Patrick George

It was noon on the 22nd of November when I first met Paul Nuttall. We were stood on a small grassy hill overlooking Dealey Plaza, people milled about busily. There was an excitement in the crisp air; it was unseasonably warm even for Texas, and a crowd seemed to...

It’s the smell that hits you first. A stale petrol-ly stench of booze and sweat. The musk of 1000 miserable nights spent flapping your pastey limbs in some bizarre, humiliating mating ritual. Beneath that pungent aroma is the heady smells of sick and sadness. A stinking tribute to human...

You probably shouldn’t be here. I mean it. You shouldn’t. This isn’t some sort of snobby elitist crap about “oh, exams are getting easier and you’re thick”. That would be too easy. Because exams are getting easier and you’re thick. No, you shouldn’t be here for your own good....

We are now several weeks into the Labour Party’s am-dram production of Jez Miserables and the question is starting to emerge over whether it’s a comedy or a tragedy. We’ve just finished the opening act which saw Angela Eagle take flight, stumble over empty air and promptly crash into...