Some weeks ago I promised you, dear PooterGeekers, that I would be telling you what I planned to do with my life now that the Medical Research Council no longer has need of my services. Those of you who come here for the trouser jokes can stop reading now. The rest of you might be […]
Read MoreThere are about fifty seats at the greasy spoon at which I, ahem, partake of brunch of a Saturday morning. When I am there I always dine in the No Smoking Area. This consists in its entirety of my two-seat corner table, the only one with a “No Smoking” sign on it.
Read MoreWhen I was in my mid teens, one of my sister’s (underage) friends snuck into my bedroom and saw me jerking off. Years later, when visiting from Oxford, I was approached in the street by two girls I didn’t recognize. They asked me if I was The One Who Masturbated. Yes, PooterGeekers, I am possibly […]
Read MoreWhen I was 21 and a singer in a band I dreamt that in my thirties I would be being besieged by feisty female teenage music fans. Ha.
Read MoreI’m still feeling rough so, even if there were a laboratory for me to go to (which there isn’t because it’s been shut down), I wouldn’t be there anyway. You lot are paying my wages until September though. So, if any of you have recently sequenced a gene and would like me to predict the […]
Read MoreWhen I was a boy and my written German was quite good, I used to have a pen-pal in East Berlin, a young soldier. We would scribble symbols over the seals of our letters to each other, hoping that we’d be able to tell if the authorities had opened our correspondence. Today I was completely […]
Read MoreIt’s half-past one in the morning and opposite my bedroom there’s a house full of drunk Mediterranean language students with MTV accents singing Oasis’s Wonderwall out of tune.
Read MoreLately I have promised various people various things, including a hugely superfluous full-length post on PooterGeek about the recent British bombings. I must apologise to those I have so far disappointed. Tony Blair in particular keeps phoning me, hoping that I will be able to provide him with some choice phrases. Sorry, Tone. I have […]
Read MoreLance Armstrong has lost one testicle and parts of his brain to cancer. Despite this he seems likely to win his seventh consecutive Tour de France, a competition widely considered to be the greatest test of endurance in modern sport. Meanwhile his girlfriend has been in the studio complaining to Chrissie Hynde about how difficult […]
Read MoreOne of the witnesses to the police shooting of the suspected bomber on Friday saw wires sticking out of the man’s coat. Everyone saw “New York” on an alleged bomber’s sweatshirt.
Read MoreYes, I’m “back”. I had planned a quiet month of twice-a-week posting before announcing a possible return to daily Geeking, but Norm and Tim and the terrorists saw to it that I couldn’t slip into the room quietly like a student late for a lecture. The traffic here has been ridiculously high over the past […]
Read MoreI made a flip suggestion to some of my bloodthirsty friends yesterday. Hak polished it up into a work of art.
Read MoreThe breadth and depth of Noam Chomsky’s wrongness must be marvelled at. Within and without his professed area of expertise he is so skilled a sponsor of untruth that, in some future world, whole virtual shelves will be devoted to studies of how it happened that so many of his peers were willing to stir […]
Read MoreBLAIR HAS HOSPITAL TREATMENT AFTER PUTTING BACK INTO NO 10 WORKOUT Michael White, political editor Friday May 20, 2005 The Guardian Tony Blair was taken to hospital last night to receive treatment for a slipped disc suffered while working out in the gym in his Downing Street flat. That’s very convenient for a typical bloody […]
Read MoreThe Web is full of ordinary people from all over the planet whittering on about whatever they want to. Other people all over the planet can read their whitterings for next to nothing. Add a bit of peer review and you have a wonderful meritocracy of whittering. This account of West Bromwich Albion escaping relegation, […]
Read MoreI still haven’t forgiven my parents for not hiring The Three Degrees to perform at my confirmation. This the kind of scar Philip Green’s boy will never have to bear.
Read MoreOrphan Jack has grown up knowing only the strict but kindly guardianship of Father Anthony, the devout head of the Westminster County Home for Lost Boys. By careful budgeting, Jack’s dour Uncle Gordon has managed to pay for Jack’s care during the eight years since his father disappeared. But now Jack is coming of age […]
Read MoreVia Panchromatica comes this lovely little tale of the reach of the Web. As he says, you have to read through the comments of this flickr picture for the delightful coincidence(s).
Read MoreStephen K of God Save The Queen seems to think that his acquiring a life is some kind of excuse for retiring from ‘Blogging. Congratulations on getting married, yer bastard. Ah well, Scott’s back at The Daily Ablution, though he still hasn’t put a link to PooterGeek on his site, despite my (admittedly rude) email […]
Read MoreIf you want him to marry you before you have children and he won’t do it, bin him. If you don’t want to have children and she won’t take contraception seriously, bin her. An affair may be entered into lightly; parenthood should not. Whatever the tabloid arithmetic of relationships claims, there are some things more […]
Read MoreOne day I must buy my dad and Norm a couple of Test match tickets, drop them off at the entrance to Old Trafford, and leave them to spend the day swapping this kind of gripe. [I know you didn’t mention it dad, but yes, I did notice that I had used “licence” as a […]
Read MoreI am back from some more letterbox stuffing. The best house sign I read this evening was: “The velociraptors housed behind this door have only been trained to disembowel callers wearing blue rosettes“ Despite this kind of heartening sight, the activists here are nervy. Doing my rounds, I bumped into two—both County Council candidates—and I […]
Read MoreI am just back from Auriol‘s wonderful wedding in Wales and have a stinking cold so there probably won’t be anything new to read at PooterGeek until this evening at least. If any of the people involved in the celebrations or in getting me home afterwards are reading this, thank you!
Read MoreI am carrying a red clipboard and wearing a Labour Party sticker on my raincoat (John Rocha, dahling). The four of us have each been canvassing in a ward which will remain anonymous for the rest of this post. We flit from door to door. We pass each other in the cluster of streets that […]
Read MoreKeen Spanish speaker Brian emailed with a pretty direct translation of the dustbin message: “Bastard rubbish collector, put the rubbish into the (f*****g) lorry and work like some kind of whore’s life” …or similar. It could be Portuguese though. I don’t recognise a couple of the words. I’ll get working on it! He did (though […]
Read MoreI met snappy Hak yesterday in London. She was only really snappy when, for example, a mad Islingtonian bint all but knocked her down, dashing across Upper Street to hail a taxi; otherwise she was a charmer. We had a nice lunch; discussed politics, psychiatry, and property; and fondled the shiny things in the Tottenham […]
Read MoreHi, Olivia. It’s Damian here. Er, I was wondering if you might be free for lunch on Thursday. We could, um, discuss… “…Sex”? It’s always the same with you professional bachelors, isn’t it? “There’s no ‘I’ in “commitment”—that’s your motto. You think you can breeze in with a pack-of-three and breeze out with bloody fibres […]
Read MoreI have to apologise to people expecting reports from the Labour canvassing frontline here. This evening I set off to join our candidate on the streets and got completely lost on the way to the rendezvous point. I promise to tell all when I finally get out there and meet the voters, the bastards. At […]
Read MoreThe menswear floor of the Cambridge Grafton branch of Next: Leasey and I are practising low-stress tag team male/female shopping, a mode of consumption made possible by mobile phone technology. At last an end to blokes idling morosely in Monsoon while the women they are browsing with compare a succession of near identical burgundy velvet […]
Read MoreThere has been a (false) fire alarm at the Genome Campus. Tens of its employees are standing outside in chilly spring rain and wind. I am joined by my boss’s boss and the senior colleague with whom he is temporarily sharing his office. My boss’s boss turns to his officemate: “Have you read Damian’s ‘Blog?” […]
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