I wrote the following last year but forgot to post it at the time. Having stumbled across it the other day, I realised that it was still relevant to me – a helpful reminder, actually – and, therefore, probably worth sharing. ———— Last week, as the sun emerged and big events descended on Cardiff, I found time to get out with my Nikon F for a decent stretch of time. The usual initial resistance was there. It’s funny, every time I set out with my camera in a familiar location, for the first couple of minutes I usually find myself… Read more: Leaning into Resistance

Some would say they were unreasonably intent on seeing their son drink milk. The problem was, he didn’t like it and he was nearly twenty-eight now. Father came clambering down the stairs, nearly taking the banister with him and stammering about everything that had changed in the world. They couldn’t really understand him, but they knew that he was against progress. Mother was doing her pull ups on the pull up bar that had been placed in the doorway, which was a pain for everyone because they often knocked their heads on it. The son was called The King to… Read more: A Crisis of Milk

It’s easier than ever to collect information, but at what point do we decide to stop collecting and start to apply it in a meaningful way? The stream of self-help content, for example, will never run out, but that doesn’t necessarily make it helpful. Central to this problem is the art of decisiveness, which we can easily forget is a skill in and of itself. Wisdom is largely in knowing what to take on board and what to ignore; to be able to tell the difference between signal and noise. The very best artists are often doing a similar dance.… Read more: The Art of Deciding

Nowadays, they refer to it as the Papal Meltdown. I call it The Day My Life Was Ruined. The year was 2043. I ran a PR outfit. I was good at what I did. Respected. I was the guy they called in when shit hit the fan. Worst-case scenarios. Deciding on collateral damages. Reputation management. Make-a-person-go-away. If you had problems, I was your puppy. At 08:34 on the seventh of January, a picture emerged of Pope Trump down on all fours, affecting the movements of a hen. The inevitable questions followed; had he finally lost his mind? Was it divine… Read more: The Papal Meltdown

The people who refuse to consume culture passively are the ones who drive it forward. Culture isn’t something we should let happen to us, we should direct it. The Thoughts of Others “You have to be run by ideas, not hierarchy. The best ideas have to win.” – Steve Jobs

The vigour with which Mr Pugnacious was mowing his lawn suggested that he was very deeply caught in the jaws of a tremendous debt. The debt (mostly to a woman named Dreardrie) had him by the ankles and he knew it. To be dominated by the physical weight of Dreardrie had been great. To be dominated by the weight of her debt? Well, that was not so satisfying. As he mowed, his eyes couldn’t help but wander to the lawn of his neighbours, The Filfogs. Why did they always have the good lawn? It was a thing of beauty. He… Read more: Age Finds You Old and Mowing

It’s easy to focus on the fact that many creatives can find themselves stifled by a fear of putting their ideas into the world. Things like trying to perfect projects for too long and sitting on ideas without ever taking the plunge are a few that I’ve succumbed to from time to time. But there’s a similar dynamic that affects the consumer: a hesitancy in sharing that which one enjoys or admires for fear they will be judged for their tastes. If we want our ideas to spread, we have to find a way to connect them with the people… Read more: Fearless Fans

I come to you humbled. I am but a humbled man. There was a time when I was celebrated. We all have our time. Or maybe we don’t, but the stories of my work still percolate. Whether you know it or not, the true nighthawks will likely have been acquainted with my work. I am too old and too wise to take my lack of fame to heart. We are, after all, at the mercy of gravity and precise mixer measurements. I didn’t make the rules but, when I was at my best, I broke them with daring and panache.… Read more: The Lost Welsh Mixologist

A sense of scarcity narrows our focus and compels us to act with unusual intentionality. Take a simple example: you’re driving along and suddenly notice that you’re hitting red on your petrol gauge. In fact, you’ve been particularly lax and it’s worse; you’re right at the bottom of the lower bound of the petrol gauge. If you’re lucky, you figure you have two or three miles before the car leaves you hanging. Suddenly, you’re more conscious of what gear you’re in, how fast you’re driving, and you’re weighing up possible routes to the nearest petrol station at the same time.… Read more: Leveraging Scarcity

The weather came out and Bryrtle was ready to change the world. It always happened the same way. Sunshine. Dreams. Sunshine. Dreams. This time? Gin was the answer. He bought a distilling kit. Anyone can buy one. He set up shop in his grandmother’s outdoor lavatory. “What’s going on in there?” Shouted the old mother master, waving her stick erratically in the air. “Shut your webs and go back to knitting,” shouted the mottled dreamer. Once he got going, you couldn’t stop him. Two days later he emerged with five bottles of gin and a very grave hangover. He looked… Read more: The Gin Wizard Boy

To deepen relationships, solve problems and engage in challenging tasks together. To weaken relationships, focus on the trivial.  The Thoughts of Others “Greatness and near-sightedness are incompatible. Meaningful achievement depends on lifting one’s sights and pushing towards the horizon.” – Daniel Pink

Across the course of many hedonistic years, I had amassed the reputation of a crude reductionist. I’d heard about the achievements of physics, but I’d always countered them with what I considered to be a nimble argument: life is too much fun to spend on things that don’t bring about a sugar rush. And so I went forth, trundling through life and stopping only for treats. Then, one night, I was visited by Einstein’s ghost in the middle of a ten-minute fasting window. He rapped at my window and scared the big bowl of popcorn out of my arms. I’d… Read more: Reductionist Cabbage

