We passed the pavilion and began to climb the hill towards our house when we all noticed a cricketer having a wizzle up against a fence of a nearby house. He wasn’t particularly well hidden – there was just a barely living clump of bush obscuring his dude – but we probably wouldn’t have noticed him had it not been for the fact he was emitting wind with gay abandon.
Read MoreThe year is 2062. A curious young lad asks his grandfather about a long-forgotten set of work techniques known as Agile Methodology.
Read MoreSome people ask me while I’m signing autographs or they’re basking in the fresh-baked-bread warmth of my celebrity, “Jonathan, have…
Read MoreThere’s an acronym doing the rounds on the interconnected network of digitised information at the moment. You might be familiar…
Read MoreA little while ago a friend thought one of my articles was a pointed reference to his own behaviour. It wasn’t….
Read More“So what do you do for a living, Johnson?”
“Uh… it’s Jonathan… I’m a… well, a writer.”
“A writer? You write books? Novels?”
“No, no, no. No. Definitely not.
“No.”
“But I do write a little thing… a little columny thing… in the paper.”
Read MoreWe often look back on the decision to resign from a job as a happy career juncture, a fork in the career road with a perfectly-cooked career sausage on the end of it. But the moment itself, that ten or fifteen seconds in which we have to tell our manager that we’re pulling the work pin, is almost always filled with trembling anxiety.
Read MoreI notice you’re in a bit of a jam. You’ve been saying “Can’t” a lot to a lot of people. Which is absolutely fine. You have an insurance arm, and insurers say “Can’t”, “No” and “Get fucked” as a matter of course, but there’s that whole problem of you being the Can bank.
Bugger.
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