Currently exploring the world

Going underground

A year down the line since I packed my bags and moved from the beloved flatlands to el capital, so I thought I’d write about the city I love and the not so lovely thing that comes with it, aka the dreaded and doomed UNDERGROUND. Because what better way to mark my year anniversary as a Londoner than with a good old British moan?

In no particular order because they’re all equally as fucking terrible.

- Rush hour.

- How everybody thinks that they’re that little bit more important and in more of a rush than the person in front. You know what I’m talking about; the angry mumbles under the breath, the tuts when the person in front doesn’t beep their Oyster first time round. We’ve all done it and we’ve all been victim to it.

- Tube sweats in summer (and winter). No amount of fanning yourself with the Evening Standard will do.

- When people breathe their morning breath on you.

- When people breathe their ‘I’ve had six coffees and twelve fags today’ breath on you.

- The invasive armpit.

- The self-righteous businessman.

- Not sure whether to give up your seat for the woman that sort of looks pregnant, but might just be overweight.

- Not sure whether to give up your seat for the woman that looks over 60, but that might just have aged really badly.

- Tourists that stop in the middle of the underground to check maps.

- People that stand on the left. STAND ON THE RIGHT AND WALK ON THE LEFT. THEY SAY IT EVERY TIME.

- People that think it’s acceptable to walk at a glacial pace, particularly on a Friday afternoon after work. WHERE IS YOUR SENSE OF URGENCY?

- That weird drunk guy that tries to talk to you.

- Germs.

- Weird smells.

- People that don’t move along inside of the carriages when there is clearly loads of room.

- Backpacks. Backpacks should definitely be illegal.

- So should couples that read the Metro together.

- General PDA.

And of course the number 1 rule:

(unless you’re me and stare and suited and booted businessmen for weirdly inappropriate amounts of time and decide that you’re in love until you step off of the tube and go about your day as if they never even existed.)

3 months ago 4 notes

Strap up, kink on.

Straps, buckles, leather, silk, lace, satin, chains, PVC, corsets; bondage-inspired lingerie is so in right now and I cannot get enough of it.

MYLA

Delicate and feminine, this piece by Myla is absolutely lovely. With sheer lace and thin straps that cross the hips and waist, this set is a real tease for both the eyes and the mind.

AGENT PROVOCATEUR

Sexy, sophisticated and downright erotic. Unlike the demure Rita by Myla, AP’s Whitney set is bold and daring with thick black straps that cling to the body, giving it that belt and buckle feel. This design is classic and one of the many reasons why Agent Provocatuer are one of my favourites.

COCO DE MER

This set from Coco de Mer is absolutely incredible, capturing submission perfectly with its strap and collar design. It’s been designed to reveal the body, yet covers just enough to drive the mind wild. I imagine that even a leash could be attached for those wishing to take their relationship that little step up…

FRAULEIN KINK

This is an absolute gem by Fraulein Kink. Similar to the Coco de Mer design pictured above, FK have used straps to create that bound effect, though they’ve gone that little bit further with the chains and the cuffs, giving it that real edge. The mask and ears come with it too! J’a-fucking-dore.

BORDELLE

There is absolutely no beating around the bush with Boredelle when it comes to erotic lingerie. Kink bondage at its finest, yet still managing to keep that feminine edge by enhancing curves. A real treat for both lingerie and bondage lovers.

FLEET ILYA

Reigns, harnesses, masks, corsets; if you’re after daring and unsubtle, Fleet Ilya is your port of call, creating erotic masterpieces that reach far beyond your bog-standard erotic stores that fill the streets of Soho. Their designs are sexy and decadent, bringing endless possibilities to those that want to indulge in bondage, domination and submission.

Of course, these are just a selection of my favourite designs; and this is without all of the lovely little accessories that come with them. Whips, paddles, cuffs, collars, nipple pasties, clamps, blindfolds, masks. In fact, I got myself this earlier on from Coco de Mer:

LOVE!

