The Present Tense

No one else is this good. Nor has there ever been anyone this good. I get the feeling that this may be one of those rare, unimprovable moments (see Videotape 18/5/06 and Last Flowers 16/4/05). Listen at least ten times for full effect.

C. E. Hitchens

A plethora of topics, events, and discussion points to report upon come gushing forth in droves as soon as I unlock the door to my cobwebbed blog account. Where to start? Well, our maestro, Christopher Hitchens is, as you can probably tell, quite an impressionable fellow, so much so that some even appear to adore him more than I, dare I say, we do. YouTube accounts set up in his name have sprung forth, unfurling archives of wonderment that we may have never known existed were it not for the Internet generation. Kill a few hours by going direct to this page, engrossing yourself in the archives of this long-standing admirer. For a quick hit to keep you in check for the start of September, see this vintage clip of Hitchens locking horns with a Republican journalist in 1988. Watch patiently until the eighth minute in which our hero proves why he's been a figure of such controversy long before the publication of god is not Great. Further, for additional gratuitous humour, watch Hitchens don a leather jacket, cast off the issues at hand, and perform a ten minute stand-up set in Washington: a must for us Hitchenites.

Et in Arcadia ego

Robert is not one to disappoint his public. I see the stalwart few have come back again and again, rampantly and fervently in search of their master. Fear not, saplings, for he has returned. My summer in what I now shudder to call home was a raving success. I saw the mastery of Stoppard's Arcadia on stage, I absorbed the spectacle of Blur, live in Hyde Park, I had my senses flummoxed by Derren Brown, I cried laughing as Stewart Lee broke the final taboo in comedy, and saw my beloved Southampton trounce the pretenders, Northampton. I traveled to Copenhagen, Berlin, Prague, Munich, Paris, Brussels, Hohes van Eiffel, Rotterdam, Amsterdam, and sunny Marbella. My mind is richer for it, dear reader. Do not think that I was holidaying on these trips. Oh, no. My travels were penned, etched into the pages of a journal, aching to sprout from their surroundings. I read philosophy and science, clutching at the very straws which sprung me to these places, reminding me of friends, moments, and loved ones. Plenty has passed since I have been away and not a stone will be left unturned. The inexhaustible bank of my memory will be stretched and violated in every which way in order to bestow such gifts upon you, do not fear. There is more, but it shall wait.

Back Soon

This blog will be back from 24th August. In the meantime, click and listen.