Chris Deerin
Chris Deerin: I’m just ‘Ruby’s owner’ – and that’s enough
Chris Deerin: Fancy that, being a grown-up Artful Dodger with Hasidic leanings and a Sex Pistols fixation is rather fun after all
Chris Deerin: Posh hotels do lack life – give me Fawlty Towers any day
Chris Deerin: Keep praying for a saint who can restore the halo to our national politics
Chris Deerin: Golf is a delightfully ridiculous game – very much like life itself
Chris Deerin: Whatever the opposite is of being ready for the first born flitting the nest, that was us last week
Chris Deerin: Never mind the horrors of ‘no deal’ when there is three for two on dried noodles to be had
Chris Deerin: It’s big, but is it clever? Why you need not be afraid of the literary leviathan
Chris Deerin: Once you go slack, there’s no going back – a salutary sartorial lesson for these troubled times
Chris Deerin: Kissing guys, hating gravy, sex dreams and Sue Lawley – when being wrong is entertainingly right
Chris Deerin: I have unimpeachable taste and that’s why I’ll never watch the shows you all love
Two books, 80 angry women and one hell of a long way still to go on feminism
Please no-one sack Gavin Williamson: the Secretary of State for Slapstick is the perfect tonic for these dark days
Bhutan’s philosophy on happiness is full of Eastern promise for the UK’s wellbeing
Gran designs: why we must plan on welcoming the elderly back into the family fold
Finally on vinyl: an incurable introvert’s unlikely stumble towards musical stardom
USA – in fact Earth – would be better run by robots