Bondage has been around for a long, long time; much longer than most people realise. Until recently, it’s been somewhat of a taboo, a sexual deviance. However in this day and age, we’re much more open about sexuality; we’re encouraged to embrace and explore. Sex and intimacy doesn’t stop at pretty floral bras and missionary, and bondage most certainly doesn’t stop at blindfolds and handcuffs.

Why play it safe when things like this exist? They’re far too exciting and intriguing to be ignored, not to mention how intricate and incredible they are aesthetically. I’m not saying that people should go out right now, buy a cane and demand to be spanked until their skin is pink and purple; I’m merely saying that there’s no harm in experimenting with fantasy and desire. Who knows what you might find?

As a wise man once said, “Those who restrain desire do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.”

NOTE: I do not own any of these photos (apart from the final one). Credit to all brands for photos used.
www.myla.com
www.agentprovocateur.com
www.coco-de-mer.com
www.frauleinkink.com
www.bordelle.co.uk
www.fleetilya.com

4 months ago 9 notes

An Eye for Beauty.

Upon my daily morning browse of news and gossip sites whilst drinking seemingly endless cups of coffee and counting down the minutes until the weekend, I came across this article on The Huffington Post.

Full Beauty.

“I wanted to show that beauty isn’t owned by skinny people alone,” says Yossi Loloi, who captured the photo of these fuller-figured women.

A bold statement for a generation such as the one we live in, though certainly not the first of its kind. Now of course, I agree that beauty doesn’t stop at a size 10. For decades, society has been conditioned by the media to think that there is an aesthetic perfection. I don’t need to describe this to you. I’m sure you have an image of the ‘perfect’ woman (or man- I just assume that the majority of my readers are female) in your head already. We’re all guilty of it. We all aspire for flat stomachs, tiny waists, smooth skin. We want it because it’s shoved down our throats every minute of every day. Go on the Daily Mail website right now. Or the Devil’s tabloid, as I like to call them. Objectifying and sexualising women is what they do best. Women are praised for looking good in bikinis and slandered and demeaned for putting on a few pounds. We absorb what we see and what we read. As human beings, it’s what we do and unless we decide to never leave the house, these things are going to have an effect.

Now back to the subject at hand. The infamous beauty is in the eye of the beholder debate. I actually wrote an essay on this in first year at University, though it was more based on philosophical perception, rather than shallow aesthetics.

Looking at photos of these women, I’m going to guess that 90% of you are judging them based on their size, whether you like it or not. Human beings are shallow in many respects. We struggle to see past the outer-shell and we make judgements on what we see. It’s natural and pretty much unavoidable and that’s that.

But that is not my main issue here. It’s all good and well that the photographer is trying to capture another element of beauty. Everybody has beautiful things about them and I’m not trying to dicate taste here. We’re all attracted to different looks, and somebody finding a size 24 beautiful is no different from finding a size 6 beautiful. However my problem lies in the fact that being this size is unhealthy. It’s a huge risk to their health. I’m talking heart disease, liver failure, diabetes, blood pressure. These things kill people and that fact is indisputable. (Here I could go on to talk about the equally as big health risks that come with being underweight but that would divulge away from the article at hand, so I’ll leave that be for the time being.)

“It saddens me sometimes when people stop at the gates of the ‘health issue’ rather than stepping inside the image and trying to understand it.”

I appreciate the message that the photographer is trying to convey here, I really do. I’ve struggled with my weight and body image issues my whole life. I was teased at school, and even at times as an adult, which is perhaps even more difficult to deal with. I think most girls have felt body conscious at least once in their life. I understand that Loloi wants us to look past the obvious and to appreciate the captured images. But promoting these images and encouraging people to look past the ‘health issue’ and focus on the beauty is unrealistic and in my opinion, going about it the wrong way.

