Naomi Hefter - Hef Off: A Memoir of a Chaotic Comedian

As I slipped the most expensive pack of Marks and Spencers Scottish smoked salmon into the September issue of Vogue magazine, I suddenly thought it was packed flat enough to almost look like a free sample of fish that had been put inside already for readers to try. The glossy pages of Vogue already came with a sample of shampoo and expensive foundation, after all. Holding the iconic magazine under my arm, like the bankers in the city held their daily newspapers, I almost looked like a wealthy girl in the capital with my perfectly liquid-lined eyes and nude matte lips. As I walked out of the shop on Oxford Street, having not paid for my sample of dinner, I felt surprisingly calm. Vogue was also unpaid for. I left the shop without getting caught.

The first time I shoplifted, I was 13 when I went through that shit with Bill. But this time, it wasnt just because I was desperately unhappy. This was because I had 2.67 in my bank account and I had lost over a stone in weight since I had gotten fired last month. And if I was going to steal my dinner, I was, at least, going to steal an expensive piece of fish to help ease the hunger pains in my frail body. And I had a magazine to read too

If someone had told me years ago that I would one day steal so much smoked salmon I would be giving it away to the homeless, I would have laughed. But as it turned out, I did steal stupid amounts of the fish, and I did give plenty to the homeless. One thing is for sure, I can never look at that flat packed packet of fish in the same way again. I just hope those homeless people at Charing Cross station enjoyed the smoked salmon as much as I did at one stage.

On January 1, 2009, it was an unusually warm day. I remember looking up at the sky and seeing nothing but a gigantic swirl of muddled, grey clouds that covered my world. As I wheeled two large suitcases down the street, from one shared flat to another, I stopped for a moment and felt pure stillness surround me, but sheer panic swamped and filled me with dread of where my life was now going. When most people were in bed with a stinking hangover, I had packed up my belongings and walked my whole life down from one end to the other on Stoke Newington Church Street, to move in with new roommates that I had met through Gumtree.

I had been living with my boyfriend, David, in Stoke Newington, North London, since we moved from Bristol in 2007. After a year of living in London together, things had gone severely downhill. Not knowing anyone or anything in the vast capital city put immense pressure on our relationship. That and the fact that I was not in the right time in my life to be in a relationship. Over the years prior to meeting David, I had been offered anger management, counselling, and was put on a years waiting list to have cognitive behavioural therapy. I never showed up to my first CBT appointment, which was two days before my 23rd birthday.