'erb.  I like a beard. Bit of grey within is cool. But a really long beard, fully greyed and attached to a man of indeterminate age, does not maketh my boat float.

I digressed a little for a moment there. I know, I know, so unlike me. Ahem.  In short, I've had enough mixed signals to last me lifetime. Send me a sign created with clarity. The kind I can comprehend from a distance. Also, Seranade me with the songs of Snowmine. I ask but I don't believe I ask for much.

Thursday, 6 April 2017

Syrian gas attacks

Everytime we close our hearts
Lives are lost
Everytime we cover our ears
Injustice is served
Everytime we shut our eyes
Suffering goes unnoticed

Do not let those who place no value on human lives destroy, damage and devastate.
Do all you can to protect all human beings.

Please take a moment to sign and share.

We must demand justice!

Wednesday, 5 April 2017

Venusian day

I'd like to spend a venusian day with you. That's a rather impressive 5832 hours. Beats a measly 24 hours or, to be more accurate, 23 hours, 56 minutes and 4.1 seconds.

Granted, at this point in time I don't actually know who you are but when I stumble across you, let's have a first date venusian style - hot and really flipping long. But you know, for practical-staying-alive reasons, we'll enjoy said date on Earth.

Tuesday, 4 April 2017


I might have mentioned this already. Yeah, I've definitely said it a number of times. I'm repeating because sometimes things are profoundly repeatable. Snowmine: They are, as I've uttered, simply incredible. I thank You Tube from the bottom of my internet connection for recommending them. Oh algorithms. I don't know how you configure yours You Tube but I bloody applaud you.

If Snowmine were clay, I'd create, well, erm, yeah, I'd sculpt a boyfriend from their words and music. That person would be flipping mind blowing. Gawd, I wish I was a real fairy.


Shouting in silence

No matter how loud
I scream the words out
I'm shouting in silence
Lungs trapped in cloud

My words become whispers
Then silence surrounds
Still you don't hear me
This abandon unfound

Freedom: music download

This man does incredible work to help refugees.  He has released a song to raise funds for refugees and vulnerable people.  Please buy the song and share the link.  We can create a better world.  We can bring about freedom!

Sunday, 2 April 2017


Is romance dead? Can anyone offer insight on this? From my perspective, which, granted - has been coloured by recent  negative experiences - romance is doa. May it rest in peace.  Perhaps I'm wrong. Or at least temporarily misguided. I invite a change of perspective. May the rumbles of romance roll in.


Saturday, 1 April 2017


Some time after watching Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, Orbital's Time Becomes dropped into my mind. Unsurprising really because the concept of looped time is a integral part of the story. 

Without giving too much away, Peculiars hide themselves in loops - a particular day repeated continually. 

If you could repeat a day, which day would you choose? I'd choose the day that my memory repeats on a loop. 

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