LBC better than the BBC

I've been tuning in to LBC radio, catching James O'Brien's show. Now, I don't know the bloke, and I'm quite new to this station. I've tried a few other presenters, but Nick Ferrari's style didn't quite click with me. It seemed a bit off, not making much sense. I prefer a more balanced approach, you … Continue reading LBC better than the BBC →

Shadows of Insight

In a world where we're all wrapped up in fancy curtains of perception, where things that don't quite fit together do a comical dance of absurdity, us folks are just trying to figure out this puzzling thing called life.Contemplating the intricacies of existence is a bit like painting on a canvas, each brushstroke a work … Continue reading Shadows of Insight →

Whims of Existence

Does it dance among the walls and corridors, making a symphony of sounds?Is it the old chap in the boulevard asking for some food?Ah, the madman, sharing his thoughts on life's quirks, like shouting at the wind.Does it maybe provoke strong objections from the lips of young ones who struggle with the truth?Or could it … Continue reading Whims of Existence →

Eons Lost, Wisdom Found

In eras of yore, a time so ancient that it precedes even the notion of prehistory, a captivating assembly of Homo sapiens graced the stage. These captivating creatures exhibited an uncanny mastery over stones, fashioning the terrestrial realm into their veritable oyster. Regrettably, when it came to matters celestial, they were akin to perplexed penguins … Continue reading Eons Lost, Wisdom Found →

Nocturnal Whispers Unleashed

In the dead of night, the eerie hush that suddenly descends upon the canine chorus is an intriguing spectacle. This isn't brought about by a loud or imposing presence, but rather by something subtle, like a faint whisper in a dream. It's as if a gentle ghost fixes its gaze on your soul. This peculiar … Continue reading Nocturnal Whispers Unleashed →

My mate Marmite

This wasn't quite an interview, more like a chat on a park bench with a chap I knew from way back when. Let's call him Mort Grafton, for that's his name. He resides in the woods and only ventures into civilization when his biscuit supply dwindles. In a charming and imaginative chat, I had the … Continue reading My mate Marmite →