The following quotes should give you a good taste of what's to come whilst reading Wearing Marshmallows so you can tell if you would like it:
"As the clock struck nine, the ritzy Hull MP, Arthur Ackmann, swanked towards Launa with his testicles leading the way, harbouring most unrealistic expectations; like most men turning a miniscule, clearly platonic friendly gesture into a trophy and pass to make an awkward move. At just 19 years old, Arthur gained a first class degree from Oxford University in Patronisation Studies. He progressed to reading a Masters in Condescension & Inhibiting Etiquette at Cambridge. Later in his lazy career, after years of sterling sexism, he was awarded an Honorary PhD in Egotism from Princeton for his government work in preventing women from gaining prestige in the workplace. He was a certainly a well qualified Twat!
Aware that no-one was in hearing range and that Terry was lurking in the background like seaweed, watching Launa’s every last move, Arthur looked at another faddish pop-piece and said to Launa, “Crap aren’t they sweet pea?” Arthur was fond of using chauvinistic terms; ‘treacle’, ‘secretary’ and ‘honey-bun’ were his favourite choices of condescension. He was once recorded by a news reporter saying, ‘Women’s brains usually can’t handle the maths,’ and allegedly walked over to his PA eating her usual lunchtime almonds after her Wednesday brie sesame rye, stuck his hand in the bag and said, ‘Help me grab my nuts would you?’. In further embarrassment, when the air-conditioning packed-up one hot summer he also told his three female employees, one a PhD in marketing, ‘If it’s still like this tomorrow you can all bring your bikini’s in for a calendar shoot’. But his best known male chauvinist colossal blunder was…”
"Hiding behind a woodland parade cover of well-to-do Surrey trees, was a large building complex, housing some of life’s unfortunates. One unfortunate squirrel nearby stole his friends buried nuts and a struggle for supremacy ensued. An adder added nothing to the grassland table as a slow worm pocketed itself inside the earth where Mr. Mole ate it. Inside the human cage some more holes were being filled in for day-release passes and protection from bullying. Outside some batty bats hid for the day and a set of badgers made a move on a naughty fox trying to poach their den. A chicken egg cracked into a staff pan as an inmate cracked by tying ligatures around her neck. A toad nested in lovely wet leaves and above the death-watch beetles fed on an old tree wasting away. Methadone passed from flies coming by intravenous people.
Whereas the woodland scene was serene with dragonfly gaiety, just metres away, drugs, sex and the only rock-and-rolling was with male prison officers blackmailing female inmates into having sex, was the security camera picture. Nature was an open fight for survival with holy moments of light, and this closed jail with some good lesbian hope and unity was locked into a sex for favours culture. It was a real downer of a view. Forest crime was even more tough, but for an outsider ignoring the detail, the woods are a place of awe inspiring wonder."