The love of money is the root of all evil. I do believe that. Of all obsessions, getting obsessed with money can really twist you up and ruin your soul. I’m not quite sure why that is. Psychologists have experimented on chimps to modify their behaviour through operant conditioning, getting them to do certain tasks on the promise of bananas as a reward. They went a step further and trained the chimps to accumulate money tokens that could be traded for bananas. Even chimps became obsessed with money for its own sake.

Not that we are chimps, so let’s end that digression here. Where was I?

I have been a deflationist since 2007, when I first figured out (retrospectively, mind) why the Credit Crunch happened and then I accurately predicted the 2008 financial crisis. What I didn’t do was make any money off it. You see, the only way to profit from a falling market is to go short. And as you soon learn, going short is nothing like going long. When you go long, the whole of the Establishment is on your side: stock exchange rules, herd mentality, tax breaks, central bank interest rate manipulation, government policies. Go short, and the Establishment is against you. You must get your ducks lined up perfectly and correctly guess the window of opportunity. It’s very easy to go bust by going short.

The only safe thing to do in a falling market is to sell out of your positions and hold cash. That isn’t really profiting, but merely protecting the wealth you already had. Profiting comes later, when the market rises [1]

Although I correctly predicted economic changes in these past ten years, I’ve singularly failed to capitalise on them. Although I well understand investing, I’m not actually very good at doing it. I have the wrong temperament. I’m much too risk-averse, and way too wolfish to let myself ride a delusional rabbit market. Those rabbits who do go all-in will make money if they manage to sell back into cash before the crash. Few do, but there are some.

So, I’ve been rather annoyed the past ten years when looking at the stock market. It’s a ridiculously over-priced casino where everyone is playing musical chairs with paper valuations. Price-earnings ratios are pure fantasy, based on fake earnings and wildly over-optimistic multiples; banks are holding interest rates ludicrously low, making debt appear risk-free; company buy-backs are adding unsustainable buyer demand; What a shit show. When will the music stop? Has it stopped now?

“Markets can stay irrational longer than you can stay solvent” John Maynard Keynes [2]

Knowing I was ill-equipped to make money in an irrational market, I stayed the hell out. So I’ve been in cash, watching the indexes tick ever higher. Very frustrating. Then Corona happened and every major index crashes 35-40%. Suddenly, it’s like ten years of missing out never happened.

Have a look at these charts. I’ve drawn a line to highlight which year they crashed back to, at the bottom of the first crash.

So, the big stock market that matters- the USA – has dropped from its February 2020 peak of 29,423 by a massive 37%. The venerable UK index is down 34% since February (almost the peak). The squarehead baby-eating hun index (DAX) is down 39%. Lastly, the bat-eating evil-hearted slant index (Shanghai) never recovered from the 2008 bubble and is now 55% from its heady highs.

Those are big drops. Now look at it historically, in terms of which year it’s taken us back to:

Yanks: July 2016 – when Valerie Jarrett Obama was still president
Brits: August 1997 – only three months after Tony Blair first took office
Huns: May 2013 – last time a German club team reached a European final
Fu Manchus: January 2007 – I think the Boxer Rebellion was still going on.

Those are big snap-backs. I graduated my Masters Degree in August 1997 and started my first job in London a month later. If I’d begun investing my money in UK companies on a buy-and-hold strategy starting then, I’d have not made any money [3] in twenty-three years! If you look further left on the charts you’ll see if most indices drop a little more (which I think they will, this is just the beginning), they’ll time-travel even further back. The chinks and huns aren’t far off 1997 either.

In fact, the only area not badly impacted by the Corona Crash is Africa:

So, what does this all mean? I’ll probably post on it next week.

If you’re needing a daygame fix, you ain’t gonna get it on the streets, are you? Far better to read up on your theory with Daygame Mastery and Daygame Overkill, so that when the crisis passes you are ready to dive into quality skirt.

[1] Anyone banging on about crypto, day-trading, leverage, ETFs etc as a way of making cash in a falling market can fuck right off now, you stupid morons. You win a couple of coin tosses and think you have an unbeatable system.
[2] A closet homo.
[3] Except dividends, of course, among the rare companies that actually pay them. That would be more than offset by buying shares in a rising market, so I actually lose money when they drop compared to staying in cash the whole time.

Serbia has been in lockdown for three weeks. Not to the extent of Chinese measures, such as welding people into their homes, but they are taking it rather more seriously than the globalists running the UK. So, everything is closed except supermarkets and pharmacies, which themselves close at 3pm. There’s a curfew from 5pm, but food delivery is still allowed. It’s all going swimmingly, as society continues to function and Krauser continues to maintain his bodybuilding macros.

