Loyalty Is Dead. Indifference Is Better.

        If you were so inclined as to rummage through my house, you'd think I was actually about eleventy-two different people. I'm typing on my Macbook with my eye-fone next to me, yet I don't own those silly non-prescription glasses that do nothing for your vision, and exist entirely to make you look more of a geek than if you tried referencing Pokemon in a pick-up line. In addition to the Apple products, an Xbox lives under my TV because it wasn't £500, or designed with "cutesy" in mind. You'll find I used to own a Land-Rover Discovery, yet I have not murdered anyone. The volume of Tesco's bags I have in one of those silly carrier-bag holders is merely because Tesco's is closest, and I am far too lazy to drive another 10 minutes to Morrison's, rather than being impressed by any suggestion of a "price promise" or because Terry Wogan used to tell me that "Every Little Helps"; a slogan that makes absolutely no sense from people who are trying to sell me broccoli and Smarties. Also, I am frequently seen in public wearing a pair of Converse shoes. Not because I'm from the "bad side of town" in 1970's New York, not because I own a skateboard and sum everything up as "totally", but because my lordy lord they are comfy.

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After Defeating The iArgonauts, My Phone Is Now Here!

Imagine the trickiest thing you had to do? The most baffling task in the world ever? Maybe it's all the guy readers out there, and it's that awkward and shaming moment when you must surrender your will and dignity to a stranger, and stop and ask directions? Maybe it's that awkward moment when you know a really long and impressive word, just not when you're trying to use it in a sentence? All you can do is sit there and say "oh-god-I-know-this-I-know-this". Maybe you've ended up at a school reunion, and you're trying to think of a good reason why you're not president of the world yet? I mean, you'll get round to it eventually, only you have other made-up projects in the way. All very difficult things. However, I've managed to claim victory over a challenge that fate itself seemed doggedly determined to thwart me at every turn, to defeat me with awkward timing, and to lure me into a false sense of security. Yes, finally I can say: I've received my eye-fone!

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Why Some People Will Believe Anything, Because "Someone" Told Them.

Last week, Mrs Max and I found ourselves in Tesco. Nothing out of the ordinary as, just like everyone else, our Sunday was filled with the urge to swing by the nearest zombie holding-pen that we call supermarkets to fill a trolley with some stuff that we might be able to combine into something resembling a meal, and most stuff we really fancy at that time. This is why it isn't a good idea for people to go food shopping when they're hungry as apparently, you will end up with a trolley-full of Smarties. At least, I would be. However I also wouldn't be, as there are only a tiny number of things that I refuse to try and get used to: taking a bus being high up the list, but one of them is weekend supermarket shopping. I can't stand any supermarket when they're busy; why does the weekend turn the shoppers into the living dead? I mean, if I have a trolley and I want to take my time deciding which brand of Wine Gums I can most easily convince Mrs Max are entirely suitable for a Shepherds Pie, I will dump my trolley out of everyone's way. This is because I'm not five years old and can tell that this will only serve to annoy everyone else. So when everyone else seems quite content with just abandoning theirs in the aisle, it starts to make me want to scream. So, to avoid the frustration, I am simply left near the entrance in the magazine aisle, which I have renamed "The Man Creche". I wait. I read Top Gear or whatever, and am collected once the milk and Tiger Bread have been bought.

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