Author: Rob

It’s cold and foggy here in Reading this morning. The damp low air brings a sense of quiet and mystery, as if there’s something waiting for us just out of sight. We feel strangely positive about things today—the Covid numbers are starting to drop, the ugly and entitled have had a kicking as their hubris is revealed and the world sees them for the monsters they truly are. The fog has lifted there, at least.

It’s a nice peaceful moment to settle in with a cup of tea and put the finishing polish on this week’s Cut. Enjoy with us a wild story about how an architect became a bargaining chip in the acquisition of his own archive, the crazy world of fake bourbon and how Mad Max Fury Road channels Shakespeare.

Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.

Back to work, drones. You’ve had your fun, eaten and drunk your way through a skipful of vittles, slept in till noon, maybe had another nap in the afternoon in front of something on Netflix. Those days are over. Time to pull up the slack and get your noses back on the grindstone. The Prime Minister’s wallpaper bill won’t pay itself, you know.

Of course, we here at Cut Central know nothing of rest. Our ongoing mission to bring you juicy reads and tasty links is a twenty-four-seven operation. Sleep is for the weak. Let’s get to it.

Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.

2021, done. That was a wild ride, right? All the fun of 2020 with an added layer of paranoia, existential dread and looming societal collapse. Who’d have thought we’d become so skilled at the fine art of the Latty Flow, plunging swabs down our throats and up our noses with as much grace and aplomb as such activities can allow?

But here we are in 2022, by the grace of an entirely arbitrary time-reckoning system. Reset count to zero, brush that dirt off your shoulder, face the sunrise. After much discussion amongst the many Desks, we have decided not to offer a review or best-of list for last year. Why should our tastes be any more interesting or relevant than yours? If you’d like to educate us in your favourite music, film, telly or perhaps even comic of the last twelve months, then please do. You know we love to hear from you.

We start 2022 with a positive mental attitude, an eye on the future and a drink in either paw. We hope you can do the same, Readership.

Now is the time. Here is the place. This is Season 3 of The Cut.

So, here it is (at the time of writing this preamble, on Christmas Eve at the Anchor Inn on Henley On Thames, the Slade classic is indeed pumping on the stereo). A second weird Christmas for us all. All you can do is make the most of it and celebrate the little victories—we’re in a pub on December 24th which is an improvement on last year, for example. We hope you’re spending the day with the people you love in the way that you want. However it happens, we wish you merry brightness.

Our X-Day gift to you includes a couple of Christmassy horror stories, a chance to hang with Sarah Millican, the joys of Christmas Ai creatures and some Muppets.

Now is the time. Here is the place. Ho ho ho. This is The Cut.

We’re not noted for our political commentary here at The Cut, so let us just say in response to the events of the last week—hahahahhahahhahhahhhhaaaaaaaa. What a delightful gift the voters of North Shropshire have given us for the season. Anyway. Tis the week before Christmas and all through The Cut, the grindstones are turning cos we never shut.

This week, we talk about mindful gaming, play a game which uses the mind and join many Frank Sinatras for dinner.

Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.

It’s been a week for news. It’s not our place to comment because if we start we aren’t going to be able to stop and you don’t come to The Cut for unhinged political rants. You know what’s going on. You don’t need us to make smart comments.

Instead, join us as we celebrate the return of Miyazaki, try to talk to Generation Z and enjoy the choicest restaurant review of 2021.

Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.

December has landed. Guess we’re getting into it. Here at Cut Central, we are gently breaking out the seasonal traditions. Daily readings from Nigel Slater’s The Christmas Chronicles (there’s no entry for December 4th—instead we are treated to his epic and essential treatise on the mince pie). Studious avoidance of Wham’s Last Christmas (no-one wants a #whamageddon). Even more determined swerving of the dull conversations as to whether certain action films are Christmas movies. And of course the supreme effort involved in holding off on the urge to dive into a hibernation-hole and not emerge until 2022. Christmas is a lot of work, yo! We try not to be grumpy but ultimately, we stand with Joni Mitchell when she sang:

It’s coming on Christmas

They’re cutting down trees

They’re putting up reindeer

And singing songs of joy and peace

I wish I had a river I could skate away on

Classier than ‘Bah, humbug’, doncha think?

Anyhoo. This week, enjoy our figgy eggnog along with bits on the first turducken, David Bowie’s Christmas scarf and the best comic of 2021.

Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.

Nearly there, writers. Nearly there. At the time of Ep 47s drop there are three days of Nanowrimo left. The majority are either finished, on the final push or have collapsed by the wayside. Then there are writers like us, who have chosen to do what they can, write every day but not stress the wordcount too much. Honestly, it’s helped our mental state no end this year. We will have accomplished what we set out to do, at any rate. Whether you’re struggling or cruising, just know that we are with you as November recedes into the rear view mirror. Whatever you’ve managed to do, you’ve done good.

Let’s give thanks for a distracting dip into this week’s flummery, featuring the Pirate Queen of Brittany, a deep dive into a very colourful movie and a masterclass in jazz piano.

Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.

(featured image —NYC, Benn Mitchell via Flashbak.com)

We are sliding into the strangest bit of the year. Post-Halloween (we believe all of November should be designated as Spooky Season), pre-Christmas. The time of Black Friday. It is, apparently, our duty as good citizens of the global capitalistery to buy and consume right damn NOW. Spend spend spend, even if you don’t have the wherewithal.

Or take the cost-effective option and snuggle up with us instead. We ask for nothing but your fleeting attention and a crumb of love.

This week: musical anniversaries, killing a lobster and scary comics for girls.

Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.

We’re deep into Nanowrimo now. The wordcount is never quite what it could be, the characters are flat and unengaging, the plot is full of holes and the prose is ugly as a frog in a tiara. But then you hit that glorious point and magic happens. A nice phrase pops up, your hero or heroine does something unexpected and all of a sudden the words are flowing and you’re having fun. At least, that’s what we hope is happening to everyone on the path with us. Keep going, people. The only way out is through.

If you need a break, we are here with our usual Saturday Shenaniganalia. This week: how to communicate with aliens, sex with cars and poisoned humbugs.

Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.