We live in an obese generation. I’m not just talking a few pounds; I’m talking more than a few stone. I’m by no means attacking overweight people and I understand that obesity can be a product of a medical condition or psychological and emotional damage. And I’m not saying that everyone needs to be a size 10 or 12 (though I think the average size for a British woman is actually a 14). Yes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and full-figured women are beautiful in many ways, whether you think so or not. However illness, disease and death is not beautiful and it’s a harsh fact of reality that these are common results of obesity, something that the photographer is prepared to overlook for the sake of making a point. In many ways, this article is just as damaging as those that promote thinness as being beautiful. It’s an extreme counter-argument to an already huge issue, which is fatal for so many. There’s no medium- no promotion of good health and happiness. That is what we need.

5 months ago 7 notes

Seeing as everyone’s talking Victoria’s Secret…

Now we all know that VS models are slender and petite with perky boobs and flat stomachs. Pretty much everything that you hate because it’s everything you want. It’s not as if I’m sitting here grimacing at the screen as I curse Mother Nature for my slow metabolism and love of carbs.

Here. B-Palv, my favourite. She’s actually my favourite model EVER, just behind Stam. (No one will top Stam.)

I would kill a small animal for that waist and those thighs. (Hypothetically, of course…) Even though BP is only 19, she’s womanly and she’s sexy, which is exactly what a VS model should be. (Can I say that without sounding like a lecherous old man with more wood than just a walking stick?) After all, they’re lingerie models.

This is why I’m so baffled as to why they’ve let Cara D walk the VS runway. For high-fashion and catwalk, she’s absolutely perfect- tall, slim, angular, enviably symmetrical. Bitch. (I’m kidding.) She’s sexy in her own right. But here:

To me, she looks like an awkward adolescent in a push-up bra… or three. Sure, her boobs look pert and reasonably rounded, but not in a naturally sexy way that should be flaunted on a prestigious lingerie runway. I’d much rather see the likes of Swanepoel and Lima up there; women that look like women. Not high-fashion models that have been plonked on to the catwalk just because their name is big in the industry right now.

Stick to what you’re good at Cara D. And I will continue to love you as much as I hate you for those crystal eyes, hollowed cheekbones and big brows.

7 months ago 4 notes

Well if you wanted honesty…

It’s Thursday. It’s 10.10pm. I’m feeling nostalgic. I’m currently re-living my youth, which undoubtedly holds some of the best memories of my life so far. Young and carefree- the only thing I had to worry about was how I was going to get my White Lightning cider to drink down Curvy Hill on a Friday night.

I usually have a night like this every few months, where I just YouTube song after song of emo classics; MCR, Underoath, The Used, Taking Back Sunday, From First To Last, Funeral For A Friend, Brand New, Finch…

Let’s set the scene (har har) by whacking a few photos of teen me in this post…

2004

2005

2006

Sexy, I know.

I was an unashamed xXxemo</3xXx. I still have no shame for it. I loved everything black, pink, polkadot and music. I loved piercings. I loved emo boy on boy. I loved wearing bows in my hair and slip-on dolly shoes. I loved My Space (PC4PC?). I loved going to local gigs. I loved kissing in the rain… (or so I said, alongside every other ‘emotional’ teen). I loved hanging out at Traf on Friday and Saturday nights drinking cider and causing general mischief. I loved Frank Iero. (Here’s some proof…)

And I LOVED My Chemical Romance. (More proof…)

I first saw them in 2005 at Camden Underworld, and 7 times after that. In fact, in 2005 when I saw them at Brixton Academy, I queued for 11 hours 2 days in a row to get to the front. And I did and it was amazing. Actually, they’re one of the best bands I’ve seen live to this day. I collected every CD and vinyl. I bought magazines and posters. I got DVDs. I downloaded endless videos of them to watch on my massive dial-up PC even though it took hours. I even made Frank a little material pumpkin one year for his Birthday (Halloween Birthday, in case you’re wondering). I didn’t get the chance to give it to him so had to give it to security one tour, but amazingly enough, a week later I had a friend that was seeing them and she met them, and at around 1am I got a phone call and Frank was on the other end thanking me for this little pumpkin. It sounds hilarious I know, but my heart was pounding and I could barely see straight. I had the BIGGEST crush on him and thought I was going to explode. I love that memory.

