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the time machine


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the writing was on the wall

Gobsmacked. Shocked. Distressed. Mortified. Speechless.

Yes, of course we all are, but, in light of our own Brexit decision, should we actually be surprised? Trump is a self-aggrandising, smug, thin-skinned, bullying boor. He is almost everything that almost everyone is saying of him. For the office of President of the US he is inexperienced, unaware, incapable and ill-suited. But we knew that, and deep down, so did most of the people in the US and still they voted him in. The parallels between both outcomes are now lost on no-one: Joe Public voted for change.

will he? won’t he?

A bit like a rolling stone, Bob Dylan, kinda passed me by. Being a child of the 70s, the likes of Marc Bolan & Slade much more caught my ear and the only thing I was likely to protest about was the inverse relationship between the size of curly wurlies and the width of my flares. So, it was with a level of detachment that I observed the recent hoo-hah concerning the awarding of the Nobel Prize in Literature.

taxi! taxi!

As an ex-owner of a recruitment company that often ‘employed’ over 125 freelance IT contractors I fully appreciate I’m on thin-ice with regards to the recent landmark decision made in respect of gig-economy’s golden-boy, Uber. By ruling in favour of the individual drivers, the employment tribunal is quite rightly questioning Uber’s protestations that their drivers are not grafting directly for the firm, but thriving entrepreneurs in their own right and consequently, working for themselves. Complete twaddle.

coming to a small screen near you

Look around you, right now. You may be sat at your desk, slouched on the couch, or en-route to somewhere special but the chances are you’re probably ‘consuming content’ on your smart phone, tablet or some such device. And those around you are probably at it as well. On my own daily grind I very rarely see anyone struggling with a broadsheet or flicking through a red-top any longer as the only papers commuters appear to read are The Metro in the morning and The Standard in the evening. The common denominator is they’re both free.

down to the wire

Two bitterly opposed combatants. Their rivalry played out in front of a huge television audience. An outcome too close to call. Both wealthy beyond the imagination of their followers. Winning is all that matters. One cool, calm & collected. The other rattled, emotional and shooting from the hip. One claiming the system is rigged against him and that even his own team are sabotaging his campaign. The other silently taking the moral high-ground. The underdog, snubbing one press conference after another and resorting to social media to make his ‘disrespected’ point. Perhaps the elderly Bernie holds the key?

ready for take-off

Back in the day when I used to pay people to pay attention to me, I took decisions. Big decisions. Any decision. Every decision. This is where we’re going. This is how we’re going to get there. Saddle-up, follow me. My way or the highway. I was very pro-decision and any decision was a good decision. And every decision was the right decision. Until, the post-Nasdaq crash of 2003 when our market bid au-revoir and retreated back to the US. Then it was more a case of, J’sus Christ, I’m going to have to start making the right decisions.

cupid’s arrow

We all know what it’s like at the end of a long-term relationship, you need time and distance. Without these, all you recall are the bitter silences, the rancorous arguments, perceived shortcomings and disappointing failings. Only with a little time and distance will you be able to revisit the promise and expectation that you shared, the excitement of innocent goals, and the blind faith that this was it, this truly was what it was always meant to be.

splash the cash

I don’t often read fiction. Fact is my bag and the more black & white the better. Consequently, it was a bit of a departure that on my recent jaunt to the US I slipped a pulpy ‘dick-lit’ paperback into my hand-luggage, and a right rollickingly good read it proved to be. For the record, it was the first of Lee Child’s Jack Reacher novels and without giving the game away too much it’s about counterfeiting. And, surprise-surprise, the first thing I get handed upon my return, is one of the new ‘Lady-Godiva’s’, that I knew nothing about, and menacingly interrogated the offending barista.

the purge

I’ve got to admit I did quite enjoy the film, The Purge, as it was an intriguing extension/end-game to an imaginary, increasingly polarised society – both violent & religious in equal measure – and highlighted how accepting, or at least acquiescent, a whole society can be. But it was a film, it was fiction and it would never actually happen. Would it? Think again. It’s happening right here, right now. Think Stalin, Pol Pot, Hitler, Chairman Mao and now think Rodrigo Duterte, newly elected President of the Philippines.

love & hate

I’ve always had an intense relationship with the telephone. It was an epiphany of Damascene proportions when I realised that, as a young & naïve telesales guy, I could indeed be tall, dark & handsome on the phone, and some well-chosen words really could get me anywhere. Well, at least through to the hiring manager. The phone represented a symbol of opportunity, it was going to get me to where I wanted to be, and, as such, you had more chance of seeing the Statue of Liberty without her torch than me without a phone glued to my ear.

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