Monday, 30 November 2009

Wednesday, 25 November 2009


Like the oppressive forces of dictatorships in far away countries that are impossible to relate to, men's deodorant overpowers the male armpit gland with as much subtlety as a tank in Tienanmen Square.

I just can't relate to the overpowering smell that overdress' many a underarm male hair follicle. They are the smells of competitive sport, the aggressive whiffs of predatory pursuit and confidence that I, obviously, am never really going to be atune to.

Memories of sitting in the changing room after being picked last, having been stuck in goal with mud encrusted up to my hairless ball sack while my physically superior classmates sprayed thick litres of this juice on their genitalia instead of showering - because 'they weren't a poofter!' - are obviously ones that I cherish highly (Lynx was the choice then - having a new flavour of Lynx, say Africa, was like having Nike's or something).

So a few years ago, to appease my inferior masculine frame, I decided women's deodorant was the way forward (using men's deodorant now would be like using a whole can of weedkiller on a single blade of grass).

I'm a comforting smell, a bit like laundry.

Thursday, 5 November 2009

So I went to New York for Halloween. It was good and hectic. Lots of food was eaten, lots of crap, weak American beer drunk. Saw Pissed Jeans and nearly did the same to my denims once or twice.

Seriously though, the food is so much better than it is over here if you're a veggie like me. It's embarrassing.

Gutted I didn't make it to Coney Island though.

Here are some pictures taken by Mr J Kontos.