A return to London, a visit to the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, and other revelatory behaviour.

A poem.

The Colts defeat the Falcons in Berlin, even though Drake London catches damn near everything.

Ladies and gentlemen, goyles and ghouls: Geese — the best fucking rock band in the world.

The Giants are finally fun again, LFG Zohran Mamdani, and other stories.

Paul Thomas Anderson, for sure now, is the pre-eminent director of our times.

This Week in Fandom: we’re moving to Substack, kiddo!

Seeking deliverance, for a friend, before it's too late.

On the eve of Tottenham Hotspur Vs Manchester United, somewhere in Bilbao.

To the colleague in the unfortunate position of rather disliking Wes Anderson.

I love the Cubbies. I kinda disliked ‘Sinners’. Everybody adores me in pubs. And other daydreams.

Maybe it’s time to end the age of the anti-hero.

I think I fell in love with Newcastle United … in Frankfurt.

Brady Corbet’s monster of a film ends up eating itself alive.

Winter is for stumbling into theatres and keeping your jacket on. I saw Queer and A Different Man.

A time-out for the NBA, happy holidays for the NFL, and other gut feelings.

Spurs poop the bed, again, and Juan Soto chooses the Mets.

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall/ Who’s the streamiest of them all?

I watched sports in weird places, and wished there was tanking in the Premier League.

Industry’s third season accurately predicts an ugly and desperate world.