Oi you lot, guess what.
No wait, donâ€™t guess, because thereâ€™s no point, because Iâ€™m going to tell you in around a hundred and fifty wordsâ€™ time, and anyway you lack the means to actually respond to me beyond yelling at your laptop screen and, though it certainly tickles me to imagine you getting all red faced hollering at a small plastic oblong, in the end tâ€™would be only a waste of both your time and mine, although I suppose Iâ€™ve already wasted my time by writing this â€“ and wasted yours by making you read it â€“ and so basically, what I really want to say is: I am deeply sorry for ever starting this sentence which is, to be frank, so lengthy as to be obscene, and I wouldnâ€™t at all blame you if you logged off your computer right now and went for a lie down rather than read the rest of this god-forsaken shit-heap of an article. Continue reading
This image has absolutely no relevance to the article. Great album cover though, right?!
Seven fucking weeks and Iâ€™m getting giddy, man. I donâ€™t have a long winter stretching ahead and the slow climb into summer and living tree branches â€“ Iâ€™ve got this gorgeous gleaming severance, a runaway, a hop and a skip and a great big fuck off all the merry long dance to sunny Elsewhere.Â And itâ€™s this thatâ€™s keeping me going through this cold sad winter – filling every day with dreams of hostel beds and foreign bars, mountains and heat cracked motorways and all of it, all smashing together, clacking like marbles, clacking like judging tongues. Continue reading
Fifty one. Fifty one days is all that remains of Berlin. I ainâ€™t coming back here once I leave, you canâ€™t do that. Iâ€™ll never live in Newcastle again, never Sheffield, never Berlin. Happy memories in all, of course – and thatâ€™s the way I want to keep it. If you meddle too much with the cheerful snapshots that crowd your mind, you risk tarnishing them with your greasy daft fingerprints. Continue reading
A year ago I wrote an article titled â€˜A List of Shit Iâ€™m Going to Do This Year Unless the World Ends, Which It Probably Will, Because Donald Trump is a Moronâ€™. If you would care to join me now, I am rather curious to revisit this list and assess how well I performed over the past 12 months. Of course, thereâ€™s every chance you couldnâ€™t physically care less about my personal goals and ambitions, and that is fine. Good day to you. To anybody still reading, letâ€™s creep our peepers over the bafflingly long and wildly optimistic list I made, one year ago todayâ€¦ Continue reading