Monday 10th August 2026, 20:30

I cannot even begin to tell you how much I lament, nay, detest the seemingly inexorable rise of generative artificial intelligence. It seems that anyone with half a brain can tell that it is going to be utterly disastrous for humanity, even those who are rushing to create it, yet we are all going along with it because, well, if we don’t create it then the Chinese will, and then we really would be fucked, would we not? Yes, I suppose we would, so crack on building your machines chaps, but I would suggest that, regardless, we’re fucked either way, for reasons so glaringly obvious they barely need mentioning. 

On a macroeconomic scale, we are likely to see devastating job losses and an economic crisis so severe that the very stability of Western liberal democracy is at stake, yet none of this really bothers me too much, since I think we’ve been in the beginning of the end of our democratic societies since the 2008 banking crash anyway, coupled with the introduction of the smartphone and social media – if anything, AI will just hasten our descent into authoritarianism. No, what really upsets me is when you see it on a personal level, when someone you know has so clearly outsourced so much of their thinking to ChatGPT that it feels as though you’re talking to the fucking robot itself. If you haven’t experienced this, go and scroll through LinkedIn for five minutes – it makes me want to pour lava directly into my eyeballs. 

Another effect of AI is that it has almost entirely destroyed my motivation to write. I mean, what is the point of writing anything when Gemini can regurgitate something similar in mere seconds? Well, the point, of course, is that writing is an art, and no matter how good AI gets, it will never be able to make art, for the entire point of art is that it comes from emotion, and although they might be able to mimic it, these soulless fucking robots, they will never be able to feel it. 

In other news, I have resigned from my job and will be moving to London next month. How exciting! It is an idea I have been toying with for years now, but I finally feel ready to make the plunge, both from a financial and an emotional point of view. I won’t bore you with details about the work side of things, but the job I am going into is pretty cool and will look fantastic on my CV, which is nice. I shall be living in a shared house in Balham, which I have already signed and paid for without even viewing it, because of course I have. I did so mainly because I couldn’t be arsed with the faff of trying to find somewhere, and this is through an agency that seem trustworthy and cater to my type (young professionals, I believe they call us), but also mainly because the room has its own outdoor patio because it’s on the lower ground floor, which is incredibly fucking cool. 

Having resigned from my current role, I have, naturally, been doing absolutely fuck all at work for the past couple of weeks, and will likely continue to do fuck all until my last day. I shall spend my work time reading and philosophising, trying to set myself up as well as one can for a big move like this. I have a few drinks and dinners planned to say goodbye to friends before I leave, as well as, of course, 11 nights in Turkey in between leaving my current role and starting my new one. It wasn’t planned, believe it or not (I am filling in for someone who dropped out), but it is perfect timing and seems like a good omen. 

Anyway, I felt like writing a diary this week, so here it is. Today was rather uneventful. I awoke at 06:00, but I didn’t feel like exercising, so I asked Alexa to play Radio 4 and lay in bed cuddling Forest. I eventually got up, showered, and had breakfast, before sitting down in front of my work laptop and doing a few hours of work, which was pretty much the only work I did today. I had crunchy nut for breakfast, and beans & cheese on toast for lunch, and after those initial few hours I spent much of the rest of the day reading magazine articles or doing personal admin, such as updating my direct debits and visiting the sexual health clinic. 

Elia popped in for a cup of tea at around 16:00 and stayed for an hour or so, and, as per usual, we chatted about anything and everything. I like spending time with Elia because she is smart enough to understand me and I don’t have to pretend I have normal emotions, like empathy, for her to like me. She had her tonsils out last week (she insists on calling it a tonsillectomy, which is incredibly pretentious if you ask me), so she is still feeling rather sorry for herself, but I am sure she will be right as rain soon enough, so I inevitably struggle with the empathy one is supposed to provide in these situations – at least I offered her a cup of tea. 

