Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Indeed, I’m blogging. I’m a blogger.

If you’re still here then wow, thanks and welcome to Safety in Cucumbers.

I’m a man of 26, halfway through his 20s and halfway almost everything else.

I’m deeply proud of having gone to a comprehensive school and vehemently oppose elitism. But attended both Oxford and Cambridge.

I’m punishingly middle class. I know what a chantenay carrot is for fuck’s sake. And white asparagus. I actually have a Waitrose loyalty card. But I hate middle class sensibilities. But love cricket. And Blowers and Aggers and Tuffers and Vaughny and Vick.

My accent is an appalling mixy melange. My Mam is Westwalian, Dad middlest middle England, home a mobile reception blackspot in the Westcountry. None of these factors explain the occasional Northern vowels, cockney twists and posh-boy shouts. Why? Fucking why? Facking Whii?

I pretend I really care about football but increasingly don’t. Politically I’m quite torpid. Quite torpid. I make out like I like wanky literature but (between me and you) have read all the Dan Brown books. Harry Potter was good. It was.

I’m a scientist who eschewed academia. A man who likes people who like drugs (but doesn’t like drugs). I’m arrogant and rude and shy and backward. I’m a totally shit bastard. Hi.


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