No Minister

Archive for the ‘Reading, Movie, Music Reviews’ Category


A long but very interesting article in the latest National Geographic about the discovery of fossils from a gigantic, swimming dinosaur called Spinosaurus.

This thing appears to have basically been the T Rex of the ancient seas. It was actually ;onger than an adult T Rex, at 16 metre (50 foot) and weighing about seven tonnes. What’s really strange about it though is that it had a large sail on its back and an elongated snout that resembled the maw of a crocodile, with lots of conical teeth.

As is usually the case with dinosaur fossils it turns out that there had been much controversy over exactly what the creature looked like. But things were tougher in this case because the earliest fossils of it – dug up in Egypt between 1910 and 1914 by a Bavarian palaeontologist and aristocrat called Ernst Freiherr Stromer von Reichenbach (sounds like the start of an Indiana Jones movie) – were lost:

During World War II, Allied bombing prompted Stromer—a critic of the Nazi regime—to beg the museum director to move the fossils to safety. The Nazi director refused, and bombing destroyed the fossils in 1944. Drawings, photos, and descriptions in journal articles were all that remained to prove Stromer’s Spinosaurus fossils ever existed.

Chalk up one more piece of barbarity to the moronic Nazis.

This particular fossil has started to put a lot of those questions to rest. It comes from a sandstone formation called the Kem Kem beds, that starts 200 miles east of Marrakesh in Morocco and extends 150 miles to the southwest. It’s rugged, brutally hot country:

I got a taste for the site’s challenges, and the rush of discovery, when I joined the team in July 2019 for a return expedition. The 117-degree heat and arid winds wicked liters of water from my body as we chipped our way through an outcrop marbled like bacon. Fanned along the outcrop below, Ibrahim’s Detroit Mercy students lugged rocks in buckets made from recycled tires and scoured the debris for even the tiniest flecks of bone.

I have to say that this photo struck me as particularly Indiana Jonesish.

But that image is quickly replaced by this passage:

The 2018 dig started brutally. To clear tonnes of sandstone, the crew bought the region’s only working jackhammer. It broke within minutes. Days were so gruelling that several team members were hospitalised once they returned home.

But the promise of discovery kept them going, along with Nutella breaks that temporarily took their minds off the punishing work. Finally, they started finding one caudal vertebra after another from the animal’s tail, sometimes just minutes and inches apart.

The team was so giddy over the bonanza, they drummed out musical beats with their rock hammers and broke into song, belting out, “It’s another caudal!” to the tune of Europe’s “The Final Countdown.”

Heh. Fucking nerds eh? You have to love them. But read the whole article.

Here’s the song they were singling along to. Personally I always hated it as one of those typical over-produced, Big Hair 80’s “rocker classics”. Barf!

See also:

The Fault In Our Stars

Dinosaur Wars and The Nine Foot Problem.

Written by Tom Hunter

May 20, 2021 at 10:17 am

Charismatic Cisterns

We’re all used to seeing water tanks that look like these ones, particularly in New Zealand and Australia where they’re a common site on farms, although they’re usually no longer in use. These two actually don’t look too bad, probably because the sagging lean of their platforms has added some style to their image, courtesy also of a good photographer.

When it comes to our urban areas New Zealand lucks out with its hilly geography providing an automatic gravity-fed capability. Huge water tanks and cisterns can be buried on the top of hills, perhaps with less than half of the structure sticking above ground.

That’s a good thing because their basic functionality means that they are not pretty to start with.

In other parts of the world where towns and cities are surrounded by hundreds of miles of flat land, the townsfolk are not so lucky. Their water tanks, more correctly termed water towers, have to be raised on a platform to gain sufficient height above the surrounding buildings that they supply. When I first drove through the American Mid-West my attention kept being drawn to these water tanks, not only because I found such structures unusual but because they often looked like the following.

Butt ugly in other words.

Even more so when extra functionality is added by turning them into cellphone towers.

So it was with some pleasure that I discovered that as painting technology has advanced people are no longer willing to accept ugly-functional as the water tank/tower look. There’s even a competition to judge the best ones, Tank Of The Year, which you can view at your leisure by clicking on the link. But here’s some of my favourites

I don’t agree with all the winning selections of course, but here’s my favourite winner, from 2017.

PinInterest also has a nice selection of water tower photos , although it’s labeled “weird” for some reason.

