Mark Perkins.

Why is @thetimes giving a lead interview to Lady Victoria Hervey? Originally and only famous for posing vacuously at celebrity parties and aristocratic functions, she's now back as a vacuous MAGA, 'only Farage can save Britain', Prince Andrew/Epstein nut job conspiracy theorist.

Absolute state of this ad on Mail Online. Completely unregulated.

Anyway, I've ordered a myself a couple of jars.

Snow patrol

There’s an first person article about divorce in The Times today. When she wrote one of the biggest decisions was ‘Who gets the Babington House membership?’, my phone nearly went in the bin.

Someone once deliciously described the place as ‘Butlins for c**ts’.

FA Cup 3rd round matches in a Thursday? This shakes this child of the 80’s to the core: the sanctity of the Saturday afternoon tradition going down the tubes.

This 50 year old of now is also thinking ‘Ooh, FA Cup 3rd round is on TV’ tonight!’

@rwilliamsparis.bsky.social

After Christmas Day, when she managed to hand her granddaughter a present and sip Bollinger through a straw, my mum deteriorated rapidly. Almost as if she didn’t want to ruin it, which is typical.

Today the woman, the mother I knew is gone. She has been reduced to a body gasping, groaning for air.

Thank you. Running on a mixture of adrenaline, anxiety and undiluted love at the moment. Will make it a special Christmas.

Preparing for a terminally ill mum to come home and the final weeks ahead.

Can only describe it as like driving down a tunnel at speed with no light at the end of it.

You have to make what light you can along the route, because when and where the end, suddenly comes, there is a brick wall.

For those of you who left Twitter, or whatever Musk calls it these days, this is the discourse you are missing:

My mum was readmitted to hospital for cancer treatment. Had to dash to her house to get her belongings.

Also grabbed a day old nativity photo of ger granddaughter to brighten up the austere surroundings.

What a bleedin’ Christmas this is turning out to be.

A year ago, like all years, I’d have been working all hours on Xmas PR campaigns, probably on the import of being with family.

Today, like most days, is spent with my mum who has S4 cancer. Chicken pie and apple crumble lunch, cup of tea and a Place in the Country on the telly.

This is the place.

My dear ol mum, 83 years old, is in hospital alone, terminally ill, having fluid drained from a cancerous lung.

I called her up to say goodnight. Told her that QPR won 2-0, and Zan Celar scored both the goals.

‘I’m so glad to hear it. Good news at last!’ she replied.

Current mood.

Should be in Manchester by now, to kickstart two days of work tomorrow.

Instead, thanks to Storm Bert, I’m in a bed sit in Victoria which reeks of ganja.

My mum’s cancer is back. Weeks after being told she was good.

She’s never shown any upset, until today. Carol singers raising money for MacMillan in a pub sang Away in a Manger. She burst into tears and said ‘That was my favourite Carol when I was a little girl. And this will be my last Christmas.’

Could be along similar lines today.

The question is whether Stoke can do it on a wet and windy Saturday at QPR?

Probably, yes.

Morning, lads🫡

This plagiarises everything from McQueen, Bowie (Ashes to Ashes), Klaus Nomi. So much so, that it was a cliche and parody of itself upon arrival.

And the Tony Kaye directed Dunlop ad with a Velvet Underground track did ‘artful’ and ‘edgy’ so much better 31 years ago - whilst showing a tyre.