The first great retail opportunity since X-Day has landed, and on a Friday too, so let’s make a weekend of it. I treated us to an excellent meal deal from M&S which included coquille St. Jacques, prawn and salmon on croute with smashed basil potatoes and chocolate and caramel pots alongside a rather nice bottle of Italian rosé for £25 quid. Plenty of folks are hopefully out helping restaurants and card shops stay afloat over the next couple of days. C and I, as you know are quiet and retiring types. Not for us the crush and hustle of V-Day dining. Like the saintly George said, it’s cold out there but it’s warm in bed. Hope you get a chance to put a little love in your life, even if it’s just honouring yourself with a little treat.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
We got through it, Readership. The first 57 days of January 2025 are finally over and we can get ourselves in shape for the challenges of the next four years. Were you dry? Did you vegan? Is there an untouched gym membership somewhere in your everyday carry, which will glare accusingly at you until you finally give up on it sometime in June? I did none of those things—in fact you could describe my January activity as barely there. However, I have been busy in my head, thinking, mapping, planning. The dark days of January are perfect for preparatory actions, readying for the swing of the season, waiting for the times when I will be woken by the sunrise rather than the buzz of an alarm. Tananarive Due has some advice for these pre-spring days, which resonated with me for all sorts of reasons.
I shouldn’t be focussing on the fall from grace of a certain British fantasy writer given the events looming this coming Monday in Washington, but hey, any distraction from the imminent end of all things is welcome.
The report in this week’s New York magazine on his alleged coercive and abusive behaviour is, of course, pretty bloody horrible—I couldn’t finish the article. The inevitable half-hearted mea culpa and denial has been issued from the Tower Of Dreams, to general eye-rolling and declarations of boycotts.
However things happened, and even if events didn’t roll out as reported (gentle reminder to all that at Excuses And Half Truths we always believe the women), the writer in question has suffered pretty irreparable reputational damage. I’m sure His Nibs will take this whole things as a fine excuse to comfortably retire, crying himself to sleep on a mattress stuffed with cash.
But why should we be bothered? Artists have always been notoriously revolting. I don’t recall seeing the cancel notice on Lord Byron getting much traction, despite the crap he put his lovers through. Ted Hughes was a fucking monster. Francis Bacon? Don’t get me started. I believe in separating the art from the artist, but then I don’t have Sandman-themed sleeve tattoos that probably look a bit silly now.
Look, it’s your call. Base your response to this whole sordid affair on which elements of reportage you choose to believe. If you feel you can’t read his books anymore, that’s completely fine. I’d offer a caveat—his comics are collaborative works, the product of hard graft from a cohort of incredibly talented people. And that universe continues, guided by other equally gifted writers who don’t deserve to be caught in the blowback.
Here we are now. Welcome to Volume 3 of The Swipe, which to celebrate the new year features absolutely no changes to format, style or content. However, this first chapter is a bumper offering, as we always believe in value for money. Even more so as the sticker price on your Saturday Soaraway Swipe is bupkiss, nix, nada and niente. You lucky punters.
Before we get into it, I wanted to share Jason Chatfield’s take on the way cartoons serve as an early warning alert for incoming censorious regimes. Start with the funnies and see if anyone notices.
in an unrelated update, I have cancelled my Washington Post subscription.
By the time you read this, my work year will be done, and the first of our Christmas Pilgramages will be be underway. Between Essex and Warwickshire, with a pit stop back in the Ding, it’s hardly going to be the most restful of breaks. But a break it shall be, which is the most important thing. A chance to focus on the core life elements—family, friends, food and oh go on then let’s try that Christmas Negroni recipe.
Next week, we are delighted to offer up the 2024 Yearly Annual Report, which as stakeholders in this enterprise I trust you’ll find of interest. I hope you will agree that Excuses And Half Truths continues to offer value, service and an agreeable user experience. As ever, our Complaints Warthog is available to receive any negative comments and deliver a robust and tusk-heavy response.
This week: how to make a living as a creative, how the internet is no longer fit for purpose and the strange tale of the little king.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
I have started getting into the habit of waking well before the morning alarm goes off, think ‘oh well, no point in staying put’ and dragging my sorry ass into the shower. When the alarm is set for half five in the morning this can feel like I’m starting my day in the middle of the night.
On Friday I was going through the usual start-up sequence—20 past 5, Storm Darragh thumping at the windows, just about to fall out from under the duvet, when C rolled over, slung her arm around me and pulled me back. It was entirely subconscious. She doesn’t remember doing it. But it gave me the ten minutes I didn’t know were necessary, drifting sweetly in the warm embrace of my very love. When I finally extricated myself, I felt thoroughly rested, utterly content, ready for what would be a challenging morning at the coal face. Those ten minutes of simple contact gave me the strength I needed.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Pity the December baby. Born in the darkest month, doomed to have their birthday forever superseded by all that Christmas nonsense. It’s impossible to book anywhere for a nice meal out, you end up with a shared birthday/X-Day gift, and there’s the general feel that your special day just isn’t that—well, special. My extended clan of friends and family has many Sagittarians in its ranks, including a Christmas Day and a New Year’s Eve child. Honestly, it sucks. This festive season, spare a thought and a little love for the December babies in your life. They didn’t choose to be born this way.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
I feel strangely hopeful. Tango Clown has done exactly as expected. He’s filling the most important roles in government with nutcases and incompetants, not realising the slender margins he has in the legislature. There will be chaos in store, but the real harm he could potentially do will be bogged down and choked as the inevitable grandstanding and bloviating turn into internal civil war.
There’s an old Chinese curse—may you gain everything you wish for.
Cheeto Wig is about to reap all he has sown.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
The day after, either through luck or some sort of divine prescience, TLC and I had booked a couple of days off work. It would have been tempting to spend the time staring bleakly at walls or screaming into pillows. Instead, we’d planned to do a bit of decorating. This turned out to be the best decision we could have made. Two days deep-cleaning and painting the kitchen was a mindful, healing activity, taking a room apart and remaking it as a cleaner, nicer place in which to be. It kept us off social media and news feeds, but above all left us feeling much more positive. Change is inevitable, whether for bad or good, and things happen in cycles. Eventually, the kitchen will always need a good clean-down and a fresh lick of paint, and things will feel all the better for it.
Today, we start on the conservatory. The great work continues.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
I was out being social like a real live boy this week, something I like to do to persuade you humans I am one of you. The pub we gathered in had, of course, oranged itself up in readiness for next week’s Night Of Spooky. So, my pals and I were quietly enjoying ourselves with refreshing beverages, cheap and cheerful food and a board game (returning also a wave to pal Kelly who can provide further evidence that I do go out on occasion) when a great line of students poured in through the front door. All dressed in some manner of Halloween accoutrement, the line seemed endless and the queue carried on for a good twenty minutes before petering out. Everyone seemed cheerful and there was no sign of ill behaviour. But it seemed strange to me they’d choose the Thursday before All Hallow’s Eve to do a pub crawl. Unless this was just stage one of a much larger, more elaborate ritual which will culminate in mass revels on Broad Street on the night itself. It goes to show how big a deal Spooky Season is now, as a first flare in the run-up to the end of the year. By the next Swipe, the evenings will have properly started to close in, and the darkness will begin to rise. I hope you’re all preparing yourselves.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
EXCUSES AND HALF TRUTHS 