Category: Life

  • RIP Jonathan Nash, 19?? – 2025

    Jonathan Nash, AKA J. Nash (if wet, Jon Pillar), was a very funny writer who, I’m now realising, was a huge influence on me. He worked on the old Commodore Amiga magazine, Amiga Power, and before that got his start at the equally legendary Your Sinclair, both of which were touchstones for British gamers of the 80s and 90s. He brought a very particular comedic voice to gaming that stood out to the prevailing style of most mags at the time – and a big part of that was down to him being genuinely funny.

    Nash’s writing was very different from the increasingly coarsening tone of much of what passed as “games journalism” from the mid 90s onwards, or the also wretched “hey cowabunga etc” sort of thing, which would be written by people who hadn’t seen any episodes of The Simpsons made after 1990 until BBC2 started showing it.

    A key part of Nash’s writing was his feel for absurdist and sometimes mock-Victorian / Edwardian / early 20th Century nonsense, pretending to be stuck in yet also wryly commenting on “Boy’s Own” 50s larks, in the same field where people (children) earnestly debated the merits of Sonic over Mario.

    He further developed the initial YS / AP house style – which had grown out of basically being Smash Hits but without all the grotesque music journalists and the requirement to engage with Johnny Hates Jazz – and brought it kicking and screaming from the late 1980s to, er, the early to mid 1990s. But in every review he would eventually knuckle down and methodically analyse the game in question. He’d dutifully point out the bugs, rotten controls and various unforgiveable corporate shenanigans that resulted in broken and miserable cash-grabs. And those same reviews would be dotted with references to Killer Klowns From Outer Space, or Hamble from Play School, or something.

    He also said “or something” a lot.

    He was reportedly quite a fascinating man, a genuine British eccentric in many ways; only he was a previously unheard-of type of eccentric who focused on either celebrating video games for being excellent, or exasperatedly deriding them for bad controls, boring plots, really really boring space marine nonsense (if it was an FPS and the year was 2002) or needless ice levels (if it was a platformer and the year was 1994).

    He was astonishingly knowledgable – for example, he seemed to have an amazing array of info on old cartoons stored in his head, which he’d offer nuggets of in posts on random forums under obvious fake names like Mr Thisisanobviouslyfakename. He also had a surpising aversion to using swearing in his work – while he was never offended by bad language, and would occasionally use a rude word if absolutely required, he apparently would genuinely use phrases like “Bother!” or “Dash it all!” when upset.

    This may sound a bit odd, but I feel J. Nash’s comedy stylings (Urgh. – Ed) had a certain moral code to it that was starting to go missing in the 1990s games scene, and has pretty much vanished out of the usual AAA areas. It must be stated that his seriousness at properly doing the actual revewing part of reviews pissed off a lot of game devs and video game companies, simply by pointing out that they tended to shove out an awful lot of absolute (spit – Ed). He stood up for the little guy, in other words. To further illustrate, here’s a quote from him on that well known fundamental corporate word and concept, “product”:

    If you use this [word] and are not speaking about multiplication, you ought to be punched. If you use this and are speaking about games, you ought to be crippled with hammers and entombed alive. You cannot even use it ironically. The simplest way to trap a member of AP into a scandal of violence is to go up to them and say this word once in a non-mathematical context.

    His biggest commerical achievement was co-writing the 2000s BBC Radio adaption of Sexton Blake, along with his long time collaborator Mil Millington. None other than Simon Jones – Arthur Dent himself – took the main role, and the series also included June Whitfield and William Franklyn, in one of the latter’s final performances. Yet to me, and many others, the likes of his withering-but-also-scrupulously-fair review of Alien Breed 3D, or the whole farrago around that one bloke from Commodore UK screaming at him down the phone while Nash downloaded a massive picture of the Animaniacs, tend to be among the examples of his work that echo down the years… for better or worse.

    I’ll end this by simply copy and pasting an example of one of my favourite types of writing he did, which I call The Very Very Long List Of Things On A Theme. The original link is here, and it is titled “Further Terrific Stock Music”.

