You're Never The Only One - Kids that Swear + Swimming Is Shit

Episode Date: December 12, 2022

In this episode Cat shares hilarious stories from listeners about the times their kids shouted obscenities in public and WARNING: the c-word features heavily. Cat also discusses the best contraceptive known to humankind, if anyone were ever to talk openly about it, and that is the ninth circle of hell that is swimming lessons. Finally, Cat gets political (never a good idea) and discusses her disappointment with the Just Stop Oil protestors and why she agrees with their principles but things their methodology sucks. Plus, Cat is raising funds for Furnishing Futures - a charity that helps those in social housing furnish their properties. It's an incredible charity. All you have to do is purchase a copy of the big, fat, annual Christmas Quiz from her website for £8 and £2 will go to Furnishing Futures.BUY A COPY OF THE QUIZ HERE!Follow Cat on Instagram and TikTok and head to her website to buy a signed copy of her book The First Time You Smiled (or was it just wind?)Buy The First Time You Smiled (or was it just wind?) (Unsigned)Find out more about Just Stop Oil here.You're Never The Only One is written and hosted by Cat Sims, founder of Not So Smug Now, an online platform for people just trying to get through the day with some credit in the karma bank. The podcast is edited by Lucy Lucraft and executive producers are Bonnie Barry & Parami Kodikara.For sponsorship enquiries please contact Bonnie Barry at [e-mail]

The things I say do, I'm always what are me. I'm neither saying or sin, I'm somewhere in between. Hi and welcome to You Are Never the Only One, hosted by me, Kat Sims. Now, you may think you're special that your worries, fuck-ups and fun times are unique only to you, that only you can get so many things wrong, so much of the time. Well, I'm here to prove to you every month. Monday morning that in the nicest possible way, you're not special or unique. You don't fuck up

any more than the rest of us and that even though it doesn't always feel like it, you are in fact never the only one. Hey, hey, hey, welcome back. It has been a while. I can only apologize, but I am now back. I went into a forced hiatus due to the old COVID, but to be honest, once I recovered, everything blew up. Work got busy. Kids got busy. Responsibilities got busy. Everything took over and it just was so difficult to find a hot minute to get this stuff done. And you know what? I've talked about it before and I'll talk about it again. Some balls of plastic, some balls of glass. We juggle as many of them as we can. But when it all gets too much, there are plastic balls that we can drop.

and at the time this podcast was a plastic ball. That being said, thank you so much for being patient and waiting. I am now recovered, which is nice. And even though I might be on the cusp of an end of the year breakdown, I'm sure you can all relate, I'm wrapping up this year and this season with the final two episodes. And I'm going to make sure that they are kick your ass, smack you in the face, tickle your pits, fantastic.

But never the only one. Never the only one. Don't live inside your shape because everybody makes mistakes. But before we kick off this week's episode, I thought I'd let you know what this podcast is going to look like in the new year. I will be back, but it's going to look a little different. Firstly, I've realised that doing a podcast all by yourself with no guests is actually

really, really, really time consuming. What I did notice is that the most popular podcast I've had so far is the one where I interviewed Jimmy. I'm trying not to take that personally, but it does prove to me that you'll love a little bit of, well, you'll love a little bit of Jimmy Sims. but you do love a bit of chat about the key important talking points that nobody really talks about. So I'm going to alternate episodes. I am still going to do solo ones just like this one, but we are also going to have guest episodes. And I am busy curating an incredible guest list

where we will be talking about all the things that people never really want to talk about, but that we all experience on the daily. When you think about it, there's actually quite a lot of stuff. But for now, let's focus on this episode. I will be sharing some excellent stories from you guys about kids that swear. Thank you so much to everybody who submitted a story. We'll be chatting about the best contraceptive method of them all, telling people what it's like when you have to take your kids swimming. And then I'm going to get a little controversial because boy, have I got things to say about just stop oil. This conversation was inspired by, I'm going to say a conversation I had with Jimmy, but it sort of got into a bit of a fight.

