"'What sort of adventures?" I asked him, astonished. 'All sorts, Monsieur. Getting on the wrong train. Stopping in an unknown city. Losing your briefcase, being arrested by mistake, spending the night in prison. Monsieur, I believe the word adventure could be defined: an events out of ordinary without being necessarily extraordinary.'"
--Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea (1964)
Oh hello. I didn't see you there. My name is Robert Wringham and this is my internet weblog. It's a sort-of diary. It's a sort-of opinions column. It's mainly a massive intrusion into a person's life and brain.
I'm a writer and performer. You can catch me doing various comedy stints and short readings here and there and in my debut monologues show, The Crinkle-Cut Man.
I'm the editor of a magazine called New Escapologist and I sometimes address the world through the medium of blog.
I've written loads for magazines including features for The Idler and stuff about comedy at the now defunct Mind's Construction Quarterly.
I've also written plays and burlesques; been a book reviewer, librarian and nude model.
I grew up in Dudley before moving to Glasgow in 2004. I am Jewish. I choose to wear a suit every day. I like sex and taxidermy and am very polite. I collect religious pamphlets. I listen to punk rock and eat a lot of sweets.
My name is from James Hogg's Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner.