index

  1. You May Be Wondering What I’m Doing Here: why this blog will not feature any photos of my cat, or allow people (or my cat) to criticise the lack of cat photos.
  2. Danger: Void Behind Door: a brief rumination on the fickleness of both women and space-time, and the possibility that access to some sort of primordial infinite darkness can be gained from the southbound Bakerloo Line platform at Waterloo.
  3. Crawling Up The Mile End Road: why buses, naked women and steamed puddings are synonymous in the minds of most middle-aged men, and why Boris’s obsession with helplessly drunk teenagers is so far proving a good thing.
  4. A Higher Evil: are independent bookshops their own worst enemy, or just my own worst enemy?
  5. 48 hours in Vigo: a man on a small trampoline explains how Sir Francis Drake would have dealt with Ryanair’s “no aeroplane” approach to cost cutting, and we find out what Galicians keep in their hold-alls.
  6. You’re So Quiet You Sound Like Aldershot: why it’s not just the lack of an internationally renowned art gallery, good tapas and an occasionally murderous independence movement that distinguishes Leyton from Bilbao.
  7. And When Did You Last See Your Husband Alive?: why Geneva is full of unwanted hair – and I don’t just mean the moustaches – and why I would rather our readers were responsible for the obliteration of the universe than purchased a Magnet Cubista Walnut kitchen.
  8. Kiss Me Again Like You Mean It: how I sacrificed my chance of being published by Canongate on the rough-hewn altar of truth, dignity and acceptable hyphenation practice, with a small digression into how dogless lesbians keep warm in Canadian snowdrifts.
  9. Jonathan, David, Carol and Me: why David Beckham is a true gent, Jonathan Ross can do no wrong, and Carol Thatcher will be getting her rice and peas delivered by Ocado in future.
  10. It’s Magnificent, But It’s Not The Station: how I was abducted by aliens from South Harrow station and had the true nature of Boris Johnson revealed to me.
  11. Christ On A Bike: The Boris Johnson Story, Pt.34: how the removal of bendy buses on route 507 inspired a new TfL competition to redesign the wheel in time for 2012.
  12. A Public Disservice: in which I am forced to bribe an elderly man in Wolverhampton with a spongey dessert in order to demonstrate to Richard Branson that trains are not planes and that privatisation is wrong.
  13. Tuggy Tug Pulls The Other One: how I felt less badly about being mugged once the Daily Mail had explained that all the misunderstood urban yout’ really want is to be able to park sideways-on to the kerb.
  14. Barney’s Only Disruptive Because He’s Bored…: David Cameron tells a bright kid from the Walworth Road not to throw his knife and hoodie away just yet after surveyor’s report says social cost of levelling playing fields of Eton may be incompatible with Tory spending plans.
  15. Excuse Me, Miss, I Bought This Jedi Here Last Week, And It Doesn’t Work: why the lack of recent postings cannot be blamed entirely on the inverse square law of gravitation and also definitely not on dragons.
  16. Tory Tourette’s: in which a night with Chris Addison causes me to wonder whether the world would truly be a better place if George Osborne got a job in Dixons.
  17. Farewell to Fitzalan Street: early morning nudity on the first train from Slade Green, and how Hubert the Inflexible Frenchman left me unable to lift heavy weights for six months.
  18. A Riot Of Their Own: how I had my faith in human nature restored by the people of Sidcup and why toddlers and anarchists should neither be given Sunny Delight nor put in charge of the Northern Line.
  19. This Is Not A Bin: in which Rupert Murdoch turns out to be not a force for good after all and I have to rewrite my blog entry as a result. Bastard.
  20. Queue Here For Theresienstadt: how the human soul has been replaced by a 64GB memory card.
  21. Blud and/or Daddio: why I won’t let you tell me what you think about what I think about David Mitchell.
  22. TK Maxx in Karl-Marx-Stadt: Leipzig 1989 remembered, and why the Dean of St Paul’s can’t hold a candle to the pastor of the Nikolaikirche.
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