Run, Geezer, Run.

Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” And Bruce Springsteen once said, “Tramps like us, baby we were born to run.” These two apothegms formed the twin pillars of Russ Cook’s (AKA Hardest Geezer’s) philosophy of perseverance that propelled him to run the full length of Africa. Not that we’re calling Russ a tramp. We wouldn’t dare – he’s the world’s hardest geezer. Beard could probably do with a shape up, though.

This isn’t the type of thing we’d usually share in coolsh*t, but the bloke’s just run 385 marathons in 352 days and raised £650,000 for charity in the process. If that isn’t worth making an exception for, I don’t know what is. That makes David Goggins look like an indolent slob. I can’t even run a bath without getting shin splints.

This provides incontrovertible evidence that gingers are capable of enduring extreme levels of suffering. Years of being called ‘Fanta Pants’ will do that for you. I’m pretty sure it’s actually a scientific fact that people with red hair have higher pain thresholds on average. And by ‘scientific fact’, I mean something I read on the internet… that was probably written by a ginger.

Just Sniff It.

You can spend days on end sniffing tables if you’re not careful. Once you start talking about the government reading your thoughts and how we’re all spiritually connected it’s probably a good time to call it a day and go to bed. But thanks to Louis Vuitton’s new coffee table book, at last you may now have a good reason to sniff your coffee table.

Titled A Perfume Atlas, the book was created in collaboration with Louis Vuitton’s in-house master perfumer, Jacques Cavallier Belletrud, and includes $5,000 worth of perfume designed to take readers on an olfactory expedition around the world. Some people just have too much money.

Belletrud hits a host of locales for the finest raw materials, including Sri Lanka for cinnamon, the Ivory Coast for cacao (a key note in Louis Vuitton’s fragrance Nouveau Monde), Tunisia for neroli (featured in Imagination), and Newquay for Cornish pasty (featured in Ginsters).

The Sheikh Up.

We’ve said it before and we’ll say it until we’re as blue in the face as a dissenting journalist critical of the regime: NEOM is class. And the rate at which it’s developing is genuinely extraordinary. I suppose that’s why they named it after the sound of a speeding car.

Long-time coolsh*t readers will be all too familiar with NEOM by now, but if you do happen to be new around here, allow us to run you through a very quick crash course. And take off your shoes, you rude bastard.

Launched in 2017 by crown prince Bin Salman, NEOM is the Saudi megacity of the future seeking to redefine urban life. This week, the latest development was unveiled: a 450-metre-long bridge hotel stretched across a lagoon on the Gulf of Aqaba, complete with glass-bottomed rooms and topped with an infinity pool. Love it already. You had me at bottomed. Any remaining residual Western triumphalism really takes a hit when you compare this to the Premier Inn at Luton Airport.

Rectum Ralph.

Relax, this isn’t what you think it is. At ease, soldier.

Prostate cancer is one of the highest cancer risks for men but is treatable when found in time. However, many men are put off going to get tested due to their deep-seated antipathy to having anyone’s fingers in their…  you know… how do we put this delicately… Wookey Hole. Be grateful we didn’t say Cheddar Gorge. But it turns out this quite-understandable aversion is predicated upon a myth.

To challenge this misconception, cancer awareness charity Prost8 have created a series of eye-catching, cheek-clenching posters for prostate cancer awareness month, pointing out that often all that’s needed is a simple blood test.

Although if you’re an ardent traditionalist I’m sure you can request they do it the old-fashioned way. Doctor-patient confidentiality really does mean confidential, right?

Long Live the King.

Getting old isn’t all fingers in the bottom. Sometimes it’s burgers. And then maybe a finger in the bottom – if you play your cards right.

Nothing gets one’s tummy rumbling quite like seeing a couple pensioners getting off with each other. No? Just me? Prudes. We said prudes, not prunes. Anyway, clearly I’m not alone, as that was presumably the logic behind Burger King’s 70^th anniversary campaign celebrating old lovers still keeping the flame of passion alive even after all these years. Get it? Flame. Like flame-grilled. It’s clever, in a really stupid sort of way.

There’s a satisfying symbolic symmetry between this campaign and Burger King’s menu: they’ve always got you covered whenever you have a hankering for something hot, steamy and… leathery. Whopper, anyone?

Espresso Yourself.

Moncler: a brand of improbably shiny coats adored by improbably tiny little Italian men and South London roadmen alike. That’s almost as weird as Courvoisier appealing exclusively to aristocratic old ladies and rappers. Or Oatly being enjoyed by sickeningly sanctimonious, feeble-stomached bores and… actually no that’s about it. We are legally obliged to disclose at this point that we’ve recently accepted a multi-billion-pound gift from the Big Milk industry.

Back to the matter at hand: whatever Moncler do, they do it big – unfortunately including their price tags. But the only thing even bigger than their prices and the egos of their clientele is the brand’s behemoth blockbuster new exhibition, which turns Milan Central Station into an immersive public gallery.

Curated by Jefferson Hack and featuring portraits of an eclectic cast of international creatives including artist Daniel Arsham, musician Rina Sawayama and make-up artist Isamaya Ffrench, this is sure to be an event not to be missed. Just don’t turn up late. I hear the trains run on time.