*On no account should you follow this advice. Its whimsical and whimsy can now kill.
It has become impossible to separate the music from the people who made it, yet no one else makes pop like this, and they appear to have had a riot doing so.
You can’t even opt out by refusing to be fashionable, because that’s also an announcement.
Gas and electricity are taken for granted.
Boris Johnson likes The Clash. Is that a problem?
You’d recognise winter anywhere. It’s the season looking grey with its face screwed up against the wind.
There’s something about Star Wars that you either love, or think is sci-fi space twoddle of the lowest order.
The music format that won’t go away.
Achievement is life’s rainbow; it keeps moving.
Nothing says visiting relatives at Christmas quite like wheel-spinning out of a cul-de-sac at the crack of dawn heading for home.
“It’s Christmas!” people say, like it justifies the sort of taste-relapse last witnessed in a Las Vegas’ advertising board rejection pile
Swimmers are a bunch of self-satisfied wankers.
The single thing greater than a baby’s enthusiasm for early mornings is your own lack of it.
The sad clown clichés are never far away, and it is difficult to think of clowns without the implication of tragedy.
Increased awareness of energy consumption is a good thing.
Like booze, it’s hard to know with yoghurt if it’s celebratory or a consolation.