Why Zayn’s ‘PILLOWTALK’ is possibly the worst thing I have ever heard

Foolishly, I was willing to give the newly solo artist ‘Zayn’ (née Zayn Malik of preteen heart throbs One Direction) a chance. I had assumed that as he stated himself his own disdain of the ‘pop’ genre and his desperation to escape the ironclad fists of Simon Cowell, he was going to create something new, something different, something meaningful. My ideas were only amplified by the amateurish ‘Microsoft Paint’-esque style of his EP cover, suggesting perhaps that, in a fit of antiestablishment fury, Malik had fired his production team and done the ‘design work’ by hand. Continue reading

I have now been here for an indeterminate number of weeks and these are some views that I may or may not hold.

First of all, I bet you’re all dying to know whether you got the puzzle right, dear readers. Well, the answer was “change at Battersby for Hartlepool, and then you have to walk.”

To anybody who guessed “Thirty trombones, two tambourines and a flute”, you probably failed to take account of the Winter 2015 timetable change. Good try, though.

Now then, to business. The more astute amongst you may well have noticed the recent trend of buses being more and more late with every passing week. This is not, as the less astute amongst you may believe, an optical illusion, but a real, measurable phenomenon.

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(Think about inserting unlucky thirteen joke here)

As I write the words that you are now reading (assuming, of course, that you are in fact reading them, you can never be too careful these days), I am about to sit the first exam of my course. The more astute amongst you may recall that the subject of this course is accounting. Or possibly accountancy. We haven’t learned the difference yet. Speaking more generally, I wonder if I’ll ever learn the difference. Ho hum. That’s probably why I took up accounting. Or the other one.

So, what else has been going on? The sun’s out, which is odd for December, and every street in every town is bedecked with fairy lights and holly, which isn’t.

Now, I’m no humbug, despite the reputation I’ve been carefully cultivating through this column. Christmas really is the most wonderful time of the year, whatever you want to call it. Except “Winterval”. Please don’t call it that. The last thing we need is for political correctness to actually, literally steal Christmas. Then again, that’s not a half bad idea for a schmaltzy and entirely unmemorable holiday film.

…I couldn’t find a good photoshop of a faceless bureaucrat as the Grinch, so once again you’ll have to use your imaginations. Put down your phone and give it a go, you might just be surprised.

One last thing until next week, I’ve just decided to introduce a regular feature – each week I shall include a secret message in a mysterious code, the answer to be included next week. Here’s your first one: “25055 Yugoslavia headband swimming pool Clapham Junction 47258”. If you need help, here’s a clue word – “butter”. Good luck!

One other last thing, I’ve just realised that I’m not sitting on a swivel chair. How did I discover this, I hear myself wish you were asking? Because I tried to swivel around and did myself a mischief on the back-rest.

Next week I shall be singing a couple of octaves higher.

The Scottish Referendum: How it affects us

Recently, there’s been one news story that’s been dominating the news: the Scottish Referendum 2014, and the nation has already been divided into those who say “Yes” and those who say “No”. I admit I didn’t really understand how, as a teenager living in England, the decision would really affect me. However, there are lots of factors that makes the vote just as crucial to me as it is to the “Yes” and “No” protestors and politicians.

Saltire and union flag

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Freshers’ Fear

The first week of college was a chaotic conglomerate of confusion, nerves and awkwardness. On the first day, the buses regurgitated their student stomachs out onto the layby whilst teachers emerged from the burrows of the buildings to meet, greet and look neat. As hundreds of shoes shuffled into Strode, an inexplicable fog of fear descended, and us Freshers found ourselves grimacing at people, having lost the ability to smile normally and make simple introductions. Continue reading

Irony

ironic stoneThis post is about Irony, It is unironic which in itself is quite ironic considering the title of the post. It is as if Iron man had gone to the Iron factory to fix his suit only to find out that his suit was not made of Iron at all. but in fact made of steel. Causing him either to be a liar or to be ironic(which would be ironic in itself as his suit is made of steel) Continue reading