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I’ve done it again. I’ve gone and riled myself up, which is increasingly easy to do these days, what with Putin and the Russians leading the free world under the guise of that wig-wearing orangutan Trump, who, as it turns out, can rather impressively speak three differ...

Phoebe's got to the stage where she is talking and talking and talking. She is talking so much. Arguably, she's talking too much. No, I'm kidding. It's incredible. She says stuff to me and mummy and all we can do is look at each other in mild shell shock. They're thing...

I guess I should start this blog with an admittance: I'm should not be allowed to book any more flights, to anywhere, probably ever.

Why?

Well, because without checking anything, we woke up on Friday morning, pushed on through our stonking Red Hot Chilli Peppers hangover...

December 3, 2016

My Darling Phoebe,

It's hard knowing how to start this letter to you because I want it to be perfect. I once though being a good writer meant you could wiggle your way out of parking tickets and speeding fines, but not anymore. Now I know it is being able to speak from...

I had an idea not so long ago; a thought that kept niggling away at the deepest part of my brain. What if I wrote a blog that told #thetruth? Instead of dramatising my reality, for whatever reasons, what if I told the unadulterated truth?

Well, I'm o...

Brash. Confident. Handsome. Charismatic. Are all things that can be said of William as a person, especially upon first meeting him. With an experimental attitude of "Caution to the wind." You can't help but be drawn in. The feature was very much inspired by William. As...

March 26, 2016

Dear Me,

This is a first.

Instead of writing about things that bother me that maybe-definitely shouldn’t bother me, things like Justin Bieber getting bad press or bankers getting gazillion dollar bonuses for overspending other peoples money or politicians lying or Kim Ka...

January 11, 2016

Tears gently roll down my cheeks as I write this, my vision blurred - so blurred it's as if I'm driving through a monsoon with broken wipers. Bowie, before you disappear behind the pearly gates and take rock n roll to heaven, I wanted to say thank you. I'm not sure whe...

Phoebe Isla, you're 1.

Happy Birthday sweetheart; the happiest, most loving, cheeky little monkey the world has ever known - and I hope you always are.

My love for you is immeasurable, I love you with all of me. When you smile your whole face scrunches around your button...

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As a shameless opportunist, I'm going to use this footer area to remind you that I am a NUMBER 1 BEST-SELLING author, which means  you should probably go and buy my books, or my super-duper-rubbish artwork, or at least very least come back every 6 months to make all this sort of worthwhile. (I realise this totally contradicts the self-deprecating message of my website, but my imaginary agent said I should put it down as an afterthought. So I have. Happy now imaginary agent?)