A safe place to receive absolution…
Oo er, it’s better out than in love!
When I was seven, I used to kill ants by picking them off the ground with sellotape. (Anonymous, London)
I screen my sisters’ calls. (Anonymous, London)
The company I used to work for based in Hampstead? The printers didn't lose their artwork for their new company brochure. I never delivered it. I set fire to it in the pub after my last day in the office. I still don't feel guilty about this. They were a dreadful company to work for. (Anonymous, London)
I lined my green ‘venus fly trap’ recycling bin with an article about a more successful writer friend. I then took an inordinate amount of pleasure in feeding the bin until the article completely disappeared from view. (Sarah, London)
I scratched my best friend’s violin. She went to the toilet and I got a biro out and put a really big scratch in it. She was so spoilt and she had so many more things than I did. (Anonymous, Exeter)
My brother and I used to make nuisance phone calls. We’d go through the phone book and phone anyone with a brand name – McCleans, Campbells – and complain about their toothpaste or soup. Our headmaster’s house got so many calls though. Thank God they didn’t have 1471 in those days to trace the calls. (Anonymous, Yorkshire)
I hate cats, the only reason I got our cat was to get rid of the mouse problem. Saying that, I secretly love that he loves me more than anyone else in the family. (Anonymous, London)
I love hotel lobbies, really love them, the marble, the naff chandeliers, buttoned leather reception desks - all of it. (Anonymous Designer, London)
My husband used to think the petrol in the spare can evaporated. I forget to fill it up all the time. (Anonymous, London)
When I was nine, I fell in with a forward-thinking gang who shared their stash of pornography and were even rumoured to get together naked sometimes, though I never found out for sure. To join you had to bring your own magazine. I stole a copy of Penthouse from WH Smith, snaffled inside a paid-for copy of the Guardian. How weird must a nine-year-old Guardian reader have looked? (Anonymous, Yorkshire)
I have several secretive solitary food activities: cold bread sauce sliced up in a sandwich, poached egg and cabbage, mashed potato and parsley sauce, baked beans and lettuce, the list goes on…. (Anonymous, London)
My secret teenage vice was Mills & Boon romances. From when I was 13 to about 15 I kept a huge stash of them in a cardboard box under my bed. My fellow addicts and I would swap them at school, and I'd read them feverishly on the bus home. I was deeply embarassed, though, and told my mum I was 'looking after them for a friend'. Lord knows what the attraction was, as in those days there were no juicy bits, just a lot of heaving bosoms, followed by .... 'the next morning....'. (Veronica London)
I kept my father’s affairs secret from my mother for years. I mean years, decades, not by lying but by silence. Still, lack of action is disloyal nonetheless. (Anonymous, London)
I secretly really enjoyed not having hot water over Christmas. Bathing the kids can be such a pain by the end of they day. It was bliss having the excuse not to do it at all. (Anonymous, London)
When I wrote our car off it was nothing to do with the bend in the road or that I was going too fast. I just don't think I pressed the brake hard enough. (Anonymous, London)
'Want to fess up? Send us your confesssions, large or small, to confess@magnificentme.com. Tell us where you're from and give use your first or even full name if you dare (but you can always stay anonymous if you prefer!)'