So, everyone is happy.

On my way to Maxi for a pint of milk, yesterday

I was on a big conference video call last night with a right bunch of cunts and it was my first social contact in a fortnight. One topic mentioned was, what is everyone doing with their free time in isolation? The main thing I realised is that my life hasn’t changed in the slightest. I’m still unemployed, with no mates, and no birds. I was doing that before Corona made it cool. That got me thinking about introversion and Game.

Have you read Susan Cain’s popular book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking? I did last year and thoroughly enjoyed it. Her main thrust is that extraverts outnumber introverts 3:1 and through weight of numbers have convinced us that characteristics of introversion are dysfunctional. They’ve pathologised it. We see this in game advice constantly. You’re supposed to go out to social environments packed with people and stimulus (bars, clubs) and then talk to every cunt there. Be friendly to the door whore, high five the bouncers, get pally with the bar man, chink glasses with every group, open some pawn sets, merge them forwards, get bummed off a fat hairy Turk. Okay, that last one is still non-standard advice. But, the point is, traditional game advice maps directly onto extraversion. Be More Extraverted.

What if you think bars are shit? What if you’ve no interest in faking palliness with strangers? What if you don’t want to befriend jackasses? Then you have bad game, brah! None of this is news to avid daygamers. Most of us already had that eureka moment of I can shag birds without becoming a social monkey. We know we are introverts and that a path of tight game exists for us too. No, that’s old news. What interests me about Corona is extending the thought: what if it’s not just simple introversion that is being unfairly patholigised by insufferable extraverted big mouths?

The Corona Stop

Think of the following behaviours which are generally considered socially dysfunctional:

• social anxiety
• compulsive hand-washing and surface-cleaning
• homophobia
• racism
• standoffish with wop-style hugging and cheek-kissing
• hoarding

What is the one thing all of these behaviours have in common? Minimisation of exposure to infectious diseases.

The Corona lockdown is reminding us why the environment has selected for introversion. We haven’t had a major human pandemic since the Spanish Flu of 1918 [1] so we’ve been lulled into a false sense of security about how regular these things decimate humanity. The four horsemen of the apocalypse are Conquest, War, Famine, and Pestilence. Civilisation is the art of allowing people to live in cities without dying like rats [2]. Globalisation massively ups the risk, by expanding the scope of where diseases can be found and the speed of how quickly they can be imported into our countries. People seem to forget antibiotics weren’t invented until 1929 and didn’t enter widespread usage until the 1940s.

That’s why we haven’t had a major pandemic since 1918. We forgot about Pestilence, just as we forgot about Famine and, until recently, Conquest (i.e. mass immigration)

This cunt dies first

So, when wondering how certain “dysfunctional” traits emerged in our population [3] everything changes when you interpret it against a backdrop of ever-present disease risk. All that rabbitry of the past eighty years was enabled not just by the spectacular resource growth of capitalism (suppressing Famine) or keeping all our wars outside of the Western lands (suppressing the popular experience of War), but by the impact of antibiotics and sanitisation in controlling pandemics. Thanks to the commie Chinese bastards, perhaps that era is coming to an end. The four horseman of the apocalypse have appeared on the horizon and that’s turning us wolfish.

I couldn’t help but notice the January/February fad for prepping on Twitter. To me, this is the wolfish trait of “preparing for winter” expressing itself. The squirrels are collecting nuts. The world continues to shift from r towards K. I like it [5]. It’s becoming a world I recognise and enjoy living in.

So, what am I doing in isolation? Just the same things I always did, because I’m a wolfish introvert. There have been some tweaks. The gyms are closed, so my training regime has shifted towards endurance/flexibility, seeing as muscle-building is out. Concordantly, my diet is back towards low-carb and -300 calorie deficits. After running surpluses and carb supercompensation, I’d have to cut eventually. Might as well do it now. I continue to read more than I should (just started book #44 of 2020), and I’m catching up on my video games. I recently completed Division 2, Yakuza Zero, and Sunset Overdrive [4]. I’ve also gotten my ass in gear for writing my two planned books of 2020.

What should YOU be doing during a lockdown? Well, what better time is there to do your daygame homework and really learn the theory, so you are well “prepped” for when the streets reopen and the bitches start looking for dick? Get yourself Daygame Overkill, by far the best infield video series out there.

