Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.
Then, upon my return, there it was! A visitation! A miracle! What a joy it is to be alive in Jeremy Corbyn’s Britain.
Australia can indeed be an intimidating place, which is why the grey nomads are entirely worthy of respect.
She is witty, self-deprecating and obviously smart in an offbeat way, so as to neutralise those inclined to dismiss young, working-class women out of hand.
I don’t mind the frisson of fear – without it, I might relapse into Kingoonya altogether.
One of the many great things about Australia is a genuine, if slightly abrasive egalitarianism.
Labour MPs should be swapped for migrants – and I’ll happily declare Tories, Scots Nats and entire marauding phalanxes of Pilates instructors stateless as well.
I’ll tell you one thing about Jeremy Clarkson. He always files on time and his spelling is immaculate.
Not many people realise how strong Buddhism is in contemporary Scotland, or that arguably the reason for this is topographic as much as spiritual.
“Suburban!” I expostulated. “That thing’s big enough to contain an entire suburb!”
The only possible course for the ethical meat-eater is to accept that our diet, in common with so many other of our lifestyle choices, is a matter of what we feel comfortable with, and to leave it at that.