Our hero is a thirty-something former New York lawyer from Scotland who was diagnosed as a potential zombie by a mad scientist, then suffered a catastrophic hemorrhagic stroke while making love. He’s doing as well as could reasonably be expected now. See the “About” page for more details…
I feel like I miss the Thanksgiving buffer that stops the Christmas bandwagon from building up speed too early. But then, Britain isn’t exactly short of pre-Christmas high days and holy days around this time of year.
As well as Guy Fawkes Night, there’s Black Friday (without all the tedious mindfulness suggested by Thanksgiving), Saint Andrew’s Day, and PEN International’s Day of The Imprisoned Writer.
Mrs Stroke Bloke and I finished binge-watching the two original seasons of Twin Peaks last night. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get into the minutiae – you know, spoilers. you’ve either seen it or you haven’t. And if you have, the odds are you probably got as far as we did back in the Nineties. i.e., not very far.
It feels like the subject matter on the blog has been kinda heavy these past weeks, so how about a bit of fun?
Maybe you’ve seen the recent news article to the effect that the average intro time for a pop hit has dropped from more than 20 seconds to five seconds since the mid-1980s. I mean, I don’t know why the BBC are banging on about it now, when Mashable reported on the underlying research in April.
After being parachuted out of New Labour’s Milbank Palace into a safe seat in Stoke, the biographer of Engels and picket line-crosser spent five years slashing Labour’s majority before letting it be known that he would be giving up the seat at a time when the Labour Party and Jeremy Corbyn were at their most embattled.