[1] I don’t count Ebola because that only affected Africans, or AIDS because it only affected degenerates.
[2] That’s an aphorism from Vox Day.
[3] I’m talking about introversion etc again, not faggotry.
[4] All excellent games. I’m currently level 38 on Assassins Creed Odyssey and halfway through Resident Evil 2 remake.

[5] Fortunately I did all my shagging while rabbitry ruled the world.

I’ve been watching a lot of “bodybuilder YouTube” of late and I’m struck how similar it is to PUA YouTube. Not completely the same, mind: the bodybuilders aren’t setting up fake modelling agencies in Ukraine in order to hire actual prostitutes onto yachting holidays to pose for the marketing photos they use in scamming chodes out of hugely over-priced immersion courses taught by incompetent chancers (not that it isn’t a very natural lifestyle choice…. ahem) [1]. They don’t have inner game coaches too scared to leave the house, nor do they go on mass-bumming holidays in the bamboo thickets of the Portuguese countryside (while telling themselves they are warriors). Probably those bodybuilders aren’t paying for sex while charging money to teach “seduction” either.

Wait. Hang on. What was I talking about?

Oh right, bodybuilding!

So, I’ve been taking my body very seriously since July 2018 and gradually becoming smarter and more disciplined at bodybuilding. As much as I respect madmen like Dorian Yates and Ronnie Coleman I have no desire to go that route. Rather, I’m inspired by the athletic physique sub-genre and have as my ideal standard the Hollywood Perfect look that the heart-throbs train for before a big role. That’s actually do-able on my genetics without drugs.

Mind you, I didn’t know that when I started. Which brings me to today’s rumination.

I’ve been watching those “body transformation” videos on YouTube where some guy trains up for a role, such as Christian Bale going on an Auschwitz [2] diet for The Machinist and then rebounding as a mass monster in Batman Begins, or Tom Hardy bulking up for Bronson and Warrior. It motivates me to see what’s possible but at the back of my mind were always two doubts:

1. That cunt is on drugs.
2. My age and genetics preclude me from those sorts of gains.

Well, it would appear I’d very much under-estimated what is possible when you’ve got your regime finely honed. Body transformation is all about gym, diet, and recovery [3] and for most of my life I’d been shit at all three. I was especially surprised when MorePlatesMoreDates argued that in many cases, the Hollywood body transformations were probably natural. He reckons Henry Cavill, Ben Affleck, Zak Efron were likely natty, whereas Chris Hemsworth, Tom Hardy, and Christian Bale were juicing.

Face is unattainable but body is not

My first nine-months were self-taught under the guidance of a bodybuilder friend, over Telegram messages. He’s gone for the absurdly-proportioned muscle-head aesthetic and likes a cocktail of drugs, brute-forcing his gainz with testosterone and trenbolone. I’m rather more health conscious and determined to remain natural, but even so, his was a vast store of bodybuilding knowledge that got me off to a good start and helped motivate me until gym and diet had become entrenched habits.

The really big jump was when I hired a personal trainer. Within one session it quickly became apparent I’d vastly underestimated just how much knowledge goes into training, and how much injury-free progress requires good decision-making. It’s not as simple as just plucking a routine from the internet and then trying it out on your ronson, with headphones on while ignoring everything around you. Much like daygame, my coach could spot all my errors as easily as I spot bad form in one of my clients. He knows how to make all the strategy decisions of when to lift what, and when to change.

Before showing up on the first session I asked myself, what attitude do I appreciate most in my own daygame clients? I resolved to take that attitude into the gym now that I was the client. I resolved to never skip a session, never show up late, never run my mouth like a chatterbox, never whine, never drag my feet to eke out extra rest periods, never bitch, never bury my head in my smartphone between sets and so on. My coach- who looks like Captain America- is the expert and he was making the decisions. My job was just to lift what he told me to, then eat what he suggested.