It’s common advice to ‘just be yourself’. And yet, the fact it’s commonly peddled as advice implies that’s it’s not easy to pull off. But maybe it’s too easy to pull off… Isn’t ‘yourself’ simply the most frequent version of you that shows up in the world? More likely, we’re being ourselves all the time, and the hard part is actually becoming the version of ourselves that we imagine ourselves to be. The yourself who stands for something against the crowd. The yourself who writes every day. The yourself who hits the gym regularly. The yourself who doesn’t get arsey… Read more: On Not Being Yourself

Of all the things that had ever happened to me, this was perhaps the most peculiar. I’ll get to it, but let me say this before I tell you that. There is something maddening about this urge to bake that I find emanating from every fibre of my being. I find myself desperate to bake a good sponge. A very good sponge. The desire is suffocating. Is this normal? Moreover, is the existential dread associated with an edible sponge to be expected as one grows out of one’s twenties? You tell me. One more thing. There are many nights when… Read more: But for the Filth of Our Hopes

People are more interested in your art when it makes them feel important. The Thoughts of Others “If you just try to make good things, you’ll inevitably do it in a distinctive way. Michelangelo was not trying to paint like Michelangelo. He was just trying to paint well; he couldn’t help painting like Michelangelo.” – Paul Graham

My search for the Holy Grail was going poorly. And yet, I was in denial. I sat at a table in Popeye’s, alone. One more chicken sandwich meal then I’d get serious. There was something terribly Hegelian about the whole thing. You know what I mean? I felt like I was in Plato’s cave, but instead of shadows, chicken burgers. Yes, you know what I mean. Once, when I was a kid, I had done some very good work on a school assignment, but they gave the monthly ‘Good Work’ certificate to a boy whose mum fed the teacher with… Read more: Chicken or Greatness

Doubt has negative connotations, but what would we be without it? At the very least, it is a sign that we are not inert. It goes hand in hand with adventure. As far as I can tell, those who try to exorcise all doubt are the ones who end up stranded.  Which made me wonder; could an AI truly doubt?  Perhaps, to embrace doubt is to be truly alive.  The Thoughts of Others “Religion is a culture of faith; science is a culture of doubt.” – Richard Feynman

It was true, there were flies on my wall. They’d been arriving one by one, day by day. It had been going on for months now, possibly years. I’d even started to name them. The first fly to arrive I had christened Salamander, and I was starting to become attached. He’d observed so much of my life in this little room and, oftentimes, he would perch on my shoulder as I stared into the computer screen. Then his friends started to join him. Now it was becoming a veritable pain. Too many flies on your wall. It’s not an uncommon… Read more: Flies on Your Wall

I recently started making a running list of lessons derived from my six year and counting flirtation with photography. Lessons which I feel also translate to other domains and areas of life. After all, when one is out and about photographing, is it that different to hunter-gatherer behaviour? The Thoughts of Others “To get unusual results, work fast and work cheap, because there’s more of a chance that you’ll get somewhere that nobody else did. Nearly always, the effect of spending a lot of money is to make things more normal.” – Brian Eno

Was I awake? Did it even matter? Growing up is getting over the idea that you may be living in a simulation. They had told me I needed to grow up. Was it because I was forty-two and still trying to win at Saturday night? “Don’t go home yet. This night could really go somewhere.” This was my self-talk. I was in the gutter and a middle-aged woman was throwing up next to me. What on earth had she been eating earlier? Everything I’d ever done had led me here. Every decision I’d ever made, this was the outcome. Right… Read more: The Holy Scar

The deluge of information available in today’s world not only tempts us to seek perfection, but makes it seem achievable, to the point that one can easily end up in a limbo of seeking. But progress is rarely about being perfect. It’s got more to do with having the courage to adopt an imperfect stance, and giving that stance a reasonable amount of time to either break or evolve into something meaningful. The Thoughts of Others “He who jumps into the void owes no explanation to those who stand and watch.” Jean-Luc Godard

The best that could be said of Johnson was that he was rational. When he left a room, people would tend to say things like; “Johnson seems rational.” Others would nod in agreement. It wasn’t exactly controversial. Last year, Johnson made the rational decision to go to university. I need not expand on this, but let me just tell you that it resulted in him finding a missus and a half. He chose the missus in the same way he made most decisions – by thinking about it rationally. He sat in his room with a pen and paper, making… Read more: A Rationalist’s Death

Largely unknown artists often forsake the benefits & leverage that come with being small. Agility. Optionality. Less accountability to power. It’s easy to waste these edges by trying to mould ourselves to the demands and standards of industry – the world of scale and other people’s rules. We dream of elephants, seduced by the notion that size and visibility is what matters most. I guess we’ve been trained by an industrialised world to look up to scale. To admire it. To desire it. To chase it. Too often, it feels like the goal. But we forget that with size comes… Read more: Dreaming of Elephants

