The news that those wacky Taliban have taken the bourgeois imperialist capitalist pigdog move of opening an honest to goodness office, where like, they can be faxed n'stuff should be cheering to all those of us who believe firmly in the power of office mundanity to dampen any fire in the human soul. Sure, the Taliban think they're engaging with the world, but all they're effectively doing is allowing the world to seep into them. Their unique brand of religious insanity will inexorably be subsumed beneath a tide of petty arguments about stationery, arguments over who has yet to contribute to the tea kitty and fretting about whose turn it is to wash the mugs with "old men make better lovers" and "world's greatest dad" printed on the side. The fires of righteousness may yet burn strong in these crazy kids, but can they survive a team-building weekend in Wales?
Look, I never claimed to be cool. As a a cliched middle aged male, I have a number of interests which, if not exactly niche, are perhaps not freighted with glamour. Not exactly ones to set the heart racing. I yearn not for wakeboarding, my cocaine with minor celebrities days are well and truly behind me, you are unlikely to catch me writing graffiti under a motorway bridge. I do cycle, but only as a way of getting from point A to point B, you are unlikely, you will be relieved to hear, to see me purchasing lycra and or/doing triathlons. I like going for a nice walk. I'm fond of a good book. I have a deep attachment to county cricket. Yes, that's right, county, not even the international stuff which briefly captures the nation's fleeting attention once in a blue moon. County cricket. Somerset CCC to be precise, though I'll watch / listen to any of it. The unpopular part of an unpopular sport. Well, that's the public perception, the much maligned two men and a dog. N...
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