It’s going great. I don’t expect to be headhunted as the next Wolverine but I’m already looking far better than I thought possible in July 2018 upon beginning. The habits are deeply entrenched and I’m full-on gymcelling now. My week has only two modes of being: at the gym, and recovering from the gym. Nothing else matters and I love it. The days fly by. Here’s my typical routine for the four gym days per week:

10:30 – wake up, shuffle into bathroom to clean teeth, shower, then admire myself in the mirror
11:10 – walk to nearby “bodybuilder” restaurant that serves clean gym food. order coffee and chicken omelette, have a shit in their toilets, have another coffee, check interwebs
12:40 – walk to gym, buy 1 litre water en route, change clothes, weigh myself, full-body stretch
13:10 – begin workout
15:00 – end workout, stretch off, shower
15:20 – return to restaurant, drink protein shake, order chicken rice with salad, coffee, and read a book
17:30 – eat again, something with beef and low carbs, leave restaurant
18:00 – have a nap on my bed
19:00 – read more and fuck about until it’s time for my final evening meal

You could say these are perfect conditions for bodybuilding. I’ve got no job, no bird [4], unlimited rest time, fresh-cooked clean food, and a great personal trainer for every session. These conditions won’t last forever so I’m determined to max out my effort and discipline while I’m this fortunate and still retain a fanatical determination to push ahead.

For those of you wondering about the specifics of my routine, here’s a snapshot. Bear in mind it’s always changing and I rarely look at what weight is on the bar/machine because my coach is keeping track of all that for me.

SATURDAY – Legs/Shoulders

0 – Full body stretch for about ten minutes, based on boxing stretches
1 – Seated Leg Extensions. One warm-up set of 20 reps at low weight, then four or five work sets, the last usually being a drop set. I fucking HATE this exercise and dread it, but like that it’s the first one so it’s over almost before I realise it. I pull some right fucking retarded faces when I’m trying to squeeze the last reps out.
2 – Hack Squats. This tires me out, having all the weight pressing onto my whole body and I’m always a bit worried that when the squat gets deep that I’m not coming back up. Usually four sets of 15-20 reps, getting progressively heavier.

Me before leg press

3 – Leg Press. Again usually a warm-up set then progressively heavier on the four work sets. Rep range usually 15-20 and tapers down to 10-12. Last week I did 280kg, being 7 plates of 45lbs each side, which I was rather happy with. It felt like I was stress-testing the tensile strength of my knees. This exercise exhausts me completely, turns my head bright red, and never fails to elicits some grunts and yelps but when I finish the last set its a key moment: I’ve broken the back of the leg workout and it gets easier from here on out.

Me after leg press

4 – Deep Dumbell Squats. This is legs quite wide, facing mirror, holding a heavy dumbbell at my chest. 15-20 rep range with escalating weight until four sets done. I’m always dripping with sweat from it, but somehow it feels more comfortable than all the others. Perhaps it’s due to my wrestling exercises of years back which involved hundreds of similar unweighted squats.
5 – Abductor. This is the seated “bring your knees together” exercise all the women do. I consider it a rest period, even though the abductors themselves get trained to failure. It’s just a small body part and the rest of my body is recovering as I do it. Usually it’s midway through the third and final set that my heart rate is back to normal for first time since hack squats.
6 – Seated Hamstring Curl. I usually enjoy the 20 reps of the warm-up set, as it’s another exercises that doesn’t drain the whole body. Usually by the fourth set (usually a drop) I’m near tears because it really hurts. It’s not tiring so much as it’s just plain painful in a way nothing else is.
7 – Seated Dumbbell Flies. Onto the shoulders now and this is four sets with reps decreasing from 20 to 10 as the weights go up, ending in a long drop set on four different weights.
8 – Barbell Raise. I don’t know what this is properly called. There’s a 10kg bar with light plates on each side. I grip at shoulder width then, straight-arms, swing it up to nose height. Feels good to do. Usually four sets, 15-20 reps.
9 – Seated Overhead Press (Machine). This one is tiring again, as it transmits all the weight through my entire torso. I don’t like it much, but it feels like hard work so actually I do. Again, four sets with rep-range declining from 20.
10 – Abdominals. Weighted crunch machine, often supersetted with leg raises. Four sets of 15 or 20, depending on weight.
11 – Weighted Neck Raises. Lying flat on a Reebok aerobics step, I place a 5kg weight on my head and then do 20 raises each for front, left, right. Then repeat.
12 – Stretch off.

That’s the hardest day because it’s legs but all four days take about as long. On the other three, I do fifteen minutes cardio on the treadmill at 7.5km/h. Sometimes vary it to be longer, or faster, or interval. If readers show an interest, I can talk about my fitness regime in greater detail.

[1] And you too, Max and Kramer. You pair of scamming fag boys.
[2] Assuming such a thing really happened and it’s not all a Jew/KGB scam.
[3] Briefly, I thought bodybuilding was 5% gym and 95% eating tuna out of the can while watching YouTube.
[4] No mates, either.

