Diary of a finalist
Well, I had to start sometime. After weeks of partying, drinking, gossiping and occasionally and regrettably dancing, I'm sat cross-legged on my bed, alone, 'revising microeconomics'. I've become a finalist. Not in the 'person in the final year of their degree' sense, but in the 'rabbit caught in the headlights, no way out, doomed, we're all doomed I tell you!' sense. The Fear isn't here yet, but it's just around the corner, sending out little preview pangs to keep me on my toes. Someone please kill me. ...
Columns: Newsfight!
The death of any individual is always sad and the death of Elizabeth Windsor, passing away at the grand old age of one hundred and one is no exception. However, the commotion which her dying caused far superceded any logical or emotional rationale. This woman not only outlived one of her daughters, she outlived an entire century. ...
Columns: Top Spot: Venice
The bedroom wasn't a bedroom, but just the end of the corridor separated with a strange folding door. The bed was comfortable enough, but by about 2am the mattress was definitely damp. By 3am the smell was everywhere. By 3.30am we realised we have to face the inevitable. We turned the mattress over and it became clear that whoever had stayed in the room, sorry, corridor, the night before had a little problem. A problem most of us grew out of many years ago. ...
Columns: Horoscopes
Columns: The Krapton Factor
Just because it's a new series doesn't mean I've gone soft, come on get your arses in gear and sit down, you bunch of troglodytes...
Columns: Top Ten!!!
Right, a few ground rules before we start. Any item, NO MATTER WHAT THE BISCUIT CONTENT OF SAID ITEM, that comes in its own individual wrapper is not a biscuit but a tea time snack. Without this rule we'll be cluttered up with Wagon Wheels and those tawdry little Yo-Yos in no time. A biscuit therefore comes in a stack, a cellophane tray or perchance a tin. Jaffa Cakes are not allowed for two reasons, firstly as the name somewhat baldly implies, it is a cake and not a biscuit, and secondly it is impossible to dunk a Jaffa Cake in a cup of tea whilst maintaining one's dignity. A biscuit must be dunkable boys and girls, that is what we built our empire upon. With these safety barriers erected on our downhill ski run of biscuitry, let us merrily cry "eins zwei drei" and push ourselves over the edge......