A Parable “Call me Sir Trevor or scurry off, little man. I make money. Have you heard of swimming pools? I own four.” The Mormon proselyte stared back at The Investor. All he had offered was a chance to explore some ‘literature’. There were big ideas in these pages. He felt he had a shot at changing The Investor’s life. If only he could get the wayward man to listen. “What are you staring at you thick little dabber? Get off my doorstep, little man,” roared The Investor. It was Sunday and he had a ham in the oven. But… Read more: The Investor’s Home Life

It’s not a true bond until you’ve fallen out with the person in an unfamiliar city. The Thoughts of Others “The best leaders have a strong component of unorthodoxy in their characters. Instead of resisting innovation, they symbolise it.” – David Ogilvy

The Third Arm It was Wednesday when Gina woke up to discover that she had grown a third arm over the course of the night. This wasn’t intended. It just happened. As she sipped her morning coffee she stared at the third arm, quite bewildered. How does such a thing occur? And for such a thing to happen to a person like her. She was – by all standard metrics – normal. Not anymore, and that was scary. Being normal was easy. You could get through life quite alright being normal. But now, she had three arms. People would notice.… Read more: The Third Arm | Blog Anniversary

I noticed an absurdity in my behaviour. In seeking to block off a perfect three hours a day with the sole purpose of writing songs, I’d end up writing less frequently than if I just committed to a relatively easy half an hour a day. This is the fundamental problem with an ‘all or nothing approach’; it skews heavily towards the ‘nothing’. Largely by nature of the fact it requires so much time, willpower, organisational discipline, and doesn’t allow much scope for the inevitable volatilities of life (which, of course, are cruelly conspiring against all artists). Undoubtedly, it feels good… Read more: ‘All or Nothing’ is Usually ‘Nothing’

Once upon a flam, Claude McFooter feasted. But he had taken it too far. There had been golden days. Golden and gilded days when Claude McFooter had everything from a family to an ear stud. Both had become infected. Now, here he was. Alone. Picking at a flam and stuck on the forward to Crime and Punishment. He expelled a groan that made him sound like an airplane toilet being flushed. Then, he stared out of the window. “There goes Roger”, he whispered under his breath. And it was true; there did go Roger. He put down the book. Maybe… Read more: Once Upon a Flam a Gambler Lost a Foot

What have I missed all those times I chose not to venture out and take photographs? What once in a lifetime scene did I fail to document and freeze in time? The same goes for writing – every day I don’t write, what have I forgone? It’s obvious but easy to forget that so much of the creative process hinges on simply exposing oneself to serendipity and not getting disheartened when it doesn’t fall in our favour. Craft gives us the means to straddle it when it does. Give yourself more chances to get lucky. The Thoughts of Others “Iron… Read more: Chasing Serendipity

Remember when we believed in things? Do you recall Doveman? You know, the baker. His predictions about the future were full of joy. “One day, one very fine day,” he would say, gazing out across the industrial estate. “One day we will have umbrellas that keep our legs dry.” He bought lottery tickets by the dozen, but the odds were poorly stacked. His sister was called Arch Your Foot at a Stranger. He rented, never bought. Shopped once a week, unless he ran out of food. More than anything, he wanted to be on the Visibox. “One day, I’ll be… Read more: The Visibox and the Pony

Complexity can save us from getting bored, but the basics can save us from getting nowhere. The Thoughts of Others “Art is in what you leave out.” – Kevin Kelly

A brief philosophical note on the following text: All plays are political, even the bad ones. Act 1 It’s late at night. The Transport Minister is watching television. It’s the naked channel. Underneath his armchair, he thinks he hears a murmur. He gets down on his chin and knees. The murmuring gets louder, but the content of it is unclear to the audience. This is deliberate. The Transport Minister pushes the armchair back to reveal a one-inch man. It’s David Seaman, the former goalkeeper. TRASPORT MINISTER: My God, it’s David Seaman! How did you get down there? David Seaman appears… Read more: The David Seaman Incident: A Five Minute Political Play

The problem is rarely too little information. Rather, it’s having too much information and no idea what to do with it. The Thoughts of Others “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” – Mark Twain

It had been one of those mornings that made you want to make organic bread in a little hut in the wilderness and, only every now and again, forage for mushrooms. My friend had gone and done it. For a time, he raved about it. Then he got attacked by a Finnish fire-eating amputee and now he’s back working for Deloitte. On weekends he cleans an old Rover while his wife steams the cabbage. They don’t have dessert. It’s calorific. Sometimes – on the lonely days – I think of my friend and it makes me feel nauseous. And yet,… Read more: Oh, To Be Like Jim

It’s easy to forget how arbitrary many of the standards and expectations we measure ourselves against actually are. So many of them were put in place for other people’s reasons, in different contexts to our own, and for purposes that are no longer relevant or sufficient. But path dependency takes over, and before we know it, we’re measuring ourselves against standards we had no say in. Standards we inherited. Standards that aren’t our own. And, of course, it’s usually easier to keep going than to find a new way and create one’s own standards. The path of least resistance seduces… Read more: Whose Standards?

