I have little love for Boris Johnson and am mortified to realise we have traits in common
Amid the greased piglet’s bluster, bloviating and shameless evasions, I see something terribly familiar.
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Nicholas Lezard writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.
Amid the greased piglet’s bluster, bloviating and shameless evasions, I see something terribly familiar.
By Nicholas LezardSome people use the time afforded by insomnia to worry about things, but I prefer a good book and…
By Nicholas LezardI was more wreck than human being, but at least I was less of a wreck than some of…
By Nicholas LezardBeing poorly these days involves actual discomfort. I would toss and turn if I could – but even that…
By Nicholas LezardBy the time the sponge pudding arrived I was snapping my fingers at the risks and signed on the…
By Nicholas LezardWith relentlessly miserable weather and inspiration running dry, the last thing I need is a digital doppelgänger.
By Nicholas LezardIt’s bad enough that people I haven’t voted for come to power; do they have to barge their way…
By Nicholas LezardThe family’s new dog took to sitting at my feet and looking up at me, as if to say:…
By Nicholas Lezard“Hello!” he says. “You sound grumpy as ever!”
By Nicholas Lezard