Even the much older concept of cisterns can be prettier than water towers, even if they’re hardly ever seen because they’re underground, like this one in the Peniche Fortress (Forte de Peniche), Portugal.

Bulls Water Tower

Meanwhile back here in NZ, in the heart of the Rangitikei Plains, we’ve got one of our examples of the classic water tower, courtesy of the area being one of the few parts of the nation that are as flat as the American Mid-West.

Yes, that’s the famous/infamous water tower that greets travellers entering the township of Bulls.

I see that it has been de-commissioned because it’s not earthquake proof but has been saved from demolition by a public vote. I realise that architects probably will swoon over it as a classic example of mid-20th century Modernist building style, but I doubt that the old Ministry Of Works architects were thinking that when designing it.

No, it’s functional – and a butt ugly wart on the landscape. Perhaps, having saved the damned thing, the public could be inspired by the links above to apply some creative painting to it.

Written by Tom Hunter

May 11, 2021 at 11:13 am

A Superb Book Review

Dishonest About Abe

Dishonest About Abe

by Thomas L. Krannawitter

With malice towards all and charity towards none of Lincoln’s principles and actions, ‘The Real Lincoln’ is the latest attempt to finish the job so ignobly begun by John Wilkes Booth in April 1865.

Written by adolffinkensen

May 8, 2021 at 6:53 pm

Always Scotch. Always drunk. Always critical. Always brilliant.

A few days ago I put up a post about the catastrophic collapse of TV viewership ratings for Hollywood’s annual, ritual orgasm of self celebration, The Oscars: Die Hollywood, Die.

Once again here are the figures for yet another industry that’s destroyed itself by going full Woke (and New Left).

But as an update on this I thought I would throw in this wonderful piece from The Critical Drinker, drunken Scottish movie critic par excellence. Watch, laugh, and then check out his reviews of individual movies.

My only difference of opinion with him is that I’d be quite happy for Hollywood to burn to the ground. Fortunately, they’re apparently determined to make the wishes of Right-Wingers like me come true.

And I say that as someone who loves the movies.

A free bag of Chocolate Fish for anybody in the comments who can identify even 50% of the movies whose clips he shows: WARNING: they’re fast.

Book Review: The things that endure

Some years ago I was cleaning out a garage when I came across some old cooking pots my parents had used. They were rusted but I vaguely remembered their shapes and when I examined them closely I found that there were old rust holes that had been mended using some sort of screw/tap device that I suppose was sold at hardware stores at the time.

Nowadays of course we simply throw the pots out since it’s cheaper to replace than repair. I doubt such repair kits are even made any longer. But then my parents had come of age during The Slump; you patched and repaired everything, only stopping when total destruction occurred.

By contrast I worked in the IT industry for thirty years, where you became well aware of how transitory are some of the things that humans build. A computer system might last ten years before it is replaced, the hardware going faster than that.

There are exceptions that prove the rule. In the insurance industry it was quite common to find software that had existed for decades, because the policies it supported, usually life insurance, had not changed, the business still had to be run, and software doesn’t wear out. Back in the late 90’s, while doing a Y2K review in the USA, I found one small piece of Assembler code that had been written in 1967. We were all astounded. Pre Moon Landing! So-called legacy software systems are a story for another day.

So I was interested to come across a book written by a computer scientist turned homesteader, who changed professions mid-career out of a desire to spend more of his time “building things that will last.” Talk about speaking directly to my soul. The book is called Durable Trades, by one Rory Groves, and it can be regarded as a career guide, a history book, and perhaps a philosophical treatise as well:

For too long, work has driven a wedge between families, dividing husband from wife, father from son, mother from daughter, and family from home. Building something that will last requires a radically different approach than is common or encouraged today.

In Durable Trades, Groves uncovers family-centered professions that have endured the worst upheavals in history—including the Industrial Revolution—and continue to thrive today. Through careful research and thoughtful commentary, Groves offers another way forward to those looking for a more durable future.

The foreword by a Dr. Allan Carlson addresses the point a bit more directly:

“While almost every other ‘career book’ buys into the argument that workers will need to completely retrain every five to seven years just to keep a job, this author proves that there are many rich and rewarding forms of labor with astonishing records of durability.

Mr. Groves recovers a profound truth: a job is not an end in itself; it is rather one means – and only one means – toward building a rich and satisfying life, toward human flourishing.”