about just stop oil, which is the environmental activist group working to convince the British government to commit to halting new fossil fuel licensing and production. Don't worry though, I'm going to make it fun. So let's get on with it, shall we? Now, you might not know this about me, although if you know me even a little bit, it won't surprise you. But one of my favourite things in the world is hearing kids swear. Now, I don't mean it in a this is England kind of way, but in a, oh, there's a sweet kid who just dropped the F-bomb because she dropped her milk and that's what she heard a mum say kind of way. It's honestly joyous and when they use it in context then, well, I just want to high-five them and let them

bathe in Harrowbone. I remember once when my eldest was about two and she was, I can't believe I'm telling this story in real life, but here we go. She was figuring out rhyming words and she was asking my husband where he was from and he said, I'm from Birmingham and then he said that's why they call me a brummy and she said oh brummy rhymes with tummy and jimmy said yes darling you're right it does what else rhymes with brummy and she went mummy and we all clapped and we thought isn't she clever and we were like well done darling and then he said is there anything else you can think of and she took a minute and then without missing a beat she just went cunt i i shit you not and i just want to say at this point i genuinely don't think she meant to use it as a word because

I am bad, but I've never used the C word in front of the kids. I have said fuck, I might have even said motherfucker, I've definitely said shit, I've said bollocks, every other word, but cunt is a word that even I avoid uttering around the kid's ears. So I can only assume that maybe she was just like making a noise. I hope so. Anyway, but whatever the reason, it does remain a tale of comedic gold amongst our family. and you know I did it as well when I was a kid I think I must have been about three we were all camping in France and it was like my family my aunts and uncles and their kids and one evening my mum just turned round to me and she said Catherine because I was always known as Catherine when I was younger Catherine why don't you help us with the washing up and apparently I turned around and said why don't you just fuck off and it was very clear that I knew I'd said something wrong because apparently I just got up and ran my mum chased me around the field and

that we were camping in and the only reason she caught me apparently as the story goes was because I backed myself into a corner by which time she didn't have the heart to smack me silly so that's 80s parenting for you enough about me and my shitty parenting

and my shitty parents only joking mum here's your experience and some of these are brilliant so grab a cup of tea and a tenor lady and settle in first up we've got Kaylee she wrote and she said

so we happen to be my partner's Nan's house one Sunday for lunch. Already, you know that this is a prime setting for a very severe and shocking experience. My darling daughter, who was aged two, at the time, needed a number two. Off she trotted to the toilet on her own and I said, call mummy when you're ready. At the precise moment conversation just went quiet across the table, came the voice of my daughter at full volume. Mom, I'd done a big smelly shit. Mom! I said I'd for a big shit. Que me giving the death stare

across the table at my other half, whilst leaving the room to go and assist with this smelly big shit. And FYI, she wasn't wrong. It's also worse because it's that you're at her in-law's house. You know, if it had been her parents who wouldn't have been quite so bad, but it's her in-laws. It's a tough crowd.

It's a tough crowd. Next up, we have got Sally, and again, it's the judgy in-law, so here we go. But my son was just over two. He was staying at his nannas. We got a very angry phone call from the mother-in-law. She then went on to say that he had told her to fuck off. She went on to ask him where he heard the word fuck,

and he told her very proudly that mummy says it to daddy and daddy says it to mummy all the time. Whoops, as you can imagine, she wasn't impressed and we got a right bollicking. We both found it very amusing to be fair and I was quite proud, actually. Funny times. I mean, if you don't like your mother-in-law

and your kid tells her to fuck off, there is a part of you that's going to enjoy that, isn't that? I also love that she gave the parents a bollocking as well. You know that the mother-in-law was there going, do you know what? I'm going to knock all the fucking heads together over this. Right. I am delighted about the next one because it shows that I'm not the only one,

which, after all, is the point of this podcast. The lovely Hannah says, my middle daughter, Helen, whilst in Sainsbury's, she says it couldn't have been bloody Aldi or Asda, could it? I don't know what's wrong with Asda. I won't hear a bad word said about Asda. She was in the trolley, as per usual, and I was being a great mum and letting her stuff her face whilst walking around the shop so she didn't pitch a shit fit like she normally would.

