It has to first be accepted that newspaper column ‘advice’ is as changeable as the wind. (I’m working on a new metaphor for that as we don’t have wind any more, nor rain). “DRINK RED WINE EVERY DAY AND LIVE TO 120!!!”, one day, followed the next by “AVOID WINE; IT’LL KILL YOU!!!!”. The response – Read More-
If you said to me (and I fucking wish you WOULD!!!), ‘Andy, you can have any car you like; I’ll pay for it’, what would I choose? Well, if I wanted a truck I’d get a Bentley. They have convertibles and it simply MUST be convertible. Range Rover? I’d literally rather take the fucking bus. – Read More-
Yeah, I’ll send my cv over. Its impressive. And my PhD thesis, you’ll like that, its quite brilliant. But basically, I was born a bit odd, developed somewhere on some spectrum, but was consequently a touch ‘Rain Man’, without all the stuttering. When I was 7 I wrote The Merchant of Venice. People said I – Read More-
I’ll just say it once: it’s hot. Fucking hot. Ridiculously hot. Which is not really the point. The point is that it’s been like this… foreverrrrr!!! I can’t remember what rain even looks like. Sleeping under the covers. Wearing long trousers. It’s all consigned to history. The only time I’ve used the tube lately was – Read More-
… a day makes. 24 little hours… Because today, if I use a public toilet I absolutely KNOW that the great fat, threatening, shaven-headed, tattooed, knife-wielding head-case who just stomped in, is in possession of a dick. I don’t have to fear that it might be a ‘trans’ person, pretending that ‘they’ do have a – Read More-
I hate to bang on about Gianni Infantino but… I have to. He’s horrible. He’s vile. And if you are a football fan, you’ll understand my complete contempt of the man. And if you’re not, then go read the new Robert Galbraith novel for the next 3 minutes instead. I’m reading it and it’s fab. – Read More-
If you were around in the 1970s, you’ll remember it was ‘sit-com’ ground zero for British humour. Loads of sit-coms; they just ‘exploded’ into life, like the Cambrian Explosion, when millions of diverse life-forms just ‘appeared’ on the planet. So with comedy shows. Some were brilliant. Like Steptoe & Son. Some were abysmal. Like On – Read More-
I’m thinking that City Airport is my absolute favourite airport in the whole world. But is having a ‘favourite airport’ a bit like having a favourite ‘incurable disease’? Or a favourite ‘London football club which isn’t Spurs’. A favourite poem by Chaucer? Because let’s face it; although we all need airports, they are fucking horrible – Read More-
Gianni Infantino, football’s favourite slap-head, was called in to run football’s over-ruling international body, FIFA, because his predecessor, Sepp Blatter, was a corrupt and self-serving nest-featherer who spent his time as boss in running the biggest gravy train in sport. And unlike other trains, it always ran on time. Blatter worked out that of the – Read More-
Italians were put here, as a nation, for aesthetic purposes only. They look good. Some of them, really good. A few, breathtakingly good. But that’s ‘form’. As for function, Italy is fairly useless. Always has been. Shops close up so they can rest or fornicate in the afternoons, factories close for 6 weeks every summer, – Read More-