Galliano is back. Hooray. The disgraced former head of Dior fashion designer with the stick-on dreadlocks and a distinct dislike of Jews is now chief dressmaker for the label Maison Martin Margiela. You know, that fabulous company who made a dress with, errr, like, hmmm, sleeves and straps and stuff. Anyway, Galliano’s their man. He’s – Read More-
There are many ways to skin a cat. What the fuck is that supposed to mean, other than for the sadistic felinaphobes among us? Have you ever skinned a cat? Ever thought about it?? No, can’t say its uppermost in my thoughts most days, but that’s the expression we’re stuck with so, like all good – Read More-
Yesterday was Yom Kippur. The Jewish day of ‘atonement’. Judgment Day, in Terminator speak. The day when all good jews, and numerous pretty bad ones, don’t eat for 25 hours. Our ‘days’ are different. Better. Longer. More jewish. Hungrier. And the standard understanding of both the day and the fast is that you starve (like – Read More-
The last of the famous Mitford Sisters was buried yesterday. Deborah. Who turned Chatsworth House into the first proper, tourist-friendly stately home where peasants, plebs and other assorted poor people could wander round and see a dining room the size of their own village, kitchens like those out of the Bake Off, even though tv – Read More-
I’m not Tory. I never have been. Yet like so many of our voting nation I feel it comes down to the lesser of evils rather than one, stand-out party. You vote for who you hate least. Or you don’t bother at all. And then you’re forsaking your democratic right to vote in a free – Read More-
People from Yorkshire don’t laugh at jokes about sex. Nor about education nor death. The Scots, who probably wouldn’t have even been included in this survey by Ticketmaster if they’d voted ‘yes’ as they should have, don’t laugh at anything. Whereas the Welsh laugh at absolutely everything. Alcohol will do that to a person. Or – Read More-
I’ve been to Hong Kong. It always looks like this. Streets filled with zillions of people, all day, every day. No-one is taller than 5 foot 7, not a blond head in sight. If the people are smaller then they can be crammed into smaller living spaces. So they’ve been genetically modified by chemicals in – Read More-
of a 1-all draw. Here’s my thoughts on yesterday’s game at the Arse, in no particular order (pretty much how all my thoughts go, as my wife would say). 1. Before the game I’d have bitten your arm off for a draw. 2. I gave us the same odds of victory as I’d give the – Read More-
When you nail your colour to the mast, some fucker comes along and shoots that mast down with a big cannonball. Bastards. And so is the life of the football fan. His colours are permanently nailed to a mast and they’re always knocking it down. Every bloody week, so it seems. Yet hope must spring – Read More-
Ahhhhh, freedom, such a magnificent concept, such a superlative ideal. The dream that liberates us, whilst in some ways, constraining others. And if you express your freedom you’re either a libertarian or a total bastard, depending on whether you’re scottish or not. Or other things, perhaps. Take Andy Murray, f’rinstance. He used his freedom of – Read More-