
English school summer fete photo of the day: the loneliness of the Splat the Rat girl
I confess I never understood how Splat the Rat was played.

I confess I never understood how Splat the Rat was played.

Not often seen on land.

Now I truly feel that I have experienced English life in all its glory.
Or The Heat. Or White House Down. Or Grown Ups 2. This is because these films don’t open in the U.K. for weeks and weeks still.

Yes, total stranger sitting across from me on the train into St. Pancras this afternoon: please put your Sainbury’s crap all over my side of the table we’re supposed to be sharing.
Actual unretouched phrases that people plugged into search engines this week that led them to this site (with some commentary from me)…

Old signage uncovered at the Soho headquarters of Paramount Pictures.

Now on sale: Haitian sculpture.

The ridiculously comfy seats in one of the screenings rooms at the Charlotte Street Hotel.

This memorial to Agatha Christie has suddenly sprung up near Leicester Square tube station.