Alun was the brother of Mog, who was the brother of Tim the Big Footer. I told them it was a bad idea to kidnap the dentist, but I was someone whom they derived pleasure from never taking seriously. I don’t know why they didn’t respect me. It should have been the other way around, for they were idiots and I got solid Bs. Even more notably, I was on a war path to a stable career in Ethical Hacking. Now I’d been roped into kidnapping a dentist and I was risking it all. They call this ‘going along with… Read more: The Stolen Dentist

I come to you this Thursday with my first aphorism of 2025, and news that the second Red Telephone album, ‘Delay the New Day’, hits digital shelves from midnight. To violently wean you onto it, here’s a surrealist music video that we filmed for the song ‘Faithful’. Fighting, masks, religiosity, dancing. The human experience in under five minutes. A pretentious observer might call it Kafkaesque, and that’s absolutely fine by me. Aphorism 22 “Culture isn’t some abstract force that we should just let happen to us, but something we should purposefully direct through a mix of resistance and bold contributions.”… Read more: Aphorism 22 & ‘Delay the New Day’

Here it was. The day that had been set aside to send you off to university. The lad becomes a man. Or, rather, the lad becomes a celebrated debtor. Our only child you were, and now, this day of joy that had been waiting in the future had found us in the present. Ever since the day you first arrived, seemingly out of nowhere, I had been looking forward to the day on which you would pack up, leave, and let me get back to my PlayStation. So many great games had been forgone waiting for you to grow up.… Read more: It Should Have Been a Happy Day

No, I haven’t had an in-person altercation with the great boxer Mike Tyson. But I did see a video of him telling a young interviewer that he doesn’t care about legacy, because, in his view, legacy is all about ego. I don’t know why I carried this with me for any longer than the 20 seconds it took me to watch the Instagram reel, but later in the day, I found myself disagreeing with his sentiment. Being conscious of legacy doesn’t have to be all about ego. And not caring about legacy can just as easily be egotistical. It’s selfish… Read more: Disagreeing With Mike Tyson

I’ll never forget the morning. You came to me with a problem. I was sleeping when you burst through my third floor window and took off not only your hat, but your wig. That’s how I knew it was serious. “Mr Sprigg!” You said. No, actually, you shouted it into my left ear from a distance of one centimetre. If anything, it was the spittle that woke me before the sound. They say that spittle travels faster than the speed of sound, and I can now testify that they’re not wrong. I’ve always been slow to wake, and I wasn’t… Read more: You Call Yourself a Winner, Mr Sprigg?

More often than we care to acknowledge we might not be facing a tangible barrier, but an unwillingness to engage with an uncomfortable situation. And while it’s almost automatic to think of discomfort in the negative, it’s also often a natural companion of progress and growth. The Thoughts of Others Today’s ‘thoughts of others’ are from David Lynch, seeing as he just passed away and undoubtedly had a big influence on my creative attraction to the absurd and surreal. If anyone can really be called a ‘true artist’ – which for me constitutes a bold, brave, and persistent commitment to… Read more: Embracing Discomfort

If there’s one thing we can truly be sure of in life it’s this; no one wants to be told that they’ve got “unusually sized ears” by their yoga teacher. Nor do they wish to be accused of being a “weak-minded bimbo.” It also hurts to hear that you won’t amount to anything because you have a “massive forehead.” Yet, such was the rudeness of my yoga teacher. A self-proclaimed master of life, she was yet to be acquainted with the notion of humility. Some brave folks had tried to ween her onto it, but she would always cut across… Read more: The Yoga Offensive

Stop trying to be a genius and start being a writer. A writer writes, just as a runner runs. Just as a child builds sandcastles and Lego structures in ignorance of Gaudí. Create without pretence. Without expectation. Without lofty desires. With an indifference to results. And if you’re lucky, some genius may emerge. The Thoughts of Others

Monday the 6th January arrived and I was yet to vacate myself of the Christmas spirit. I was, in a word, unwilling. Unwilling to start again. Unwilling to consume food that wouldn’t mark me for an early death. Unwilling to respond to something as arbitrary as a morning alarm. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Foucault would not approve! Some call morning alarms technology. Some call them necessities for an organised life. I call them a fucking nuisance. Let me sleep. The Christmas tree is still standing. Let it stand! Someone made the effort of cutting it… Read more: Eternal Christmas

As it’s the first non-fiction post of 2025, I thought I’d begin the year with a collection of quotes and aphorisms I picked up over the course of 2024; things I intend to keep top of mind when venturing through the year ahead. As I see it, a good quote is something like a compass. Little gems that condense the vast and complex terrain of big ideas into miniature maps. After all, the biggest challenge isn’t always dealing with the relentless minutiae of the day-to-day, but making sure each decision keeps us moving in the right direction. Hopefully some of… Read more: Compasses for 2025

Are we not enriched, Mel?“Gerbil, gerbil,” is what you often mutterThe night time sermonHow it soothes my toesThough I know you ‘oft lick themI dare not protest Are we not enriched, Mel?I’d love to run a strimmer over your faceRemember when we were Catholic?Ah, those hearty days!Nay, faith is at fault for my sinus issuesBut have you met thy second wife?I call her The MissusThough it never feels right Are we not enriched, Mel?Well, we’re definitely not politically alignedI could tell you stories that would make you fertile“About Gabby?”Yes, her too I supposeBut it’s a weird lifeWhen you realise you… Read more: Are We Not Enriched?

