A Belfast story

There are two sandwich bars a couple of hundred metres from each other near the junction of Botanic Avenue and Shaftesbury square. The one where Felix works does about a thousand pounds

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disgusting

Stephen Byers has been caught with a woman not his not wife by the News of the World. Perhaps her name will be changed to Buffy: as Faith once said in a rather different context, she boinked the undead.

So we wonder, what’s it like?

Apparently he said “the most disgusting thing she had ever heard” in the throes of passion. I think I know what this might have been: “I’ve had an issue. It mustn’t turn into a personality.”

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eggs, granny, eggs!

Chat kills

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under god

Salon is consumed with discussions about the pledge of alliegance. I also saw a rumour that it’s dying. I hope it lasts at least until I get to SFO in July for a weekend. I like those people. There’s a characteristically trenchant and thoughtful piece by Scott Rosenberg about the flag up today.

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the breeder’s eye

Sex is one of the things that gets left out of pop science books, at least until the subject is safely dead. There’s not going to be much copulation in the worm book, either, at least among vertebrates.

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fame at last

Rupert keeps asking if he is the only person here. Not while I’m alive he isn’t. And I discovered this morning that of all the 2 billion sites that Google indexes, there is only one that comes top of the list when you ask for a sleazy piece of trash journalism. And it’s mine. So let’s big it up for Professor Daniel Dennett.

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dna and souls

I have long suspected that John Polkinghorne is a bit of a windbag. He was the subject of a truly elegant demolition by Freeman Dyson in the NYRB a couple of months ago. But listening to him trying to explain a scientific concept of the soul on the Sunday Programme yesterday I became certain of it.

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breaking up

Shameful confession time. Here I am, a science writer of sorts, and I can never remember the difference between mitosis and meiosis. They seem to me like “left” and “right”. I know they are important labels referring to different things but I can never remember which refers to what.

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my life as a whore

I’m never sure whether journalists more resemble prostitutes when dealing with editors or when talking to people who want to be in the newspapers.

In the second case, we get to watch our clients in grip of degrading passions, yet convinced that they and they alone are truly special. In the first case, we get to be degraded ourselves.

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too sick to print

a rumour that Nigel McCullough is the second name on the shortlist for Archbishop of Canterbury that has gone to Tony Blair.

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