Ikutaro Kakehashi died on Saturday at the age of 87. A check check of the Interwebz doesn’t reveal the cause of his death, and he was Japanese – but he has to get a Great British Strokes-shaped post.
Y’see, this…
[For more repetitive beats, check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter.] Continue reading Everybody Needs a 303
The Brexit referendum could have been an invigorating exercise in participatory democracy, addressing important issues about subsidiarity, regulation, and the like. Instead, it was presented as a discussion of a post-Brexit wishlist in which dues no longer payable to the EU could be spent on [insert cause of your choice].
But now, the reformed Vote Leave, called Change Britain, have dropped their pre-referendum pledge of a £350m-a-week spending bonanza for the NHS.
Don’t worry – this post is actually about awesome ska legend Prince Buster… Continue reading Madness
Hello, and welcome to apoplectic.me’s occasional round-up of strokes in the news. It’s been quite a week….
I saw #TheRevenant. Leo drags a useless leg around for ages, while grunting incomprehensibly. Aah, memories. #stroke pic.twitter.com/VKK1qYNnWC
— Ricky Brown (@ricky_ballboy) February 15, 2016
[More stroke blog inanity and whimsy here.] Continue reading Digesta Plaga #8
On 2 May 2015, Princess Waynetta Diana Alexandra Windsor was delivered unto the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and a grateful nation. While the birth was being announced on Twitter, the journos who needed to stand in front of a thing were gathered to await the announcement of the annunciation on an easel on the forecourt of Buckingham Palace.
In a kind of Bizarro Spiderman moment, said journos were already concerned about the effects the terrible pressures of privilege without responsibility might have on young Waynetta.
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Continue reading Great British Strokes #8
I’ve decided to include this post in the “Great British Strokes” section of the site. I had it in my head that – given his transatlantic aspect – Robert McCrum might not be, or define himself as, British. Maybe he doesn’t. His resumé does put one somewhat in mind of that of Bill Bryson, who seems very confused about all that stuff.
Longsufferinggirlfriendoftheblogbeth mentioned the other day that it’s been over a year since we’ve had a Digesta Plaga/Stroke Digest. And with uncanny timing, here’s the latest round-up of all the stroke news that’s fit to print. Get to the end, and we’ve got strokebots!
[For an extra portion of apoplexy each week, please sign up for my Tiny Letter distributions here. Thanks!] Continue reading Digesta Plaga #7
One of the first things you’ll notice strolling around Edinburgh is the collection of private schools that seem to have dropped out of context and out of the sky. Pudgily gothic Fettes. The ersatz Red Square on the Thames of Stewart’s-Melville.
Last week, I was wandering along Lauriston Place, heading in a roundabout sort of way towards Cockburn Street to see if the t-shirt shop had replenished its stock of John and Yokos. Heading east along the street, I was distracted from George Heriot’s School looming from an Edinburghian distance by the sounds of Kermode and Mayo’s Film Review on BBC Radio Five Live.
[The apoplectic.me Tiny Letter distribution usually riffs off in a different direction from the week’s post. Check it out here.]
Continue reading Hello to Jason Isaacs!
A quick plug before we move onto Britishness, strokes, and pile-driving Aussie rock:
Nerd Bait will be premiering their latest short-form musical, Wrong Word Write Time (the fictional life story of a pilot suffering from aphasia) as part of Illicit Ink’s Underground night at Edinburgh’s Bongo Club on Sunday, 4 May.
Please come, tell your friends, and please share and tweet these links: 1, 2. Thanks!
Continue reading Kinky Kricket
Have your ever found yourself suffering from a medical condition that you’d never given much thought before, and suddenly found that it’s everywhere?
-My dog’s got no nose. -How does it smell? -Like burnt toast. -You’re having a stroke. -Oh.
— Matt Kirshen (@mattkirshen) October 14, 2013
I’ve been heartened by the response to Thursday’s post about how Jackie Ashley and Andrew Marr have responded to Marr’s stroke in January. There’s a real sadness underlying the story, I think. But you don’t have to read between the lines too much to find the melacholia in the story of today’s subject.
Continue reading Great British Strokes #5 — Vini Reilly