After Elia left, I went on a short run (3 miles), before cooking myself scrambled eggs on toast for my tea, followed by a protein bar and some ice cream, because the gains cannot stop, even when one doesn’t feel like exercising. I then read the first few chapters of The Uncensored Picture of Dorian Gray, which is a newly released version of the book as it was originally written by Wilde himself, before it was edited (heavily redacted) because it was seen as too promiscuous and homoerotic by the British press when it was first published in the 1890s. It was already my favourite book, but rereading it has me falling in love with Wilde’s writing all over again. After that, I dozed off for half an hour, before coming upstairs to write this. 

I am currently in the process of trying to set up a new blog page, upon which this will hopefully be my first post, but it is proving to be easier said than done – for all of our advancements in technology, I still find web design infuriatingly challenging. Luckily, I am currently listening to Waltz No.19 in A Minor, B.150 by Frédéric Chopin, which is keeping me calm. 

Wednesday 12th August 2026, 12:15

I currently find myself sitting at a desk at Mansion House, 33 Queen Street, London, which belongs to the infamous office space company WeWork. I’m not actually working today, however, since I am feeling somewhat under the weather – at least that’s what I told my boss, anyway. I am actually feeling on top of the world, but I get one free day per month at a WeWork facility, so I thought I’d book in to do some work on my new blog page. Priorities, darling – it is of the utmost importance to have the right priorities. 

Let us start with yesterday. I awoke at 05:30, as I usually do, and headed straight to the gym for a push session. I then sat down to do a bit of work, and I did have a few meetings yesterday in fairness. My highlight of the day was when a colleague forwarded me an email that another colleague had sent but seemingly forgotten to CC me into – I am supposed to be leading on this project, so I didn’t appreciate being kept out of the loop, and I took great joy in composing a reply that made him look like a completely useless twat. The colleague who forwarded it to me in the first place later messaged me “Brilliant reply”, which is always a nice ego boost. God, sometimes I really do love the pettiness and irrelevance of office politics, it can be so much fun, as long as you maintain a healthy detachment from it (i.e., as long as you don’t actually care about your job, which I can’t say I do). 

I shut my laptop at 16:30 and headed downstairs to make dinner, which was fried chicken with spicy potato wedges and salad (all homemade, I hasten to add). Carl arrived at around 17:15 and we sat down to eat not long after. Carl announced that it was the nicest fried chicken he’d ever eaten and awarded my cooking a 10/10, so even accounting for a bit of flattery, I was very happy with myself – it was fucking nice, if I dare say so myself. After dinner we had a game of Monopoly, watched a bit of stand up (Micky Flanagan, a legend in my eyes) and played some poker (I am teaching Carl to play and he is quite enjoying it). A rather wholesome evening, wouldn’t you say? I can’t imagine there are many people out there that could enjoy a similar evening with their ex, which is just another reminder of how much better I am than most people. 

I awoke at 05:30 again this morning and jumped straight in the shower, as my oldest and dearest friend Samuel Morris was due to collect me at 06:00. He was late, as usual, but so was I, so I refrained from berating him as I usually would. We drove down to London in his massive, ugly, plain, boring, horrid, disgusting, revolting, abominable white Tesla, which has all the character and personality of my left foot. What I hate about it the most is that it self-steers, but you need to have your hands on the wheel at all times anyway otherwise it beeps at you, so Sam tricks it into thinking he’s holding the wheel by leaning his knee against it so it steers itself without beeping and he can use both hands to play on his phone. I am telling you now, the end of the world is nigh when you’ve got people like him driving around in cars like that. 

We arrived at the hotel at 09:15 (we’re staying at the Hilton, obviously, darling), which was too early to check-in, so we dropped our bags off and went our separate ways. I headed to the train station, whilst Sam shot off in his abhorrent white tank to wherever it was he was going, some client meeting or something – I didn’t really listen whilst he was explaining it to me, as I tend to switch off as soon as he starts talking about his work because it, and by extension he, is quite boring. I got the train into Waterloo and then the tube to Bank, checked in at WeWork, and then almost immediately went back out to meet my friend Lauren. We went to pick up some lunch and wander around, and she gave me the 400 Marlboro Gold she brought back for me from Greece a few weeks ago – it is nice to have a friend who knows me so well. 