I feel like you've said that with a little bit of sarcasm, but I actually think that is great mumming. They need snacks so that you can do the supermarket run. Anyway, I put the said snacks back in trolley, and then, at the top of her delightfully cute voice, she started to scream the word cunt, very, very loudly. And I turned in horror as every single person in there looked at me in utter disgust. I just want to say, if I was ever in a super,

market and somebody's kid was shouting cunt at the top of their voices over and over again, I would not be looking and disgust. I would be howling with laughter and offering the woman help. That's what I'd be doing. Anyway, I turn round only to see my child reaching for the said snacks. She was trying to say can't, as in she can't reach the snacks. I then spent the next five minutes apologising to everybody my two-year-old had called a cunt. To say, I would say, I would was mortified is an understatement. I get it. And again, listen, there's another one. The kids are bringing it with the C word this week.

When my daughter was on her first day in Year 7, she was still sweet and innocent. I don't think so. She came home and told me she had a P teacher called Mr. Ender, of course, that they all called Mr. Bender. Something's never changed, do they? She then proceeded to tell me that they had a music teacher called Mr. Munt, who they called Mr. Cunt.

She had no idea it was a naughty word. That's what she said. But this one is by far my favourite, just because of the context. It's genuinely actually sweet. It's not a big sweary one, but it's funny in the situation. So, my daughter was a mute outside of the home for a very long time. No one ever heard her speak as if others came into the home she would go quiet. My mum and dad were looking after her one day and they needed to take her out in the car.

My mum and dad were always trying to get her to speak, as was everyone. So they were out in the car and my dad saw a dog. He said, oh look, there's a dog there. can you see it? You know that voice. Look, there's a dog. He said that to my daughter. Apparently, she just looked out to the window and then said, bloody dog and rolled her eyes. First time my parents had ever heard their granddaughters speak. They're also devout Christians, so any kind of blasphemy is not appreciated. Of course they let me know in front of my older kids who proceeded to throw me under the bus and say, oh, mum, that's you, that is. Turns out, I'm always saying

Bloody Dog when he's done something to piss me off, which is apparently is pretty regularly. I love that. I love that she's a selective mute so she's mute outside of the house. Her grandparents have never heard her to speak. And the first time they hear her, she goes, Bloody Dog. That's brilliant. And just

in case you thought you were being sneaky, by the way, when you were hiding veg in Spag Bowl, we all do that as well. Here's the proof that the kids know. My two and a half-year-old daughter was eating Spag Bowl. She then said, I taste carrots. I don't like Carrots. Her father told her to close her eyes and see what she now tastes as he didn't think

there are any carrots in there. And what do you taste now, sweetheart? To which my two and a half year old replied, fucking carrots. I taste fucking carrots. Well, she knows. And then finally, I think, is it finally? Yes. And bless Harry for this, that begins with a simple declaration. She said, my kids are awful. At age two, my daughter asked where her fucking slippers were. I immediately said pardon, and she repeated herself perfectly. Where are my fucking slippers. My son, at age three, told his sister at this point, she was seven, to get out of the fucking way. The same son, only two weeks ago, called his sister a twat. They are now eight and 12. Pretty sure I've gone wrong somewhere because my eldest son, who is 18, had wanker and

fuck it as some of his first words. I'm obviously a terrible mother. I've heard that swearing is a sign of intelligence, so I'm going with that, and I must have geniuses. Yes, you do. I have a very simple philosophy on this and I know that there are lots of people who disagree but I swear in front of my children not gratuitously but I also basically I don't stop myself from swearing in front of them and I just bring them up with the understanding that there are some things that adults can do that kids can't it's like when they used to well I don't drink wine anymore but when they see adults drinking alcohol they know that they can't do it but it's all right to do it in front of them. And I say to them swear words are the same. You might hear them. You might

see people using them. You're not allowed to. And that's okay. But also, I love swearing words because as a linguist, there's somebody who studied literature and language. I love all sorts of words and the emotions that they bring. And there is nothing like a swear word. They are part of our lexicon. They are part of our dictionary. We are allowed to use them to colour our verbiage and to to make our points in any way we like. And so I want the kids to understand these words and use them at an appropriate age. And so we're not sheltering them from them,

but I appreciate that. Might be a controversial topic. So I suppose if you fundamentally disagree and think I'm a shitty parent, then keep that to yourself. But if you want to approach the conversation politely, then feel free to drop me an email at you're never the only one at gmail.com.

