Brrr-rrr-rrrp. Brrr-rrr-rrrp. Brrr-rrr-rrrp. ‘click’ Connolly: Central monitoring, Connolly here. Douglas: Chief, Douglas here, we’ve got a reocurrence on the CCTV network, popping up all over the show. Thought it best to report. Connolly: A recurrence? Douglas: Yes boss, a recurrence. That’s what I meant. Connolly: What kind of recurrence? You got a software bug there?…… Continue reading v-sign man
Utilising the marvels of interweb technology, the following is the transcript of my recent radio show broadcast where I am in interview with Jan Futchinelle, l’enfant terrible investigative reporter creating a name for himself in the modern medieval city of Oxford and well beyond these county lines. For anyone out there who calls living under a…… Continue reading exclusive interview
Following on from a groundbreaking article (car ban or carbon?) written on the traffic congestion plague affecting Oxford, investigative journalist Jan Futchinelle’s latest piece focuses on the roads themselves. With kind permission, what follows is the full and recently published article, which many point to as responsible for triggering the recent wave of local popular…… Continue reading the state of our roads
My dearly devoted Readers, how often I am asked: “What news of Oxford, friend! Tell us, won’t you just?” Alright, alright, okay, I press pause on my own humble ramblings and offer-up an answer to this very query. Here, I present a shooting star amongst Oxford’s Glitterati, a journalist I strongly identify with, delivering the qualities of…… Continue reading car ban or carbon?
Although a familiar face and often seen in the city of Oxford, I had no idea as to his name. Adopting the style of an over-fed 11th century Anglo-Saxon peasant, he wore the same brown rags and moss-green holed jumper every day. A length of thick rope tied around an expansive waist, held up his trousers.…… Continue reading phone a friend
Sat in the cafe, after finishing a modest lunchtime breakfast of scrambled egg on fried bread, I rolled a cigarette, as is customary, to smoke on my way back to work. As I finished the task, an elderly white-haired man seated at the table next to mine leant forward, extending a shaking hand and placing…… Continue reading caught awkward
“Good morning!” she said, gingerly lowering the plate into place and sitting down in front of the writer. Surprised, the man spluttered something unintelligible and in the confusion knocked over the salt-cellar, spilling most of its contents across the table and onto Mia’s lap.