Spok’s dead. He will live long and prosper no more. Leonard Nimoy the actor died yesterday and I am greatly saddened. Old actors die all the time, but this one actually ‘hurts’. The great thing is that dead actors live on forever in their work. And live on as young people too. No-one remembers what – Read More-
So we left Arsene Wenger in a hole. Stuck in the middle of a story in the depressing bit, desperately searching for his happy ending. And we feel that unless he chooses to visit one of the fine ‘Oriental Massage’ establishments, of which there are many in the back streets around Tottenham, run by fat, – Read More-
I’m a reader. Never used to be. Then I read Leon Uris’ ‘Exodus’ when I was bored shitless in my first ever proper job aged about 23 and ‘my life changed forever’. I became bookish. Nerdy. I gave up drink, drugs, fast cars, loose women, football and cannibalism and dedicated myself to the words of – Read More-
There’s trouble in Ulster. Nothing new there then. But this isn’t a new wave of ‘knee-capping’ or sectarian violence, not even marching Orange-men. This is all about a subject much closer to my own heart (in oh so many ways, Doctor); cake. A bakery in the Province was commissioned to make a wedding cake for – Read More-
The Theory of Everything is a good film. Not a great film, but by the essential criteria that: 1. Mel didn’t fall asleep 2. I didn’t get bored 3. I never looked at my watch 4. my phone didn’t start vibrating it must therefore be considered worthy entertainment. Which it undoubtedly was. And we understand – Read More-
Well, not West Ham, that’s for sure. In the blockbuster at White Hart Lane yesterday those poor Hammers managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. 2-nil, and they fucked it up. And I could almost feel sorry for them, if I wasn’t so amazingly, deliriously, almost tragically happy about it. It felt like – Read More-
I love an Oscar. Love the whole thing. The event, the parties, the goody-bags. Brilliant. And such a perfect demonstration of the austerity the world faces. The event goes on for 4 hours. Four fucking hours of sobbing, stumbling over dresses never designed to be walked in, smug, self-satisfaction married to hateful, resentful stares by – Read More-
Usual Friday night scenario. We watch the news, we’re bathed, dressing gowned, tea-ed up and relaxed. I’m failing miserably on some cryptic crossword compiled by a dyslexic Lithuanian-speaking sub-normal (obviously, otherwise I’d be racing through it…) and Mel’s asleep. Fast asleep. Head hanging on one side, just sufficiently that even a 3 minute snooze will – Read More-
… let me count the ways. Let me say from the outset: I really don’t like Chelsea very much. And thus I’m really enjoying the scandal surrounding the fans in Paris completely living up to the stereotypical image we have of them. Shaven-headed, ignorant, racist yobs. Fab. Job done. I’ve always had that impression of – Read More-
I’m just reading a great book by Ben Elton. Safe to say, all his books are great. So far. This one’s about time travel. “Oh, not tiiiiiiiime tttttttravel; boooooooringgggg. Don’t say; its all about going back to 1963 and becoming your own grandfather, or the other ‘time para-fuckin’-dox’ where you bang your head in 1357 – Read More-