And just in case you've gone, because it's been a while, that's Y-O-U-R-E. You are never the only one. You're never the only one at Gmail.com. Okay, glad we got that sorted out. But before we go, there is one thing that I do have to share, and it's from the lovely Beverly, and she sent me a video,

and I'm going to use the audio here, and it's her son giving his opinion on Donald Trump. What are you singing? He's a penis. Donald Trump is a penis. To be honest, I feel a bit. mad for penises after that. Right, welcome back.

And now, I want to use the next few minutes to draw your attention to one of the unavoidable elements of parenting that they never fucking tell you about. They don't tell you about it because if they did, nobody would ever have children. It's that simple and it's this. Swimming lessons. Now, I've been very vocal on my Instagram about how I feel about swimming lessons, but just to get it out of my system once and for all, I thought I would lay it all bare for you here and now.

Here's the thing. Swimming is always presented to you as optional. You know, it's not like the government make you do it or the NHS push it, but if you're a parent and you ever want to enjoy a summer holiday again or, of course, equip your kids with the skills. they need to survive, then there's just no getting away from swimming lessons. At some point, you have to teach your kids how they can fucking float. It's that simple, except that none of us actually know how to teach our kids how to swim, because none of us can ever remember. Most of us were just

chucked in and told to figure it out. I could swim before I could walk. I won medals, I trained eight times a week, and I honestly wouldn't know where to start when it comes to teaching my own kids how to swim. Also, on the odd occasion, when I have tried, they refuse to try anything and just cry and say they're scared. So the plain simple fact of it all is that we have to put them in swimming lessons. If you can find a spot for them, of course, that is, because it's competitive. And in my experience, it would be easier to get a private audience with the Dalai Lama than it is to get your kids into swimming lessons. And trying to get them swimming lessons at the same time, if you happen to have more than one crotch goblin, well, that's the holy unicorn of parenting.

It never happens. I make my life slightly harder in that I refuse to do anything on Saturday mornings, which is generally prime swimming lesson time. We're all so busy during the week that I protect that weekend like a rabid dog. You know what? I may choose to go out and do something with the kids on the weekend, but I will not commit to a Saturday morning club by handing over a small fortune

because weekend me will want to punch the... This will be fun, me, in the face. So that's not happening. Swimming lessons, they don't want to go. They never want to go swimming, especially in the winter. But it's too cold. They want a snack. I've obviously forgotten the snack,

so we have to stop at the petrol station. I buy them a pseudo-healthy snack and they cry because it's not a ton of harabo. And then we get to the pool and they don't want to get changed because it's cold and soggy and wet and damp and then they don't want to put their hat and their goggles are too tight

and this whole time the clothes they just dropped on the floor and marinating in Varuka juice and piss and I can already see the shit fit that will ensue when I tell them they have to put them back on wet. They finally get into the pool which also, by the way, is always too cold.

And they'll whinge because they've got splashed. I mean, you cannot go to a swimming pool and then complain about getting splashed. Their goggles are leaking. But my favourite is, of course, the inevitable, I need a week, every single time. Of course, when the lesson's over, you'd think they wouldn't be able to wait to get out of the pool that they did not want to get into. But no, that's not the case at all. Now they don't want to get out.

And when they realise the power they have at this point, you are fucked. You are actually fucked, because what are you going to do? Get out of the pool. No. where are you going to go? You're not going to get in. You're in clothes. They're in a swimming costume.

You are powerless in this situation and they know it. And they look at you and they say no. And then they dive into water. And then they do that thing where they only come up just to get enough breath before they dive under water and you're sat on the edge of the pool going, B'billie, but, but, but, bit. So I'm there and I'm screaming like a banshee

and the sweats running furiously between my boobs and under my pits and between my legs, and I can issue threats. But honestly, it doesn't matter because they're not listening to me. They now apparently love being underwater, even though when I bring the shower head within five metres of their head at home to rinse the shampoo out, they scream the house down. When I have finally broken and told them that they've lost their tablets for a week, they agree to get out, crying again, screaming, in fact,

because they've lost their tablets, and immediately complain that it's cold. And I suggest that they get in the warm shower. I'm like, why don't you warm up in the shower, but they don't want to shower? They don't want to shower because they're already clean, apparently. And I say, well, you have to wash your hair. And they say, my hair's clean. I'm like, it's not clean, it's full of chlorine.

