Home2018-09-27T23:29:43+00:00

Nick Fryer

Miscellany.

Misanthropy.

Cupcakes.

Except cupcakes. Fuck cupcakes.

Nick Fryer

Miscellany.

Misanthropy.

Cupcakes.

Except cupcakes. Fuck cupcakes.

Blog

Full blog

I CAN BULLSHIT FOR YOU, RETAIL

This site is a grab bag of everything I produce, from my podcasting efforts, through travel diaries written principally to make friends and relatives hate me, to personal reflections on whatever goddamned thing caught my attention at the time. Recent posts are below. The full blog can be sneered at via the button above.

Audio

All audio posts

THE ARCH WINDOW

Occasionally, I do an audio thing for a friend’s podcast, which is supposed to be funny, although it probably helps if you find the same things both revolting and amusing at the same time that I do. When it started, I wrote a bit about it here.

The most recent editions of The Arch Window are below. The entire archive is available via the button above on the right.

Oh, it contains swearing. And sexual references, and violence and even Australian politics, which is probably the only bit I should be really ashamed of, but in any event if you’re not prepared to deal with a ham sculpture of the Attorney-General or a man turning himself into his own penis in the pursuit of wellness and similar nonsense, just don’t even bother.

And yes, the name is a rip off from the long running and much loved children’s television program Play School for which I shall probably burn in hell or get a cease-and-desist notice one day or something.  But until that happy day…

About Nick

POET. LOVER. LIQUIDATOR.

Born in 1722 to a family of hardworking spandex farmers, Nick grew upwards for several dozen centimetres and then didn’t. A keen student at school, at the age of fifteen he discovered masturbation and gave up all ambition, a decision he later called “Gerald the Wonder Badger”. Always carefully dressed to avoid a repeat of the impenguination incident that so marked his early adulthood, Nick is a raconteur, flâneur, bon viveur and pretentious arseclown, known far and wide for his unfailing habit of sniffing his own fingertips before offering to shake hands.

In middle age he embarked on a series of experiments with the aim of extending the human life span by injecting himself with live frogs, an experience he described in his memoirs as “horrible, just genuinely awful and of no benefit whatsoever. I mean, think about it for one damned second. It’s insane. Morally wrong, degrading and perverse.” Now in his twilight years, he is content, after sunset, to lope along the streets of the McLaren Vale township in which he lives, licking hapless passers-by without warning, and walking Gerald on a badger leash of his own design.

Contact

HONESTLY, I’M NOT AS ANTISOCIAL AS ALL THAT

There are a number of ways of contacting me. Some of the access points to the real world I check most frequently are:

Email: fryer.n@gmail.com

Twitter: @NicholasFryer