BY MIKE MUTHAKA He was a chef in Paris. Then he was a farmer. Then he was a door-to-door salesman in Scotland. He’d go around selling cooking stoves and making a killing at it. He was so good, in fact, that his boss asked him to write an instruction manual
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA The curse of the black leather jacket The muscly wide-nosed bouncer at Milan wants to see my ID before letting me into the club. I’m with my office mates, and today we’re celebrating the departure of a colleague. Everyone’s a bit sad she’s leaving, not least because
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA I didn’t get around to interviewing a millennial this week. So I’m just going to tell you about my new loafers. Two weeks ago, for the first time in my life – on a hot Saturday afternoon – I
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA In the last 36 hours I’ve taken about 10 mugs of water with lemon, ginger and honey. I have a flu, a flu that makes me lazy and woozy. I rarely get flu. My head feels like a vessel of mucus. On Monday I bent down to
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA Felista’s Rug I knew there was something odd about Felista the moment I saw her. She had a slumbering fire in her eyes. If this was ‘How I Met Your Mother’, I’d say Felista had the crazy eyes. She was 19, tall, with high cheekbones that were
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA On the weekend before Christmas, in the 34th minute of a game against Manchester City, with the scores level at 1-1, Crystal Palace’s winger Andros Townsend marked his 100th game with a beautiful goal. It was the kind of goal commentators would call,
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