Craft lager stan

Prediction: me at 4am during this night shift

Win a pair of hospitality tickets to Aston Villa v Nottingham Forest 🎟️ We're proud sponsors of the @EuropaLeague & Aston Villa and we're giving away 3 pairs of 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬 to the semi final! To Enter: Follow @Betano_UK RT this post #AVFC

The World’s number one

I love the U.K., a man can run around the streets stabbing people for being Jewish, and the issue people debate is whether the police officers trying to remove the knife from him used excessive force. Proof that we will do absolutely anything to avoid addressing antisemitism.

In a small act of colonialism, the EU’s GDPR comes before I can pay my respects

What a beautiful day… To be sat in a call centre answering phones 📞

London’s Metropolitan Police demonstrate facial recognition tool amid gr... youtu.be/91u9q77lBiU?si… via @YouTube

Any other employer would have to shut down if mouse nests and a rat were found 🤢🤢 grim

At the London Marathon 😂😂😂

Outrageous levels of London Marathon FOMO. One day I’ll get in on the ballot 😭

WHY did this get cancelled?! 😭😭 @PeterBjornJohn

Win a pair of hospitality tickets to Nottingham Forest v Aston Villa🎟️ We're proud sponsors of the @EuropaLeague and Aston Villa and we're giving away 3 pairs of 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬 to the first semi final! To Enter: Follow @Betano_UK RT this post #AVFC

@aheroinesdeath All inclusive?🍹😍

No? Surely not? 🤣

@LessCrime It has an incredible difference on the number of outstanding named suspects and FTA warrants!

I think the effect of live facial recognition on policing is probably quite limited, because it only helps catch already-identified suspects. But the Met has bent over backwards to make sure it’s applied fairly, so I’m glad this judgement makes that clear.

@stephenpollard @spectator What an incredibly sad but poignant read, my thoughts are with you

Here's my @Spectator tribute to my wonderful cat, Louie, 'Nothing prepares you for the death of a pet' spectator.com/article/nothin… My companion – my friend – Louie died suddenly on Tuesday. He was nine (his tenth birthday was due next month) which, in cat years, made him middle-aged. No one saw it coming – he’d had his six-monthly check-up a few weeks ago and was seemingly fit and well. If you don’t have a pet, you can’t fully appreciate the depth of the bond and the corresponding rawness of the grief. Louie has been my constant companion, especially since I divorced and moved into my own flat six years ago. Living alone, I regarded Louie – formal pedigree name Albalou Bojangles, a British shorthair – as my closest friend, in the sense that I saw more of him (it seems bizarre to be writing in the past tense about him) than anyone else. He was there throughout Covid, when I was shielding, and through treatment for my leukaemia. My whole flat is a reminder of his presence with scratch pads, toys, cat furniture, and all the other paraphernalia that comes with a cat. The morning after his death was so difficult. We’d had a morning routine which was the same every day. I slept with the bedroom door closed, as otherwise Louie would be in the room demanding food. At around 5.30 a.m. he’d start scratching the door and meowing loudly. I’ve always been an early riser anyway so I’d get up and go to the kitchen to give him his food as he rubbed himself against me, as if saying ‘thank you’. Then he’d push his face against the shower glass as I washed and follow me to my bedroom, jumping on the bed while I dressed. Louie would follow me into the study as I looked through the papers and hop onto my desk, usually bashing my keyboard. That same routine, every day. But not any more. I’m bereft. Louie had spent the day with me on Tuesday as I was having a new boiler fitted, so I was keeping him out of the way. At around 2 p.m. he was – as he often did – lying across my tummy as I watched TV on the sofa, purring happily as I stroked him. I had to disappear to my study for ten minutes to check some edits on a piece and when I got back, he was lying outstretched, all 35 inches from his nose to the start of his tail, under the dining table, where he never sits. I went to stroke him and he didn’t move, so I assumed he was in a deep sleep. I called ‘food’, which always wakes him up, and there was nothing. Then I realised he wasn’t responding at all. I called the vet in a panic saying I thought he had died – I couldn’t quite tell if he had actually stopped breathing. I’m only five minutes from the practice and when we got there, the vet confirmed he had no heartbeat. As I think about it now, I’m struck by how he must have known something was happening and so took himself to a new place to stretch out ready to go to sleep forever. It was all so sudden – ten minutes before he went he was (or at least seemed) totally fine. The vet said it was most likely a stroke or a heart attack, perhaps after some underlying issue. The only good thing is precisely that it was so sudden and so he didn’t suffer. On Wednesday night I went to the kids’ house to break the news. Cat owners will know that wonderful feeling when you open the front door and your friend has somehow sensed your return and is sitting there waiting for you. I live in a maisonette and Louie would almost always be at the top of the stairs as I put the key in the door. There was no Louie that night when I got home. My flat is empty. Rest in peace, my friend.

Bruh you’re 24 years old and wearing a tracksuit, how can you not outrun a cop wearing 15kg of kit with a shirt and tie on 😭🤣

You’d be livid if you are a Villa fan. Could’ve got a Euro away semi in Porto … instead you’ve got to go to Nottingham

Fail DV in the Police and you face the sack. One rule for one…

@MissRedKJ 😮‍💨😮‍💨