Some blogs I know

  • Freckles and Doubt
    Considering her mastery of narrative structure etc. (insert narrative structure here.....)
  • Trailer Park Refugee | just three shots of tequila away from a bar fight….
    Just three shots of tequila away from a bar fight...
  • Exile on Pain Street | Straddling the Hudson River. One foot in NYC, the other in suburban New Jersey.
    One man's story, etc.....
  • Fat Man on a Keyboard
    'At first they came for the smokers but I did not speak out as I did not smoke. Then they came for the binge drinkers but I said nothing as I did not binge. Now they have an obesity strategy...'
  • New York Bike Blog
  • Belgian Waffle
    Prolific? Bien sur. Waffle? Not a bit of it. The best thing to come out of Belgium since Leffe Blonde, and that is saying something.
  • Non-working monkey
    'Why taking work seriously turns you into a cock', among other lifesavingly important career advice.
  • Razorblade of life
    'Not so much cutting-edge as half-cut and still sliding'...
  • blue cat
    This blue cat fellow (he writes for the telly you know) issues forth an apparently effortless stream of grade-A funniness that has me overcome in turns by helpless laughter and shameful, powerful envy. There I've said it.
  • Joella
    Joella in Oxfordshire. Working for The Man while training to be a plumber (I think!). Loves gherkins, hates aubergines... and Fascists.
  • Bushra
    Bushra's blog/ homepage/ call it what you want
  • Dubsteps (formerly Hobo Tread)
    Thoughts of Skif, a Havant and Waterlooville fan exiled in Liverpool- possibly the most engaging non-league football writing to be found on the web- and with a little bit of politics, and plenty more beside!
  • Tired Dad
    The Man Who Very Nearly Fell Asleep
  • troubled diva.
    Mike, the self-styled 'Fairy Godmother of British Blogging'. He got us all published in a book, you know...
  • Private Secret Diary
    Dispatches from deepest Norfolk. Not that private and not that secret. Just consistently hilarious.
  • The man who fell asleep; Sadness and ecstasy in unequal measures
    The book inspired by this veteran site (A Year in the life of The Man Who Fell Asleep) features the 'sarcastic polar bears of north London' among other oddities that the author manages somehow to render absolutely plausible.
  • Pete Ashton's Internet Presence
    Birmingham's finest. Writing with enviable clarity on every subject under the sun since 2000 (a very long time indeed!). Now with added nice pictures of canals and stuff...
  • Looby
    'An awkward, clumsy fellow; a lubber; a novice'....a venerated (if refreshingly irreverent) blogging institution. Lancaster's very finest!
  • RichardHerring.com
    The comedian Richard Herring's kind of online diary thing. Always worth a visit.

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« Short interlude of a black-and-white nature | Main | Spacehoppers »

January 18, 2007



I love those media specs, whilst aware that I am being a mere dupe for socially-conditioned accoutrements. Media specs, wonderbras...they all work.

I was in London when 7/11 or 9/15 or whatever it was happened and got turfed off the tube at the stop before where the bomb went off, and there was actually this great sense of cameraderie between the people who were forced into walking home. The difference was that no-one knew where the hell where they were going. I mean Piccadilly to Levenshulme is basically a straight line, whereas that day in London you could sense that a lot of people were going round in circles as they discovered that the tube map *really doesn't* relate to the actual geography of London.


Wouldn't it have been funny though if, at that exact moment, an escaped lobster was making its way down the pavement as well, and you'd gone off in persuit of the lobster instead of your glasses, which were in fact, merely caught in your turn-ups?


Hi Jonathan,

Completely off-topic, but I just wanted to check you've been getting e-mails from me regarding Post of the Week...?


Nexus John

As a well known and respected researcher into the habits and psychology of the average commuter, I applaud your idea of a "walk-to-work" day, preferably on a windy day in January.
It unfortunately goes with other doomed schemes such as "no car days", "free bus days" and "let the train take the strain days".
On a "walk-to-work" day your average commuter will just have the day off.


Ah Nexus John you see we have thought of that hurdle here at Crinklybee Towers. Walk To Work Day will be compulsory- just like in biblical times when everyone had to return to their place of birth annually to register for taxes. I have already floated the idea at my office, and have granted a single concession- that for the benefit of those commuting from remote outposts, such as Wigan, we will lay on an appropriately biblical mode of alternative long-haul transport. Girlonadonkey.blogspot.com, anyone?

Mike- I should chastise you from straying off topic but since it's your first time here (and you are quite famous by our standards) I will let you off. And I've just replied to your email (it's about an exciting and mysterious new project, everyone.. more to be revealed soon...)

Tim- I can't be certain I didn't get a lobster up my trouser leg at some stage while I was temporarily rendered half-blind and being blown like a flimsy rag-doll across central Manchester. If any crustaceans do surface from within my workaday apparel during the coming weeks you will be the first to know. I've just realised, by the way, that a bit has fallen off my media glasses and they are going back to the opticians in the morning.

And finally, Looby- yes our Abby (who has the scary distinction of having experienced at close hand both 9/11 and 7/7) says exactly the same thing about the esprit de corps engendered among thousands of people suddenly finding themselves having to negotiate the city by foot (and also, I think, how in both instances people really couldn't grasp the enormity of what had just happened at first and kept insisting they really had to get to their meetings or whatever, even as the urban infrastucture visibly crumbled at their feet...)

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