Note: A sequel to the piece I wrote the day before A Sermon at the Funeral of Hope. Written 5 days before the Brexit vote when there was still hope. A better day. A haircut in Splash. I love this place for being a melting pot of cultures and sexual preferences in which the dominant language is ESL (English as a Second Language). Last time I was there the staff, whilst busy cutting hair, were also trying to work out how to say ‘Big Cock’ in as many languages as possible. C

Note: Written a few days after the massacre at Pulse Nightclub, Orlando and the morning after dedicated grass roots politician, Jo Cox was stabbed to death while doing her job. I’m feeling a bit sick. I’m also angry, confused and sad. Which is all rather new to me. I’m usually quite a cheery little chap, having had my darker emotions removed along with my tonsils aged seven. I got ice cream But this week, this bloody week, I don’t see the glass as half full. I don’t even see