No Sacred Cows
Scepticism served medium rare
Category: Essays
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Why Did British Political Debate Become So Superficial? Watching France 24 or Euronews discuss Brexit can be a mildly disorientating experience for a British viewer. Not because they are always right, or because European journalism is somehow immune from bias, laziness or theatrical nonsense. It plainly is not. Germany has Bild; France has BFM TV…
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“Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful”. There are days when time seems to lose its edges. Nothing especially wrong, nothing dramatic, no bad news, no crisis, yet by late afternoon one has the distinct impression that the day has somehow passed without ever properly declaring itself. A few essentials done, several not done,…
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Today’s attack at Bondi Beach was, according to early reports, aimed at a Hanukkah celebration. If that is confirmed, it will be yet another example of something humanity has failed to confront honestly. Religion has repeatedly given stupid people an excuse to commit unspeakable atrocities against their fellow humans. Not because faith uniquely creates violence,…
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Escape from Eight Hours of Techno Torture, to Sanctuary at the Macaca Beach Bar We came to Khao Takiab for a peaceful night by the sea. Softly lapping waves reflecting the full moon, a light breeze, a swim in warm water. Instead, we found ourselves with a front-row seat at a deafening eight-hour Full Moon…
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The early morning songtaew was peaceful. A lay ascetic sat opposite me, quiet, composed, radiating the sort of calm that makes everyone else behave for once. No drama. No noise. No need to pretend the world is listening (as in the earlier blog). Fast-forward to the return journey, where tranquillity died a swift death. In…
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A beach that once held shells and seaweed now spits back our own rubbish. What would have shocked those of us who grew up before the plastic age barely registers today.
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When even solitude needs a tripod. One man’s dawn swim meets the selfie apocalypse. After an hour’s swim at dawn in glorious solitude, the sea smooth as glass, the horizon glowing like molten silver – I thought I had the beach to myself: two kilometres of unspoilt quiet. Then, inevitably, modern civilisation arrived. A lone…
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In May 2025 Jia Tolentino wrote in the New Yorker about what she calls her “broken brain”. She means the fog that settles when words slip out of focus, when news feeds pile horror upon horror, and when reality itself feels unreliable. “I feel a troubling kind of opacity in my brain lately – as…
No Sacred Cows 