    Mood Suite: Parsimony

    Bright and Early at the Sinister Bakery

    Hearse Chase

    Mounting Consternation

    Consternation Mounting

    Reading the Will (With Biscuits)

    What an Exciting Town the Tourist Information Board Thinks This Is!

    Unwise Foot Pursuit Up Hill

    Approaching the Space Cafe

    Is He the Murderer?

    Is She the Murderer?

    Is He the Murderer After All?

    Block of Flats

    Naughty Danger

    Elderlies’ Comicals

    Elegance at the Canal

    Big Car

    Disproportionately Thrilled Patrons of Cheaply Sketched Nightclub

    Unwise Foot Pursuit Up Lighthouse

    This Looks Considerably Less Fun Than at First Appeared

    Mollifying the Gardener

    Domestic Fooferaw

    Office Fooferaw

    War Fooferaw

    Jolly Typing

    Jolly Picnic

    Jolly Guillotining

    Catastrophic Disaster (Kazoo)

    Action Costermonger

    The Incorrigible Glazier

    Teasing Dentistry

    Closely Examining Four Things

    Suspensefully Shuffling the Canasta Deck

    Barbara Harris Casts Voices

    Posh Bint Swans

    Winsome at the Cavalry Charge

    Searching For Clew at Unimpressive Disco

    Death Drums Across the River

    Entering the Magnificent Palace on Skateboard

    Creeping Methodically Through Every Empty Room

    Phew! It’s a Petrol Station!

    Boffin at Funfair

    Smuggler Punch-up

    Vestry Embarrassment

    Praising the Lickspittle Boatswain

    Pelting Urchin From Charabanc

    Constable on Cocaine

    Uninhibited Liaison (Kazoo)

    Unwise Foot Pursuit Across Galaxy

    Incurring Regret Again

    Sophisticated Uptown Shopping and Wickerwork

    Flaunting in Riviera

    Action Belittling!

    Rehabilitated Tapdancing Miser Spurs Competitive Athletics Recovery (aka Delightful Fleet Catalyst)

    Poor Johnny A-Go-Go

    Incredulous Vicar Facially Vibrating Double-Take

    Mostly Intentional Hilarious Death

    International Suspicion

    Staircase Descent (Circular Staircase Version)

    Infant Starvation Samba

    Elucidation and Pancakes

    Climactic Rapidity Suite (Haranguing the Wealthy — A Cafe Pitstop — Dispiriting the Gentleman — Victory at the Furlong)

    Ceremonial Trampling of the Unctuous (Kazoo)

    Christ! What Was That? (Kazoo)

    The Indemnification of Pamyla (NOT licensed for Pamela) (Kazoo)

    Contemptible Massacre (and Presentation By Accomplice Butler of Disreputable Puree) (Kazoo)

    Man Blows Kazoo (328-Piece Orchestral Arrangement)

    Glockenspiel to Murder

    Ribald Doxy Strut

    Slide Trombone’s Child Rides Helter Skelter (also suitable for Debilitating Arterial Spray)

    Simmering Commuter in Traffic Jam Glances Across at Neighbouring Car’s Improbable Occupancy (But is Not Amused)

    Simmering Commuter in Traffic Jam Glances Across at Neighbouring Car’s Improbable Occupancy (and is Highly Amused Then Dies)

    Receiving an Undeserved Pasting

    Impecunious Restaurateur

    Catamite Woodwind Solo

    Saucy Anxiety

    Big Show Theme With Racial Interjections

    Stabbing Chords For Stabbing

    Lunch Break at the Sleazy Milliner

    After That Dustcart!

    Clemency For the Vegetable Puppets

    Thumb Disclosing Postmark (Envelope Links Number 7)

    Gliding Down the Slipway

    Looting the Glovemaker’s

    Altercation Between Thieves Becomes Bloodbath

    Altercation Between Thieves Becomes Orgy

    Unstoppable Revolving Door / Merry Commissionaire

    Quotient Montage

    Happily Labouring Over the Brickwork

    Police Chef

    Busking / Busker Sneeze Dislodging Subway Keystone

    You Missed Him You Idiot! We’re Going Over the Edge!