You need to get in and rinse out the chlorine and wash your hair. No, mummy, I don't want to. And by the way, I'm really cold. We'll get in the fucking shower. I don't want to get in the shower. At this point, any parent has to recognise that you are not dealing with a logical being and therefore you are never going to win. Somehow, I might manage to coax them into the shower,

which is great they'll scream and cry while we wash their hair and then when I say right now then come on let's get out the shower that you hate they'll be like oh can I just have five more minutes nice and warm remember I'm dressed I'm hot in this humid sticky changing room where everywhere I look

there are pieces of somebody's body hair the sweat is still running down my various body crevices I feel trapped in a room covered in tiles from which the screams and whines and piercing shouts of about 400 children bounce off like shards of glass embedding themselves fully in the very last of my patience. I'm weighed down under two towels, goggles, hats, soggy swimmers, my handbag and coat. I've got those fucking blue shoe

covers on, which you know I'm going to forget to take off and walk to the car in, potentially go and some petrol in. Yes, I've done that before. And I am questioning every life choice I have ever made and reminding myself that I am actually paying for this privilege. I am paying to be this fucking miserable. Of course, when they're finally out of the shower, there's more whining because now they're cold. Again, have I got a snack, they ask? No, I don't have a snack. That would be too easy. That would be too organised. That would be great parenting. I am not at the level of great parenting right now. I am at the level of you'll be lucky if I don't kill you in the next five minutes parenting. That's where I am. I spend the next 30 minutes trying to convince

hysterical, tired, cold and hungry kids who are now operating 100% from their lizard brains to put on their varucca juice scented clothes so that we can get home and get out of this godforsaken place that Dante should have made the inner circle of hell. In fact, if Dante had been a parent, the nine circles of hell would have started with getting ready to leave the house Moving on to getting kids to do homework as the second circle. The third circle would be getting kids to eat anything green. Then the fourth circle is travelling with kids. The fifth circle would be known as the mummy watch this circle.

Circle number six is going to IKEA on a family trip. Circle seven is soft play, indoor adventure centres, go ape, anything like that. Circle eight is kids' birthday parties. And the ninth and final and worst fucking circle is swimming lessons. I'm actually looking down the barrel of swimming lessons this evening. And to be honest, just having this conversation has felt a bit like therapy and it's reminded me to put snacks in the bag. So that's cool.

Thanks for that. Welcome back. I am actually. recording this bit for the second time, mostly because the first time I recorded it, I somehow managed to do it five semi-tones lower, which made me sound a little bit like this. And despite all my husband's technical help, we couldn't fix it. So here I am redoing this section and hoping that I can recreate it, because obviously I nailed it the first time, and now I'm going to have to nail it again. We will see. I'm actually going to use this segment to chat about something that

Jimmy and I ended up talking about. I say talking about it sort of descended into a bit of a disagreement, a tete-a-tete, a fight, if you will. And it was after I read about the just-stop oil protesters. I think they'd occupied a bed in Harrods in protest against fuel poverty. Now, before I go on, I just want to make this really clear. I agree with the things that they believe in. I'm going to say it again, just in case anybody is determined to misinterpret what I am about to say. I fundamentally agree with everything that just stop oil believe in. I hate that fuel has become an unimaginably profitable resource that's controlled by the very few while there are so many people unable to heat their homes. I fundamentally disagree that we should be plowing

money into more fossil fuel mining sources. And I cannot get a on board with the fact that we are held hostage by massive businesses and very rich individuals when it comes to fuel. I agree with their message. What I do not agree with is how they deliver it and bear with me. Now, I know that a lot of people are going to say, well, it's about raising awareness. And you know what? I think that's what they believe. But I don't think there's a person in the country right now that isn't aware of the fuel crisis. I don't think there's a person in the country right now that isn't aware of the need for us to come up with more sustainable fuel sources. I just don't think there is. I think when everybody is currently investing in

snuddies instead of being able to afford their heating and when people are literally freezing so that they can eat. I do not think there is anybody who isn't aware of the current fuel crisis and the immorality that exists because it's essentially become politicized and prophetized.