There’s always that one band that will stick with you through life; even when you change and grow up and grow out of them. For me, that band is My Chemical Romance. They remind me of being young. They remind me of having fun, laughing, and my friends. They remind me of how it felt to be young, and that’s a feeling that can quite often become lost once you enter the big wide world of adulthood and responsibility. I’ll forever be thankful to them for that.

I miss that time of my life. I think it’s sad that so many teens moan and complain about their time at school and how bored they are. You only get to be young once and before you even notice, time will have stolen it away… just like that.

There’s a whole world of possibilities out there for everyone and that should be exciting.

Your youth is yours to create. So go and get creative!

10 months ago 1 note

BBC Proms, 1st August 2012.

First of all, WHY do people insist on coughing as soon as a silence in the music ensues? It’s like some sort of automatic (and horribly irritating) reaction… It breaks the tension and takes the edge off, which is not what you want when you’re sat tentatively in London’s Royal Albert Hall.

That’s where I was this evening. Sat in a box (by myself, of course) on the second tier at the BBC Proms. My first time, how exciting!

The place was big, but not as big as I’d expected, and I found myself sat next to me in 40 years time- complaining about the comfort of the seats, cunningly planning a move to the seats in front if they weren’t filled, and single… with a bar of Milka to keep her going.

The first piece, The Unanswered Question by Charles Ives, was interesting (I can’t think of a better word…) One minute it moved me to spine-tingling shivers, the next it startled me abruptly from a melancholy trance. The discordant wind and brass intervals amidst the beautiful resonance of careful strings was an uncomfortable interruption, and one that I wasn’t very fond of. I was so caught up thinking about the clash of notes that I couldn’t really settle into the piece, and it was a reminder of why I often find myself veering away from contemporary composers. Despite this, it was played incredibly well, as to be expected.

Without room to draw breath, the piece softly rolled into the sole reason I’d selected this Prom to come to; Barber’s Adagio for Strings. The first note is chilling and steals attention from every nerve and fibre in your body. Within seconds, I could feel my emotions stirring and myself breaking. I first heard this piece when I was going through a very difficult period in my life just over 3 years ago, and although I’m brought back to that time each time I listen to the piece, it is still one of the most incredibly beautiful and moving pieces I have ever had the pleasure of listening to, and will always be one of my favourites. It’s a heartbreaking piece of music, yet still manages to leave you feeling peaceful and soothed by the end of it. There weren’t just tears. There were tears and snot. I was tense and shaking, and amidst the silent room, found it impossible to control the streams running down my cheeks. (Thank God I had a gin in hand.) I swear I stopped breathing once it hit its peak. So consuming. This is what I love about music- how it has the power to possess your heart and soul and body. Adagio for Strings does that to me every single time, and this was no exception.

The third piece that was performed is another reason why I often forget that modern classical music can be good (as evident with my fondness of Barber, Pärt, Einaudi etc). Zimmerman’s Nobody Knows De Trouble I See was loud, discordant and all over the place, with intermittent jazz / swing rhythms that seemed entirely out of place at times- as if from a different piece. The technicality of the piece was carried out with greatness and impeccable accuracy, don’t get me wrong, but not my cup of musical tea.

Then came the 80 minute finale; Tippett’s A Child Of Our Time. It was everything I expected it to be for its context (Nazi Germany and the Kristallnacht)… Dark, dramatic, tense, sombre, anguished… I’d given it a listen prior to attending so I half knew what to expect, but everything is so much greater and more intense when happening right before you. The chorus were astounding, alongside the soloists and orchestra. The conductor was evidently absorbed right into the heart of the music; he lead the performance with so much vehemence and enjoyment. It was a pleasure to watch and brought the hairs on my arms to stand on many occasions.

Of course I had to be sat behind the irritating, bored girlfriend that kept touching, kissing and staring at her boyfriend until he gave her attention. GET A GRIP. YOU ARE A WOMAN, NOT A DOG. Even the young girl next to her, who was clearly bored out of her mind, was behaving better than her. I’m glad he kept telling her to shush because I was so close to giving her a swift kick in the back of her chair.

