'I was sent a new(ish) magazine the other day. Called Super Super, it's on issue six, and it is a hyper-dayglo-snazz-tastic mangle of dangly pendants, stone-wash trews, luminous hoodies and smiley faces. It is shiny, bright, hilarious, a mess. And it is rave. More rave than Candy Flip, De La Soul and Mr C in a vat full of ecstasy at the Hacienda's Hot night. Can you feel it?'
You can imagine her smirking to herself as she penned these incredibly witty lines in some Shoreditch gastropub over a milky latte and a rocket and mozzarella focaccia.