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I Come From A Little Town You’ve Probably Never Heard Of – How My Only Meaningful Dream Is Actually Just One Big Joke

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A few years ago, I went to get some talk therapy. The therapist asked me to keep a dream diary. I did warn her that this was probably a waste of time. My dreams very rarely have any structure. When my slumbering brain talks to me, it’s like an over excited five year old boy trying to tell his mum about a particularly great day he’s had at school. There lots of : “And then, and then, and then, and then…” but with very little actual information being imparted. Read More…

Context – Why Charity Can’t Be An Excuse For Everything And Not All Uniforms Are Sexy

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One Friday afternoon, when I was in Sixth Form, me and my friend Shane abandoned our usual lessons, put on our Ku Klux Klan uniforms and ran around the streets demanding money. I realise that sounds a teeny bit racist and possibly a trifle thuggish, so please allow me to explain myself. There was a good reason for our little afternoon outing. Read More…

Resolution (Slips Away Again) – How To Have Your Cake And Eat It

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Twas the night before Christmas, And all ‘round the house, Not a creature was stirring, Not even a mouse….except for the lady of the house, of course, who was creeping stealthily towards the fridge and thinking : “It’s Christmas Day tomorrow and I’m going to be spending most of it in this kitchen. Fuck it. I’m having another piece of cake.” Read More…

The Magic Cooking Pot – How To Make Happy Memories With Lots Of Time But Very Little Money

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 When I was a kid, around about this time of year, there was one little treat I used to look forward to more than anything else. I always knew this treat was coming because my mum would wash out The Big Black Cooking Pot. It looked a bit like the one in that picture, but a lot less fancy and a hell of a lot more battered. It must have held a good couple of gallons and you had to put it across two gas rings to use it. And The Big Black Cooking Pot being washed out could mean only one thing. Home-made soup. Read More…

Poisoning Pigeons In The Park – How A Tin Box And A Magic Virgin Made Me Realise I Might Be Becoming A Man

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We all have teachers who inspired us when we were at school. We were ungrateful little bastards back then, of course, and didn’t recognise or appreciate that inspiration. But it was always there, waiting to be remembered fondly when we eventually became adults. Read More…

Let Me Tell You About My Operation… – How I Died And Why I Thought I Was Better Than Jesus

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Thirteen years ago, just before my 34th birthday, I died. It’s okay though. I got better. I’m not currently a decomposing zombie sitting at a keyboard typing this as yet another errant body part drops to the floor. Zombies don’t write blogs. Though to read some people’s blogs and internet comments, it would be easy to believe that there’s a whole army of The Walking Dead tapping away out there. Read More…

The Wily Ways Of The Elephant God – How The Obstacles In Your Life Might Actually Be Springboards

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I stopped believing in my childhood god a very long time ago. I was raised as a Catholic and I have to say that this fact has been a less than positive influence in my life. Read More…