The very best artists don’t just entertain and bring pleasure with their work, they also embolden people. They fire up a creative spirit in others. They inspire people to speak in a less homogenised voice. They lead people by showing it’s possible to step outside their cautious selves and reach into the ether. A great artist is a risk taker. They step out from the herd so that others feel less scared doing so. The Thoughts of Others “Emotional hurt is the price a person has to pay in order to be independent.” – Haruki Murakami

They used to be in a band. Now they went in through the bathroom windows. Robbing the houses of geriatrics. It wasn’t what they wanted for themselves – they had hoped to be big time musicians, at least for a few years. No cigar. It wasn’t that they felt good about thieving – they felt bad for the geriatrics, but it was a steady income. And what’s more, it saved them from having to get real jobs. John was the ringleader. He had a mouth on him, and a bastard temper. But he was witty and charming in fits and… Read more: They Went in Through the Bathroom Windows

It’s a rare thing that you get to meet a person who is both master of their craft and an influence on you, let alone spend three hours sitting in their kitchen having a chinwag over (excellent) coffee. The 3rd of December was one of those rare occasions, when I went to visit the legendary Welsh photographer David Hurn at his cottage. As much as I admire David’s photography, it was his manner and perspective in a few interviews I’d recently watched, as well as his micro-essays on Instagram, which left me especially interested in him as a person. My friend… Read more: Coffee With David Hurn

Call me Sherlock Holmes and I’ll call you Agatha Christie. Then I’ll smother you in Typhoo tea leaves and delicately lick the nape of your neck. One day we’ll be famous, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make the world see me as you do. This is love, and drive, and passion, and meaning. And it’s out there for the taking, my delicate partner in hope. Now, listen up, reader. Bend your dumb faces forward and furrow your brow in concentration. We’d been a song-writing duo for seven years. One male, one female. Romantic angle. Conventionally attractive. Talent on… Read more: Meditations of Glory

If you don’t want to look at the numbers, they’re probably telling you something. If you do want to look at the numbers, they’re probably misleading you.

Tony and his dog, Tony, walked the streets of Old Sodbury. From time to time, they ventured into Old Minchinhampton (the town of mini chins). It was a sunny day and the sun was out in all of its glory. Tony was in a hell of a mood and Tony could tell. Why did his team always lose the football? I couldn’t fucking tell you, but Tony could, and he did. “You can’t say anything nowadays.” Tony agreed. But, being Tony, he would show them. He was re-writing the bible. It was going to be a lot more concise (he’d… Read more: Tony of Old Sodbury

When we find ourselves rushing out the front door and we ask someone close to us what they think of what we’re wearing, are we asking for their reassurance or their contribution? The same question applies to art and projects. The preceding hours before we’re set to release something doesn’t allow much scope for the making of improvements. So, if we suddenly start asking people around us what they think of it, perhaps what we’re really after is reassurance, rather than a genuine contribution in service of improvement. It’s worth knowing the difference, so that we can gauge if it’s… Read more: Reassurance or Contribution?

Bertie was in the midst of what one might call a forever life crisis. First there was all that singing of his own songs. That’s what started it. Then there was that time he tried to ride a horse. There was also the extended period during which he refused to use soaps and shampoos and lost many a friend. Not to mention the year he tried to make every day feel like Christmas. Then there was the rock climbing. The go-karting. The intermittent fasting. The sleeping-in-a-field-phase. The organic phase. The steak phase. The cabbage phase. The kleptomaniac phase. The Bette… Read more: Forever Life Crisis

We’re so used to convenience that we mistake it for inconvenience.

Matthew Mudge. Who was this man? No, not a man; a phlebotomotic nightmare. The most handy nightmare around. The most helpful of beings. Too helpful. Annoyingly so. He helped and you wanted to boot him in that smiling face. Why did he help? No one knew. Why did he smile? Because he liked to help. This was the vicious circle. Matthew Mudge. We all knew that the name was absurd. It couldn’t be real. We all knew that his acts of kindness were performative. But for whom? The almighty God of course. That great celestial being who slept with innumerable… Read more: The Helping Hand of Matthew Mudge

In many ways, it’s choosing to take a stance in and of itself that is what matters most. That’s where the power is. Standing for something and being willing to put your neck on the line in the form of some clearly stated principles and backing them with action. After all, whatever your stance and whatever your manifesto, it’s always going to appeal to some and turn others off in varying degrees. It’s easy to talk yourself out of standing for something; worrying that what you say or do will be found to have holes in it. We can sit… Read more: Imperfect Stances

Is it wrong of me to imply that I left the funeral with a deep sense of satisfaction? Let me explain. Pooch was a quiet man who was known for his baking even though he never made a dime off it. Once, I got his back up because I involuntarily spat a raisin across the room upon taking a mouthful of some sponge. I could tell that he thought it was rude, but I felt that it was insane to put fruit in cake, let alone the shrivelled sort. After that, we weren’t the same. But me – being a… Read more: Projectile Raisins

It’s difficult to be corrupted if you’re not keeping score.

