I am currently working on my magnum opus, forthcoming never, entitled Office Boredom Blues.

An enthralling account of any given day in the existence of the world’s most fascinating person, it shall form the first installment of a trilogy, to be followed by Change Your Life or Shut Up and concluded with Why Won’t Anybody Teach Me Some Actual Skills or Else Make Going Places To Wander About Aimlessly Absorbing What Goes On Around Me (or Skateboarding or Lazily Riding A Bike or Reading Books or Smoking Weed) A Highly Paid Career. Thanks for your time.

Just stumbled on this and seemed good for a read. The words ‘best seller’ are usually a warning flag. However, the name Hebden Bridge jumped out at me because I walked there along the River Calder from Todmorden a few days after my birthday in June and it proved to be one of the most beautiful parts of the country i’ve yet seen.

Just stumbled on this and seemed good for a read. The words ‘best seller’ are usually a warning flag. However, the name Hebden Bridge jumped out at me because I walked there along the River Calder from Todmorden a few days after my birthday in June and it proved to be one of the most beautiful parts of the country i’ve yet seen.

E’ry day listening habits ting. Aural heroin for my chronically ill mind and soul.

Asylum seekers moved to Grand Burstin Hotel in Folkestone after 'overcrowding in London'

The best thing about this in my view is that the only people who ever stay at the Burstin hotel are coach loads of old folks who sit around all day reading the Daily Mail/Telegraph, watching the TV news and other such bullshit talk shows, and only leave the house to associate with other narrow minded old folks. So basically I really fucking hope there are still some old English pensioners staying at this hotel, stuck in with hundreds of asylum seekers, so that perhaps they can form some sort of idea for themselves of what asylum seekers are like, rather than just repeating the ignorant shit they are fed by the media.

Also, as somebody who works in the acutely understaffed housing department of a district council whose administrative area centres around this town, where the channel tunnel begins/ends and Dover port is less than a ten minute drive away, I notice some things. Such as, for instance, that for perhaps every 15-20 ‘British’ families/applicants for council housing, there might be an application from one Czech/Slovak/Polish/Lithuanian person/couple/family, and generally at least one person in the household is working. Almost nobody ‘British’ to apply for housing is working, but more often than not they are having more children, or spending a fortune on pets. The system works in favour of those who least need help and neglects those who need it most. Homeless people have very few prospects.

Cold and calculated from here out, no tangles.

Posted this before but i’ve been listening to it a lot for a few months so here it is again.

Sylvan Esso - Dress.

I quite rate what these two are up to. This track in particular is impeccable. Like a grime/half time garage track mixed with a folk song. Hi-hat shuffles and hand clapping sounds please me.

You are willing to die, you coward, but not to live.

Hold tight this dude! Probably the soundest and definitely the most naturally talented and effortlessly stylish skateboarders i’ve got to skate with a bunch of times over the past decade.