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Don’t, whatever you do, scroll down. We’re going to play a little game. Now, how good would you say you are at spotting written mistakes? Jeepers, you’ve scrolled down already? Disqualify yourself and spend your time doing something more interesting like watching television. For those that are left, do you fancy yourselves as...
‘Ready Dad?’ I asked. The last thermos lid had been screwed on tight; walking boots had been donned. ‘More or less,’ he rejoined, scampering out of the conservatory door. ‘What do you mean by less,’ I pressed. ‘Well, I’ve just got to wander round the back of the garage for a wee-wee.’ Does the...
Do you know what my younger brother said one Christmas? I’ll tell you. It was back in my diving days when emerging from a dry suit in a tuxedo seemed to me the epitome of cool. Logbooks, snorkels and PADI paraphernalia adorned every nook and cranny. When I’d unwrapped my present from my brother...
It’s an abomination. You won’t believe this, but Gemma “Blast her Eyes” Atterton didn’t email me last week. Extraordinary, I know, given my frightfully generous offer of a bath, but I guess she was either on a tight filming schedule or didn’t have access to Wi-Fi. No, I’m being obtuse – obviously, she was...
Down on Hastings seafront is a hodgepodge of film lorries. ‘Expecting any stars, are we?’ I asked a chap unloading his van. ‘Heaps of them,’ he said brusquely. I felt like one of those imbecilic fatheads (also known as fans) that have seriously approached me on a U2 Tour, asking, ‘So which...
It’s easy to spot tourists in Italy. We’re the ones ordering lasagne and cappuccino at lunchtime. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but you might notice a slight snicker suffuse the waiter’s features. And it’s no good saying jingoistically, ‘Look here, Luigi, didn’t we own Italy once?’ We didn’t; I’ve already tried that line....
