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I was born in Essex. The date is unimportant. My parents were chard farmers and notorious intellectuals. We wintered in Venetian lagoons and, come summer, flew north to the mysterious Scottish island of Unst.

By age three I had read and mastered Schiller, Spillaine, Spengler and Seuss along with Mills and Boon. At age six, my first seven minute electronic score for eight egg timers and nine rice cookers was performed by ten old timers.


Age seven saw me attending St. Otomo’s Preparatory School for Girls. Our maths teacher was Miss Hug, a foreigner from Europe and thus a guest in our country. I hate her!

Miss Hug was teaching us differential calculus. Unfortunately, her foreign methods belonged to the Stone Age. After two minutes I could take no more. I marched to the front of the class, snatched the magic marker from her hands and began to show her how to do it properly. Far from thanking me, the mad cow shrieked at me to sit down. When I tried to explain to the stupid women that she had it all wrong and was in fact an idiot she attacked me in a mad rage. Miss Hug took hold of one of my ears in a cast iron grip and carried me all the way to the Principal’s office. I must admit I was surprised at the almighty strength concealed in that petite foreign body. It must be all the Toblerone they eat.

The Principal, another bespectacled moron, refused to listen to my explanations. I hate her! She banished me to the library, ordering me to produce 5,000 lines containing the phrase ‘I am an arrogant, fractious, supercilious, pompous, insolent, spoiled, zoologically incompetent improvising laptop brat’.

Cecilia aka ‘Rank Xerox’ as she appears today

The lines did not bother me. I had a trained helot – my classmate Cecilia Wee – who I always call upon to perform these onerous tasks. Such was her skill with the pen that she was nicknamed ‘Rank Xerox’. At one point her copies of my handwriting became more real than my own original graphic and I had to rein her in.

My banishment to the library was a blessing in disguise. There, I first discovered the wonderful world of faeries, eldils and tree sprites. Such happy memories! Andrew Lang’s ten fairy books (especially the Pink Fairy Book with the story of Princess Minon-Minette). The Compleat Book of Tree Sprites by Cicely Toshi Mary Nakimura. Lady Cottington’s Pressed Fairy Book. The dark dusty shelves also held copies of Christopher Wood’s excellent guide to Victorian Faerie painting containing illustrations by Warwick Goble, Arthur Rackham and Richard Dadd (who killed his dad), as well as my all time favourite painting ever – The Captive Robin by John Anster Fitzgeraldo.


By age nine I was head girl at St Otomo’s until a conspiracy of clowns led to my dethronement. I vowed that day to never let popularity or idiots stand in my way ever again.

From age 12 to 20 I was incarcerated in the St Beresford Reformatory Asylum for Permanently Insane Sociopathic Young Ladies (or Saint Beebee’s as we affectionately called it) but it was a mistake. I was not mad.

The naked truth is that they didn’t like it that I was fifty seven times more brilliant than all of them put together. They were all out to get me. But I showed them, didn’t I? Not only did I achieve two top class degrees in zoology from the University of Uppsala. I am now the world’s most famous glamorous laptop improviser while they are a bunch of forgotten pipsqueak nobodies. Where are you now. Dr Palinckx, with your tranquillizers and stupid psychotherapy sessions? Who’s laughing now, Dr Buckhart Strangl, with your cold baths and electroconvulsive mind control? You’re nothing but noodles. You don’t even have you own dot coms. You’re noodles. Do you hear..?? noodles!! NOODLES!!!


Age 21 and my amazing skills landed me a job as top laptop pole dancer at Peppermint Hippo, Soho. Naturally, my career rise was either stratospheric or meteoric – which ever is higher!


Age 24 saw me rich, powerful, utterly ruthless. I snapped up St Otomo’s so I could set fire to the building and fire the staff. I sold the land to an idiot at Sainsburys for a whacking profit. A few days later, I purchased St Beresford’s and burnt it to the ground. I lit the match and became a sensational international celebrity overnight.


The Guardian art parrot – Adrian Searle – wrote an amazing piece about me in The Daily Telegraph the very next day –: ‘Like Burden and Sekula, Kaffe Matthews delivers a searing critique of the institution as other, as bother, as Mother, as bonfire.


Since 2014, I has been the world’s top crowned queen of electronica bringing you new music and ideas about listening. PING!

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