In defining what he considers a “durable” trade, Groves draws on lessons from the past.

Defining “durable” has not been easy. I wanted to know which types of businesses have been the least affected by external factors throughout history, place, governments, economic cycles, invention, and social upheaval. Which trades have endured for centuries and still exist today? Which trades are the most family-centric? And, of course, which trades do all this and still provide a living? Conversely, which trades are overly dependent on brittle systems and therefore not likely to withstand economic, societal and technological upheaval?

That last sounds awfully tough, given how technological change can hit society in ways we can’t imagine. I’ve also always been a little suspicious of the Back To Nature movement that sprouted with the hippies in the 1960’s, but which has occurred countless times in Western societies and which has echoes in this book. For example in the first chapter, Groves explores the changes that have occurred since the Industrial Revolution began:

“as societies face problems, they increase in complexity in order to solve them

At the founding of our country, there were at most a few dozen distinct occupations,” he says. “Within 100 years that number had risen to over 8,000. Today there are over 30,000 occupations, with dozens of new specialties being invented daily.”

In comparing jobs in 2010 to 1900 Groves notes that in the latter age, agriculture, mining, fishing, and forestry were at the bottom of a pyramid; secondary professions (manufacturing, processes, construction) were in the middle; tertiary, or service, jobs (sales, health care, banking, law) were above that; while at the top, occupying a tiny space, is what Groves calls the quaternary, or knowledge, professions (research, education, engineering).

The pyramid representing 2010 is inverted, with knowledge professions at the top, with the primary professions occupying the smallest portion of U.S. employment.

“Within a relatively short timeframe, Western nations have come to rely on a minuscule proportion of their fellow citizens to supply the vast majority of their needs,

“efficiency became our highest virtue, and with it, generational stability collapsed.” [The factory] “replaced the family as the primary means of sustenance” and opportunities for “apprenticeship, relationship, and cross-generational continuity of values and culture disappeared.”

Ok, this oft-written lament has elements of truth to it and the Industrial Revolution has been slammed from the very start as a process that crushed what it means to be a human. Blakes famous poem, And did those feet in ancient time, with its unforgettable phrase of “Dark Satanic Mills”, setting the scene for such thoughts all the way up to the 20th century and the Unibomber’s Manifesto, the actual title of which is Industrial Society and Its Future:

But the fact is that the efficiency of production enabled by both the technology and the idea of the Industrial Revolution has resulted in human beings living healthier, wealthier, and longer lives than ever before. We do rely on only a tiny proportion of people for much of our needs, but I’ve no great desire to go back to harvesting crops by hand along with hundreds of others in the fields.

The whole question turns on what one considers a rich life! I think we are living a much richer life than our ancestors but I’ll grant you that it may be “rich” only in corporeal terms; more and better food and healthcare for example. Groves’s argument that it has made us poorer in terms of human relationships, particularly the family, is probably true as our world increasingly atomises us. The decline of many face-to-face teenage group activities, taken for granted just a couple of decades ago, in the face of hooking up with a network of friends via phone app, is merely the latest example.

“If quality of life consists merely of the abundance of possessions, if our value to society is based solely on our productive capacity, if money, things, careers and people are perpetually becoming obsolete, what have we profited by gaining the whole world?”

Fair enough and the further we advance the larger that question will loom.

In any case Groves, after studying occupations spanning the past four centuries, developed a five-part scoring system to evaluate the merits of each. Each trade on his list has survived for at least 230 years, “and in most cases several thousand years.” The ranking was based on:

  • Historical stability (20%)
  • Resiliency (15%)
  • Family-centeredness (35%)
  • Income (20%)
  • Ease of entry (10%)

I won’t spoil the book by listing all the results but I have to say that while I agreed with some of his “top-10”, such as cooks and brewers, the number one trade of “Shepard”, which he further defined as rancher, livestock farmer, dairyman puts the methodology in question. Second on the list is “Farmer”, but in both cases we’re talking about trades that have drastically declined in the West as the animals they shepard are increasingly corralled into factory-type settings that can barely be called farms, and crops are grown in ever-more controlled settings such as vertical farming (H/T Ele at Homepaddock)

1 indoor acre = 4-6 outdoor acres or more depending on the crop: strawberries: 1 indoor acre = 30 outdoor acres

Dairy farming has large elements of the factory about it already; rising every single day at 3am to do exactly the same thing you’ve done a thousand times before. Still, a lot of people love it and at least there’s other farming stuff to do, but dairying has continued to push in the factory direction, certainly in the Northern Hemisphere, where cows never walk in paddocks but sit in stalls. New Zealand is a freak in the industry and given the rising capital costs and environmental restrictions you have to wonder how far away we are from following our Northern cousins. There are cut-and-carry dairy units in NZ already.

