Off to see À bout de souffle at Cines Méliès, where you get to see old rubbish for next to nothing in the company of vaguely camp Barcelona. Last night was–by mistake–Persona by Ingmar Bergman, which is basically slow and boring Lon Chaney for people who are aware they’re too smart for the real thing. [...]

Some guys have asked if I want to buy a shooting licence for a village up in the hills. No way. (Also: I’ve got a rough idea what to do with handguns, but I’d wreak havoc with the kind of weapons these folks use, particularly in a dark forest full of men full of brandy.)

Update here of Myles na Gopaleen’s book-reading and annotation service. It’s basically a premium version of what blog spammers already do.

I was going to post about the Davey Paxman engine in Monzón, but Paul Adkinson beat me to it.

When I went back to live in Ingerland a few years ago, it took a month before I felt I knew what was going on in meetings where people used new expressions like “the dog’s bollocks” and “a load of arse”. This time I’m preparing my trip and today I discovered that England spin bowler [...]

Jesus was the door, but now we all are. (Gizmodo > Tenser, said the Tensor)