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A Magazine for Sheffield
Sad Facts

Dismal Updates For Grieving Citizens

In this fraught world of polarisation, where truth doesn't matter and reality is but a moth flitting senselessly through a hall of virtual mirrors — in one mirror, the small grey moth is as big as a transit van or modest bungalow, in another it is colourful like a magician's silk scarves, and then, in yet another mirror, the moth's proportions and attributes are reflected more or less correctly, but the moth insists on bumping repeatedly into the glass — it is difficult to pick a side.

Opinion is a currency that is valued very highly. 'But what do you think?' say people at my wife's dinner parties that I have to attend because I live there. 'Oh, isn't it just awful?' say others, taking a punt and hoping that it is awful and that they have expressed the correct opinion. 'If you ask me...' begin a thousand people who no one ever asked, especially not me, as I keep wanting them to leave so I can watch the History Channel in peace.

Well, dear reader, I would like to put an end to this once and for all. From now on, where at all possible in my day-to-day life but most importantly in print, I will no longer express an opinion of any kind.

For too long, journalism has been a profession of overwrought thoughtfulness, scrutiny and chin-stroking. In the future I will only ever be found stroking my cat, Emperor Nero, and upon doing so will never remark (or even think) on the quality of the cat, or the stroking of it, or any of the feelings or ideological quandaries that the activity raises.

Me and Emperor Nero will be found staring out into the back garden with our minds free from judgement and when final enlightenment comes, the moth of reality will come to rest on my face and I will be, not happy, but something.

I've Heard The Arguments, But I'm Going To Keep Doing Bad Things

By Carlos Rudd

My name is Carlos Rudd and I’m an anarchist. I’m going to keep doing bad things unless you manually hold me down and keep the weight of your body on top of mine like a paperweight.

What’re you gonna do? Employ a policeman to sit on me full-time?

Your move, Secretary Of State For The Home Office/Mum.


By Simon Klimpt

It’s time to end the tyranny of so-called identity politics. Describing and understanding people by a vague collective identity is exactly the kind of blinkered thinking I’ve come to expect from valueless, entitled, ephemeral millennials.

I am not the only one who does not think with such a herd mentality. It’s also an opinion shared by many of my friends, peers and colleagues who I know, trust and see regularly at the places we both like.

Remember well the fable of the Nazis, who sought to crush everyone into a homogenous grey sludge. A far cry from the allied forces, who marched against them wearing whatever clothing they wished and running in whatever direction best expressed their true self. Liberal democracy wins again - as it always shall. We shall not lose ourselves under any blanket banner. Rule Britannia. Vote Leave.


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