
Any set list that contains a Harry Nilsson song, a Willie Nelson song and a song about boobs gets the thumbs up from me.

With a scorching summer in full swing, hands up who wants to be picnicking somewhere green, with some trees and a lack of traffic?

Holidays only really succeed in highlighting the tedium of my regular existence.

As a society, we are moving away from the Health Years.

If there’s one accusation you can level at London it’s that meeting people is not easy.

Tucked away under the railway arches in the heart of Shoreditch, amongst the images of Banksy art, is Cargo.
There are some that believe that shopping, beyond buying the essentials, is one of the great ills that afflict our society.
My friend and I arrived at Canela, a Brazilian/Portugese restaurant near Carnaby Street, to be greeted by confusion.

I bloody love magic. Pretty much any kind of magic. Autistic, card shuffling weirdos; tantastic bouffant-haired Blackpool types; edgy (and often completely gross) Penn & Teller-type stuff; Paul Daniels…I even like David Blaine. I doubt even David Blaine’s Mum likes David Blaine…

There came a point last weekend during the Taste of London festival at which I felt I had gotten a little too greedy and taken too many free samples.
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