An almost sleepless night, until I have an anxiety dream about this magazine
Awake in the early hours I feel as though my brain has been replaced by wet soil. So I pour myself a (for me, very) small…
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Nicholas Lezard
Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.
Latest articles
Which of my troubles is worse – the lost bank card, the sold-out wine, or A&E with a dodgy heart?
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All Articles
In Brighton, you never know who might run into you. Or who might run you over…
One of the most delightful things about Brighton is that every bus has someone’s name on the front, resurrecting…
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Looking at the smashed teapot lid, I thought: there, in a nutshell, is my life
Journalists are rarely paid what they're worth, and so my plans to buy a new teapot will have to…
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My sporting summer had all too short a lease, which is why I want my heroes to go on and on
We’re living in an age where some professional sports lives are freakishly extended – each game becoming an automatic exercise…
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Grief can unhinge, taking up your entire emotional bandwidth
When wounded, prepare to face innumerable microaggressions from a callous universe.
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Surrounded by my son’s friends, I relish my status as The Only Non-Boring Father in England
At the end of their degrees, my son and his friends are at a loose end, and he's keen for…
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Time’s wingèd chariot is getting close – I fear I may never don cricket whites again
As I admire Sean Bean's manly locks, I have to admit that the thought of bowling wrist-spin is making me…
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A steep hill, a bellyful of Chinese and wine, and a pair of posh shoes… disaster beckons
A sprightly step and a fairly steep downhill slope, and what do you get? A fall.
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Mrs Down and Out has disappeared. So it is curtains for the old love life. Again
I am still unsure of what brought the relationship to an end, but maybe going out with the New…
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