Whilst taking down the details of a young couple that were wanting to join our mailing list at work, I was told that the name of their street was ‘Sandwich Grove’ (which is hilarious because a grove is like a woody area where you grow shit, so… it’s where you grow sandwiches?). I laughed to […]


Earlier today, I attempted to call my phone company in order to sort out an upgrade, and, when I was inevitably put on hold, I found that, in lieu of the typical polyphonic elevator music, I was to be subjected to what I can only describe as a bizarre clacking reminiscent of the old Internet dial up tone. As I was too lazy to endure the simply arduous torture of holding my phone up to the side of my face, I decided to plug it into my earphones, meaning that I could hear nothing but the robotic white noise reverberating through my skull.


As I was strolling briskly from work one morning, I was subject to a very interesting close encounter. The phrase ‘close encounter’ has an inherent connotation of extraterrestrialism, but I assure you, what met me was far stranger. On this fair-weathered morning,  I was suddenly accosted by Mormons (no, not ‘morons’ although the parallels are certainly present).

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He entered the gym: eye patch on, peg leg in; he’d made his costume himself. It was a pilates class. He realised his mistake immediately.


It snowed here a little while ago. I took some photos, because why not. I’ve become one of those Instagram assholes. It’s why my food is always cold. I digress. Here’s some white stuff to look at.