Think I’m wearing jeans? Step away my man. These are denim trousers. Salvage denim trousers. These barbarians are so jumbo, so fucking spacious, they don’t fit the jeans category – not least because there are so many pounds of denim involved, you could knock-up two… Read More
It’s an inspiring image. ‘Bum win’. It’s on a toilet wall at Franks rooftop bar in Peckham. Bum win. Bum win. Someone thought ‘bum win’ so clever, it was actually worth writing on the wall, next to a toilet. I mean, it works, right? Assuming… Read More
I’m a fucking urban warrior me. All day every day… I’m ignoring the lame-ass Reiss sponsored posts in my social feed. I’m rocking multiple episodes of Vera in one sitting. I’m down Asda swagging the ‘rollbacks’ and the ‘price freezes’, loading up on 50p packs… Read More
Films I like, with characters thinking about shit they want to buy. That’s pretty much it. I just thought of it. And I did it. I could suggest this is a commentary on consumerism’s ability to dominate our thinking, at the expense of all other… Read More
Buggies, buggies, buggies, Emily’s playing up, Harry put that down, the buggy won’t fit in the boot, buggies, buggies, fucking buggies. Sometimes, Peckham’s nu-fam-fam vibe gets a bit much. It’s difficult to sit outside, swilling a latte without a fucking Lottie or Georgina barging their… Read More
I’m not sure they’ve got a name. These dangly, glasses laces. I know that up until recently, I’d associate them with Miami beach grannies. Cracked and moist like brownies on the turn. Turbo-Mrs Robinsons, high on Cosmos, boasting Brazilian fannies, looking like they’ve been lacquered… Read More
