Iddo is a qualified lawyer now working in PR and living in London. He has piercing eyes of cerulian blue, a jutting, aquiline nose and an unhealthy penchant for drawing jowls - www.jowlsofderision.wordpress.com. Loves words, likes football, tolerates people. Spill his tea, he'll spill your face.
I found this in an old notebook the other day, written after playing football some 7 years ago:
Automatically ingrained among the formative aspirations of every standard-issue English boy (until it is rotted away by reality's relentless onslaught on the maturing mind) is...
So I was re-listening to Ricky Gervais' Desert Island Discs the other day (yes, I get pretty much all my knowledge of the world from Desert Island Discs) and finking about some tings.
I had written a long and sparkling introduction, laden with witticisms and crammed with mind-blowing insight into what compelled me to air my nonsense opinions about Blackadder. It was probably the best thing I've ever written. Come to think of it, it was...
At one point during Four Weddings and a Funeral, bumbling fop Hugh Grant turns to his mate and asks: "Do you think there really are people who would just go up and say 'Hi babe, name's Charles. This is your lucky night'?"
Liam Neeson gets his zimmer frame nicked by a gang of young whipper-snappers who have a diabolical scheme to solve the impending pension crisis in the EU. Their plan is to squeege all the Neeson sweat, spittle and...
Hello. I'm a man who, for 11 months of the year, earns a (spiritually) substantial crust doodling and writing about chubboes and their jowls. It just fascinates me the way they dangle there like sweaty, Cumberland sausage necklaces. But today I...
In many ways, it was (I imagine) a pretty typical Lib Dem conference. Lembit Opik out on the streets pan-handling for popularity, obligatory bearded bloke with a "legalise marijuana" T shirt clearing his tar-encrusted throat loudly at...
Regardless of what stupid people will tell you, swearing is not a sign of a limited vocabulary. It serves as a vital linguistic purpose as any other: conveying anger, passion and, if you're from the deep south or Colin Firth in the final scene of Bridget Jones's Diary, romantic intent....
Before I begin, I should state for the record that I quite like this pub; I've spent many a blissful, booze-soaked hour within. The following rant is almost exclusively the result of my treatment, one July afternoon, at the hands of a...
With the summer recess looming, Westminster village will soon empty and the current affairs agenda will be shorn of the most voyeuristically compelling soap opera known to man (Geordie Shore just isn't quite debauched enough for my tastes). If this wasn't...
It is the year of our lord 2012 and, true to his first book, Bouncing Back (which was ironically pulped) and perhaps one of Nostradamus' less celebrated prophesies, Norfolk's prodigal son Alan Gordon Partridge has risen again and returned to our unworthy,...
I'll bet the Prime Minister would give his butler's left leg right about now for a moratorium on the expression "U-turn". Well actually given the choice, he'd probably rather expunge the term "omnishambles" from our shared lexicon but one fire-fight at a time.
So here we are again, wallowing in the misery and recrimination of another abortive England campaign, truncated in customary fashion by a penalty shoot out in the quarter finals.
Only this time, we've got nobody but ourselves to blame for the gut-wrenching...
(0) Comments | Posted April 21, 2013 | 6:32 PM