To be fair Groves does caution that his research focused on historical data rather than projecting which professions might be important in the future. Still, the longevity of professions that made the list are certain to give readers pause before writing off the trades in favor of more modern professions, especially since many of those office jobs are themselves under threat from IT developments.

We also have to consider the possibilities of a post-industrial society, where many of Groves’s trades may become hobbies, backed by a Universal Income Benefit as a result of the wealth spilling over from automated production in which most everything becomes a commodity.

Although he naturally does not explore such things since that’s not the point of the book, I think it’s worth your while to read it, whether you’re a student or a parent trying to figure out career and educational paths for your kids, or a mid-career person who is staring down the barrel of future obsolescence or stuck in a barren career path. Certainly Groves’s summing up is sobering:

“If there is anything that can withstand the nihilistic effects of modernity and the uncertain outcomes of our high towers, it will be families that are reclaiming critical functions at home—education, apprenticeship, discipleship—and working together towards a common vision to which they have been called

[the family economy] has been the context by which parents pass their faith, culture and values on to their children for most of human history.”

Written by Tom Hunter

May 5, 2021 at 12:00 pm

Shakespeare in Heaven

Walter Mondale died a few days ago at the age of 93. A good innings by any standard.

Most people, perhaps even quite a few political tragics, would be unaware of Mondale, but he was fairly prominent part of the modern Democrat Party, rising to prominence from the mid-1960’s on as a Senator before serving as Vice-President in Jimmy Carter’s doomed administration.

He would then go on to run for the Presidency in 1984, where his Old Democrat ideas surrounding unions and taxation were soundly thrashed in a landslide loss to Ronald Reagan. After that he basically disappeared into the world of good works that used to be the destination of politicians, before the world of Washington D.C. influence and power-broking became the norm.

You can read about Mondale at the first link, which is Wikipedia, but it’s this article in McSweeny’s Magazine, riffing on Mondale’s death, that I thought you might find amusing. Mondale gets to heaven where he encounters The Bard and commits a gigantic faux pa:

So, Walter Mondale shows up in heaven the other day, and I’m all eager to talk to him because I’m kind of a political junkie — see Richard III — but before I can say anything, he’s like, “So?” And I’m like, “So, what?” And then he goes, “So, did you really write them?” And I’m like, “Write what?”

The writer has some fun with the well-known arguments around Shakespeare:

You guys weren’t going to tell me this? How has nobody ever mentioned this to me?

I look over, and Christopher Marlowe is giving Mondale that “stop talking” throat slash gesture thingy, but it’s too late. Apparently, whenever anyone shows up in heaven, someone pulls them aside and is like, “Don’t mention the Shakespeare authorship thing to you-know-you.”

But no one caught Mondale slipping in ’cause they all thought he was already dead. Fair enough. I thought he was dead too.

And then Shakespeare really gets pissed off:

So first of all, fuck that. Do you think it takes a long time to watch Hamlet? Try writing it. In verse. Also, when has this insane theory ever been applied anywhere else? “Gee, Hamilton was great. I bet Prince Charles really wrote that, not Lin-Manuel Miranda.” Or, “Fleabag was fun. I bet Sir Ringo Starr was behind that.” I mean, my name was on the marquee! 

Read the whole thing

Written by Tom Hunter

April 29, 2021 at 3:06 pm

Die Hollywood, Die 🤣

So apparently the annual Hollywood movie awards show, known as “The Oscars”, has just happened.

What? You didn’t know about this? It’s not a topic for discussion in the shops or at work? What movie won Best Picture? Which man won Best Actor? Which woman won Best Actress?

Well I’m glad to inform you that you’re not alone in not knowing.

As Oscar Wilde once remarked, regarding a key character in Dicken’s novel, The Old Curiosity Shop:

One must have a heart of stone to read the death of little Nell without laughing.


Or perhaps we should paraphrase a more modern saying:

The Oscars have gone full woke. You never go full woke.