I think I am meeting Lauren again for a pint later in Balham with Sam, before Sam and I head to view the house I’ll be moving into next month – terrifying! We’ll then pop down to Wimbledon for dinner and drinks with our old friend Lewis – sometimes, I genuinely wonder how I find the time to have a full-time job. 

Thursday 13th August 2026, 10:35

I am currently lying in bed in room 708 of the DoubleTree by Hilton in Kingston upon Thames, having just made myself a cup of tea and switched on Radio Three (the poetry is entirely accidental). I woke up at around 07:00 this morning because Sam was banging around getting ready for work, but because I am a genius, I’d already emailed my boss at 00:30 this morning to let her know I’d be off again today (I thought that emailing that late would make it look like I was up because I am ill, and not up because I’d been out in Wimbledon getting absolutely rat arsed), so once he’d gone out I rolled over and went back to sleep until 09:00. I then went downstairs for breakfast, but I made the mistake of sitting near a very loud American couple, and they were, inevitably, completely insufferable, so that soured the experience somewhat, although I still enjoyed my bacon and scrambled eggs. 

I left central London at around 14:00 yesterday and returned to the hotel to find Sam outside “working”. How this man ever has the gall to accuse me of slacking is beyond me, I’ve never met someone with such a liberal interpretation of what working is – he was sat there eating lunch on the phone to 3 Mobile because he needs a proof of usage for his insurance claim. I shall enclose a picture of what I found below to evidence my point: 

Of course, the fact I’ve thrown a sicky is entirely beside the point. 

Once we’d showered and got changed we got the train to Balham, met Lauren and headed for a swift pint at The Devonshire, which is to be my new local. It is what I would describe as a “proper” boozer, which is exactly what I am after, having spent the last six years living next to the fucking Hilton Brook, which I think might literally be the worst pub in South Derbyshire. Unfortunately, it is £8 for a pint of Asahi in The Devonshire, which almost made me cry, except Sam was paying, so that softened the blow a little bit. Anyway, we then went to view my new house, which was surprisingly anticlimactic, as it was exactly as it looked in the pictures. Only one of my future housemates was at home and he didn’t even speak to us, so I can’t imagine I’ll be finding my new friends in my housemates.  

We then popped back to The Devonshire for another swift one, where we had a surprisingly interesting conversation about the difference between working in the public and private sectors (I say surprisingly because I can’t remember the last time Sam said anything even remotely interesting), before heading off to get the tube to Wimbledon to meet Lewis. The tube in 32 degree heat was exactly as disgusting as you’d expect it to be, and that is easily the aspect of moving down here that I am least looking forward to. 

We started with a few in The Alexandra at the bottom of the hill, where we mainly discussed Lewis’ upcoming wedding, which I am actually quite looking forward to in all fairness. Lauren then departed us and returned to Clapham, so THE LADS then got the bus up the hill, which I was glad we did as it’s steeper than you think. I can’t remember the names of any more of the pubs we frequented (I can’t really remember much of the night at all), but in the next one we went to, Lewis asked Sam and I to be his groomsmen, which I am thoroughly overjoyed at. I genuinely didn’t expect it, so I feel quite honoured, and I am looking forward to the wedding even more now I am going to be an important part of it (obviously my own importance is always of paramount importance). 

We then moved on to several more pubs, with several more drinks (and tequila shots) to celebrate, and to cut a long story short, we were all quite drunk. At one point we got Lime bikes from one pub to another, which is a bit naughty I know, but it was very fun flying down the hill, shouting abuse at Sam in front of me with the wind rushing through my hair. Mr Morris also won £200 on a fruit machine in the last pub we were in, whilst I lost a tenner, which is an absolute piss take, although it was funny when it paid him out the last £30 entirely in pound coins, which he immediately proceeded to buy another round with (I don’t think the barmaid was best pleased). 

