Originally posted in November 2012 here
STEPHEN Fry and Philip Schofield may be the kings of the national Twitterati, but in Liverpool there’s one account which out-posts them all.
Scouse Bird Problems has won a loyal fanbase since it launched earlier this year, becoming a guilty pleasure for almost 50,000 devoted followers including Liverpool celebrities Coleen Rooney, Jennifer Ellison and Marcus Collins.
But there’s one question every one of those readers wants answered: Just who is Scouse Bird?
“Everyone asks that, but I really want to keep my anonymity,” she says. “Most of my followers have no idea who I am, but I think that’s why I’ve got so many.
“That way I can just get on with normal life, have a laugh with it and get away with far more than I ever could as myself!”
Scouse Bird was created in the spring after her alter ego, a 27-year-old from Walton, had an early morning make-up disaster.
“I’d started a new job but I was late and drew my eyebrows on wonky,” she explains. “I just thought, drawing your eyebrows on wonky when you’re late for work … Scouse bird problem. So I Tweeted it on my personal account, with that as the hashtag.”
It wasn’t until April, when a rival account was set up, that Scouse Bird made it official.
“One of my followers, and I still don’t know who it was, set up their own Scouse Bird Probz,” she says. “I was raging that someone would steal my idea, so I decided to set up my own Scouse Bird Probs.
“The other one had a head start, but I still got 10,000 followers in my first week. When both of us hit 25,000 followers at the same time, it was like Scouse Bird wars! Then they just stopped doing it as much and I carried on.”
Scouse Bird says her character has taken on a life of her own since then, with Tweets coming up to 20 times a day on everything from false lashes to X Factor.
She admits she finds it surprisingly easy to come up with subjects, spotting potential Scouse Bird targets whenever she’s out and about in Liverpool.
“I did study performing arts at college and I was always into writing. I actually won the ECHO Young Journalist of the Year award a while ago but decided not to take it any further,” she reveals. “I work in an office now, but Scouse Bird gives me a chance to write still.
“I can become someone else when I’m her, it’s like having a split personality. But she’s not just me, she’s a bit of everyone. She’s just an exaggerated version of every Scouse girl out there.
“She says what I’m thinking and what a lot of people are thinking, but you would never ever say,” she laughs. “In real life if you said half the things Scouse Bird says people would think you were a right crank, but she can get away with it.”
With such a huge following, though, and her own agony aunt column for Open Magazine, Scouse Bird does run the constant risk of being rumbled.
“I was sitting in the Sir Thomas having a roast dinner one Sunday and there were people on the next table talking about Scouse Bird,” she says. “Then another time I was in Moniques in town and a lad found out who I was and the next thing everyone was mobbing me! It was unreal.”
Her Twitter fame means that Scouse Bird is on the guest list for lots of glam Liverpool events these days.
“But I find the whole idea of being a Twitter celebrity really cringe-worthy,” she laughs. “I have had a little taste of that lifestyle, but I don’t have the responsibility or the recognition that goes with real celebrity which is good.
“I like the anonymity because I could be anyone. Otherwise I don’t think it would be as funny.”
Scouse Bird has a target of 50,000 followers by Christmas – and she’s only got around 500 to go.
Although she admits that means being quite dedicated to Twitter, even on holiday.
“On my first holiday this year I didn’t Tweet very often and I lost some momentum, so when I went again I got a friend to do it so I could have a break. It’s like I’ve got an apprentice Scouse Bird now!”
A Saturday in the life of a Scouse Bird >>>>>>>>
A Saturday in the life of a Scouse Bird
9am: Get an early enough start to wash your fake tan off (which obviously you’ve slept in to get maximum development). This way you’ve got time get another layer on.
9.30am: Bribe your fella with a cooked breakfast/cups of tea to tan your back for you. If this doesn’t work try physically threatening him or hitting him where it really hurts by ‘accidentally’ standing on Fifa 13 in your stilettos.
10am: Put a full set of rollers in, making sure that they’re really neat as you don’t want to look a show when you’re out shopping. It’s essential you miss breakfast and lunch. Maybe just have a chicken breast for tea. Looking bloated in your bodycon is a fate worse than hunger.
11am–4pm: Meet your girlies in town to find a new outfit and shoes. Have an internal hissy fit because your mate saw the dress you want first. Make a mental note to swill her later on – preferably with something that’ll stain.
4pm–5pm: Disco Nap. Scouse Bird needs her beauty sleep.
5pm: Have fella trained to wake you up gently by holding a vodka and Diet Coke under your nose. Get a bath and wash the final layer of tan off. Think of ways to guilt trip your mum into coming round and scrubbing the toxic orange ring off the bath. I’m a prinny, as if I’m cleaning!
6pm- 9pm: Hair and make-up. True Scouse Birds have mastered the smoky eye by the age of 21. No-one will ever master an even eyeliner flick or eyelash application. At some point, throw a tantrum and refuse to go out because your left eyelashes won’t stick and your smoky eye has gone a bit ‘emo’. Relax, have a vodka and start again. Repeat and even if you still look a show you’ll be too drunk to care.
10pm -11pm: After a fashion show for your girlies to decide what dress you’re gonna wear, play taxi roulette. Ring five companies and see which turns up first, hoping they don’t all turn up at the same time or there’ll be murder. Down a bottle of rose while waiting. Once taxi turns up terrorise the driver, fuming if he tries to open a window. “Noooo, me eyelashes and me curly blow!!!”
11pm – 4am: Flirt with bouncers to let you queue jump. Flirt with questionable looking men for free drinks. Try and remain inconspicuous, pouring your handbag vodka into the Diet Coke you’ve just ordered from the bar. Ignore suspicious looks from the barmen that your round consists of 2 Diet Cokes and 2 tequilas, “Wa? I’m pacing meself” The more brazen the better. Fall over on cobbles in ridiculous but fabulous shoes. Deal with devastation that once again you haven’t pulled the footballer of your dreams by heading to Maccies. Wake up the next morning dead and spooning a Big Mac. I AM NEVER DRINKING AGAIN (til next week).