We all try to resist the cliché that, as a nation, we're obsessed with failure but it's hard to miss the glee in the papers when a story comes up like this: a woman in Southwark has failed her driving theory test for the 90th
I am still fuming, so to speak, with the news that the government intends to ban the display of cigarettes and tobacco from all shops by 2015.
Since I have the gall to pontificate fortnightly on the places where people actually eat, it seems only meet that I should occasionally 'fess up to my habitual gnawing spots.
A letter from a Mrs H of Blaenau Ffestiniog. In it, she is very nice about this column, but she cannot abide my occasional use of four-letter words. I think she is referring to the time I described myself as a Jeremy Hunt.
As the clean-up continues after the Christchurch earthquake, it is worth reminding ourselves how recently we gained any understanding of the earth's interior.
I write this in a precarious state, on a laptop that may conk out any minute. The socket at the back where the power-supply cable goes in has gone wonky: the juice simply isn't getting in.
I'm more loyal to Caffè Nero than I am to any other institution.
A lot of questions arise from The King's Speech, the recent film in which - spoiler alert - a king can't speak very well, but then manages to, thanks to an Australian.
It's been a fantastic three months for those of us gripped by the dynamics of crowds.
To my bed, with the curtains drawn and a cold, damp flannel pressed to my eyes. Fury, I have discovered, brings with it many of the symptoms of migraine: pain, nausea, fatigue.
A visit to the accountant. I like my accountant. She's jolly and good and she finds my extraordinary financial incompetence amusing.
A new year and a new hamburger - for is the hamburger not elemental? Is it not like the two hemispheres of the earth, seamed by
the biota? Or possibly two robust thighs, between which is pressed beefy virility?
Well, it wasn't too bad in the end - Christmas, that is.
In the 1970s, the Buddhist teacher Chögyam Trungpa coined the phrase "spiritual materialism" to describe the pervasive western habit of consuming far-flung religious practices as lifestyle accessories rather than techniques fo
My usual resolutions for each New Year are simple: to eat and drink more, and to exercise less. In this way, I have either the smug satisfaction of keeping my resolutions, or the personal benefit of breaking them.
A headline caught my eye in a London paper in the run-up to Christmas: "'It's safe to swim in Red Sea,' says tourism boss." Given that four tourists had been mauled by sharks and a fifth, a German lady, had just been killed, i
There are many waymarkers along the winding trail of a man's life, but few can be quite so dismal, so minatory, so like unto a psychic gibbet from which a rotting corpse twists in the mephitic breezes from the nearby abyss as