Who the hell are you?

I the hell am Robyn. Hello!

I live in London and look like this:

Although sometimes I look like this:

But let's not go into that now.

I get paid to write things, and to mess about on the internet. You can read me at Dollymix, Hecklerspray and Domestic Sluttery. Or you can go to my 'professional' site if you, ha ha, want to hire me.

I also like to bash out tunes on the piano and guitar, and into microphones. Veeeerrrryyy occasionally I'll get paid for it, but mostly I get told to stop that infernal racket.

I like coffee, forteana, and music that twangs discordantly, sounds as though it was made by robots, or goes 'hey nonny nonny'. Have a look at my Spotify playlists on the right for examples.

My spurious claims to fame include:

• Belle de Jour included me in a novel dedication, mainly because I provided her with what every high class anonymous call-girl needs: a decent chocolate truffle recipe.
  
  
• Being listed (accurately) as a film composer on the Internet Movie Database. When I sent them a photo of myself they took my listing down as, and I quote, "you are not a recognised representative of Robyn Wilder."
  

• This blog was featured in a Guardian list of best UK blogs, and won a Guardian award for best designed blog. However, this was withdrawn the next day when it transpired that it had only won through clerical error.

• In 2008 I fell out of a helicopter in Las Vegas, but somehow miraculously survived the two-foot drop to the ground.

• Camilla Parker-Bowles and the Duchess of York are alumni of my prep and senior schools. As you might imagine I’m quite posh, although I offset this nicely by looking like a bit of a pikey.

At the time of writing this profile, I am attempting to write a funny book, record a sad (ie terrible) album, and have just - against the advice of all my friends - cut my own fringe using nail scissors.

The results are not pretty.

They are short and uneven and curl the wrong way.