Category Archives: Brexit

Truth Hides

Back once again (at last)

I was in the supermarket today, and the first thing I saw was a pile of pizzas for LESS THAN HALF PRICE!!! Simultaneously, I had two thoughts:

  1. That must be actually true. They couldn’t get away with it otherwise.
  2. Or have they just gone for such a brazen lie that I’m going to think, That must be actually true. They couldn’t get away with it otherwise?

Then I thought, I doubt Goebbels runs the marketing here; let’s just buy a pizza.

[That’ll take ten minutes to heat up. Check out the Apoplexy Newsletter while you wait.]

Continue reading Truth Hides
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Life’s What You Make It

Earlier this week, a friend who makes a brief cameo appearance in my survival memoir, Stroke: A 5% chance of survival, sent me a link to this recent article celebrating the original release of Pavement’s album Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. Here’s the tl;dr take:

C'mon, man. The kids are really... nice.
I was there, kid. That’s not how it went down.

I mean, I was there. Not James Murphy. Though he probably was, too. I saw Pavement touring their first album, the epochal Slanted and Enchanted, at Edinburgh’s late and legendary venue, The, er, Venue.

That’s quite enough sub-muso-journo dross from me. Get to the human reflection below.
And in the Apoplectic Tiny Letter.

Continue reading Life’s What You Make It
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Tusk

I haven’t written much on the blog recently that’s directly about Brexit. Partly, the reason is that I’m continually hearing news stories and vox pops and politicians and business leaders on the radio banging on about it and I’m thinking –

Why do I keep hearing about this? What has this got to do with me? Why does this affect anyone I know?

Then I remember and I’m absolutely furious.

But, hey. Brexit isn’t all bad…

[Read on to find out the good stuff. But first, check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter]

Continue reading Tusk
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A Year In Review – Pt.1

Time is social. Harvests. Day and night. Diurnal clocks. Biorhythms and cycles. All that mushy wetware bio stuff I never learned but is real.

Long-suffering reader of the blog paul

The winter solstice was on Friday, and now we’re beginning the long dig out towards the long evenings of summer. So, as is traditional, let’s sit down in front of a big gold piano and reflect on the year.

Blap-Blap-Blap, beotches!
Yaas, Kween!

January (1)

As the annus horribilis that was 2018 dragged to an end, it seemed that 2019 could only be better. The Queen’s appeal that we put divisions behind us and simply make the best of what we had seemed like it was going to usher in an annus mirabilis as the newly refitted HMS Britannia prepared to begin its buccaneering voyage across an expectant world.

At home, Theresa May announced that she would be combining her passions of hiking and hating immigrants Doing Her Duty to the country by meeting the Hard-Working People of Our Precious Union™️ at the top of the highest peaks in each of Scotland, England, Wales and Northern Ireland.

“Theresa, do you remember that lovely new visitors’ centre atop Mount Snowdon?”

After the unexpected cancellation of the Mays’ trip to Snowdonia in Wales, they set off for Ben Nevis in Scotland in traditional wear for the English visitor on a day trip to the Scottish mountains – Theresa in leopard-print kitten heel hiking boots, and Dishy Philip in his preferred Savile Row suit and hipster glasses. As May Maynia gripped the country, enthusiastic Scots began their trek up the mountain…

January (2)

After the disappearance of the Mays in Glen Nevis, another popular favourite had to take to the House of Commons to announce the delay of the Meaningful Vote on the outcome of the UK’s Brexit negotiations with the European Union.

“The Government intends to proceed with the meaningful vote as soon as the Prime Minister is able to return to this Place” – Deputy Prime Minister David Lidington

Then, just as it seemed that the fabric of British society would rupture notwithstanding the desires of the Queen, the people were united by the empathy engendered by the release of the paperback of an astonishing new memoir on 22nd January…

Unflinching, mate.
“Are you sure that every word in this Year in Review is true?”

