Caterpillar Fury.

You may recall that the moustachioed soul sweat monster Edwin Starr addressed the problem in as early as 1970 as he manfully proposed: “Caterpillars, huh, yeah. What are they good for? Absolutely nothing, huh.”, thus ruthlessly exposing an issue that had hitherto been on absolutely nobody’s agenda. Naturally the global lepidopterologist community leapt (no pun […]

Read More Caterpillar Fury.

At 3pm, this afternoon.

“Thanks for that Jenny, looks like great funeral weather for this afternoon. Welcome back, I’m Matthew Colon, and let us take you straight over to Windsor for a, well, a guided tour if you like of what we can expect to see as the day unfolds, a day when a nation mourns the death of […]

Read More At 3pm, this afternoon.


I’ve been waiting a while to see how things develop. I’ve been waiting a while to see what he’ll do, what he’ll say, how he’ll explain himself. I mean, he has to explain himself, doesn’t he? Obviously he doesn’t think so but then he is who he is. Back when he held power in his […]

Read More F.U.D.C

Back on the treadmill. Again.

Gym’s back, and that makes me a happy man. I have missed the gym. More so during this lockdown than the last. The last one was a breeze compared to what we’ve had since December; it was light and warm and quiet and, provided you stuck to the rules, the outside was the best place […]

Read More Back on the treadmill. Again.


Tributes. Waves of tributes. Flooded by tributes. Smothered in tributes. Caked in them, inches thick. Who doesn’t have something to say about Prince Philip? I can’t say I knew the man but I did feel a brief pulse of sadness when I saw the news, though this pulse was brief indeed, not through a coldness […]

Read More Con-tribute.

Tinkerin’ and canterin’.

We’ve just booked a little break away. Obviously it’s been tough to decide exactly where to go: we can’t take the risk of booking abroad and so we’re having to make do with a break in Britain, or, as some unspeakable arsehole (the same one that coined ‘Brexit’, I presume) came up with, a ‘staycation’. […]

Read More Tinkerin’ and canterin’.

The Phone-y War.

That Gavin Williamson is a genius. Quite who we have to thank for giving him a position of power is……., oh yes, I remember now. I’m being uncharacteristically flippant, in case you hadn’t guessed; there are remnants in the bottom of my food recycling bin with more charm, vitality and purpose than Gavin Williamson. There […]

Read More The Phone-y War.

A nice Sunday.

Yesterday was glorious. Not glorious glorious, I didn’t win the lottery, or crowned King having won a competition to find any idiot for the job who is simply marginally less of an idiot than Prince Charles. No, yesterday was just a nice, gentle, unassuming kind of glorious; the kind that makes you sit back and […]

Read More A nice Sunday.

Comedy of unforced errors.

We’ve been out to play tennis today. Me and Wifey bashing balls about, with scant adherence to the rules one might have seen in other major tennis events such as Wimbledon. In fact, in terms of tennis as a sport our little concrete court caper was about as far from Wimbledon as you can get […]

Read More Comedy of unforced errors.

The genius of faith.

It’s here again, regular as clockwork, except for when it’s particularly early or surprisingly late. Or both. I can’t remember how they work out the dates for Easter; He Is Risen, but times may vary. I think it’s got something to do with establishing when the recycling collection goes back to normal after Christmas and […]

Read More The genius of faith.