Why ‘Mad Max’ might be the Best Film I’ve Seen this Year

If I could condense Mad Max: Fury Road down to two words, they would simply be, ‘fuck yes’. Here’s why you need to see it, right now.

The Tragedy of Celebrity Clubnights

When you’re blasted out of your skull on a Friday night, covered in your own strawpedo residue and finger gunning like a cowboy raised on dubstep and Red Bull, you probably couldn’t care less who’s pressing the play button on the DJ’s Macbook. Especially if it’s Danny Dyer or the fat one from TOWIE. However, that doesn’t seemed to have stopped a stream of the nation’s lukewarm C-list celebs invading the decks of Walkabouts and Tiger Tigers across the country, desperate to show us they have talents beyond eating a badger anus on I’m a Celebrity. To the surprise of absolutely no-one, most of them are pretty terrible musicians, if they even bother at all.

Jump Around, Jump Around

Over Easter I acquired another weird hobby, and an extra 2ft in height. They’re called powerbockers and they’re the most fun I’ve had in ages. So pack it up, pack it in, let me begin…

On My Playlist

Once again, I’ve let this little side project fall by the wayside as of recent. And once again, I have no better excuse than the hustle and bustle of university life. I do, however, have some soundwaves to tease your eardrums with and hopefully atone for my blogging sins. Welcome to an extended musical edition of On My Radar.

A Saturday Night with Slipknot

The Saturday before last I found myself wedged between three shirtless Welshmen as we watched a clown in a gimp mask passionately smack a bin with all the conviction of a classical piano player. The wide-eyed zombie stood next to me clacks his lighter at an invisible cigarette and looks like he’s on the verge of tears. Believe it or not, this didn’t happen after having something slipped into my drink and being dragged into an unmarked white van. I hadn’t been initiated into a cult, nor invited to some weird arthouse project hosted in a crack den. No, I’d actually paid to be here, as had 7,500 other people.

The Problem with Taken 3

Something rather concerning appeared in my Facebook feed today. It wasn’t another one of my friends announcing their pregnancy, or the latest breaking news about Celebrity Big Brother, or how miserable Scotland is.

It was something far worse: the trailer for Taken 3.

On My Radar

I’ve found some more things I like. You might like them too. Have a look.

2014: A Year in Review

Christmas has been and gone. The wrapping paper has been binned, your mum is slowly remembering all the people your family forgot to send a card to, and you’ve built a small fortress out of all the shampoo packages from relatives who know literally nothing about you except for the fact you probably have access to a shower. We instead find ourselves at that weird stretch in between Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve, an awkward handful of days just long enough to let our livers recover but not quite long enough to actually do anything productive. In other words, the perfect time to wheel out a cliché retrospective blog post of the past year. Get it while it’s hot, people.

European Adventures Part 6: Amsterdam

[See previous post as to why this is only appearing now, two months down the line. You can also check out parts 1, 2, 3 & 4 if you fancy it.]

Amsterdam is a place where you go to lose things. Your money, your bearings, your inhibitions, your dignity. It’s the Lady Gaga of urban sprawl; bright, bizarre, beautiful and unhinged in all the best ways  – a cultural boiling pot of paddle boats and plastic tulips, Rembrandts alongside red light districts. It’s also home to the Van Gogh museum, lots of coffeeshops (that don’t serve coffee), and the world’s most depressed-looking polar bear. The waffles are rather excellent. And it might just be my favourite city in Europe.

European Adventures Part 5: All the Rest of It

Disclaimer: I wrote most of this back in September after I’d come back from travelling in Europe. The draft has been sitting ignored and unloved since then, mostly because of higher priorities (I’m at university now. Exciting). It feels a bit like that puppy you get for Christmas but don’t really have time to feed properly, then one day you remember you left it in a box somewhere and haven’t fed it for two months. Hopefully this massive thousand word post has enough metaphorical calories to fatten Fido up again and pump some life back into things. That’s how puppy metabolism works, right?

Anyway…Venice, Austria and the Rhine Valley. Let’s go.