I’ve had an incredible week since I spoke from the heart, some would say via my arse, on Paxman. I’ve had slaps on the back, fist bumps, cheers and hugs while out and about, cock-eyed offers of political power from well intentioned chancers and some good ol’ fashioned character assassinations in the papers.
When I was asked to edit an issue of the New Statesman I said yes because it was a beautiful woman asking me. I chose the subject of revolution because the New Statesman is a political magazine and imagining the overthrow of the current political system is the only way I can be enthused about politics.
Me and several of my outsider (by which I mean they live outside) chums here endorse my World Tour, Messiah Complex.
Doug is a gentle, thoughtful man who loves hair metal.
JC is a dreamer. I think he likes to drink.
Chris, in a more ordered society would be a Shaman on the periphery of the village fed by the rest of is in exchange for his vision quest data. He sees the world differently. He seems keen to sell a stress free chess set. I don’t know what that means.