Having left WeTransfer and being out in the wild, there’s a moment when someone asks, politely:

“So… what are you doing now?”

It’s rarely a question.
It’s almost always a request for reassurance.

They want something linear.

“Asset management?”
“Consultancy?”

“Only Fans?”

Something legible.
Something that confirms you are progressing toward the centre of things rather than drifting toward the edges.

And if the answer doesn’t quite fit the script, there’s a flicker — like Max Headroom buffering.

Ah.
“I see. Midlife!”

We live in a culture that pretends to worship individuality.

“Be yourself.”
“Find your voice.”
“You do you.”

And yet every platform quietly — or not so quietly — suggests how.

Trending formats.
Trending aesthetics.
Trending opinions.

Originality — but optimised.

In a recent conversation, the architect Thomas Heatherwick told me he missed the eccentricity of Britain. 

That word — eccentric — felt oddly vintage. 

Almost Jeeves-and-Wooster.

There was a time when eccentricity wasn’t merely tolerated — it was practically a civic asset.
The gentleman who collected mechanical ducks.
The aunt who redesigned hats.
The neighbour building a forest of karma sutra garden gnomes.

P.G. Wodehouse built an entire universe around people who were gloriously misaligned — harmless, inventive, faintly absurd.

Why was that allowed? Admired?

Because Britain, for a period, used to be culturally confident.

When a society feels secure in its identity, comfortable in its skin, it can afford oddness. It can indulge the peculiar. It doesn’t panic when someone stands slightly out of line.

Eccentricity was a pressure valve.
Soft rebellion.
Creative differentiation.

The word simply means “out of the centre.”

Not unstable or crazy.
Not reckless.
Just unwilling to stand exactly where everyone else is standing.

 

Modern life loves predictability.

Algorithms reward familiarity.
Careers reward legibility.

You can be ambitious — provided it resembles something that already worked.

Stray too far and it becomes “concerning.”

We like our eccentricity to be nicely contained.
Preferably in art.
Preferably harmless.

Architecture can be strange. (but we're seeing less and less)
Music can be strange.
Fashion can be strange.
Film can be strange.

But the person building a life?
No thanks.

 

The centre feels powerful.

It has money.
Institutions.
Confidence.

The margins feel smaller. Temporary. Peripheral.

But culture rarely shifts from the middle.

It shifts from the places that look insignificant.

Fashion was trivial.
Design was trivial.
Comics were trivial.

Until they weren’t.

 

The margins are where culture mutates before the centre realises it’s happening.

There is a peculiar conformity hiding inside modern ambition.

Everyone wants to be different.

Just not too different. 5%.

Different, but fundable.
Distinctive, but easily explained.
Unconventional, but within acceptable limits.

We have perfected ambitious conformity.

Eccentricity isn’t chaos.

It isn’t demolition.

It’s conviction applied slightly out of alignment.

It’s declining the obvious next step.
It’s assembling a team that doesn’t look predictable.
It’s caring deeply about something others dismiss.

The difference is not distance from the centre.

It’s whether you are building or simply breaking.

 

Perhaps Britain once relished eccentricity because it trusted itself.

Perhaps we suppress it now because we don’t.

And perhaps the antidote to anxious conformity isn’t louder rebellion —

but quieter misalignment.

Not dramatic.
Not destructive.
Just slightly, deliberately, out of centre.

The centre will survive.

The real question is whether you will.

 

________________________________________________________________

 

This week: ThruDark — outerwear founded by former UK Special Forces.

If I'm honest, part of me would quite like to be Special Forces. Disciplined. Capable. Slightly mysterious.

Instead, I buy the jacket. 

________________________________________________________________

 

Here’s a handful of things I’ve discovered lately.

 

Legend:
🧁 = Light / Easy
🦪 = Dark / Challenging

 

🧁 Daisy Collingridge @ Time Square

March 13th Daisy will be taking over all 90+ screens on Time Square for ‘Time Square Arts Midnight Moments.’ If you would like to come and join please RSVP here.

 

🦪 Holy Boy

Holy Boy is a dark, suspenseful literary K-Pop thriller about idol-worship gone wrong: four women kidnap a star and the drama of power, fandom and identity collapse that follows. It’s unsettling and sharp in its critique of objectification and devotion.

 

🧁 Mundo Mendo 

My friend Luis Mendo has produced a little book about his world, a combination of illustrations and words focusing on his time as a Spaniard in Japan. 

 

🧁 James K
Long time producer James K is ear candy. Soundscapes that help you to forget every Epstein file you ever read.

 

🧁 Noor - Yamila

The Spanish musician is an incredible instrumentalist – a cellist, she interweaves modern classical music with electronic and filmic rifts. Hauntingly beautiful, fantastic to work to.

 

🧁 Beverly Glenn Copeland - Laughter in Summer

A music legend whose work blends synth textures and poetic songwriting. Anhoni and the Johnsons meets gospel poetry.

 

I havent listened to any new podcasts, tbh I'm in the podi-desert with no water in sight. Help me out here? Suggest something for me? 

 

🦪 The Secret Agent
A darkly comic portrait of 1977 Brazil, where corruption isn’t hidden in the shadows — it is the architecture. The Special Agent drifts through the seedy underbelly of politics with a raised eyebrow rather than a clenched fist. It understands that authoritarian systems are not only brutal, but absurd. There’s satire here — dry, unsettling, occasionally laugh-out-loud uncomfortable. My favourite film of 2026 by far.

 

🦪 The Presidents Cake.

If you can, cast your mind back to Saddam Hussein. 1991.

Sanctions. Portraits on every wall. A country stretched thin.

In this quietly devastating film, a group of schoolchildren are given a simple instruction: bake a cake for the President.

 

🧁 Reservoir Candles 

Some people claim to produce home made goods. These candles really are. Reservoir Candles are hand-poured in North East London by their founder, reimagining Japanese heritage through a modern twist.

 

And of course if you would like to purchase any of the books, games or merch we've made over the years you can via fupe.wtf.

All Any Given Sunday readers get a 10% discount with the code: sorry

 

That's it. Thanks for reading. If you like the newsletter, well…that's just great.