Dear reader, and I am under no illusion that there is more than one attendee at these bipolar-infused ramblings, though if there are two of you, I’m sorry for being so rude, it will come as no surprise to you that I am still reeling from my experience at Beetlejuice in London.

Fear not, if you didn’t read the review I posted here, you can see the video version that is now up on YouTube here. How modern of me, I know!

I’m also questioning whether the term ‘finger blasting’ is ever appropriate in a review, but I have posted it and I have forced myself to avoid deleting anything, or indeed editing things into oblivion ever again. Well, with it being the last year of this journalism degree, I should commit to something. It is a reference to the iconic production of The Producers which closes on the 19th of September, so I suppose it’s not too awful in comparison to laughing at the Holocaust. Again, context matters, and if you haven’t seen The Producers, you really ought to because it is absolutely hilarious and barely fits on the stage at The Garrick.

I am aware there are infinite more important things to get wound up about in 2026, but when something consistently teases you of what it could be, I think I’m… this post is running the risk of becoming yet another review.

What else is new? I’m broke again. But that’s not news. The academic year… is happening. Modules are there, times and days are sort of confirmed, though it could all potentially change. The academic system is definitely not as stable as I thought it was. I’m sure that when my journalism degree gets me nowhere I’ll be dishing all the dirt… it’s me, in the dirt. My journey is the dirt and we’re already here.

I just wasn’t prepared for the institution that saved me, or the idea of it, to be anything but rigid, baked in years and years of rules and traditions. I thought everything would just… be? Of course, the reality is that humans are running human businesses that educate humans who want to embrace education, and that means university is fallible and that’s what makes it totally dysfunctional, but utterly bloody brilliant.

Did, did I save myself there?

What’s not so brilliant is the way I’m currently looking after myself. Spoiler: I’m not, but that dear reader is something you’ll find out about in a future post.