Rant alert

Hello. I’m Jon. I’ve hit my thirties and, you know what? I won’t take your nonsense anymore.

“Hey, I bought you lunch that time we met up so I think it’s unfair that I have to pay you [for the hours and hours you’ve spent…

Tiredness as a sign of victory

He had just finished watching a new addition to the ranks of films that perpetuated the glorification of…

The Cyclical Weariness of Insurance Renewals

[dials number, listens to hold music, informed that my call is very important, more hold music, informed that my call will be answered in approximately four minutes, hold music for five more minutes, informed that I may want to call back later, more…

Some bridges need to be burnt.

Some bridges are rotten, tumble down, hazardous to your health. Even if you succeed to traverse them, they usually lead to roads of peril. Burn those bridges. Set them ablaze and do not look back. Make sure you never revisit the sites of those bridges. They are not to be…

Pupa

I discovered what a ladybird pupa looked like yesterday. In all the years of having friendly little ladybirds flitting around each springtime, I had never seen them in their pre-winged state. They’re just like butterflies really. It’s obvious when you think about it, but I never thought about it.

The inner thoughts of a kid’s play area computer

Today I saw some things.

Today I saw two old men in a café sitting opposite each other looking sideways at an automatic door as it opened and closed. They smiled as it almost shut then opened again for no apparent reason. They said nothing to each other and avoided eye contact as they continued to sip their…

Who would steal a four-year-old’s bike?

Who would think about stealing a kid’s bike? Me, that’s who. No, I haven’t stolen a kid’s bike. Nor will I ever steal a kid’s bike. I’ve just been thinking about it, ok? No, not thinking about carrying out the act of theft. Simply thinking about the concept.

Forlorn motorway man

When you see a forlorn man in a beaten up car stationary on the opposite side of the motorway, you look at him with…

Untitled.

Anger and dread

rear their ugly two-faced head

as we resort to writing bad poetry

in childish desperation; adult too.

Now realising the attempt at rhyme