selfie

The other week I was at an awards do. It was a glitzy affair at the Hilton on London’s Park Lane (only a bloody purple on the Monopoly board!).

I’m not a glitzy man, far from it, but I went along and drank champagne, did the mingling, the small talk, the fancy food, the table wine. I had a suit on. I felt like a successful grown up and things were good.

Then I went to the toilet.

James Bond, Daniel Craig, Spectre, Secret agent

That last bastion of old-school masculinity, James Bond, is everywhere again.

Every man watching Bond leaves the cinema secretly pretending he is a secret agent, it’s just what we do. However, once the daydreams fizzle out under the cold microscope of reality, a quick comparison with the legendary secret agent forces some pretty brutal home truths:

Laptop

What if we all had to be really honest on Facebook? 

I’ve had one of those days where I am continually and inexplicably drawn to Facebook. I don’t know why. I have nothing to update the world with, no reason to be there except to digest the non-stop flow of updates. If today is anything to go by, prolonged exposure to Facebook is not healthy.

Dear Lady Final jpeg

There is a chance that you’ve stumbled upon this blog post because you searched for something like ‘incredibly loud sex’ and, if that’s the case, I’m afraid you’re about to be massively disappointed as all I have for you is a poem. Apologies.

This man and his tiny man-bun can achieve anything he wants

Writing a first thing of anything is beyond hard but a blog has that narcissistic ‘look at me’ feel so the scrutiny is all the more intense. It’s especially bad when the writer has the audacity to use his own name in the title of his own blog. What a douche.

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