This is a rant. If you don't like it get a new one. He's resting his elbows on the bar, leaning back far enough to reach his glass of water. He slips his hand into his vintage black leather jacket's pocket and pulls out a joint he rolled - shifts his ...

Some have asked my opinion on blogging, and were I asked when the time arose to describe the art of writing about yourself online I'd perhaps have called it projectile-blometing because I fear it is no more meaningful to the world than regurgitating the excesses of your bourgeois lunch. Lately I've ...

If you'd asked me who cooked the best steak in the world, right now. I'd still say my Dad. Oh I've looked for better; I've asked friends for their secret locations, I've tried the very best recipes I could find with the most extravagant of preparation methods and still I've ...

"God damn these cretins" I'd repeat whilst ticking,rocking back and forth and scribbling notes on the papers of my first year students. It was always the shift from one in morning to three in the morning which I hated the most, the damp and cold started setting in and as ...

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