Burger Buns in the Oven.

I haven’t seen this many people get angry over a burger since the last time I dared enter Brixton Maccies at 3am. IYKYK. If you don’t… you don’t want to.

Burger King’s latest campaign has created some serious beef. And by serious beef, we mean people shouting into the void that is their LinkedIn feed. He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee.

September 26th is the day on which the most babies are born in the UK. And according to Mumsnet, 39% of new mothers claim the first thing they crave after giving birth is a burger. BK combined these two nibbles of esoteric insight to create a campaign showing real mothers who really just gave birth really tucking in to real burgers… really. And some people aren’t very happy about it, especially this one bloke who keeps commenting on every post with a petition to ban the ad because it promotes unhealthy eating habits. Fair point, but I’d rather be a Whopper clutcher than a pearl clutcher. And just be grateful Marlboro didn’t make an ad for the 22% of mothers who said they really fancied a cigarette.

Awengers Assemble.

We’re starting to fear that Arsenal might actually be becoming a bit of a cultural powerhouse. They’ve done Maharishi, they’ve done Stella McCartney, they’ve done Labrum, and now they’ve dropped a streetwear capsule in collaboration with Aries. And as much as it pains us to say it… it is a bit nice.  

The 26-piece collection spans clothing, accessories and jewellery, focusing on co-branded graphics looking back at the club’s founding year, its original Highbury stadium, and archive crests. Because if there’s one thing all football fans love, it’s looking back wistfully through rose-tinted Edgar Davids goggles at the prelapsarian past before the game was destroyed by oil baron billions, VAR and teams doing fashion collaborations. Hang on a second… Game’s gone. Big Terry’s crying into his lukewarm pint of John Smith’s. 

We want to hate this, but we can’t. And Declan Rice was in it, so that’s really saying something.  

Born Slippy.

Cosy season is here. It’s time to layer up, get comfortable, pop your slippers on and put your feet up next to the fire. Hold on, not so close. Wait! What are you doing?! Stop! Don’t put your feet in the fire! …B-b-but… your slippers… how come they aren’t burnt?

The above is a dramatic recreation of an exchange you might have if you cop Carhartt’s new fire-proof slippers. Created in collaboration with SUBU, a Japanese label specialising in winter sandals, the house shoes are made using a recycled polyester outer shell that is not only abrasion-resistant but also flame-retardant. Woolmark are fuming.

I suppose you don’t think you need them until you do. So now if you do happen to burn your house down, at least your feet won’t get cold while you watch the fire brigade squirt and stomp out all the precious memories that can never be replaced.

Evidently Chickentown.

If you like your poets to resemble a Tim Burton interpretation of Bob Dylan, John Cooper Clarke is the bard for you. He’s a true master of his craft, but I’m not sure how many people have ever looked at him and thought: “I want to smell like that guy”. 

Molton Brown, a brand with a long heritage of creating unique, high-quality fragrances and conveniently curated gift sets that dads up and down the country will get for Christmas whether they want them or not, have partnered with Dr. Clarke to highlight the artistry of its perfumers. 

In his signature mellifluously nasal style, the good doctor unpacks the multidimensional nature of Coastal Cypress & Sea Fennel in a poem titled À la recherche du temps fondu. We’re getting hints of cardamom… bergamot… marine elements… and… my goodness… is that… yes, I believe it is… chippy chips and half-smoked roll ups. C’est magnifique.  

Think Slightly Different.

It’s become a running joke that each new iteration of the iPhone is identical to its predecessor, just with a slightly better camera. Apple are smart, they know you can’t fight a joke without inadvertently fuelling it. JD Vance learned that the hard way by relentlessly trying to disprove Tim Walz’s claims that he was “weird”, which in turn just made him look a bit weird. Textbook Streisand Effect.

This week Apple leaned into the joke by extolling the virtues of this marginally improved camera with a multi-city exhibition featuring work from Prince Gyasi, Ryan McGinley and Chen Man, all shot on the iPhone 16 and not post-processed in any way… according to Apple, but why would they lie?

I feel inspired to start taking more photos that aren’t just of my food, my dogs and the rash that I keep sending to my doctor. Hopefully he unblocks me soon.

To Be Blunt.

If you’ve been following the dumpster fire that is this year’s US election, you’ve likely heard the claim that “democracy is on the ballot” repeated ad nauseum… by both sides, which seems a bit strange. The stakes have never been higher. This is the most important election of our lifetime… until the next one.

Amidst all the fun, it may have escaped your notice that there’s another democratic event occurring this year with even further-reaching geopolitical implications: James Blunt’s name. In true Bluntian fashion – that is to say, annoyingly posh – the singer dubbed “the most hated man in pop” is offering you, the demos, the power to change his name to whatever you like, just as long as you get his re-released debut album to number 1 in the charts.

You might think this is a stupid, desperate cry for attention – and you’d probably be right – but one can’t help but be somewhat beguiled by the bloke’s ability to so effectively mobilise and monetise hatred. You can decide for yourself whether that last sentence was about James Blunt or the US election.