Bit more fun than the rest, I almost won the Scottish Student Features Writer of the Year with some of these (some are much later and therefore worse as I lost my mojo).
I didn't win because apparently I split the judges, they reckoned it wasn't real journalism. Fair point. Then a deputy editor of Scotland's biggest broadsheet told me I reminded him of Richard Littlejohn. He qualified it by saying it was the verboseness, but I was in a horrible mood for the rest of the year. The event was in July.
Presenting Kettle Egg - Zero-effort perfect soft boiled egg every time
- exactly what it says. And no washing up.
The day I realised I was gay - and a serial killer
- I'm neither. But that's all I'm saying on this one. That and it was a cheeky wee piece that got a pretty good response when published.
The book of death dates - if you could, would you look to see when your time's up?
- As the title suggests. This one is taken from an eventful trip to the doctor. She asked if I would be happier if I knew when I would die. I didn't know the answer, so posed the question.