Profitized? We'll go with it. So I'll be very, very clear. I am going to be controversial to a lot of people because I know that there are a lot of people who are inherently left-wing and I am married to one. I would say for myself, my policies are left-leaning 100%, but I'm very centrist in my approach in that I am open to hearing the conversation.

I'm open to agreeing with certain ideas and policies from either side. That doesn't mean that I do. It means that I'm open to it. Whereas my husband, who I love very dearly, is really not that open to it. And I respect that. That's his view. he is left die hard so before you all call me

the people who don't agree with what I'm saying and just actually hate me and have already taken out a pen and paper so that they can write down all the awful things I say and then use it to call me all sorts of disgusting things on social media you might want to settle in

because there'll probably be a few things that you want to take down at this point this is not me saying that I disagree with the principles upon which just stop Poiler founded. However, I do believe that when your methodology in raising awareness or in conveying your point serves to anger the very people you are needing to convince to help you achieve your goals, you've lost and it's not a great methodology. You don't need to convince

the people who already agree with you. Little Harry, who sat next to you, stapling his penis to the M25, he doesn't need convincing. He's already with you. It's not him that you need to convince. It's the guy who sat in number 10. It's all his cronies. It's the people that you don't like. It's the people that often just stop oil and other such people like it refuse to even engage with. And I get it. I don't want to talk to people I don't like. I don't want to talk to people that I fundamentally disagree with. But sometimes there are people who we fundamentally disagree with who are the ones who can change policy and make a different. And currently, if you are left leaning, those are the Tories.

That's not right necessarily. You may not agree with it. You may not like it. But that is the fact if we want to change policy, you have to get the Tories on side. And I'm just going to hazard a guess. Chucking pain all over Ferraris isn't going to work. And I'm even going to go one step further and say that chucking paint on Ferraris isn't really going to engage anybody. It's not really going to inspire anybody.

into believing that you are prepared to have a meaningful, constructive and grown-up conversation about it. Now, I know that people are going to be mad about what I'm saying, but here's the thing. I have seen people dedicate their entire lives. I've seen people dedicate hours, weeks, months, years of their time that they do not have, time they've taken away from families to fight policies that they do not agree with, look at people like my very, very good friend, Anna White House Motherpucker. I have seen from firsthand the sacrifices on a personal and professional level she has made to promote flexible working and not to just raise awareness of it, but also to get policies through government that actually make meaningful and impactful changes for millions

of women now and in the future. Now, that wasn't easy. That took, that has taken her years. She has written millions of emails. She has turned up at millions of appointments. She has fought her way through hundreds of doors that were not open to her, but she has found a way. She has found people who can write policy. She has campaigned. She's been on radio. She's been on TV. She's been on magazines. Not because she wants to get her face on the front of these publications, but because she knows that she has to work her ass off to make changes. And she's done it. Now, to be fair, I thought to myself, maybe just stop oil are doing this. Maybe this performative element of it is just one part of it and actually the rest of the time they're very

busy, sat at home doing the work, writing the policies, challenging the people, writing, you know, doing the petitions and all of that stuff. Well, I went to the website and I can't see anything on that. Now, I could be wrong and if I am, please let me know. Please, because I am always willing to be challenged. But I could not see anything on there that they were doing to actually make a change. It's a bit like when a kid throws a tantrum and they're screaming and they're crying and they're throwing things and they're sitting down on the floor and refusing to move. There is direct parallels here and you say, okay, I get it, I get it. Tell me what's wrong. What can I do about it? And they go, I don't know. It's like, well, you've got my attention.

I am here. I'm ready. Okay, okay, just stop oil. You've got my attention. What do you want us to do? What can we do? What's the answer? What's the solution? Who's writing the solution? Or are we just shouting about the problems? Is that what we're doing? We're just shouting about the problems and disrupting a lot of people's lives because as much as you have just thrown pain all over, you know, fancy cars, there are normal people working in those garages. You know, you might just be sitting in front of the on the M25, but there are cabbies who are trying to make a living. There are people who are trying to get to work, normal people that you pretend to be on the side of. You're really disrupting their lives and not in a way that makes them want to support you. You're doing it. You're doing

it in a way that's angering them because you're not following through with a solution. You're not following through and going, and now I'm going to do the work and get it sorted. And that's really frustrating. And at that point, it just becomes performative. And it starts to look like you're just doing it to get your face on the front of a paper. And also, let's, here's the other thing. And I am as guilty as a lot of people about sometimes forgetting to check my privilege. But just stop on. are on a whole other level. I have not seen, and again, please tell me if I'm wrong, but I have looked through the papers, I have looked through the images that I can find.