I haven’t been playing PUA Police for a long time but I haven’t lost the natural contempt a legit player feels for the posturing of fake players [1]. I learned to seduce women the hard way, got good at it, and proved myself with evidence (photo, video, in-person) for many years. I have many friends who have done the same [2]. When you do any activity for real, you learn the lay of the land. You learn what is possible for certain people, certain environments, and certain strategies. It becomes easy to spot fakes, easy to notice the lack of verisimilitude in the boasting of these fakers.

It’s a pretty good reason to avoid forums.

I do avoid forums [3] so I’m not best placed to opine on exactly what’s going on nowadays, other than that nothing has changed and they are all shit. When you step in a dog turd you don’t rush a sample to the DNA laboratory to find out precisely which breed laid the turd, do you? However, one of my well-travelled hangers on friends likes a bit of forum squalor and has also ‘collected’ a whole bunch of forum Big Guns over the years, amusing himself in comparing the online persona to the real life underachievement. It is to this man that I now hand over the reins…..

Meeting a forum Big Gun in real life

It was late 2019. Out of nowhere- and to the shock of the PUA community- RooshV dramatically U-turned, denounced game as immoral and cleaned up his RooshV Forum. After having failed to successfully seduce women from all over the world, he decided he had never really wanted to anyway. He banned a ton of members.

Shock! Horror!

Where would theses posters (and lurkers) go without their illustrious leader providing them with a platform to spout their nonsense? Like the ronin of Edo-era Japan [4], these internet big guns were left to wander cyberspace with uncertain futures. Some moved to Swoop The World. Numerous Slack and Telegram groups were hastily created. Some of those ‘legendary’ players simply didn’t bother looking elsewhere, fading into insignificance.

When the RVF was at its peak, there had always been some members simply too chodey, too full-of-shit and too delusional even for Roosh’s tolerance. Once banned they found solace at the Naughty Nomad forum, a home devoid of rules, boundaries, morals and more importantly truth. Like The Trench from Aquaman, these bottom-feeding creatures had found their home at the darkest depths of the ocean, and life flourished.

Naughty Nomad had been making a nice earner through book sales, kicking back a commission for all the business sent his way from RVF. With the demise of said forum, affiliate sales dried up for the Naughty one and his forum activity began to wane. Yet as its death rattle shook the bottom rung of the internet, it gave birth to something yet more sinister and with a wider reach: the Naughty Nomad Facebook group. However, there are terms applicable should you wish to join this exclusive club [5]. Once membership is confirmed you’re privy to a completely new world of delusion. Madness such as this gem of logic:

I don’t think he’s ever met an actual Turk

This is a world where women descend upon you the moment you step off the airplane, requiring a hearty seducer to pre-load a Client Relationship Management system in order to managed the swarms of flange throwing themselves at him.

Ever-helpful, the NNG swings into action with advices.

Anyone want to bet if the third column has even a single entry?

A world where Russian Super Models use Tinder to arrange assignations in Prague hostel rooms.

A world where low-T Millhouse look-a-likes get laid every night they go out in Frankfurt bars.

Every. Single. Night.

A world where Ukranian waitresses compete amongst themselves for who can date you.

Scratch the surface a little. Click on these guys’ profile it gets worse [6] Short brown people, overweight low-T chodes stood next to Manilla 5’s on their pictures, blah blah. Well readers, call me sceptical, call me a miserable old bastard, for I am both. Despite all these apex pussy slaying alpha shagging predators on the Naughty Nomad forum, it seems lacking in actual evidence. For all these misfits and cast offs fucking HB9s all over the world, there doesn’t seem to be any pictures of said fucked HB9s anywhere on the forum.

It’s almost as if it’s not true….

Thanks pal. Back to Nick now.

There is a video game called Second Life and it plays like an online The Sims. You create a character and enter a virtual world of socialising where everyone is slim, attractive, and lives in a nice pad. It’s an escapist paradise where the pain of your real-world failure can be anaesthetised. Particularly delusional men can fashion an entire “shadow career” of achievement within, relating to others as we desperately wishes he was, rather than how he really is. It is a world composed of interactions between false holographic projections. A mockery of genuine connection.

It turns my stomach, readers.

[1] – Technically I’m a retired player, but let’s not quibble details.
[2] – They don’t always make the evidence public, but within the “inner circle” we see it and know who is 4reelz.
[3] – I checked MalePrivilege twice last month, which probably spiked traffic to all-time highs.
[4] – But with considerably lower free testosterone.
[5] – You need a facebook account.
[6] – I’ve hidden their profile pictures for this article but believe me, these men are not what women dream of meeting.

