A livid sky on london…

I am sick! My whole head is full of lukewarm rotten stuff and my bones feel like they’ve been removed in my sleep and replaced by melted jelly. Despite all this, I have a book to write, so I’ve been pursuing an austerity approach to influenza – work harder! survive on soup! – and now, surprise surprise, everything’s much much worse and bits of me I never even knew I had are burning up. See what I did there?

Anyway, whilst my brain is occupied by post-nasal gunge and statistics about Greece in almost equal measure, here are a few things I’ve been working on lately. A lot, although not entirely, about Those Olympics that are happening. I’m trying to ignore them, but my housemate has to write a book about them, so they’re always on the telly, and the commentary is occasionally diverting. 

London, Underground. Epic essay for The New Inquiry about London under Olympic occupation, in which I spend a whole twelve hours on the London Underground, and meet some new friends. 

The Independent sent me to report on the Beach Volleyball, because major newspapers retain a sense of humour, oh yes. 

The Olympics are one big happy family – just don’t put a foot wrong – for The Independent.

I did a little digging into G4S, and their amusing theme-tune, and their history of violence, and why we’re not allowed to call them mercenaries, also for The Independent.

And finally, a little light but nonetheless important relief:

In defence of Fifty Shades of Grey. Does what it says on the link, with lots of righteous discussion of wanking. 


And now I am going to go and slurp down another litre of Penny’s Not At All Patented Cold and Flu Concoction, the ingredients for which are: hot apple juice, honey, lemon, cayenne pepper, cloves and, crucially, *not as much whiskey as I put in yesterday, when I was drunk all over the internet*.

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