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WAKING up with a hangover whose reverberations were a contributory factor in the earthquakes that afflicted the Greek island of Santorini, I reflect on the past week. 

I WAKE, the sun glowing through the blinds. I rise, fling them aside, and gaze out from my timeshare onto the exclusive resort and spa once known as Gaza.

IF you’re not panicking about arbitrary sexual milestones, then you really should be. To contribute to your insomnia tonight, here are five you may not have considered.

Thing is, most people fancy Jodie Foster and hate the president, but John Hinckley went and made it weird.

WAKING with a hangover that has left my tongue feeling like a king-size foam mattress left out in the rain for several days, I reflect on the tumultuous events of the past week.

IT always feels out of order talking about Africa and food in the same breath. All those guilt trips from Oxfam with starving kiddies and asking for money. It’s enough to put you off your dinner.

THE achievements of the Reverend Martin Luther King cannot be overstated, with even an annual federal holiday for Americans celebrating his legacy of equality.

Just two more and you’ve slept with every mascot in league football. God damn, why must Pilgrim Pete and Pottermus play so hard to get?

WAKING up with a hangover that according to my Geiger counter readings is technically a nuclear incident, I reflect on the week’s events, not least the new presidency.

ACTIVE J ‘as da January blues. Coz man ‘as been bare dumped. Lady G is no longer peng gyaldem. Her went off da scale at Active J in da cinema, for no reason at all, innit.