I think it was about midnight when we got back to the hotel, I can’t really remember. I do vaguely remember bullying Eleanor on FaceTime over her preferred name for their as yet unborn baby (it isn’t yet public knowledge, but I’ve made my initial views clear) and then stealing a bag of minstrels and a cookie from Sam. Quite wholesome, really. 

We’re playing golf at 14:30 this afternoon, by which point it is forecast to be 35 degrees, but Sam won’t let me cancel it because he has already paid for it, so I think I’m going to have to kill myself. In fairness, he has paid for it as my “going away” present, so I should probably be a bit more grateful – I will endeavour to reduce my whingeing for the duration of the round by around 30%. That seems more than enough gratitude. 

Friday 14th August 2026, 10:55

I’m having a cup of tea with my Granddad in his living room. Mum is away for the week so I’ve popped in to make sure he is ok, and he was still asleep when I arrived, because why not? I suppose you can do what you want when you’re retired. 

Golfing yesterday afternoon was essentially torture – it was so, so warm, and Sam was so, so annoying. We played at Hampton Court Palace Golf Club, which was pretty exciting, and fortunately there was quite a healthy breeze that did keep up relatively cool. Having a buggy was also an absolute godsend, but the course itself was completely fucked – it looked like there had been a wildfire, which somewhat dimmed the excitement of playing such a unique course. Nonetheless, we had quite a nice and relaxing round, and I beat Sam 5&4, which for those of you uninitiated with the sport, is essentially what you might call “an absolute fucking battering”, or something along those lines. 

Sam decided to return home last night instead of today so he could attend to his “heavily pregnant” girlfriend, which is how he keeps referring to her now. Is that a thing? It sounds quite offensive if you ask me. The car journey back wasn’t too bad, and it was nice to be in the air con for as long as possible, although I am annoyed that he deprived me of another night of sleep in an air conned hotel room. Obviously I understand the need to be there for your heavily pregnant missus, but still, I mean, come on. 

I got home at 21:30 and was met by a very excited Forest, and a slightly less excited Carl, who has been looking after him for me. I caught Carl up on all the exciting things I’d been up to, and Carl caught me up on all the exciting things he’d been up to (none), and then we went to bed, because it was hot and I was tired from my busy schedule. 

I was up at 07:00 this morning and Carl had already gone to work. I put a load of washing on and fed Forest before heading to the gym. I then nipped into Burton to pick a few bits up, before coming here to see Granddad. From here I’m going to meet Elia for a coffee, and then probably pop to Waitrose for a few bits, before Carl returns for dinner & drinks this evening. Honestly, how do I ever find the time to have a job? 

Saturday 15th August 2026, 18:00

I write this as I stand at the bus stop at the end of my road. No, you haven’t read that incorrectly, I am indeed about to get a bus. Believe me, I’m as disgusted as you are, but needs must, and I suppose it makes sense to become accustomed to public transport before I make the move down south. 

I am feeling rather sorry for myself – for reasons only god knows, Carl and I didn’t go to sleep until 04:00 this morning, and we woke up at 07:30, so even with the two hour nap I’ve just had, I am running on fumes. Well, I’m actually running on cigarettes and monster energy, but I suppose it’s the same thing. Despite the horridly late bedtime, I still had a lovely evening with Carlio. We played scrabble, poker, and monopoly, and got through a fair amount of drink. We also talked an incredible amount of shite, which seems to be something of a prerequisite for me when drinking these days, arguably ever more so the older I get. It didn’t feel lovely when we woke up, however, but the bacon, egg and tomatoes on toast I made soon sorted that out. 

I managed half an hour on the treadmill in the gym earlier, and that’s literally about all I’ve managed today, with the rest of it being spent in bed. I’m now on my way to Izzy’s to celebrate her birthday with some drinks – I’ve brought a bottle of wine with me, but I’m not sure how it will go down. I suppose only time will tell!

