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I hate Christmas – always have.

It features countless things I despise:
– shopping
– mindless consumerism
– garish advertising
– shitty music
– cold weather
– enforced time with family members I loathe
– hangovers (especially in the UK, where I refer to December as “let’s ruin tomorrow for a month”)
– weight gain
– needless expenditure of money
– religious undertones

However, I understand that a lot of you love this time of year, and I can see why (booze, friends, tasty food, rest).

So, in honour of your love of this festive season, I will refrain from being a grinch this December. And as a friendly visual signifier of my effort to take part in your joy, I shall wear green glitter as much as possible to display my acquiescence.


I would like to send a message back in time to 20-year-old me, at Glasto 2003, taking LSD for the first time (which I decided to do alone):

“Dear Zoe, it’s your future self. Don’t freak out – I know you’ve learned your lesson, that this is a treat best done with friends. But guess what: In 14 years, you’re going to do this again, and it’s going to change your life. Oh – and you’ll write about it for Rolling Stone. Love, 35-year-old Zoe.”


Note: 100% real photo of me from that day.

Hello everyone. Today’s magic words are…

Rolling. Stone.

… actually make that:



When it’s taken two years to make a feature happen, an expletive is well deserved. This is my first story for the magazine – and it’s about two of my favourite things: Music. And LSD.

It’s been a long journey. And a fun one. As a mate put it,

“Christ Zoe, you’re the only person I know who can put ‘TAKE ACID’ on their to-do list, and it’s legitimately for work.”

Note that I’m holding up the September issue and not the current one – but this is probably the only chance I have to get my face this close to Dave Grohl’s.

I am in one of my favourite places in the world (Scotland) with one of my favourite people in the world (Graham F. Scott). Life is good.

Yesterday we went for a 7 mile hike around Hadrian’s Wall. I was first taught about the Roman invasion of Britain when I was 15 and studying Latin in highschool. I absolutely fell in love with the idea that the Romans could conquer all of Europe, but had to concede defeat (or at least, lose the will to even keep trying) when they encountered a bunch of bastard crazy angry half naked Celts (who probably chucked fly agarics into their brews). But instead of actually conceding defeat, they drew a line in the sand and built a wall to demarcate the Empire’s border.




Oh, and the construction was ordered by Emperor Hadrian, who was one of the first Emperors to sensibly realise when continuing to wage war is a waste of time and energy. Peace > War n’ all that. Oh, and he was openly gay.

Finally – 20 years later – I got to finally see the wall for myself (even though I’ve been to Scotland a dozen times by now).

Thank you Graham. This was worth waiting 20 years for.

Magic. Just magic.

In two hours I will be 35 years old.

I have managed three and a half decades without succumbing to the tattoo bug (as in the infectious desire to ink oneself – not an image of a bug, i.e. my mate Daniel’s demand that I get a tattoo of a tardigrade).

I think now might be the time.

One of my legs is an inch longer than the other, and I’ve been getting cramps n’ crap in one leg for seven years. Whenever I see an acupuncturist about it, they all find the exact same two points on my right leg, and the needles work a goddamned charm.

Think what you like about acupuncture, but five people have independently all picked the exact same two spots to impale. I’ve done this about a dozen times now.


I’ve been thinking… why spent £60-£100 for each visit to have the same two spots pricked when I could just figure out how to do it myself (or get a mate to do it)?

To aid in this endeavour, why not get two small tattoos on those spots so anyone could help me out, save me a fortune and make my leg happy? I’ll gussy it up by getting my genome sequenced and visualised in a circular fashion, comme ca.

Bad idea… or am I a fucking genius? I think the latter.

PS My mother can scream all she likes, but I think this idea has legs. (Cough.)


Every year the BBC generously records and displays almost every gig they can on the iPlayer for people to enjoy for a month. For people who didn’t get to go – and for those of us who went to watch all the gigs we couldn’t see. (Which is almost all of them – the lineup is staggering.)

But. There appears to be no footage from Arcadia at Glasto 2017 on the iPlayer.



A drum n’ bass playing giant spider and NO FOOTAGE? I communed with the spider for hours, how can I get my fix now?!?!

They have every single second of Ed Sheeran’s set and not ONE BIT of Arcadia?!?!?!


I have just recovered from Glastonbury 2017.

There are countless reasons why Burning Man may be an incredible experience – but Glastonbury is my one true love. Aside from the fact that there is no greater lineup of music to be found on earth… it’s the people. As my Facebook “About Me” used to put it: “English people make me laugh.” Find me a group of humans funnier than five thousand people at the Stone Circle on a Saturday night and I’ll eat my goddamned hat.

(Also there’s none of that sanctimonious “gift economy” nonsense. Like really – please.)

Long may you continue, shit faced Brits. You make the world a better place. Who needs to do sit ups when you can laugh this hard for five straight days.

Where else in the world can you find people who carry around signs claiming “Donald Bump”? Nowhere.



Also signs expressing a deep reverence for chicken nuggets.


Never heard of PGAD – persistent genital arousal disorder – have you? I hadn’t until researchers approached me and suggested I write about it.

Here’s my piece in Vice today.

Every solid study estimates 1% of women have this condition. It’s controversial to say they “suffer” from PGAD, as that labels it as disabling, but of the 13 women I interviewed who experience this, “suffer” is very much a fair descriptor.

Anonymous woman, 40: “This is relentless torture and has destroyed my life.”

As one doctor describes it: “There really is no disorder in sexual medicine that causes the bother and distress that this one does – it is the numero uno ‘I’d rather die’ sort of condition.” There are at least half a dozen documented suicides – so doubtless thousands more we don’t know about.

Again – one per cent of women have this. One per cent of the entire human population is also estimated to have schizophrenia – something that is, to say the least, very well known, studied and treated.

Yet PGAD remains an invisible disability, mocked by physicians, ignored by the mainstream establishment (it is not yet included in the DSM), and is hindering or destroying the lives of roughly 70 million women worldwide. Right now. (Sidebar: Men experience this too, but we have no data on how commonly it occurs. Incessant hard-ons and unwanted ejaculations thorughout the day don’t sound like much of a walk in the park, do they.)

You don’t have to read this. But please do. Not just because I worked my bum off on this story – but because it is heart-breakingly important.

Without question: you know somebody who is living with this right now – or maybe you are yourself – and they are suffering in silence.

The Australian podcast and radio show All In The Mind interviewed me at the BBC HQ here in London for a special half hour show about – what else? – sex, drugs and rock n’ roll. Link here.


Hats off to the nerds who make this happen, such as Meredith Chivers, Pek van Andel, David Nutt, Robin Carhart-Harris, Amanda Feilding, Mendel Kaelen and so many more people for doing the work they do, crunching the data and producing the actual science so hacks like me can yap about it. Ta.

Everyone who knows me well knows that London is my spiritual home. As my aunt Kel says:

“The place was sending you the homing beacon since you were a toddler – you were always meant to be there.”

This week, The Globe & Mail – my old stomping ground, back in the day when I wrote a column on environmental issues – asked me to write an editorial about the atmosphere in my city post the London Bridge attacks.

I scratched my head and paced in circles. I’m not much an expert on terrorism or its causes – but I am an expert on why this city was worth every penny I spent to come here.

And also why Teresa May is “loathsome”. Being commissioned to describe her in such terms = life goal met.

Anyways, my two cents:

Image of the paper – nice spread if I do say so myself…

Globe - London Attacks