I’ve come away feeling good and on a high, albeit completely overwhelmed. Music on that sort of level is timeless, and I am certain that it will continue to affect and move many generations to come.

10 months ago 1 note

Can Time Travellers Kill Their Younger Selves?

It’s 9am on a Saturday morning. I’m up early after the bright light of day burst through my curtains at the ungodly time of 4.30am and have been tossing and turning since. For 20 minutes, I watched a programme on CBBC called ‘Project Parent’, which entailed a woman having 3 dates whilst her child watched, who would then decide which one she would go on a proper date with. Then she had a make-over and cried. “The old Shirley was stuck in a rut, wearing old masculine clothes.” Do 7 year olds really care about these things? I used to look forward to watching Live and Kicking and watching people get gunged, not single parents having make-overs and going on dates.

ANYWAY. Out of boredom (and curiosity) I started to read back through a few of my essays that I did during university. I did about time travelling in The Structure of Reality, which I took in my final year. It’s an interesting topic, so I thought I’d post the essay I wrote on it, which got a 2.1 in the end.

Hanky Panky in London Town

“I hate this shit” remarked the robust, bearded guy sat opposite me in Sailor Jerry Hotel Street as he flicked through one of Britain’s classic tattoo / tits and arse magazines.

But this wasn’t just any guy dressed in oversized Dickies dungarees and a jauntily placed wicker hat with two glimmering gold front teeth. This was Henk Schiffmacher, or ‘Hanky Panky’ as he’s known to his friends and the rest of the world.

“Who would even want to tattoo Harry Potter on their arm?”

Henk: Devoted husband, father, author, photographer, artist, tattooist, explorer, coffee fiend, collector and model (oh yes, he appeared in Dutch Vogue)… to name but a few. Tattooed from ear to toe; marked with Maori tribe designs to Californian art; inked by wild boar tusks, bladed sticks and traditional needles. His skin is etched with an abundance of memories and endless tales to tell, and he is undoubtedly something of a modern-day walking cultural masterpiece.

He’s tattooed the likes of Lenny from Motorhead, the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Pearl Jam and Kurt Cobain.

Although, when I asked him which tattoo of Cobain’s he did, he said he didn’t have a clue as everyone looked the same back then. Hilarious. He was so blasé about the whole thing, but I bet there’s part of him that loves that he made his mark on one of the most iconic grunge singers of our time.

Just a few days ago, Henk was in sunny California aboard the Queen Mary at the annual Ink-n-Iron Tattoo Festival, surrounded by babes, booze and outrageous ink. In memory of the 39th anniversary of Norman ‘Sailor Jerry’ Collins’ death, he’s come to el capital to host a late-night viewing of the exhibition he curated of original Collins old-school American tattoo art and to share stories of this legendary and revolutionary artist later on tonight. (Tickets for this are available here: www.facebook.com/sailorjerryUK).
I was lucky enough to grab a few hours of Henk’s time to find out more about his life and his work.

Over lunch, we talked tattoos, travels, music, and fleshlights. (Yes, those things things that men put their bits in for fun.)

He told us how much he loved Amy Wineshouse’s tattoos; how it was, and still is, traditional for ladies to walk over Norman Collins’ grave knickerless each year on the anniversary of his death (what a GREAT tradition), how he’s an ambassador for Orange Babies- a charity that supports women and their children in Africa that are most at risk from the HIV virus.

He said it’s good to “give the karma wheel a little clean”, to which his equally as tattooed wife replied “We’re making up for a lot of filth.”

LOVE that. They’ve seen the world, experienced things that I can only imagine, and most importantly they’ve lived their lives to the MAX. If that isn’t inspirational, then I don’t know what is.

Talking us through their tattoos was like looking at a map on their skin. Each had a particular story, meaning, place or memory behind it, and they had something to say about them all. I think that’s so important when getting a tattoo. As Aristotle said, “Tattoos are mirrors of the mind.”

Oh wait, it was Henk who said that. Maybe we should add Philosopher to his list too.

Anyway, here are his and his wife’s hands.

