the guardian

You are standing alone in a small cell, 6 by 9, listening to bangs and shouts echoing down the corridor. As you look around to get your bearings – a bed with a thin mattress, a toilet, a table screwed to the floor – you hear voices. They…

Whenever you read anything, you are made conscious of your class. This is especially true if you have a working-class background. I was struck by this recently while reading Alberto Manguel’s essay collection Into the Looking Glass Wood in…

The keener eyed few of you will have noticed that there wasn't a Tittererer's Digest last week. Strictly speaking, I'm not really supposed to say why I wasn't available last week. But let's just say that it certainly wasn't because I was…