This week, Mrs Stroke Bloke and I are in Rhode Island, the home of legendary Scottish band Talking Heads.
I can’t say that I’m any less furious about the state of the world this week than I was last week.
No. Shan’t. I don’t care what you say, Royal Baby Announcement Town Crier Guy. I’ll thcream and thcream ’till I’m thick.
Hooray! It’s the long-anticipated return of the stroke news digest!
There have been some interesting stroke stories in the news this week, and I’d like to share them with you…
I’ve been thinking a lot about Muriel Spark this week. More specifically, a Miss Jean Brodie in her prime.
Here is the news…
— Ricky Monahan Brown (@ricky_ballboy) November 2, 2017
[Is this more FAKE NEWS?!?! Read on to find out where Stroke Bloke’s going with this…] Continue reading Apoplectic Me
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.
[Who cares? Read on for five of the best intros ever.] Continue reading Introduction
A fair amount of water has passed under the bridge in five years. Let’s reflect, shall we?
Still looking for Reasons To Be Fearful? I’m guessing not, huh?
Analysts are trying to work out what happens to markets in the event of an all-out nuclear war https://t.co/hGEOi45G44
— Wall Street Journal (@WSJ) August 11, 2017
As @mrkocnnll writes, that
is the most “easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism” thing I have ever fucking seen
Last week’s proto-rant finished with the shock news that Donald Trump’s supposed favourite song is all kinds of awesome. And hey, as of 5:08 PM today, Theresa May’s still Prime Minister at the sufferance of a Conservative party none of whom want to win Pass the Brexit Parcel of Shit.
So, let’s check out Theresa’s Desert Island Discs, shall we?