Ironically the original line came from a movie character who would never make it on-screen nowadays, Robert Downey Jnr’s brilliant piss-take of an actor so high on his own skill (“five-time Academy Award-winning Australian method actor Kirk Lazarus”) that he’s willing to try and portray a Black soldier in a Vietnam War movie in the satire, Tropic Thunder.

“Never go full retard

Even funnier is the fact that this 2008 role by Downey was nominated for an Academy Award, a BAFTA Award, and a Screen Actors Guild Award.

As those declining viewer numbers show this has been coming for a long time:

The Oscars always had problems but in the last decade they’ve become turgid, sanctimonious, predictable, joyless, and boring, not to mention bitter and negative about the country that has created so much splendor and wealth for the lucky few who get to appear onstage at the ceremony.

But I have to admit that even I’m shocked by the collapse from just last year:

Ratings crashed 58 percent off last year’s abysmal viewership, down to 9.85 million Americans. Let that sink in: In a nation of 330 million, not even ten million Americans watched the Oscars. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences’ strategy of embracing diversity as a supposed means to bring in younger viewers has proven a complete failure: Ratings were down even more for young adults. In the 18–49 demographic, ratings crashed 64 percent. The star power is gone. The glamour is gone. The public interest is gone.

That article finishes on the usual pathetically hopeful note I’ve come to expect the likes of National Review, basically from the Bush wing of the Republican Party, but the following comment is closer to the reality:

When you break up with someone — or break up with an industry, or a hobby — at first you’re angry about the alienating direction the industry or hobby is taking, and you complain about it.

The more intensely you complain, however, the more you show that you still care.

At some point, you stop complaining.

That doesn’t mean you’ve accepted the industry turning woke.

That means that you now don’t even care that it’s turned woke — it’s out of your life, and you care about it as much as the person you broke up with four break-ups ago.


Written by Tom Hunter

April 27, 2021 at 4:58 pm


Hours that is. One hundred and seventy two hours is what shows up in my last fortnightly pay slip for the agricultural contractor I work for.

I finally have a Sunday off. A beautiful, lovely, empty Sunday after twenty consecutive days of 5am wake ups and 11pm bedtimes.

Others have more hours and I’m informed by those who’ve worked here for several years that two hundred plus hours per fortnight is a more normal harvesting season. We assume that it’s because we’ve had a long stretch of fine weather and started a little earlier than usual, so the load has been more spread out than in the past. The boys – and most of them are boys – are not happy about this since such incredible hours are a bonus on top of their other income earned on random jobs during the rest of the year. Without such work, times would be tough.

I’d probably be working longer hours were I on the chopper crews (maize chopping) that use tractors and trailers. Suitable only for short road runs from chop site to stack site, those drivers work deep into the night to get the job done.

By contrast my crews are all trucks because we’re serving customers located fifty kms or more away from the chop sites. The hours are limited by truck driving regulations: a thirty minute break after five-and-a-half hours driving; a ten hour break after thirteen hour driving; a twenty four hour rest break after seventy hours. The thirteen hour daily limit means that they have to be off the road by 7 or 8pm, having started at 6 or 7am – and “off the road” counts even when they’re being driven home by someone else.

Of course my specific work, and those of other members of the crews, like the chopper and stack tractor drivers, means that I’m still left with a one-two hour pack up and commute routine, but at least I’m getting home before midnight.

An alternative title for this post would be: “Rabid capitalist discovers the joy of government regulations” ! I doubt we’ll ever see a union though.

The technology may have changed but harvest has always been intense. I recommend a relatively unknown New Zealand book called Nearly Out Of Heart and Hope”, by the New Zealand historian Miles Fairburn.

It’s based on the 800,000 word diary crafted by one James Cox, an itinerant labourer who came to New Zealand in 1880 and died in 1925. The title of the book is one of the phrases he occasionally used when things were dark. Here’s a short sample of the dairy itself, which he wrote every night for thirty seven years, crafted by candlelight with pencil on little strips of paper (not being able to buy sheets) which he then folded up into tiny booklets:

“my shoes are got very bad… I have only one shirt I can wear, nearly worn out so I am in an evil case and cannot get either money or goods from the firm. Most of the fellows… are getting doubtful if they will get their wages at all. The firm appears to be nearly bankrupt.” 