Hardcore daygame, yesterday

“Hey big man, fancy bumping into you outside the Argyll Arms on this cold winter evening. Have you been daygaming?” asks a keen purveyor of the mystical street arts to another adept he’s just crossed paths with.

Snow falls lightly onto his nose. He hunches his shoulders and shivers. A woolly hat and thick scarf would probably stave of hypothermia, but such winter comforts would clash with his rock’n’roll jacket and obscure the three skull pendants hanging from his neck. He long since lost feeling in his fingers. Rather frostbite than allow mittens to cover his skull rings.

The big man replies.

“It’s been pretty grim, mate. Only found four sets in two hours. Barely even sixes at that!”
“Shite. Let’s go inside for a quick snifter. We’ll get warmed up.”

The two men shuffle indoors. A warm blast of air from the interior of the Argyll Arms overwhelms them both. They walk down a narrow corridor past a couple of small booths and on to a large bar area. It’s buzzing inside with the after-work crowd. The two men prop up the bar.

A great place for Russian arm drags

Twenty minutes later they are each onto a second pint and deep into a discussion of the current state of London daygame.

“Has [redacted] put his YouTube videos back up yet? He can’t still be shitting himself over that BBC documentary,” opines the rock’n’roller.
“I got a group email from him. He’s put his entire content behind a paywall together with his [redacted].”

He of the skull rings nods thoughtfully. Daygamers like to spot patterns and to connect threads. It takes him mere moments to formulate a hypothesis. “All his old free stuff is now pay only? He’s following [redacted]‘s business model, isn’t he. He saw that [redacted] made some money off his [redacted] and is now running a [redacted] group. He wants a piece of it doesn’t he. Fair enough.”
“It’s still a bit shit, though. All the big channels going down. Even [redacted] got taken down. Probably a good thing, now his ugly Australian mug doesn’t show up on my feed.”
“Yeah but that pasty ginger [redacted] was just hiring hookers anyway. The videos were all fake.”
“Oh, I didn’t realise, I didn’t look closely. You mean like The Natural [redacted]?”
“No, mate. I mean literally fake, not merely shit.”
“But those guys actually just [redacted shifty stuff you wouldn’t believe but I know for a fact] don’t they?”
“According to Krauser, yeah. Total fags.”
“What happened to that [handsome] Geordie [inspiration of many]? He never blogs anymore. It’s been ages since he released any new content. It’s like the entire daygame world ground to a halt now that he’s stopped doing its thinking for them [1].”
“Funny you should mention that. He’s just put his Daygame Resistance talk up on YouTube. The whole thing. In its entirety. For free.”
“What? You mean he’s not charging $99 for it like [redacted]? What a kind, generous man. He’s got a heart of gold that Nick Krauser has. I never did believe the people who said he’s a cunt.”

[1] Look, I’m writing this and it’s a fantasy chat. I can make the characters say whatever I want.

Buy ticket here

In the London of 2020 you need drones to find sets

Join the Daygame Resistance. There is no fate but what you make!

This Sunday, experience the events leading up to the decisive final battle for the fate of daygame in the war against the globohomo soyboy cucks. Daygame: Resistance is an in-person live event deep in heart of enemy territory, in the occupied city of London. Every day, plucky daygamers brave a war-torn landscape scattered with the corpses of chodes, nightgamers, and Tinder burn-outs. The latest threat to take the field are the T-Fag “undercover journalists” who sneak into Resistance encampments in a relentless attempt to wreak havoc. The soyboys are destined to lose, but at what cost?

Rally to the daygame banner, men! General Nick “eggs” Krauser and Field Marshall Eddie “sexist” Hitchens are inspecting the troops and will deliver a resounding pep talk.

– Level up your skills and explore a post-apocalyptic world for scraps of quality skirt!
– Interact with a motley group of street survivors and change their fates!
– Bring your burning questions for a lengthy Q&A session.

The Resistance begins at 1pm on Sunday 12th January. Gentlemen, we WILL win this war!

Buy ticket here

UPDATE: Tickets available here

Right then, the event is confirmed. Eddie (of Street Attraction) and myself will be doing a seminar on Sunday 12th January in Central London [1]. The venue is booked from 1pm. Tickets should go on sale tomorrow and will probably be £15 [2]. I’ll update this post as soon as the order website is live. We’ll be holding it in a pub function room near Oxford Street. More details to follow.

1. And possibly a third speaker. Not yet decided.
2. £25 for undercover journalists.