Fishing in the Rivers of Life

Category: Rivers of Life

  • A Little Poem on the Way to the Optician

    Here is a little poem I wrote on the bus on my way to see the optician — a homage to the late, great Spike Milligan. Mind you, he’d probably say, if I can see the optician, why am I bothering to go? Hello,I’m a crow,Now I said it,It’s time to go,Time does flyAnd so…

  • Schrödinger’s AI

    Recently, on the day of Charlie Kirk’s funeral, I conducted my own unintentional yet revealing experiment that exposed critical flaws in how AI systems handle information. When the AI model Claude went Colonel Kurtz, taking inspiration from bomb 20 from Dark Star, it accused me of fabricating evidence, spreading fake news and having a full-blown…

  • Who Pays The Ferryman

    There is no such thing as a free lunch, just as there is no such thing as free speech; it all comes at a cost. The real question is who pays the ferryman. And the price of the trip. Let’s take social media, as we all know. Still, few are prepared to admit, it’s basically…

  • I’m alright, Jack

    Don’t start pissing in my pocket and try to tell me it’s raining. And believe me, you don’t have to be called Rover to hear a dog whistle. The impromptu rash of flying of the Union flag across the country is not some benign outpouring of spontaneous national pride. It’s a malignant signal working at…

  • The New Dark Satanic Mills

    Being a man who knows more than a little of guns, policing, and common sense, had I been reporting the arrest of Graham Linehan, I would have been accused of missing the point. But that is the point. The fact that he was arrested by a number of armed officers would have passed me by,…

  • Trump and Circumstance

    If you have been watching the events of the last few days unfold, I think you must agree, no one does ceremony like the British. Pointless precision and uniform uniformity coupled with bulled, super shiny, mirror finish, Boots, Ankle, General Service, seem to be our nation’s superpower now that we are no longer a superpower.…

  • In God We Trust

    There is a delicious irony in that, as the shells rained down on the battlefield, you could find both sides of the conflict cowering in foxholes, praying for salvation to the same deity. Each side absolutely convinced that God was on their side. So much so that the Germans even had “Gott mit uns” inscribed…

  • What’s in Pandora’s Box

    If only we could capture anger and use it as fuel, for lately there seems to be no shortage of the stuff. It and its twin hate seem to be at the heart of the reactor as social media rages away to become a perpetual motion machine that not only violates the law of conservation…

  • Selfish Eyes

    Perhaps I no longer know who I am, and why the sudden revelation, you may well ask. Perhaps for far too long, I have considered what I do so intrinsically ephemeral I feel it has no value when it does not clear my high bar. One that I so rarely reach. I assume, like all…

  • Farage,The Joker’s on Us

    Uneasy Déjà VuI have an unpleasant feeling of déjà vu washing over me, and rather like seasickness, a bad curry or a good laxative, it’s making me feel rather queasy. It’s the same kind of feeling as having an endowment mortgage coming to term, around the time as all around you, the financial world burns.…

  • Hang On

    Hang on, mate,I’m old, not obsolete,Still rather nifty,Still on my feet. I’m nearer fifty than seventy,Yet you’re convincedI’m running on empty. Last year’s model,That I may be,Yet there is no shortage ofAbility. Give me a chance,Still, I can danceAnd carry a tune,Yet you want to banish meFrom the workroom. When all is told,Do I make…

  • Abnormal Service has been resumed.

    Hopefully, you have noticed that things on the blogging front have been a bit quiet for the last three months. If you haven’t, hello. So what caused radio silence for a quarter of a year? Was I kidnapped by aliens? Was I held against my will and forced to knit a tartan scarf? That hardy…

  • Snail Sorbet

    I’m never happier than when I’m writing, except when I can’t think of what to write. When I’m in full flow, time disappears, my anxiety melts away, aches and pains evaporate, and I forget about all that ails me. It’s a perfect mental sorbet that seems to cleanse the sensory palate. Sometimes, words pour out…

  • You never know…

    A Missing Appreciation I know nothing of planning. Or what fellow Londoners think. But I do know this: you never truly appreciate something until it’s too late. Until it’s gone. Still, the world doesn’t revolve around me or my opinions, so perhaps it doesn’t matter all that much. I’m sure plenty of people will think…

  • Who Rained on Donald’s Parade?

    The Pleasure of Company While I make no secret of my disdain for X, today it has been a source of unbridled pleasure, with bonus points as I see my thoughts are not rattling around all alone. OK, I know what that says about great minds, and the full quote puts it into perspective. However,…