The world according to Kirkey
Farage is the epitome of the establishment: a privileged upbringing, private education, and a City career that made him millions. I’ve often wondered why so many people—especially working-class voters—get drawn into his orbit when he’s such an obvious fraud. I suppose his carefully crafted image of perpetual victimhood, delivered over a pint of beer, resonates … Read more
My opinion on the royal family may not receive applause in all British households, but I’ve come to think they’re an outdated, unnecessary institution. The older I get, the more republican I become. They’re a dysfunctional family – elevated to a level of deference that more than irks me. That’s not to say I haven’t … Read more
The last leg of my walk was a greatest hits album of Bracknell absurdity: burglars with bin bags, missing false teeth, Harry Potter film sets, and a showdown with a bloke known as “Half a Thumb.” But tucked between the madness were the moments that mattered — the ones that stitched my life together. One … Read more
Why do people queue for political ghost rides that feed them fear instead of truth? This piece digs into the psychology of resentment dressed as “concern”, the friendships strained by it, and the moment you decide to step off the ride and back into daylight. A mate told me the other day they were spending … Read more
When I walked into COSTCO the other day I wasn’t expecting an epiphany. But then the LEGO World Cup edition tipped me over the edge. Firstly, it looked pretty ghastly – square bricks being used to create a rounded object is problematic from the get‑go – and secondly it spoke of an abandonment of what … Read more
If Part One was the warm up lap, this is where the memories start sprinting. Bracknell in the 80s wasn’t just a place — it was a full contact sport. Robberies, dodgy motors, youth clubs, blasting The Specials, and me trying to look competent in a Vauxhall Chevette that handled like a shopping trolley with … Read more
Some towns never really let you go. Bracknell is one of mine. I left it, returned to it, loved in it, worked in it, and lost in it. I went for a stroll around Bracknell then like a budget Forrest Gump I kept on going – well at least for 9 miles. What propelled me … Read more
Policing is messy. It’s human. It’s imperfect. And anyone who’s ever worn the uniform knows that the fault line running through every shift, every decision, every “why did they do that?” moment is the same: the human beings doing the job. I should know. I was once one of them. Operational policing isn’t a seminar. … Read more
In my later years I’ve become a seasoned crier – not just at football, but in the full, messy, human sprawl of life. Films, family moments, unexpected kindness, the odd existential wobble… they can all set me off. Sure, I’ve shed a tear or two at matches over the years, but I’m not the sort … Read more
There’s a particular kind of moral contortionism doing laps on my social media feed — a sort of ideological Pilates where people bend themselves into shapes the human spine was never designed for. Anything, it seems, to avoid confronting the central, unavoidable truth: That Nigel Farage’s rhetoric preceded — and in my view helped inflame … Read more