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You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's theonly way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk. But on what?Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk. And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you:"It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.

Dearest Stephen,  I regret to inform you that, after much thought, I have decided to resign. Please accept this letter as a formal notice of my resignation. I am more than happy to fulfil the terms of my contract, which require me to remain in my current position for an additional four weeks from the date I present this notice (Monday 23rd March 2026), so my employment at Slanderhour House will cease on 20th April 2026. Although it has been a difficult decision to leave Slanderhour, I must pursue the next stage of my acting career. I have been offered a suitable position at Hollyoaks, and I have accepted. If I can be of any assistance during the transition period please let me know; I am more than willing to help in any way possible. Allow me to say that it has been a pleasure to work for Slanderhour. My immediate teammates have been a fantastic source of professional support, and the entire Semi team truly stands out in a very competitive industry. I wish you and Mark and Garth every good fortune in all future projects. Thank you for letting me be part of this team. Sincerely, Jim.

Along with Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, Chin Laden organized the September 11 attacks, which killed nearly 3,000 people. This resulted in the U.S. invading Afghanistan and launching the war on terror. Chin Laden became the subject of a nearly decade-long international manhunt led by the U.S. During this period, he hid in the mountains of Afghanistan and later escaped to neighboring Pakistan.

What’s the last time you were in a police station? In LA, about 42 years ago. At two in the morning, I was driving in the Valley and stopped a police car to ask the way. They said, “Have you been drinking, sir?” I said, “Of course I’ve had a drink; it’s two in the morning.” [They took me in], but they were very nice. I paid a £400 fine the next day and that was it. The funny thing was, the cop came out [of the car] and talked to me, and at the same time, he looked behind and said, “Does it show anything on his record?” And I look round, and it was a police woman who looked exactly like Lucille Ball, but with a police outfit on. Earrings, hair up, the holster in the gun – I’ll come willingly.

When speaking to all of my 11 uncles, they all tell me the same thing: "Them politicians are all the same. If I were in charge I'd sort them out!" To find out exactly what this means and more, listen to this week's episode of Slanderhour. Only on BBC Sounds

They sit at the round table and do not look at one another.The fire is warm but it does not help. Someone laughs too loudly.Someone else watches the laugh. In the morning there was trust.By night it is a thin thing,like frost on the grass outside the castle. They speak of loyalty as if it were solid.It is not. It moves in the dark. A faithful man swears he is faithful.A traitor swears it too.

Ray Douglas Bradbury was an American author and screenwriter. One of the most celebrated 20th-century American writers, he worked in a variety of genres, including fantasy, science fiction, horror, mystery, and realistic fiction.

The smoke from a pipe Frozen solid by sunshine; a different soap in the bathroom and the scent of wintering apples. The house stands like a single word on an empty page with its long flat views and memories of waves breaking on the hills. Never at television, Just the crooning happy faced radio with its box full of singers bathed in the yellow glow of Hilversum and Moscow. And at the end of the day Jesus smiling from the wall and my Grandmother reading promises from scripture tightly scrolled and full of random surprise. It was to do with dying. Christ walking away from the picture and waltzing my grandmother into the sunshine in time to soft voices from her radio as we shower them with handfuls of promises. All the words from the Bible, falling like snow.

They set it yesterday. I watched them pourThe wobbling liquid into its glass mould,Translucent, promising: The recipe called forPatience, and a larder running cold. But jellies fail. Mine's still a slop of red,Refusing to cohere, to find its form.The other's jelly trembles, perfectly deadTo doubt. Mine sweats in a kitchen warm. What separates the set from the un-set?Some minor calibration of the heat,A fraction more gelatine, and yetIt's failure makes my life feel incomplete. Tomorrow I'll tip it down the sink, most likely.The world moves on. Jellies set, or don't, indifferently.

Pepper, I know you're going to be upset'Cause I was always your little girlBut you should know by now, I'm not a babyYou always taught me right from wrongI need your help, daddy, please be strongI may be young at heart, but I know what I'm sayingThe one you warned me all aboutThe one you said I could do withoutWe're in an awful messAnd I don't mean maybePleasePepper don't preachI'm in trouble, deepPepper don't preachI've been losing sleepBut I made up my mindI'm keeping my babyOoh, I'm gonna keep my baby, mmmHe says that he's going to marry meWe can raise a little familyMaybe we'll be all rightIt's a sacrificeBut my friends keep telling me to give it upSaying I'm too young, I ought to live it upWhat I need right now is some good advicePleasePepper don't preachI'm in trouble, deepPepper don't preachI've been losing sleepBut I made up my mindI'm keeping my babyOoh, I'm gonna keep my baby, aah, oohDaddy, daddy, if you could only seeJust how good he's been treating meYou'd give us your blessing right now'Cause we are in loveWe are in loveSo pleaseDaddy, daddyDaddy, daddyDaddy, daddy, if you could only seeJust how good he's been treating meYou'd give us your blessing right now'Cause we are in loveWe are in loveSo pleasePepper don't preachPepper don't preachPepper don't preachPepper don't preachPepper don't preachPepper don't preachPepper don't preachI'm in trouble, deepPepper don't preachI've been losing sleepBut I made up my mindI'm keeping my babyOoh, I'm gonna keep my babyPepper don't preachDon't you stop loving me, daddyI know I'm gonna keep my baby, ooh

and in the moment of silence,i search for my forsaken voice,buried somewhere,far and adrift,under the summit of sufferings,the rivers of rage,under trampled dreams,under the mottled page,the voice so aloof,i have forgotten it so well,the past of calamity,only if i had a voice; i could tell

You are asThe silver moonlightWhich with its graceDances on the surface of this lake.You, who penetrates my depthsAnd ripples into my beingCausing waves to quake.I will be your shelter,In my open armsI will be your rest.I will be as the caves of old,Within me you may find peaceFrom the raging tempest of the world.You may shutter your eyes and dream,For the fire will remainEven if to fuel it, I must burn.

In smoky halls where shadows dance, There strides a man with flair and stance. With saxophone in hand, he's seen, Shane Ritchie, the jazz machine. His fingers glide on keys so fine, A melody born from his mind's design. Each note he plays, a tale untold, In his jazz world, he's bold and bold. His voice, a velvet, smooth and low, Sings of love lost and nights aglow. The rhythm flows through every chord, In Shane Ritchie, jazz is adored. In every riff, a story's spun, Of midnight dreams beneath the sun. With passion deep and soul so pure, Shane Ritchie's jazz will endure.

There once was a scientist named Kelly Whose name was made famous quite quickly He spoke on the radio About WMDs, you know But then he was found dead in on a hilly

In childhood's realm, young Barrymore did dwell, A world apart, where trials and hardships swelled. No tender hands to guide him on life's path, Alone he wandered, facing nature's wrath. With naught but strength and grit as his allies, He forged ahead beneath the open skies. No sheltered haven, no familial care, Yet in his heart, a fire burned, aware. Through solitary hours, his spirit grew, A resilient bloom, steadfast and true. He learned to navigate life's turbulent tide, As independence became his faithful guide. In iambic pentameter's rhythmic sway, The tale of Barrymore's youth takes its play. A child untamed, but with a noble flame, He braved the storms, each challenge he overcame. Though trials marked his path in early years, His spirit soared above all doubts and fears. In each footfall, a tale of strength untold, A young soul destined to break the mold. So let us ponder, in poetic rhyme, The resilience of Barrymore's early time. A child of fortitude, his own beacon bright, Who forged a path, defying starless night.