I have not seen one black man stick his hand to a constable in the Royal Academy. I have not seen one black man occupy a bed in Harrods. I've not seen one black man throw shit over a statue. And do you know why? Because they know they don't have the privilege of being able to get an arrest. The girl who threw the excrement over the statue, I believe that She was a medical student. She was white and she can afford that arrest on her record. She can go for a job later in life and they go, what's this arrest? And they go, well, it's that time.

High Jenks when we, I was protesting and part of Justop Oil. And I threw shit over the statue and it got in all the papers. And, you know, really, when I was doing my right on thing, she's probably still going to get the job. But it won't matter if a black man has that arrest on his record. Because they won't bother asking. He won't even get through the door. And that lack of recognition of privilege is when it just becomes performative and the moment is lost.

And actually it's easy. It's easy to turn up and throw paint on something. It's easy to get to the M25 and sit down and not move. It's easy to get an arrest if you're a white man or woman. You know, it's not easy, however, to spend the hours and hours that it takes to break through the boring, obstructive bureaucracy that is required when it comes to actually needing to change policy. Like, if Anna White, if she called me up next tomorrow morning and she said, listen, I've decided

I'm not going to, I'm not going to fight for flexible working in this way. I'm not going to do all the work. I'm not going to turn up at number 10. I'm not going to write policy. I'm not going to get all the female barristers involved to help me write this policy so we can get it through. I'm not going to spend years and years in my life networking so I can get in front of the right people. No, no. Instead, what I'm going to do is I'm just going to go, I'm going to take some paint,

and I'm going to chuck it on the door of this CEO who's really against flexible working his workplace. I reckon that will be enough. Oh, darling, that looks incredible. Just a quick segue while I'm in the middle of my vent. My husband's just walked in. He's very pleased with himself because he's baked a quiche, haven't you? What's in the quiche, tell us? Cheese and asparagus. us. Anyway, let me get back to it. If Anna decided that that was how she was going to approach her fight for flexible working, I would turn around to her and I'd say, you have lost your fucking mind. Because the simple fact is that too many people are willing to perform protests and

are willing to stand up and make it all look good in the blink of an eye, but nobody's actually prepared to do the work. And that's me included. I'm not prepared. Yes, I agree with it. Do I have the time, the energy or the inclination to spend hours and hours and days and days and weeks and months and months actually making a change. No. But you know what? Thank God there are people like Jolie from pregnant then screwed and Anna from Motherpucker and Flex Appeal. Thank God there are those people out there and millions of others like them who actually do the work. But just stop oil's not doing the work. We get it. All right. You've done it. You've told us how angry you are. We understand why you're angry. But now what?

Are you just going to keep doing this? Are you just going to keep disrupting hardworking people's lives when they sit, when you sit on the M25 and they can't get to work? Now, just to be clear, this is not me against protest. Everybody has the right to protest and I fully, fully respect that to peaceful protest. And I'm not saying that what they're doing is not peaceful. It is what it is. However you interpret that.

But what I am saying is that it's not protest. It's performative. It's virtue signaling. And I'm not saying that these people are bad people. I believe they have great intention. good hearts and they genuinely believe they are trying to do something for the betterment of our world and our earth. But I just don't think they're doing it the right way. And while the majority of them, I think truly prepared to die for that cause, which is something I have to

respect, I actually think that a lot of them are just in it for the gags. I think a lot of them are in it for the adrenaline. A lot of them are in it for the fuck you. A lot of them are in it for the rebellious nature of it. I do. And if you think I'm wrong, then I 100% want to have that conversation with you in a respectful way. If you're just going to write me an email or a DM calling me a Tory cunt, then you know what? Let's just not bother. But do you agree? Are you, do you support just up oil at any cost regardless of their methods? Do you think actually their methods are brilliant and doing exactly what they need to do? Or do you agree with them like me, but think their methodology sucks. If you have anything to say about this, please feel free to drop

your ideas to me either via email at your never the only one at gmail.com. or by DM on Instagram and I cannot wait to hear I think it's a really interesting conversation and I think it's one that we need to be having more of and I think a lot of us are scared to come out against very left wing very movements because we're always only one comment away from getting cancelled

but I hope that we can have a conversation in which the nuances respected and the grey areas are occupied we'll circle back on it I just used that terms if we're in some sort of corporate meeting We'll circle back on it next week. I'm interested to hear what you have to say. And that's it for this week.

