What the hell has happened to me?
There was a time when I was the scourge of the Interweb. Politicians and others quaked in their boots for fear that they would come to my attention and get a lashing from my acerbic wit. Shelves groaned under the weight of all my trophies and awards.. Publishers fought amongst themselves to sign me up. I was king of my domain.
Then I look at yesterdays scribble and I cringe. Books that I’m reading? Fuck me but that’s the kind of crap I used to lambaste others for writing. Tedious, boring, uninteresting shite. Next thing I’ll be putting up fashion tips and how to apply make-up.
I worry. Am I loosing my marbles? Is this a sign of encroaching dementia? Am I becoming that boring old fart who traps people in the pub with his endless tales of tedious nonsense?
Where is the Grandad of yesteryear?