He answered the door and a great surprise was there to meet him. A man who looked just like him. “Who are you?” He asked, quite hiding his shock. “Are you Herb?” Replied the man who looked like his spit. “That’s me,” said Herb as he studied the face of his lookalike. “Have you come to tell me that I have a long-lost twin brother?” “Shut it, Herb,” yelled the lookalike as he barged past him and strode into the house with the sort of purpose that Herb had never quite managed to achieve himself. “I’m here for your TV.”… Read more: My Long-Lost Bailiff

Age brings many things, good and bad, but one of its worst aspects might be a decline of an experimental spirit. Biological factors aside, I suspect that one of reasons adults develop skills at a slower rate than children is because children have less resistance to experimentation and play – behaviours that deliver fast feedback and, in turn, the opportunity to iterate rapidly. Adults, on the other hand, gravitate towards thinking and introspection, which delivers limited actionable feedback from the real world. Adults get trapped in thought, and you can’t think your way into riding a bike. A child innocently… Read more: The Dying Experimenter

A lonely place it twasBeing quite a twatHave you heard of Murphy?A quite demeaning sight A demeaning sight you say?Yes, that’s very trueTo look at a man you say?Babe, don’t make me say this two And so there was a pause. Then endeth did the pauseWhile we weighed these dangers upA fight just with our paws?I think I’ll stand here with my tub Nice and tight it keeps the air outReliable is my tubA lovely tub to keep aboutSuch is my airtight tub Yet still ungracious lengthy pauseIt’s rather awkward nowDisregard our nature’s lawsSir!Please don’t treat me like a function… Read more: The Very Nearly Fight

To predict the worst case scenario makes you a genius, to prepare for it makes you a nut.

Doug had a problem that was about to cost him his marriage, and worse, his convenience. He sat in the pub, all alone, chewing his teeth, and ruing a culture that gave precedence to monogamy. In just one hour, his mistress was going to show up at his family home and blow his secret. He took no pride in being a cheater, and he saw no shame in it either. It was simply what he did. Who was he to judge himself? And who was he to be judged? Well, he was Doug, and now his future satisfaction was hanging… Read more: Feathers of a Horse

Consistency is hard to compete with. Unless, of course, you’re consistent in the wrong direction. After all, a gambling addict is consistent, and it consistently leads them into the swamp. The same applies to discipline. Being highly disciplined can obviously be a huge competitive advantage, but only if it’s applied to the right things. As strength-trainer Pavel Tsatsouline warns, it’s dangerous to build fitness on poor form. The Thoughts of Others “No matter how far you have gone on the wrong road, turn back.” – Turkish proverb

Like all good arguments, it began over a chocolate bar. How does one consume a Twix? Via the nose or via the ear? As they were driving southbound, away from the supermarket that they frequently referred to as “Bernard’s Face”, Mandy McFurry looked left towards her husband, Tommy McFurry. He was inserting a Twix into his left ear and, naturally, she felt that this was all wrong. She could forgive his loud sinus problems, but this was harder to endure. “In yer fucking nose Tommy! Must I always tell you this or do I simply accept that I married a… Read more: The McFurries

The current project is often the safest place to be. Someone asks you, what are you up to? You point to the current project. Problem is, after a certain point, the current project lets us off the hook. It coddles us, letting us delay the risky challenge of having to venture back into the void and create something new out of nothing. Hang on to the current project for too long – chipping away at details that don’t really move the needle – and it becomes a crutch; the creative equivalent of a diet heavy on refined-sugar. That is, lots… Read more: Current Project Addiction

The reasons for running were sound – fitness and glory. Nonetheless, and none the more than is reasonably necessary, The Man with a Big Chin did not enjoy it. He did not enjoy to run. Let me repeat that, he did not enjoy to run. Why? Why did he not enjoy to run? Well, there are reasons if you’ll give me a minute. It hurt his feet. Blackened his big toe nail. Made his underarms perspire. He would rather be watching The Sopranos with a takeaway pizza. All reasonable reasons, yet still he ran. Is this what they mean when… Read more: Racing Fruit

More weaknesses are revealed through attempts to hide them than by weakness alone.

I stared out the window. Rain. Always with the rain. It was a feeling I knew too well. My life was a box office bomb. Santiago, who was focusing on getting my pedicure right, read my facial disdain for the flagellating nature of existence. “What’s up, Dory?” “What can I say Santiago? I am failing. No one cares what I do. Behind my back I know they laugh at me.” “I know what you mean,” Santiago said. “You have one of those smackable faces. I don’t think you can be trusted, and that means you will struggle to get on… Read more: The Face of Baby Jesus in a Baby Guinness

Plan for the sake of direction, but with an indifference to destination.

And so they said; “One small step for mankind, one giant leap for your ego”. Few know it, but Buzz Aldrin was the first punter to set foot on the moon. Also poorly documented is the fact that he was unimpressed. This frustrated Neil and was the source of the infamous ‘lunar scrap’. Also poorly documented is the fact that Neil stepped onto the moon after Buzz and said in wonderment; “Would you just look at that?” Buzz turned around to him and replied, “I could do with a coffee.” It was at that point that Neil lost his rag.… Read more: The Lunar Scrap

We notice posture. When it’s good, we look to posture. For right or wrong, we take cues from an assured posture. Ideas don’t necessarily have a posture, but how we carry them does. Brands have a posture. Movements have posture. How we wake up has a posture. How we order a Guinness has a posture. What we do with regularity is, in and of itself, a posture. And perhaps more importantly than anything else, how far someone is willing to travel with us depends on their perception of our posture. The Thoughts of Others

It was Raphael’s last day of work after a career that had spanned sixty-two years. When he’d started all those years ago he had fixed, organic teeth. Now they were fake and he had to slot them in. He looked down at his desk. The things this desk had seen, he thought. Cups of tea. Paperwork. A picture of Pope John Paul II donning a mitre. He moved the palm of his hand softly across the desk, to feel it one last time. Wood made smooth by years of paperwork coming and going. He would miss all this, but it… Read more: Routine Disposal

Presume that success yet to be tested by volatility rests on uncertain foundations.

