Unwanted Reviews

Writing is frequently a dejecting and profitless pursuit for me. I write several thousands of words every week, a few hundred of which will likely never be read by anyone but me. I write reviews much like the ones posted below in the hope of elbowing publications into giving me regular commissions, although rarely does this work. Thus what I’m left with are many bespoke articles that are never to see the light of day. But not these reviews. They were written for an upstarting website focusing on life in London, the editor of which was presumably unimpressed with my contributions. So lest they wind up on the web elsewhere under somebody else’s name (unlikely perhaps, but this has happened to my writing before) I thought that it was best to post them here first.

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A Holiday in Orlando (Parts 4 to 5)

iv. Biscuits for Breakfast: Animal Kingdom

There’s a saying: if something is found to be delicious, Americans have tried eating it for breakfast. Supposedly consuming any food first thing in the morning is fair game in the good old US of A, even cookies, which are considered a completely acceptable way to start the day–although only when covered in whole milk. They might have been rebranded “Cookie Crisp” and marketed as cereal, as not to arouse the suspicion of health conscious consumers, but the resemblance is surely unmistakable. Then there are Lucky Charms, of course, which were around in UK for a while (we can only hope they never found their way to Ireland), before somebody must have noticed that they were feeding their children marshmallows and e-numbers for breakfast, and then they disappeared faster than they had arrived.

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A Holiday in Orlando (Parts 1 to 3)

i. Arrival

As I travelled by car though the dusty boondocks, on towards Kissimmee, I passed an old wooden sign that read: “Rabies shot $5”. Below the text, crudely scribbled in permanent marker pen, was an arrow pointing towards a tiny ramshackle hut made of corrugated metal and a few bits of soiled cardboard, presumably there for decorative, rather than structural, purposes. Then no more than thirty yards down the road stood a gun club, its unavoidably large emblem assuring sceptical drivers that the business was “100% owned and operated by gun enthusiasts!”.

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