I started this blog in 2015 to occasionally rant, reflect, and share tragic fiction that would get me stopped in public places by acquaintances keen to console me on the arseholery that seemed to be my personal life. “It’s fiction!” I’d sing, trying to convince myself it wasn’t startlingly close to real life events, where I had made some atrocious life choices, and given more than a few fucktards free reign over my peace of mind. Perhaps fiction was the wrong word. Hyperbole?

Six years ago I quit my job, was living off my tax rebate (which lasted all of a week). It was a time rife with odd sexual encounters, terrible Tinder dates, and existential angst, as I tried to figure out how I could do what I loved (writing and telling stories), and still make rent. Fast forward to 2020, a global pandemic, zero dating and a solid career as a Senior Games Writer. A lot has changed. Now instead of wrangling horny teenagers into classrooms where I’d try to get them to appreciate Shakespeare, or analyse the mise-en-scène in The Fall, I now spend my days researching things that will ensure I’m on every government watchlist as I try to figure out how best to antagonise a 42 year old ‘Lady Detective’. Don’t worry. There’s always the third act reprieve.

Lockdown has brought me back to this blog: a testimony to the festering mass of urban decay that was my life. So enjoy the occasional uncomfortable romance, incessant ranting and hungover reflection that got me through it all. Like, share, lol. I may start ranting again.