There’s a new facet to Cornovirus that’s just coming to light. Something that wasn’t noticed in the original list of symptoms. It’s called: ‘Coronavirus associated, with this much time I can do fucking anything! syndrome’. And affects a certain class of people. Not the fatties, they get enough of a rough deal from Covid as – Read More-
This is my ‘roadmap to normality’. I think it explains more than all Boris’s words of good but misguided intentions which constitute his ‘roadmap’. Plus, I really hate that word in such a metaphorical context. It’s patronising. Don’t know why, but it is. Anyway, life goes on. Went to work yesterday and had lots to – Read More-
Hello Britain… well I should say ‘hello England’ because for the purposes of this wonderfully simple, completely uncomplicated and totally lacking in confusion statement, we need to separate ourselves from our family of nations who seem to think that Patty Peroxide in Edinburgh, somebody Welsh and the current incarnation of Lucifer’s sister in Belfast, can – Read More-
Have you ever met my dad? If you have he will have hugged you. We’ve never been a hand-shakey kind of family. We hug, we kiss, we molest, grope, fondle and stop just a tad short of sexual harassment. It’s our way. So to visit my dad, as I did yesterday, and not hug, kiss, – Read More-
Today I turned into my own worst enemy. A (fuuuuuuccckkkkkiiiiinnnngggg) leaf-blower. You know those things. The curse of every suburb. Leafy Britain’s collective wake-up call. WHHHHHRRRRRRRRRR…!!!!! at the crack of 08:00:03 every day from spring to… well back to spring really because there’s always something to blow around the garden to kill half an hour – Read More-
Suppose a married couple were isolating separately. It can happen. I’m gonna MAKE it happen! He’s living with his 92 year-old mum and she’s with her 108 year-old dad, polishing his WW2 medals, keeping him fed, ahhhh, sweet. And suppose the husband and wife chose to meet up because… for reasons of… intimacy. Would that – Read More-
There was a ‘singer’ in the 60s called Adam Faith. I say ‘singer’ because he couldn’t. What he could do was look very pretty and cool and cause multiple mass screamage in teenage girls. Though anyone with long hair holding a mike in those days produced the same effect. If you doubt his inability to – Read More-
I was always pissed off with Jeremy Corbyn (generally and totally) specifically about his constant use of the term ‘working people’. With the implication that unless you’re risking industrial accidents with a lathe or ending the day with a really dirty face, then you’re not a ‘worker’. Like England is some pre-Victorian feudal land segregated – Read More-
My undisputed all-time absolute favourite film ever of all time is a list so long that I ran out of gigabytes trying to write it. Same for songs really, how can anything ever be ‘better’ than Layla? Or, While my guitar gently weeps? Smells like Teen Spirit? Jolene??? Someone like me? Suffragette City? (Etc, etc, – Read More-
Rachie’s gone. Or ‘don’ as Lila says. She went red, turned into half a lobster, recovered pretty damned sharpish, so we slung her out and sent her back to Berlin. We even did the unspeakable, the impossible, the never-ever-in-Conway-land unmentionable and ‘took her to the airport’!!! Just to make sure she really left. We never – Read More-