Michael would you fuck me? Eh? You heard. [long pause] I can’t .. [long pause] .. I can’t. I’m sure it would be a wonderful experience, Roz. But I can’t. What Roz Demichel, forty-five year old mother of three, is proposing … Read More »
Over the years I’ve twice begun this dystopian feminist vision, and twice given up on it – a thing I rarely do with a novel – as woodenly predictable. Seventeenth century Massachusetts garb and post holocaust premise don’t help, striking … Read More »
But for its thoroughly (post) modern approach to temporal sequencing, the Handmaiden could be placed squarely within the Canterbury Tales and Arabian Nights tradition of storytelling, not least for its sexual explicitness and moral point scoring. Set in early twentieth … Read More »
Sheffield, yesterday, in pictures.
Is there a quintessentially English brand of humour? One we specialise in and can fairly be held to encapsulate, or at least betray something important about, our national psyche? It used to be said that our staple is saucy suggestion. It … Read More »
Early evening, July 1968. I was set to propel my fifteen year old frame out the door and ankle over to Colley Road library, on Sheffield’s Parson Cross, when my steelworker dad called out to me. He often had his … Read More »
Another post dedicated to bad thinking, it being a year and a day since my last one. Yesterday’s Independent ran this piece. Having approved in ways active and passive Obama’s bombing the middle east every day for eight years, promoted … Read More »
For a few years in the eighties, Aberdeen FC broke the two Glasgow teams’ dominance. How? By hiring Alex Ferguson, the best manager in the game and a worthy successor to that other Caledonian weaver of soccer magic, Bill Shankly, … Read More »