It’s pissing down. Like that time when you’d been out for too long, drank too many lattes and, getting home, crashed through the house clumsily, dropping keys and bags and stuff onto the hard wood floor as you ran. Eventually, exploding into the toilet, you pissed like a firehose, strong enough to break the porcelain, KEEP READING
A woman doing her chores realises that she’s in Hell. And starts to wonder how come nobody else has noticed that they are too.
In this essay on Clive James, I reflect on his influence and the fact that one of the greatest things he’s ever given us is his time.