Originally posted on http://www.thebobbu.com/who-am-i

I am The Bobbu. I was named Mr Matthew John Rainford by my parents. Like many things placed upon me over my life, it didn’t fit. I first changed it to The Matthew Bobbu, and I have now changed it again to The Bobbu Abadeer. Because I chose it, and we should all have the right to choose who we are.


My axe raised, shield before me, chainmail strapped on tight; I stride into the fray. I see my friend across the battlefield, roaring as they charge towards me. In a few minutes, one of us will be dead. This will be fun!

Photo copyyright of Steph Morris. Please support their work through Patreon — https://www.patreon.com/trinkety

How did I get here? A few years back my housemates persuaded me to dress like a fool and pretend to be someone else. I played a one-day event where I was a bow-and-arrow wielding rogue in the morning, and then a variety of monsters in the afternoon. Live action roleplay (LARP, or LRP) is something you try…


Full reading of this article for those who like to listen

Disclaimer: I wrote this when I identified as a man. I no longer do, but have left the references which include myself as a man in here, as the message came from a place where that applied and I think that perspective is important.

I’ve been seeing a lot of posts recently along the lines of “feminism helps men too.” That makes me sad.

The one that really got me upset was “The rise of women does not mean the fall of men,” on the “My Favourite F Word…


We need to work harder to end oppression, and recognise our part in it.

If you’re a guy and you don’t spend every moment considering your actions in the light of our patriarchal society’s attitudes towards gender, then there is not equality — because people who aren’t men have to worry about what their gender will make people think of them whenever they interact with society.

If you’re white and you don’t spend every moment considering your actions in the light of a racist culture, then there is not equality — because people of colour all have to spend every…


Our weapons are social pressure, rational arguments, righteous anger, and political & legal change. Theirs are guns, bombs, religious justification, fear, hate, and systemic oppression. This battle has been going on forever, all over the world. We will never defeat guns and bombs with what we have - but what we can do is try to take away their fear and hate. We can try to stop them wanting to use the guns and the bombs and the violent oppression.

I don’t know if we will ever win this war. At times like this, it seems so futile - when…


The cold bites deep despite my thick, woolen greatcoat. My scarf wraps tightly around my neck, but the armour that keeps out humanity does not keep out the wind that hammers at my huddled form. Rain flings itself through the air, whirling in patterns too grand for my sorely inadequate mind to comprehend; spinning and dancing around me, each droplet eventually kissing the ground when its fevered dance is over.

People move through the deep blue world just after the sun has abandoned us to the night. Darkness looms overhead, welcoming the bustling people into it with the subdued openness…


sculpture by Bobbu : thebobbu.com

John somehow knew he was the main character in a story — but he had a dreadful, gnawing feeling that it was a short one.


There are no mournful tunes of how to weep
After loosing one who next to you would sleep
While wrapped in the arms of your other lover
Who watched it all rise, stumble, then fail to recover

No-one has written about how
Their heart breaks
Though there are still others
Bringing love, ice cream, and cakes

Morose tunes abound for monogamous pairs
Innumerable laments of old lovers parting
Because of new lovers found
Or from struggles and fighting

But what about we poly few who are shattered inside?
What do we sing when it’s the end of the ride? …


A polyamory poem:

There are no mournful tunes of how to weep

After loosing one who next to you would sleep
While wrapped in the arms of your other lover
Who watched it all rise, stumble, then fail to recover

No-one has written about how
Their heart breaks
Though there are still others
Bringing love, ice cream, and cakes

Morose tunes abound for monogamous pairs
Innumerable laments of old lovers parting
Because of new lovers found
Or from struggles and fighting

But what about we poly few who are shattered inside? What do we sing when it’s the end of…


I have noticed a plague sprouting up on social networking sites. You’ll have seen it if you’re on Facebook, G+ or Twitter, even if you thought you’d carefully avoided adding anyone with inclinations towards nationalism or dreadful reasoning. I’m speaking, of course, about all this “help our heroes” bollocks.

Now, before I get lynched by a collection of gun-loving nutjobs, bereaved relatives or deluded, camo-wearing, Modern Warfare fanatics: wait until the end before you fetch your torches & pitchforks.

I have a number of friends who have served, or are serving in the armed forces. One of my very good…

The Bobbu

Geek, designer, artist. Pansexual, polyamorous, agender.

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