    Whirling in Petticoats

    Revelations Aboard the Autogyro

    Not a Very Good Quiz Programme

    Castigation (Rolled-up Newspaper)

    Duplicity Belowstairs

    Castigation (Superior’s Hat)

    Someone is Up This Oak

    Local Nutcases Chased Round and Round Like Benny Hill By Irate Crim

    Wedding on Skis

    Stove Montage

    Ducal Jitterbug

    Pleasantries Among Gunfire

    The Excessive Salinity Has Spoiled This Vigorous Backstroke

    An Unforgettable Pentathlon

    Topple That Taxi

    Countermand Previous Cessation (Detachment Escried)

    Perilous Hopscotch

    Swaggering Hunchback at the Fashionable Supper Spot

    Another Case For Inspector Kazoo

    The Haunted Cymbals

    Hooligan Response

    Darting Through the Cornstalks

    Mood Suite: Five Lurks and Looms

    Romance Trumps Timidity

    Charleston vs Whipsaw

    Off to Work at the Gymkhana

    Carpenting Under Observation

    Luxury Casino Suite (Gambling Gaiety — A Turn of the Card — Balcony Disloyalty — Dice Chasers)

    Mischievous Mr Elephant

    Tuba Solemnity

    The Secret of Napalm

    Let’s All Go to the Magistrate’s Court

    Let’s All Go to the Moon

    Let’s All Go By Speedboat

    Let’s All Go to Chepstow

    Whisked By Parachute

    Indignant at the Roustabouts

    Muddling Through the Invasion

    Last Moments of the Match / Just After the Match / The Match Concluded Quite a While Ago Now

    Indeterminate Atmosphere (Wah-Wah Piccolo Version)

    Chums in Canoes

    March of the Uttermost

    A Scurrying Release

    Funicular Railway Drama Sting (Elongated Ascending Note Version)

    Heavy Tread of Suspense Boots

    Counting Coup in 4/4 Time

    Funicular Railway Drama Sting (Elongated Descending Note Version)

    Could This Flask Provide the Antidote?

    Trimming Trees, Fah-Lah

    Silly Beeping For Computer Scenes

    Turned Out Nasty Again

    Plunge Through Universe (Long Version)

    “I was a girl hamster.”
  • Debate 2025

    Things began awkwardly with Oscar The Grouch making a sharp retort early on to Stephen Fry. The famed bin-dwelling muppet stated that “once you’re said to be a National Treasure, that’s it… you’re finished. You’re fucked!” A startled Fry responded angrily, but soon left his chair weeping when Oscar mentioned something about Belgium.

    An already unsettled audience looked on as Mr. Snuffleupagus put a question to Jordan Peterson: “How can we trust the judgement of a prick like you, who did nothing but eat chunks of beef for months and then fell over and woke up in Russia, having become twice as mental as you already were?” Instead of a reply, Peterson closed his eyes and started to pray, and members of the audience broke into giggles.

    Jacob Rees-Mogg started to say something about the debate but was sharply interrupted by Elmo: “Elmo think there no debate. There no debate at all! Elmo realises that the right not interested in debate, or discussion of any kind! The right just want to divide and conquer.”

    A confused Rees-Mogg then withdrew from the conversation, sucking his thumb and calling for “Nanny”, who had passed on sometime ago.

    At this point Big Bird turned his huge, sorrowful eyes to the crowd, and declared: “Yes, this is not a debate. What we are taking part in is a pathetic reflection of the deranged impulses and irrational behaviour of the ruling classes, in never-ending conflict with the world as it is today.”

