I only joined Uber, the taxi service thingy-app-wotsit and care home for ageing Toyotas, a few weeks ago. I don’t get a lot of taxis. But I felt I should get in the Uber groove. So I did. Not easily because nothing that happens between me and smart phone is easy. In fact I got – Read More-
Ah well, man plans, God laughs, as they say. I should be in the West End, suited and booted, enjoying the third hour of my great friend’s son’s wedding. But it didn’t happen. A minor (ish) catastrophe at work (Mel’s, not mine) meant we had to call off the morning part of the today’s weddinginess. – Read More-
They asked all the Times sportswriters to name their predictions for The Top Four in this year’s Premiership. Out of 8 writers, all but one had Spurs in that Top 4. Holy cow. I hate that. It puts me under immense pressure, gives me performance anxiety, it changes the game. I’d rather we just came – Read More-
Ken Livingstone is a tosser. That’s no news to anyone. The former mayor of London, erstwhile radical and all round plonker, ‘Red Ken’, has a long and consistent history of being a total plonker. Long because he’s too old and is now a living advertisement for just the kind of involuntary euthanasia that people protest – Read More-
Great Britain lives in the Dulux Paints 3rd Division (North) of world weather. We talk of nothing else yet ‘suffer’ nothing more than months of grey, loads of drizzle, mild, mild, fucking mild. A horrible word whose flexibility means its never far from our weather reports. Not too hot, not too cold, just bland, boring, – Read More-
As ISIS move their deathly way across Syria and Iraq, they not only sweep aside all who stand before them, but they also destroy wonderful, irreplaceable historical artefacts and monuments. Like the beautiful temple at Palmyra. Our history. The world’s history. Gone forever. Because it doesn’t align with the perpetrator’s warped and sick view of – Read More-
I’m still ‘in Paris’. Can’t get away. Its all I read, all people speak about, its everywhere. More details have emerged, none of them particularly pretty or nice, but as always, this kind of horrific event will always bring people together. The world, well, the civilised world, has aligned with France. Minutes of silence preceded – Read More-
Christmas is just around the corner. Which is why today’s Sunday supplements aren’t so much magazines and sales catalogues. “148 pages of gift ideas!!!!” shouts the cover of the Times ‘Style’ section. Shoot me now. Hate shopping. Hate Christmas. Bah humbug. Never mind. We go away for Christmas. We always do. Because Mrs Conway needs – Read More-
We need to talk about Paris. No-one’s talking about anything else today. Not just because Spurs aren’t playing, but because what happened last night over there was a horror of truly horrific proportions. And worry. You can’ help but worry. And think ‘where next?’ According to today’s extensive radio coverage, exclusively relating to precisely that, – Read More-
Sounds Shakespearian. The House of Lancaster hath fallen. Whereas in fact, its just another rugby manager losing his job. There’s only two options for national team managers at a World Cup. You either win the competition, like Clive Woodward did in 2003, and retire from the game, take a knighthood, become a legend and follow – Read More-