World Cup 2026 is a go! The world gathers in celebration of its greatest sport, nation joining with nation in a spirit of unity, community and mutual understanding. You know, of course, that your Soaraway Swipe is the place for all the goss, chat and hot takes around our national obsession and hahahahahaha who am I kidding?
I will not yuk on another person’s yum, but holy craparoni this stuff gets tiresome. It’s not as if we’re short on footbollocks for the rest of the year without it taking over the TV schedules and practically every aspect of our lives for the fallow six weeks when you’d like to hope for a bit of peace and quiet from the constant tribal honkathon.
No chance. The pubs will be unbearable. The telly will be unwatchable. Is it coincidence that C and I are abandoning ship for a bit and retreating to a shepherd’s hut in a field next week? No, Readership, it is not. I urge you, if you find the balls as interminable and dull as we do, to find your own moment of calm away from it all. I’m sure the Tour de France is on somewhere. Let’s not talk about Wimbledon, that’s a whole other circle of hell.
Gods, I miss the Olympics.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Kill Six Billion Demons by Tom Parkinson-Morgan. Thanks to my Reading Library membership, which hooks into services like Libby and ComicsPlus, I’ve been binging on Ninth Art loveliness. Kill Six Billion Demons is a real treat—a lunatic vision-quest across a universe of infinite strangeness. Parkinson-Morgan does not believe in restraint, cramming his panels full of colour, detail and Easter eggs. This is one of many double-page spreads, just to show you the sort of scale he’s working on.
Dense, right? K6MD rewards patience and a slow reading pace, the better to take in everything he’s hosepiping at you. It’s a lot, and not for everyone. But I’m taking my time and thoroughly enjoying it.
Rob is watching…
Don’t have nightmares, now. And whatever you do, don’t feed the ducks.
Rob is listening…
To Rush, back on tour for the fiftieth (ugh yes I know me too) anniversary. How do you replace the late and very much missed Neil Peart, a notoriously technical, thoughtful and musical drummer, loved and admired by all? Well, you can’t. But you can find the very best person available to bring the thunder. Anika Nilles, ferociously talented and utterly indomitable, spent a year learning Neil’s parts.
And she’s absolutely killing it. Seriously, check this out. The beat is in very good hands.
Rob is eating…
Chunks of hake and salmon coated in a seasoned flour, then a mix of yoghurt and beaten egg, and finally breadcrumbs heavily dosed with black and white sesame seeds. Baked for 20 minutes, served with a pouch of Aldi’s Spanish-style grains (a tomatoey mix of rices and spices, ready in three minutes, cheap, filling, yummy and a real boon to the busy cook) alongside a tartare-adjacent sauce, sharp enough to cut through the richness. Proper Friday fishiness. Glass of picpoul on the side? Don’t mind if I do!
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
This is great, taking a simple aspect of modern life and giving it the warm scrutiny it absolutely deserves. If you’ve ever put up something like this congratulations, you’re a designer.
Ed Zitron is a clear voice of sanity amidst all the AI boosterism, focusing on the most important aspect of the whole debacle—where the money is coming from. He’s also very funny. I liked this comparison of machine learning to a particularly ludicrous bit of 90s movie foolishness.
A look at the people building the next phase of technological advancement from one of the invisible folk who make them breakfast. This is hilarious and depressing all at once, and proves one thing. Nothing has changed in the corporate world, however much we try to pretend otherwise.
The Future Is Being Built By People Who Do Not Wash Their Hands
Ted Chiang, the master of modern SF, points a withering and forensic gaze on AI, and burns away the bullshit in one cleansing blast of holy flame. So, so, good.
Right, enough of that nonsense. Let’s talk comics again. More specifically, how one of the greatest moments in 70s comics was an advert for a basketball brand. I remember seeing this regularly in my stack of second-hand Marvels and DCs, five for a pound in the local second-hand bookshops I frequented (so it was then, as it is now). The craft and draftsmanship still stand out, and shows how Comics Do It Best, even when it comes to sports advertising.
One from Vittles. An anonymous writer talks about their time in AA, and how the hot drinks and biscuit choices made all the difference to lives lived one day at a time, one choice at a time. This also happens to be very British. Tea can save lives.
Serving Biscuits In God’s Kitchen
OOH, this is nice. Animated schematic breakdowns of objects with highly satisfying deployment mechanisms. I’ll say no more. Go have a look. Prepare to lose some time.
My attitude to horror is ambivalent these days. As a writer, it remains a core obsession. As a consumer, less so. Jump scares and tension builds don’t provide the dopamine rush they once did. However, the genre remains incredibly important to me, and this piece by Jessica Woodbury for Darker Times helps explain why. Solid, thoughtful stuff.
There is a ban on chants and songs in the stadia hosting the World Cup this summer—at least the American ones. How the authorities plan to enforce that is simply beyond me. The cheeky scamps who will haunt the terraces over the next six weeks have of course been busy coming up with some real gems. I laughed out loud at the pungent invention on show here.
A little bit on the creative act. When in doubt, make crap, but whatever you do, keep making it.
In conclusion.
I’m gonna Outro with The O’Jays from 1974, making a point I’m sure the AI hucksters and FIFA cartel would completely agree with. Me, I’m just here to groove with the coolest bass player of all time. Man, that yellow pops.
See you in seven, fellow travellers.
EXCUSES AND HALF TRUTHS 