And this was on her arm…

Who said romance is dead?

They are literally covered in years of extraordinary work and diverse culture. They put my four tattoos to shame (and have re-awoken the itch to get more).

After lunch we took to the bustling streets of the West End, and I couldn’t help but notice how interested in everyone Henk was. He was so keen to chat and find out about the story behind this guy’s tattoos, and it was obvious that his inquisition was honest and sincere, born from a true love of this universal art form.

The guy had ‘Made in London’ tattooed on his forehead (sounds like a Made in Chelsea spoof, but better). He also had ‘Fuck off’ tattooed on the inside of his lip when he was in prison.

“Mirrors of the mind“… Yeah. If I were in prison, I’d be telling everyone to fuck off too.

Here we are ready for the next issue of Vogue.

Henk Couture.

What I’m trying to say is that Henk Schiffmacher is a REALLY FUCKING AWESOME GUY.

… and a little bit insane.

But that’s what makes him such a unique and interesting character.

I’m intrigued to see where life takes him next…

1 year ago 2 notes

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES

What better way to spend a beautiful* British summer afternoon than with good food, good music, and GOOD RUM?

*cold, wet, rainy, windy, grey, dreary, SOUL-DESTROYING.

EXACTLY.

Today I headed on down to Brick Lane for the Sailor Jerry ‘Roll with the punches’ event in celebration of the anniversary of Norman Collins’ death, which happened 39 years ago.

I’m not sure if the name was deliberately chosen to suit the Gallows gig that’s taking place later on this month at Sailor Jerry’s Hotel Street, or whether it was merely a coincidence that ‘Rolling With The Punches’ is a song from Gallows’ debut album ‘Orchestra of Wolves’ (2006). Either way, you should check Gallows out. I’d tell you to head on down to see them at Hotel Street on 22nd June, but unsurprisingly, tickets sold out pretty much straight away. £3 to see a decent British punk band is the Tesco Value of the music world.

ANYWAY. Back to my day.

Let’s set the mood…

Everybody loves a novelty cup.

Everybody also loves a classic wet summer barbecue.

After a few introductions to international journalists and other such people, THIS COOL GUY:

gave a talk on the importance of, “big, firm, meaty sausages” (I assume the amusement from phallic insinuations doesn’t fade with age) and incorporating Sailor Jerry Rum into BBQ recipes.

I even jotted one down for you all…

Sailor Jerry Rum steak sauce
SJ rum.
Sugar.
Honey.
Worcester sauce.
Corn starch.

BOOM. Banging sauce right there. I was salivating at the mouth by this point, a bit like a rabid dog. I was also sporting a really hot rain-induced afro. Why can’t my locks and the rain just get along for once?

I couldn’t work out if the chef loved Americans or hated them, but he kept referring to them as ‘Jankees’. (I assume he meant Yankees.) What a comedian.

After feasting on meat and… meat, we went inside for the actual roll with the punches, i.e. a makeshift cocktail competition in a bizarre little room that resembled something that you might find in a 50s film. I felt like I’d been transported back 60 years or so, and I assume this was the intention. It was vintage and homely, as you can see:

(Couldn’t resist.)

Here’s one of the ‘contestants’ dressed as Ariel from the Little Mermaid, mixing in HP sauce with rum… Yum?

More Helena Bonham Carter chic than Disney Princess, though.

Can’t say this was a favourite of mine… I felt like it needed some bacon in there for good measure.

The cocktails just kept on rolling after that. I was instructed to “keep on drinking”, and as we all know, I’m not one to break the rules. If I wasn’t working, I’d have been on that bar, bottles in hand, drinking that oh so sweet and delicious spiced rum as if it were going out of fashion. I’m not even a rum fanatic, but SJ rum is a TREAT.

And then some guy stapled, with an actual staple gun, a small bag of ‘baking soda’ to his head.

Clearly I missed the memo that people like to bake at these sorts of things.

1 year ago

And I thought interactive ads were cool… Now we have the world’s first INVISIBLE ad.