February

As the search for the Mays continued, questions began to be asked about the costs that were being incurred. Secretary of State for Scotland David Mundell indicated that he would resign if the costs of the rescue operation exceeded £30,000.

When it was pointed out that Mundell had previously backtracked on promises to resign relating to Brexit outcomes for the Common Fisheries Policy and differentiation for Northern Ireland, he upped the ante considerably.

The Viceroy speaks
“Let me be absolutely clear: In the event I don’t resign, I’ll resign.”

March

As Brexit-related turmoil continued, Gatwick Airport entered its fourth month of flight cancellation. After police had announced in December that the drone that had caused 140,000 passengers to be stranded at the airport simultaneously:

  • had been discovered; and
  • had never existed

it emerged that Gatwick itself had never existed. The so-called airport was merely a hoax conjured by mentalist and illusionist Derren Brown. Each of the 140,000 stranded “passengers” was in fact a paid actor. Brown himself had travelled in time to turn-of-the-century Ohio to deliver the plans for powered flight to the Wright brothers, Orville and Wilbur.

Derren Brown and Wilbur Wright, 1903

Meanwhile, popular favourite David Lidington returned to the House of Commons to update the country on the status of Brexit.

Go on then, you draw David Lidington from memory.
“We must honour the PM by effecting the moment of her greatest triumph on 29 March, 2019”

To be continued…

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Tour de France

For some reason, I was thinking the other day that I’ve “only” ever been to France once.

Because we're, like, super conpetemt.
“Hey, look! They’ve got the same editorial team as BBC News!

And I was thinking, maybe I should try to fix that while I still can.

[My whimsy’s just about been extinguished, tbh. Find the last of it in the Apoplexy Tiny Letter] Continue reading Tour de France

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Making Everything Better

Hi there!

I’m aware that the posting schedule here at apoplectic.me has been a bit erratic recently. Sorry about that.

Nice hat, mate.
Erratic? I’ll show ye erratic, sonny – Thom Yorke

If you’re of a mind to follow me on the tweetie box or like and follow my writer’s page on Facebook or sign up for the Apoplexy Tiny Letter, the excuse for this will be revealed early on Thursday afternoon, Edinburgh time.

In the meantime, let’s stick to the stroke news, shall we? Continue reading Making Everything Better

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Modus Operandi

So, the last post here on apoplectic.me cast a pretty sneering eye over Public Health England’s Heart Age Calculator. And if you think that an eye can’t sneer, welcome to the stroke blog.

Nah, the boy did ok.
‘Aren’t you a bit young for this, sonny?’

That’s pretty much the modus operandi around here – bitter cynicism leavened with fun. Skip down to the bottom of this post if you just want to hear some of the best Scottish pop ever.

But it turns out that this time, I wasn’t alone in my cynicism.

[Maybe there’s actual upbeat stuff in the Apoplexy Tiny Letter – check it out] Continue reading Modus Operandi

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Where Are We NOW?

We’re at the fag-end of August, almost six years after the moment that set off the series of events that would change Mrs Stroke Bloke’s and my life forever. But no doubt we’ll get to that in due course.

For now, the Edinburgh Festival has just finished and the smell of sulphur from the massive closing fireworks display that rattled our windows last night is fading.

The Devil Offers Zero-Hour Contracts
‘What? No, that was just me running my venue.’

[Check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter, where the devil always has the best tunes.] Continue reading Where Are We NOW?

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Land Seer

On the bus into Edinburgh’s New Town yesterday, I was reflecting on a short story I’ve been working on, a historical fiction about the Ross-shire Sheep Riots (also known as the – ten-day long – Year Of The Sheep). As the name suggests, it’s set in Scotland. My work tends to be set most often there, or in NYC, or in some imagined hybrid of the two.

Yep, I would wear basically that to work at least once a week in Manhattan.
Where presumably everyone looks like this

Don’t worry – I’m going somewhere with this.
Check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter for a soundtrack while I wend my way. Continue reading Land Seer

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