    Writers for The Spectator ducked and covered as the following song played:

  • “May you find all that you wish for in 1981…”

    You and I can share the silence
    Finding comfort together
    The way old friends do
    And after fights and words of violence
    We make up with each other
    The way old friends do

    Times of joy and times of sorrow
    We will always see it through
    Oh, I don’t care what comes tomorrow
    We can face it together
    The way old friends do

    You and I can share the silence
    Finding comfort together
    The way old friends do
    And after fights and words of violence
    We make up with each other
    The way old friends do

    Times of joy and times of sorrow
    We will always see it through
    Oh, I don’t care what comes tomorrow
    We can face it together
    The way old friends do

    We can face it together
    The way old friends do

  • An Open Letter To Jesse Singal From My Next-Door Neighbour, Dave

    Dear Mr Singal,

    Stop shitting in my bins. I’ve told you before, you do not use people’s bins as toilets. I do not accept your claim that “it is where all the waste goes, and so, and therefore, hmmmmm yes”. I don’t care how many times you repeat that exact sentence to me, fucked up syntax and all, as I chase you down the road yet again. Stop shitting in my bins.

    I have informed the local council about this, and they are looking into the matter. I am meeting my local MP in the New Year to see if she can do anything to stop you shitting in my fucking bins. And also if she can see to it that you are always clothed in public.

    Let me make it clear that I don’t know what this trans rights thing is about, or what this stuff about puberty blockers is. I just want you to stop shitting in my fucking bins.

    My bins are for a) household waste, b) garden waste, and c) selected recycable materials as decided by the local council. They are not for an American man to drop his American man’s turds in. The binmen are refusing to take my bins because you keep shitting in the fucking things, and I can’t blame them. I cannot emphasise enough that I really, really want you to STOP SHITTING IN MY BINS.

    I do not condone violence, but if this goes carries on I am prepared to get my grandad’s harpoon, sit inside the main bin and lie in wait. You know what would happen next.

    But of course, we don’t have to go through this. We do not have to go through the rigmarole of you receiving a harpoon right up the anus just as you start shitting, and you lying unintentionally prostrate on the ground screaming while I scream different things at you, and the subsquent trip to the hospital, and me getting arrested, and the months-long trial and media circus where Julie pissing Bindel talks to some bellend about how you had every right to shit in my bin.

    STOP. SHITTING. IN. MY. BINS.

    Yours, giving you ample warning,
    Dave

    P.S. And let me tell you, your shit certainly does stink. I keep thinking a fox has died.

  • Here is the very first comedy sketch I ever wrote, which I did at a very young age (typed from memory and slightly re-written for clarity)

    Here is the very first comedy sketch I ever wrote, which I did at a very young age (typed from memory and slightly re-written for clarity)

    INT. DAY. SUPERMARKET

    THE INCREDIBLE HULK: GRRRRRR! I am incredibly angry

    A small old lady walks by. She spots some milk on the shelf behind the Hulk

    SMALL OLD LADY: Excuse me…

    THE INCREDIBLE HULK: GRRRRRRRRRRRRR! NO MILK FOR YOU. IT IS ALL MINE

    The small old lady kicks the Hulk in the shins. He starts weeping and hands over the milk from the shelf

    THE INCREDIBLE HULK: *general crying noises and snuffling*

    Audience laughter and applause


    ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: I thought this was the funniest thing ever at the age of maybe 5. Full of confidence, I then tried to write a Ronnie Barker style monologue full of wordplay, but completely failed at it due to being a child with no real comedy writing experience. I got about as far as the words “Wagging Wogan”, which I may have cribbed from an actual mid-late 80s Barker sketch about Australia.

  • People Do Not Listen To Lyrics: A Case Study

    Recently I was out Christmas shopping, trying to find a suitable present for my neice. In the local shopping centre there’s a dedicated toy shop – not that “Smyth’s” thing but some other company.

    Anyway, after about three minutes of wandering around, with the only sound just being background chatter from everyone around me, a member of staff put on the in-store background music that was meant to be playing.

    This was the very first track. I am not joking.

    I swear I heard one of the mums absent-mindedly hum along to the chorus.

    …Do any of your readers have tales of completely inappropiate music being played in public settings?

  • A gift from my sister, who went to Japan

    The character: My Melody (Sanrio)
    The thing: Some chocolate

    Alright then. What’s on the back?

    Right you are, then.

    And when we open it up, we get this in a little tray…

    Multicoloured chocolate! In pastels? Sure, why not.

    A closer look:

    In conclusion: chocolate.