I woke with a jolt. What was that dream? Being chased along a dirt road by Steve Buscemi. The room was dark, but clearly morning had shown up and I craved a Rolex watch. Suddenly I was brushing my teeth. Then, work. I wasn’t cut out for normality. I stared at my boss as he explained stock counts to a new employee. He was a pathetic man and I hated him. If you informed me that a fridge had toppled upon him, I’d likely retort; “So what?” There was a time when I too had been a new employee. I only took… Read more: Softly You Massage Me in Dreams of Triumphant Fame

The basics don’t just work well because they’re closely tied to the fundamentals. They work because going back to basics means, by extension, an absence of the complex. Complexity can be a place to learn, but it can also be a place of endlessly spawning, subtle temptations. It’s treacherous, because indulging complexity feels like hard work, giving off the illusion that we’re doing something important. Sometimes it is, but a lot of the time it’s a convenient place to get lost, distracted, and delay making the big moves. Of course, the better you become in a certain area, the more… Read more: Saved by the Basics

Do you ever find yourself staring into the abyss wondering what you should do to make a success of your floundering camel riding business? Here’s the issue: You made the cognitive leap that people in the North of Wales are sick of the weather and pine for a taste of the exotic. You mentioned it to a friend. They were stoned and agreed that you were on to something. You imported two prize camels from Egypt. They barely survived the journey. They don’t agree with the Welsh landscape. They seem morose when southerners with Surrey accents and lots of equity… Read more: The Chicken & the Eggcorn

To slowly drown your spirit, seek to please a cynic.

On mantelpiece were picture of King. Face of the Union. King with royal teeth. King with hollow eyes. King holding sword all saucy and trying to look suave. King staring into the living room with contempt for the little’uns. Was he dignified or was he sleazy? Yes, these are questions, that’s for certain. Tony entered the room. Fifty years deep and slow on his feet, he was one of the little’uns. He took stock of the room. By convention, it was called the living room but, really, this was the room in which he was edging closer to death. It… Read more: Royal & Loyal

It’s easy to forget that rationality is often relative; defined by the times and environments we find ourselves occupying. After all, there was a world not so long ago when it would have been irrational to travel towards the horizon for fear that you’d fall off the edge of it. So, if you want to do interesting things, being rational all the time might be overrated. Indulging a decent slab of irrationality though; that may be an invaluable tool for discovering the future. The Devil’s Advocate The Thoughts of Others

I wasn’t sure why I was being woken up at half past three in the morning by my dim-witted neighbour. I also wasn’t sure why he only had three teeth. I wasn’t sure why he sounded German when actually he was Irish, and I wasn’t sure how long this night would go on before I felt compelled to stick a brick around his ear. I felt a fat finger prodding at my chest and, slowly exiting my peaceful slumber, I heard his unmistakable voice. He spoke lyrically, because he was Irish, but came over stern because he sounded German. He… Read more: Cabbage Eyes in the Early Hours

A lot of the time, we’re just getting the autopilot response. It happens in most areas of life, but it’s especially prevalent in the arts. After all, it’s a domain where people really, really want to know what ‘works’. How to get an agent? How to get streams? How many singles before an album? Social media ads? No social media ads? In a complex world of emotions and incomprehensible randomness, it shouldn’t be embarrassing to admit that some questions we face don’t have catch-all answers. But, sadly, it’s these type of advice-centric questions in the arts that really seem to… Read more: Autopilot Response

As he sat on his Persian rug gorging on chocolate cake at half past seven in the morning, a thought occurred to him. It was a simple thought, but an intense one: Why did he have to go to work? He took another forkful and delivered it to his gob in one seamless movement. What a cake. He was having a great morning. Clearly, this was why people were always raving about mornings. He could see it now. He picked up his phone and dialled his boss. She was an average boss, but her indifference to quality work made things… Read more: God is Dead, Stupid

Most people who appear to ignore you never noticed you in the first place, and that’s the real tragedy.

You don’t understand. This wasn’t just a towel. It was a blue towel that had been bought from Tesco at least ten years ago and had never let us down. What’s more, it washed well. How many trips to the shower had it serviced? Innumerable. How many washes had it survived without fraying and declining into something rough and unpleasant on the skin? Countless. This was a great towel. A workhorse of a towel. Even if such greatness could never have been predicted all those years ago at the initial point of purchase, now its role in our life was… Read more: Towel

Being judged is inevitable, so better to be judged for being bold rather than mild. The Devil’s Advocate The Thoughts of Others

“The sky dripped slowly onto the head of Lucinda. The distance between reality and imagination was narrowing; so much so that the Prime Minister had taken on the appearance of a falafel. She was staring at him, this falafel shaped being, trying to think of something to say. She had waited years for a chance like this but now, as is often the case, her teeth hurt. “Maa’aaam…” Said the PM. “I feel for your teeth. And so does the country.” He paused and stroked his legs as if he were preparing to be a pervert. He composed himself. “Maa’aaam…… Read more: Lucinda’s Priest

