21 Years in a Flannel Shirt

2012 Hull Politics graduate, work for a Labour MP in Westminster, flit up to West Lancs when possible.

You will find a lot of these two here:

Recent Tweets @
bedazzledfans:

Happy Easter Everybody!

I am ok with this.

bedazzledfans:

Happy Easter Everybody!

I am ok with this.

thebritishnobility:

This portrait of Queen Elizabeth II by the renowned British photographer David Bailey CBE is released on April 20, 2014 to mark her majesty’s 88th birthday on Monday April 21. The photograph was taken at Buckingham Palace in March and was commissioned on behalf of the British Government’s GREAT Britain campaign. The image will be used in activity to support the GREAT campaign, which aims to generate jobs and growth through highlighting internationally Britain as a world-class destination for trade, tourism, investment and education.

GREAT Britain Campaign

Royalist I most certainly am not, but this is an incredible portrait.

(via phantomunmasked)

Sweet.

lifejustgotawkward:

Dudley Moore and Peter Cook

by Lewis Morley
cibachrome print from original transparency, 1960s
11 1/2 in. x 10 7/8 in. (293 mm x 275 mm)
Given by Lewis Morley, 1997
National Portrait Gallery x87171

kissmeholdmekissme:

21yearsinaflannelshirt:

I went up to Liberty yesterday to scout out perfumes, with this one and two others in mind, but as soon as I sniffed this bad boy I was sold.  I mean, I spent a good few minutes with the other two just to be sure but this is amazing.  Snuck out of work early this evening to head back up to see the good Mr Grant, who is a total gent and ludicrously gorgeous.

I think this lady was the one I heard him mention Twitter to, I assumed they knew each other ..Lovely photo… 

Edit so jealous.. I wish he’d put love on mine :(

That was indeed me, hiya!  Seems like everyone had a lovely time of it :)

frog-and-peach:

Day 241

Pete & Dud

I went up to Liberty yesterday to scout out perfumes, with this one and two others in mind, but as soon as I sniffed this bad boy I was sold.  I mean, I spent a good few minutes with the other two just to be sure but this is amazing.  Snuck out of work early this evening to head back up to see the good Mr Grant, who is a total gent and ludicrously gorgeous.

In death as in life, we are the pavement-strollers, the window-shoppers, the bored, bunion-hobbled boulevardieres. We’re there waiting for something—anything—to happen. So we can be photographed, or filmed, or videoed, a blackcloth of hysterectomies, in front of which events can be played out again, yet never exhausted. History is never in the round—it’s always on a stage; and while the curtain may be death, why is it then that so many scrutinising eyes stud the proscenium, peering into the dimness of the stalls? Are they tragic or comedic masks—or not masks at all?
How the Dead Live, Will Self (via qdefinity)
I was hungover and jittery in St Louis, and there was a blizzard raging across the Midwest. As I looked at the departures board in the airport it riffled into DELAYED, DELAYED, DELAYED … the only exception being the New York flight: my own. Cursing this glitch that was sending me to my doom, I tramped down the companionway, reflecting ruefully on how my last moments on earth were to be spent noting, yet again, the bizarre habit air transport infrastructure designers have of fitting odd vertical surfaces with carpet.