Until recently, I’ve always imagined that Bad, by sinister pop star Michael Jackson, is what's playing in my dog’s mind when he puts his head out of the car window on a sunny day. While I still believe this, I also now also associate it with vital surgery conducted under local anaesthetic as, at the … Continue reading Getting Things From Cupboards
In his 2004 Patience album, George Michael lyrically posed the question ‘If Jesus Christ is alive and well, how come John and Elvis are dead?’. I should imagine that a lot of it is down to genetics. Presley’s father was a manual labourer with a congenital heart condition, whereas Jesus’ father, famously, is God. There … Continue reading I Guess God Just Called His Number
In which we get a job in a morgue.
In which we dismiss dog snatching rumours and arrange a classic film night.
In which human life returns to Runton with yoga mats.