We generally follow the path of least resistance because it spares us feelings of uncertainty and discomfort. But before blindly following it again, stop to think of all the great ideas, successes, pleasures and discoveries that await you lining the path of most resistance. Imagine all those things that you’re forgoing by remaining where it’s comfortable. The chances are, you won’t be able to imagine them all, and that’s as good a reason as any to venture off the beaten path. The Devil’s Advocate The Thoughts of Others

CHAPTER ONE They landed on the new planet and Dawn looked out of the window with intrigue. “It doesn’t look like they have any weather.” Rolo paused as he was pulling on his space suit and looked at her. He had eyes that made you want to fork him in the ear or attack him with a spanner. “What do you mean they don’t have any weather?” He had a dull voice too. “I can’t see any weather…” Dawn was consistent, you had to give her that much.  “If you can’t see any weather doesn’t that just mean that it’s dry?” Rolo was a… Read more: The Space Clowns

Getting the blog off the ground this year has undoubtedly been a positive challenge. Having to meet the self-imposed demands of its regularity prevents me from hiding behind a tempting pursuit of perfection and, perhaps more importantly, it’s got me writing way more prose and non-fiction than I would have otherwise. That doesn’t take away from the fact that the majority of my 2024 has been spent working on the next Red Telephone album. We started chipping away at it late last year, but two weeks before our recording sessions in March, we realised that we were a fair way… Read more: Self-Imposed Demands

He’d been bullied in Catholic school all because he was unable to say “in the name of the father” without his hand going into a spasm. There he would stand, trying to conduct the sign of the cross, yet accidentally hitting himself in the face. It was unholy. All his classmates agreed he was an embarrassment to the school and an embarrassment to God, and they used this as justification when they set his lunch on fire in the playground. Let me tell you, if you’ve never seen a bag of Skips go up in flames next to a tuna… Read more: Bullies Drop Like Flies

A problem is an opportunity masquerading as inconvenience. The Devil’s Advocate The Thoughts of Others

It is fair to wonder, can we deconstruct a deconstructionist? “Morning class. Ah, ignore that. I mean to say, don’t read into it. Ah, no, let me start again. This is difficult. What I mean to say is… Language is a construct. I am a construct. You are all a construct…” “Like Lego?” One of the students asked. Poshki paused before his class of exceptional, class A, free-range students. He was lost for words. Lost for meaning. He knew language was a construct yet he couldn’t operate without it. It was academically debilitating. For the first time in a lifetime,… Read more: Derrida’s Ankles

I did promise that, along with fiction and non-fiction pieces, I would share news of projects from time to time. I am pleased to say that today is one of those occasions, as Docu Magazine have kindly chosen to publish a collection of my photos in a special edition of their mag. The issue is available to buy here: https://docu-magazine.com/vol-1/declan-andrews/ You can also delve into my photography further at https://declanandrews.co.uk/photography/ I’ve also decided (on a sun-induced whim) to add two features to Thursday’s non-fiction posts, which will accompany the main piece going forward. Firstly, say buongiorno to ‘The Devil’s Advocate’… Read more: Docu Magazine & New Blog Features

Ever since I was twenty-eight I had wanted nothing more than to own a pony. The reasons are not important, other than the fact that I was in a dark place after the death of Darren Dean and the dissolution of the Lanyard Fuckers. I wasn’t an unreasonable man, but I did want a pony and I would stop at nothing until I got one. Some complained that it dominated conversations and became the unwarranted focus of social events. At my sister’s wedding – where she was to wed a small-minded man named Kerb – my speech revolved around asking… Read more: To Demand a Pony is Human

What’s the talking-to-action ratio when we’re working on a project? It’s fun and seductive to talk about what we’re working on. Talking often leans into the drama so, raising adrenaline above its base level, it can easily be passed off as work and progress. After a point though, the talking is mainly indulgence. I’m all for a good amount of indulgence but, when seeking to move the needle, it’s worth being honest with ourselves about what we’re actually up to. Are we talking because we can’t actually take action until we’ve had the chat? Or are we talking because it’s… Read more: Too Easy to Talk

We had a plane to catch. Due to depart at midnight. I confess, actually making the flight had not been on my list of concerns. Upon learning the airport transfer collection time from our hotel, it seemed like we would have time aplenty. In fact, at the airport – I insisted nonchalantly while waiting for our bus to arrive – we would be killing time. Soon, such certainties were thrown into doubt. He arrived at seven, on the dot. I’d been expecting a coach, but when a minibus rolled around the corner into view, I realised that we must have… Read more: May They Never Buffet Without Me

Most mistakes come from either an impatience to act or an inability to act.

Her entire life had been leading up to this moment. She had endured much to reach the precipice of success. There had been times when she wondered why she wanted it so much. Times when she had considered quitting and becoming a simple mushroom forager. Ah, to live off the land! That sweet dream had teased her, she couldn’t deny it. But, lo, she had a fighter’s spirit. She wanted to make a dent in the world. Like Mike Tyson, she had it in her to bite your ear off if you got in her way. It was a noble… Read more: A Biter’s Spirit