There’s something about dwelling on mortality that reminds me of childhood. I think about mortality a fair bit. There are fewer things more tragic than an unhappy childhood; a wasted one is regrettable but a miserable one is far, far worse. Let us all be thankful then, because I had a great childhood. I miss […]Read More With a tint of rose.
I’ve given myself 67 minutes and 16 seconds to write this. Because that, it would appear, is the length of perfection. Recipe for perfection: Take a large and decadent villa in the south of France and place on the hob. Fill to half way with atmosphere, ambience, damp and testosterone and then bring […]Read More On Exile On Main Street.
UPDATED DUE TO NAME ERRORS CAUSED BY AUTHOR STUPIDITY. I was sent a link to a video on Twitter this morning (cheers, btw!). It’s one of those clever little videos that have gone all ‘viral’, which is a word that is used when something shit on the internet gets watched by a lot of […]Read More It’s not the help Quaden needs.
You’d think that by now I’d have got bored of writing about The Brit Awards. They make an annual appearance on this site now, and I suppose that every year that they keep coming back and still offer absolutely nothing to culture then I’ll always want to say something else about them. I should admit […]Read More Looks like Brit. Sounds like Brit. Smells like Brit.
He’s back. My nemesis. As if ‘The Graham Norton Show’ wasn’t already in a steep decline they had to go one worse and bring out Sam Smith again, to give us his version of what being eternally conflicted must sound like. I don’t have any problem with Norton himself, though his weekly starter of a […]Read More The Sam Smith Effect.
Yes, I know it’s not his fault. Yes, I know I should be looking at the bigger picture. Yes, I realise terms like ‘super spreader’ are crap and flamed by a ravenous, misguided media. But don’t panic, I’m just being a silly billy. Bloody Steve Walsh. He must be delighted to have his face […]Read More Classic Steve Walsh. What’s he like?!
There’s a storm coming. I’m not trying to be dramatic, there really is. I don’t know about your bit of the country but in mine, weather wise, a mouse fart would be news right now. So this counts as the calm before the storm. Literally. At the moment we have high pressure outside my window. […]Read More Storm warning.
When someone told me the breaking news I must confess I wasn’t too surprised. Phillip Schofield turning out to be gay can hardly have been responsible for many dropped coffee cups this morning, let alone jaws; indeed, it is almost the opposite of news but in this strange little world we live it has become […]Read More On gentle Pip’s little dilemma.
I like to think of myself as a reasonably patriotic chap, but there is a point at which I draw the line, rather than cross it. Last weekend France presented England with a ‘shock’ defeat in their opening game of the 6 Nations and I found myself actively not caring. Worse, in fact – good […]Read More On why rugby doesn’t matter.
Mercenaries don’t usually get to leave a legacy. Instead they tend to leave a big bar bill and bodies on the floor. However, personally, I don’t really see the problem with mercenaries: if you’ve spent years risking your life for money in the name of the country you love how better to extend and profit […]Read More Mercenary territory.