Content

Content

A friend once described me as a “Premier League raconteur”, which, to this day, is the best compliment anyone’s ever bestowed on me (even if not entirely true). Anyway here’s a self-deprecating little anecdote about a terrible moment in my life that I’m not proud of, and for which you should definitely judge me. I have nothing else to write about right now, so this is just meaningless ‘content’.

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An irradiated fox with a hubcap melted into its face

An irradiated fox with a hubcap melted into its face

Police in Seattle were recently called out to a local park, where they discovered a shirtless, hammer-wielding man hanging upside down from a basketball hoop, who thrashed around wildly until he was released by firefighters. If you change “shirtless” to “trouserless” , “hammer” to “secateurs” and “hanging upside down from a basketball hoop” to “trapped under the roller shutter of a looted and partially destroyed Waitrose”, it’s how I imagine I would end up after a few days of trying to survive in a war zone or post-apocalyptic future.

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‘Tis the season for me to write about Christmas

‘Tis the season for me to write about Christmas

“Always winter but never Christmas,” said Mr Tumnus, when explaining the White Witch’s icy grip on the wintry kingdom of Narnia. It’s a quote that evokes a desperate sadness; a snowy landscape that no longer captivates with its untouched, velvety beauty, but instead torments and imprisons, injecting a deathly cold into the shivering core of every living thing. ‘Christmas’ is nothing but a whisper evaporating in a cloud of foggy breath.

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