I hope you have enjoyed it. I know it's been a bit of our hiatus, but we're back. We've got one more episode before we break up for Christmas, and I will be back in the new year. But before we go, a little bit of housekeeping, for those of you who follow me on any social media platform,

you will know that I have released the annual Not So Smug Now, Big Facts, Christmas quiz. Now this is something that you can buy. You just buy it on my website, Not So Smug Now.com. It's eight pounds and two pounds of that goes to an amazing little charity called Furnishing Futures. It's an independent charity that are in desperate need of all the help and support we can give them. They basically provide furniture to help people in social housing. Furnish their houses and live a comfortable life. So if you are looking for something fun to do with the family on Christmas Day or something great to do as a work,

event. Then this quiz is designed for you. It is easy. It's all digital so you can do it on Zoom if you want to. You can do it with people across on the other side of the world or you can print it all off and do it in the comfort of your own home or you can do it digitally in the comfort of your own home if you don't want to waste all that paper. There are six rounds. There's a movie around, a music round and a picture round and it's lots and lots of fun. I promise you, even though I wrote it myself, it's really good fun and I'm going to be hosting the quiz with my family and friends this Christmas. So go and buy it. Not So Smugnow.com. 8 quid. Two of those. Two pounds of those go towards furnishing futures. So you are doing good things too. Before I sign off, please, please, please get in touch.

This is next week's topic. As Christmas is coming, I want to know all about the very worst Christmas presents or birthday presents or any presents at all that you have ever received. I believe that my sister was once given a wheelbarrow by her ex-husband, unsurprisingly, because she once mentioned that you'd like to get into gardening. It didn't go down very well. I don't think they divorced much long after. But anything like that, any Christmas presents that made you cringe, that you couldn't believe that were awful, I've got stories, you've got stories, send them in to me at you're never the only one at gmail.com. Y-O-U-R-E. I cannot wait to hear your stories. I cannot wait to do this again next week. And then I cannot wait for the new year where we get to really smash the

shit out of this. But for now, it's better late than never. I hope you have a wonderful, wonderful week. Happy Monday and I'll see you next time. You're Never the Only One is written and presented by me, Kat Sims, author of the first time you smiled or was it just wind and creator of Not So Smug Now, an online platform for those of us who are waking up every day and just trying to do the best they can. Follow me and get all your podcast info by heading to at Not So Smug Now on Instagram and TikTok and Not So Smug Now.com. You'll also be able to read things I write, including articles and my book, which, by the way, is probably the best baby shower gift you can get

at the moment, and soon you'll be able to pick up merch there as well. You're Never the Only One is produced and edited by Lucy Loocraft, and executive producers are Bonnie Barry and Paramee Podikara. Our original music is written and performed by Hot Salad. Yeah, I really fancy the bass player. Please check them out wherever you stream your music and on Instagram at Your Mum Likes Hot Salad. I'm always what I mean I'm neither same or sinner I'm somewhere in between This world is complicated

Everything moves so quick And lying to yourself If you think that you've got to live Everybody love You're never the only one You're never the only one Don't live inside your strength Because everybody makes mistakes

Oh Don't judge me I'm a weakness Don't judge me on my floor Because no one's really perfect By the grace of God goes home Everybody knows You're never the only one You're never the only one

Don't live inside the shame Because everybody makes mistakes Oh Taking the time to make sure everything's okay Picking up like to everyone else each and every day When I feel like nothing left for you to spend on you You're allowed to be happy to. Never the only one.

You're never the only one. Don't live inside your shape because everybody makes mistakes. Oh. You're never the only one. Believe it's like a shame Because everybody makes mistakes Oh

Thank you.