The Balkans may be about to climb up Britain’s priority list under its new prime minister – while a cheeky new novel suggests no one would care that much if the UK ceased to exist.
Marcus Tanner
Greetings from London, where I’m super-hot. Not hot as in sexy, or popular – just plain hot. I wrote about the unseasonal heat last month – forgive the repetition – but I had a hunch then that the boiling weather might just be a blip. It wasn’t. This is the summer when global warming in London kicked in, grew teeth, got nasty.
When I’m not working, I lie under a whirring fan with a jug of iced water, reading a much-praised, though-provoking new novel.
Normally, I give science fiction a wide berth, having over-binged on post-apocalypse movies in the 1990s. They got too samey – the same dark sky, the same ruined urban skyline, the same rain, zombies, litter, mutants and whatever.