Yes. Lynx have done it and it’s AMAZING. Bring on the advertising revolution!

Check it out HERE.

1 year ago 1 note

LOVE this team-up between Cadbury’s and Shazam

Cadbury’s will be encouraging viewers to use the smartphone app Shazam to identify the music playing on their advert, which will in turn give viewers the chance to win Olympic tickets.
(Read more here).

It’s such a simple idea, but it has so much potential. So many brands have gone interactive in 2012 (Mr Kipling, Greggs, Trident, to name but a few), and I think this is just the beginning of some big and exciting campaigns / stunts to come.

At the end of the day, people love prizes (yes, I’m including free Mr Kipling cake here - SUCH A GREAT bus stop goody) and prizes cause hype. It’s a win win situation for both the brand and customers.

Congrats on the good PR.

1 year ago

Is print dead?

With seemingly endless forms of digital media, from Smartphones to Kindles, is printed media slowly becoming redundant? As a generation that relies heavily on technology and the internet, some may say yes. On my daily commute, I can confidently say that the ratio of people that use technology to read is much greater than those with actual books or newspapers in their hands. It’s a sad fact that you’re more likely to catch someone pressing a button to access the next page of something rather than licking their thumb and turning the page. However despite great revolutionary advances within the media (and no one can deny how incredible they are), I don’t think that this is to say that print is dead.

There’s something about having words and print on paper that can’t ever be replaced. It’s traditional- cultural, even. Books and Newspapers are part of our history and a lot of people want to keep that alive- for the time being, anyway.

Perhaps in the next hundred years or so, people will be saying the same about iPhones and the internet; perhaps they’ll be the ones getting lost in the great technological past. Technology has been outdoing itself for decades now; there’s always something new and exciting on the scene and the original product ultimately decreases in price and popularity until it completely dies out.

Printed media has sustained throughout all of this, and I am certain that it will continue to hold and reign through the world of media for many generations to come.

1 year ago

Elect-shun

Dear Evening Standard,

Congratulations on your massively biased front page campaign! (again).

I guess it’s easy to forget that there are 6 other candidates for this year’s Mayoral Elections when your head is so far up David Cameron’s Tory arse.

The majority of Londoners read this newspaper, and I’d hazard a guess that a lot of them have no idea about any of the policies from either of the candidates. Thus you telling the public that Boris is the ‘right choice’ is pretty much a sure-fire dictated vote. Yay for politics once again.

To save myself an essay, I’ll sum up my thoughts in a simple sentence:

I think you’re all bigoted idiots.

Yours sincerely,

Not voting for Boris f*cking Johnson.

1 year ago 2 notes

Fugg off.

Ugg boots.

I JUST DO NOT GET THEM.

Summer - too hot.
Winter - wet feet.
Life - THEY RUIN OUTFITS.

Granted, they feel like little balls of heaven on your feet, but THAT IS NOT THE POINT.

THE POINT IS THAT THEY ARE HIDEOUS AND OVERPRICED.

I HATE THEM.

They should be re-named UGGLY BOOTS and they should be illegal.

1 year ago 2 notes

Going underground

Strap up, kink on.

An Eye for Beauty.

Seeing as everyone’s talking Victoria’s Secret…

Well if you wanted honesty…

BBC Proms, 1st August 2012.

Can Time Travellers Kill Their Younger Selves?

Hanky Panky in London Town

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES

And I thought interactive ads were cool… Now we have the world’s first INVISIBLE ad.

LOVE this team-up between Cadbury’s and Shazam

Is print dead?

Elect-shun

Fugg off.

Going underground

Strap up, kink on.

An Eye for Beauty.

Seeing as everyone’s talking Victoria’s Secret…

Well if you wanted honesty…

BBC Proms, 1st August 2012.

Can Time Travellers Kill Their Younger Selves?

Hanky Panky in London Town

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES

And I thought interactive ads were cool… Now we have the world’s first INVISIBLE ad.

LOVE this team-up between Cadbury’s and Shazam

Is print dead?

Elect-shun

Fugg off.

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