Europe explained. Big fan of this. I was hoping to visit Bjork and No YouTube Land later this year but I think plans are on hold while I dilly-dally in the union.
about out of sight
A site of original and unoriginal content meant to entertain and inform. Out of Sight is edited by JJ O'Donoghue and William Hilderbrandt.more about out of sight
If this site had to be summed up in one word and a preceding parenthetical phrase, then it would be (hopefully) entertaining. Think of it as an archive of some of the most interesting articles, videos, photography, and miscellany that JJ and William find online.one more thing on out of sight
Out of sight is Will and JJ's attempt to get noticed and invited on daytime TV or any Fox TV show. Before out of sight, there was rich and creamy, a hugely popular blog for spammers who wanted to sell us penis enhancing products. They were wasting their time.who is this stud william?
William lives in Paris. At the start of 2009 he left London and all his friends and his bad job to come to France, where he hardly speaks the language, to be with his girlfriend. Officially he is very happy to finally be living with her but occasionally he does get nostalgic for London.who is this wise guy jj?
Quite early on in life JJ discovered that he was a fabricator. In 2006 his mum and dad invited him to leave their home in Cork, Ireland and head for London, where he now resides, to shake up the city. He cycles hard, drinks hard and blogs harder. You get the picture.search the archive
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Europe explained. Big fan of this. I was hoping to visit Bjork and No YouTube Land later this year but I think plans are on hold while I dilly-dally in the union.
Get London Reading has posted an interactive literary map of London. Nick Hornby’s How to be Good is the nearest book on the map to my address. Although I haven’t read it, the review (on the map website) tells me it features a character called the Angriest Man in Holloway. Indeed there are quite a few Angry Men in Holloway, they used often call in and bother me on my graveyard shifts in The Lord Nelson. All they wanted was a fight, but all I could offer was a pint of ‘lahr-ger’.
“On the house?” demands Angry Man.
“Errr, no,” me meekly.
If it was an English man he might go and call me a twat. If it were an Irish man, he would first inquire which county I was from, and then call me a bollux. I always wanted to ask why they thought they’d get a free pint, just by asking. Does it really work in other pubs? Instead we’d all sit around in the house of broken souls and destroyed dreams and wait for the night to be over, or for a fight to break out, so we could do it all again the next day.