After an even lower period of poverty in 1892/93, during which he took to the roads as a “swagger”, he found new work:

Things improved a little in 1894 when he found work with a Carterton agricultural contractor. He worked on traction engines harvesting grain until 1902. This was a harsh and unreliable form of work which was anything but romantic.

That sentence barely covers the raw detail provided by Cox himself and the more concise descriptions of such work by Fairburn: unrelenting days of tough physical effort in the heat and dust of Wairarapa summers with no showers at the end and just a shared tent with the other unwashed men. I get to return to a solid home and a hot shower and food, such are the wonders of the modern world. By comparison to that man I’m just slumming it.

James Cox

The book quotes only those portions of the diary that Fairburn can use to make his points, like any good historian. He struggles most of all with why this well-educated, sober and hard-working man never advanced his life beyond such toil. He was probably more suited to clerical work but he could have been in charge of the crews, indeed he was offered such work by his employer, yet for some unknown reason he did it only reluctantly and occasionally. He didn’t like it.

I think the reason Fairburn struggles is that he is trying to imposing rationality on yet another irrational human being (rational humans are the basis of economics and much other social science). When he turns to examining the ideology of the times and how it may have worked in the mind of Cox he fares little better. Niether does the sympathetic reviewer:

His account of the way in which the potent and pervasive Victorian ideology of self-help shut off opportunity for Cox is the best piece so far written in New Zealand on the way in which ideas influenced individual behaviour. Cox never realized that hard work and self-discipline were insufficient means of climbing out of the poverty trap.

Once he recognized that failure was probably a permanent state from about 1893, he maintained the code as a way of ordering his life and reinforcing his sense of superiority over ‘rough’ workmen. It seems that ideology not only justified the success of winners in the social laboratory: it also shaped the actions of losers.

I agree that hard work and self-discipline are not enough on their own. But the unspoken assumption of that reviewer is that they’re not really necessary either if those implied other factors exist: presumably things like unionised wage rates, unemployment benefits, free healthcare and other social welfare assistance (housing!).

In fact without self-discipline and the ability to work hard all those other things will also be found to be “insufficient” for lifting up the James Cox’s of the world. I think we’re seeing that around us every day.

No, in Cox’s case, despite all his admirable qualities, there was a strange seed in his mind that prevented him from rising and doing better in the world. Nothing that any government could have done would have changed that.

… labour reforms which also helped earn New Zealand the title of a ‘social laboratory’ apparently did not reach much beyond city limits and brought little help to Cox. Fairburn wonders if Cox was unusual but the reader is left with the feeling that many New Zealanders on low wages have long struggled to do little more than survive, and ended their days without savings or assets.

The sad and terrible truth I see every day is that this is still the case almost a century after James Cox departed this world.

This is his grave in the Greytown Cemetery and it was unmarked until 2013 when a Wairarapa historian, Adele Pentony-Graham, paid to have his headstone installed, “I felt it was the least I could do for him,” she said.

So say we all.

Written by Tom Hunter

March 28, 2021 at 9:30 pm

Beauty and Terror

Right now we’re in need of beauty more than ever, so here’s a couple of photos to feast your eyes on, starting with one that looks like it could be an oil painting by Edwin Landseer or perhaps Winslow Homer.

The second has a similar quality to it, in this case something that could come from a number of the artists from the famous Hudson River School in the USA.

Meantime, after almost two months of quiet, harvesting season is upon us and I’m about to re-enter the grind of six day weeks and 15 hour days. Fortunately I won’t be driving my rigs anywhere like this. Photos taken at Dingleburn Station in the South Island.

H/T to fellow blogger HomePaddock for pics one and three.

Written by Tom Hunter

February 16, 2021 at 10:15 am

Handling Slacker Employees

I’m sure that we’ve all had this experience at one time or another, whether in paid employment on various unpaid groups like school boards or other.

The slacker that you have to work with, that you’re relying on to get things done ….. not only fails to get them done but fails because they’re a lazy bastard! It’s even worse when you’re dealing with someone who is not only lazy or useless, but thinks so highly of themselves that they’re offended when you call them on the carpet.

I therefore present possibly the greatest letter ever written to such a person, demanding that they pull finger. Take it away Hunter S. Thompson in dealing with that doyen of English writers, Anthony Burgess.

Written by Tom Hunter

January 13, 2021 at 8:02 am