Meat and two veg

Working at a petrol station at the age of 35 may have eroded what remaining self-esteem I have, but it’s also yielded some excellent comedic material. The kind of stuff you can’t learn at university. It’s one thing, for example, to know that the dominant theory of humour in philosophy is currently the Incongruity model … Continue reading Meat and two veg

Love Thy Neighbour

I was revisiting Robert Frost’s poem, “Mending Wall” the other day, and though I’d always thought of that guy, the one that’s lumbering round his yard screening out his neighbour stone by stone, as a hard-boiled misanthropist who probably lived with his mum well into his forties, I can kind of see his point now, … Continue reading Love Thy Neighbour

Minority Report

For those of you not au fait with the term microaggression, it is not, as one might suspect, the act of being flicked with an elastic band at close range. It is something far more serious. You can check those antediluvian notions of overt racism, sexism, sizeism and classism at the door – years of … Continue reading Minority Report

A word of advice

Dear Abby, I’ve just turned 40 and have started to notice my husband’s interest in me waning. There is a new secretary at his office with flotation devices for breasts, and I’m scared of losing him to her. What can I do to get him back? Cathy. Hi Cathy, Your predicament is common. Just the … Continue reading A word of advice

The Shining? Grade Seven? Really?

I’ve discovered scary movies late in life: I still don’t love the ones where people’s heads are being used as punch bowls, but I don’t mind the occasional (tasteful) blood bath. This doesn’t sound that earth-shattering unless you appreciate that my childhood aversion to horror movies was less a dislike than a full-blown mental disorder. All my neuroses, I like to … Continue reading The Shining? Grade Seven? Really?

Bub Crawl.

                  My heart sinks whenever I get one of these invitations in the mail. Sinks. I don’t know what that says about me, but I think I’d rather get stoned to death with tictacs than have to go to one more. The worst thing about admitting that … Continue reading Bub Crawl.