Our Crack Little Crack
When you realise the propensity of sentences beginning with when that have no real consequences.
Nothing. The answer is nothing.
Over the last few weeks, Little Crack has heard this vacuous sentiment expressed approximately 17,000 times everywhere from Eldon Square to our kitchen.
It can seem as though life is one terminally extended finger-scroll of doom, death and despair.
Little Crack’s fridge stopped working
Last week the seal on Little Crack’s fridge stopped working. As a source of low-lying, gently simmering anxiety that never quite ceases, a broken fridge seal is hard to beat.
Shedding the trappings of youth
Little Crack expected ageing to be like growing up; a gentle slope carrying us gradually to the next stage.
From a too-hot-to-hold wine glass.
Swigging pre-mulled wine from a too-hot-to-hold wine glass on what can only be described as a balmy bonfire night last week, Little Crack thought ‘God. This is shit.’
It's LEFT at the lights
Little Crack, the adult child of divorced liberals, has more late middle-age surrogate parents than you could shake a recently amended will at.
Little Crack, approaching 40 and having managed to avoid parenthood, has cultivated the sort of social life that sprawls like clematis, falling over its own feet and infringin...
Leaving the door ajar
As a lover of neither making an effort or being frightened, Little Crack doesn’t relish Halloween.
Sylvanian Families Mother Fox’s Bum
A few weeks ago human foghorn Brian Blessed claimed that in the 1960s, he hijacked someone’s labour, biting heartily through the umbilical cord as a pair of sterilised kitchen...
Chlorinated Smell of Jacket Potatoes
Since facing redundancy with joyful mania earlier this year, Little Crack has manipulated and lied.
Little Crack is fast becoming an adult person who has spent an inordinate, a notable, even an admirable, amount of time living alone.
When the prime minister can put his prick in a pig and you’re not surprised, you have to be surprised that this is now where we’re at.