A few days ago (on Saturday 4th February, to be precise) I had a brand new travel article published in the leading British newspaper The Daily Telegraph. It’s all about a rather chilly quest to find the secret seaside spring of Il Sorgeto, which is (in turn) on the Italian island of Ischia, and this is how it starts…
““Have you got the eels?” I ask, teeth chattering, as my girlfriend steps off the yacht and onto the deserted jetty. She nods. “And the mullet, too? And the calamari?” She holds the bulging bag of seafood aloft with one gloved hand, as she pulls her jacket tight with the other, and I grin a chapped-lip grin. Now all we need is a scooter rental shop. One that’s open in December…”
Britons rejoice! Last Friday 6th August the Edinburgh Fringe Festival kicked off for the umpteenth time – sparking scenes of wild celebration across the UK. As all the nation’s most insufferable, preening, self-obsessed performer-brats occupy their next three weeks in the Scottish capital by wobbling around on tartan stilts and exposing their genitalia with little to no artistic justification, we ordinary folk elsewhere on this great island of ours can finally enjoy some quality, tosspot-free time. Rejoice!
Or rather, stop it. Stop it now. I’m looking at you, the ‘quality papers’ – because I’ve had quite enough of your Fringe bashing. I accept that the world’s largest arts festival has its flaws – there are undoubtedly too many fresh-faced Etonians attempting ill-informed political comedy, and Christ couldn’t we all do without the performance poetry – but the endless media piss-shower is really starting to grate. Continue reading →