Sunday 16th August 2026, 09:20 

I am currently lying in bed with Forest, flicking through the Sunday papers (I like to balance my coverage so I tend to read The Sunday Times, The Financial Times and The Guardian) and listening to Radio Three. Since I started living a healthier lifestyle over the past 18 months, I actually don’t really get hangovers any more, which is incredible. I still get the physical aches and tiredness, but in terms of actual hangovers (headaches, feeling sick etc), they are almost nonexistent. I still drink heavily, of course, but I also do sensible things like eat a protein-rich meal before I go out, drink lots of water whilst I’m out, take some paracetamol before I go to bed (and when I inevitably wake up in the night), and so on, so if you couple all that with my wider healthiness (exercising regularly and eating well), my body is clearly in better shape to fight hangovers now than it was before – well done me! 

I was obviously completely full of shit when I said yesterday that I wasn’t sure how well the wine would go down – by half past eight I was walking to Nisa to buy a second bottle of wine, and by eleven o’clock I was drinking some fruity lemon gin that Izzy found in the back of a cupboard because that second bottle had gone too. I was a healthy level of tipsy, but it does genuinely worry me sometimes that two bottles of wine (and a few lemon gins) can only produce a healthy level of tipsy – how much would I need to drink to actually get drunk these days? 

Despite my trepidation, I had a wonderful evening. Chloe was there, and the first thing she said to me was “fuck me, have you had your teeth done?”, which shows how long it had been since we last saw each other (I had my teeth done almost a year ago, and her response at least reassures me that the whiteness is not fading yet). We calculated that it had been eighteen months since we last saw each other, which is just mind boggling really, especially when you consider that I once had the displeasure of seeing this woman almost daily as we grew up together. We caught up about jobs, trips, relationships and all the rest of it, and it was really nice to see her. 

The evening started reasonably sophisticated, and Izzy put on a wonderful spread of food, with some baked potato skins that were so tasty I felt compelled to ask her for the recipe, but as you would expect, it quickly and inevitably descended into drunken singing and dancing – Chloe performed a terrifying cover of Bring Me To Life by Evanescence, complete with the death growls as she screamed “WAKE ME UP”, and Izzy and Lysia rapped the entirety of Queen’s Speech Ep.4 by Lady Leshurr, which was genuinely quite impressive. This kind of thing continued on for the rest of the evening, interspersed with some private conversations, or “PCs” as they’re known, which we in the inbred community are infamous for. As usual, I also did my best Kris Jenner impression: 

Lysia was kind enough to drop me home at around midnight, so I had a big bowl of ice cream and watched some Eight out of Ten Cats does Countdown before retiring to bed. Carl will be arriving shortly as we’re going to the gym together, and then I’m meeting Elia for dinner later, so I will report back this evening. 

Sunday 16th August 2026, 20:30 

As the second week of August draws to a close, I am left to ponder the meaning of life, as one is often wont to do on a Sunday evening. What is it about a Sunday evening that is so uniquely intolerable? Is it the imminent arrival of another week of working drudgery? Is it the final dregs of a hangover flushing its way through your system, forcing you to question every decision you’ve ever made and every word you’ve ever uttered? Is it the sense that you will always be alone, as one can never truly know another, no matter how hard you might try? Or, perhaps, it’s just an overactive mind, finally getting a chance to catch up with itself after yet another whirlwind week. 

Carl didn’t enjoy the gym much (I think he might actually be allergic to exercise), but he did very much enjoy the sauna and the jacuzzi, so I guess you have to take the rough with the smooth. I can’t imagine what it must be like for people whose gym doesn’t provide them with such amenities – I mean, how are you supposed to get through the week without spending some time in a sauna? It is beyond me. In the end I just popped over to Elia’s for a cup of tea and a catch up instead of dinner, which was just as well, as my Mother offered to buy me a Chinese when I got home, which is always an offer one cannot refuse. Elia is well, and we discussed holiday ideas for our birthdays next year, which is awfully exciting. 

So, with that, welcome to my new blog. I hope you enjoyed my first post.