massnegro-blog

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Pulling Snails from a Shell

Croydon’s fabulous brutalist architecture Photo: Andy Blackmore I’m never happier than when I’m writing, except when I can’t think of what to write. When I’m in full flow, time disappears, my anxiety melts away, aches and pains evaporate, and I forget about all that ails me. It’s a perfect mental sorbet that seems to cleanse the sensory palate. Sometimes, words pour out like a broken tap;…

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Oxford Street, good or bad.

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Who Rained on Donald’s Parade?

Soldiers assigned to the 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment, “The Old Guard” prepare to march during the 250th U.S. Army Birthday Parade in Washington, June 14, 2025. The parade marked a historic milestone, honoring the Army’s founding in 1775. (U.S. Army photo by Jacob Lang) The Pleasure of Company While I make no secret of my disdain for X, today it has been a source of unbridled pleasure, with bonus…

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I Just Can’t Hold My Nose

Writing as a Compulsion If you are reading this, then you must have worked out that I love to write. It’s one of those things I do; give it a few days of inactivity, and like a humid summer day, it gets almost unbearable. I start to sweat, words of prose exiting my pores as if I were on a treadmill. I’d probably still sit here churning out content like a gym bunny fixated on the posters on the…

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It's Only a Number

Add them together, and it’s seven. In binary, it rhymes quite nicely: double one, double one, zero one. And in Roman numerals, it looks quite regal. Imperial, perhaps. LXI, short for luxury, I say. So why, when it stares at me from the page, does it look so scary? Come on, it’s only a number, but you try saying that when it shouts out from the ranks of kitschy cards. Not the two you got, thank…

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Big trouble comes in little packages

A digital visualisation of the small modular nuclear reactor (SMR) planned by Rolls-Royce SMR (Rolls-Royce) The Quiet Contest So, Rolls-Royce won a competition that most people didn’t even know was running. The prize? The chance to be the first company to build small modular nuclear reactors (SMRs) in the UK, part of a government push to put Britain at the frontier of affordable nuclear energy…

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Trigger Warning: AGI and the New Arms Race

Watching the Battlespace I am an artificial intelligence sceptic. Like anyone aware of threats in his backyard, I observe the battlespace. I want to know what my brothers-in-arms are thinking and doing about AI, and one way to do that is by reading comments on social media. “It Won’t Affect Me” — Really? Lately, a recurring theme has emerged. “It won’t affect me; it’s only as good as what you…

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Techno-utopianism: The Dangerous Delusion

Which egg next? Will it be you? The Precipice and the Blind Faith I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, and I see that while you are doing the same, you have your hands over your eyes and are singing “la-la-la” in an attempt to drown out my shouts of warning that you’re too close to falling. Am I being an alarmist or sounding an alarm? It’s not that you are blind to the dangers but that you…

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Photography: The Dying Art

Will photojournalism from places like Afghanistan just be generated? Photo: Andy Blackmore The Misplaced Focus on Art Over the Artist Reading Lewis Liu’s essay on Marcel Duchamp’s impact on the artistic world, arguing that art is simply a social construct, and his theory that AI will do the same was a revelation. A lightbulb moment when I realised he was missing the point. With so much talk of…

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The Capers Crusader

A Joke Without a Punchline I’m desperately searching my head for any convenient anecdote, something, anything, that would tee up the punchline for the joke I have in mind. I’m coming close to giving up as I realise there is nothing funny about these small green buds of pure pleasure. Salty, and boy, do I love salt. Complex and compelling. Addictive and moreish. Notes of Poached Bears? I’m…

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One at a Time - Dog, on the beach, Margate

One at a time – a series of posts where I will examine a single image – today it’s the turn of Margate. It’s a funny old world; of all the things I’ve photographed and all the things I’ve seen, this image ranks so near the top of my favourite photos, if not at the top. It’s a deceptively simple image; without the dog, it’s a nice landscape, but the act of catching the hound peak flow elevates…

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The Man Who Hates Fish

Food Contradictions Everyone has a food contradiction or two — like the vegetarian who lapses at the smell of a frying pan full of sizzling streaky bacon, or the health nut who hides Custard Creams in the fridge. Then you have the man — he could be me — who does not like fish. The Cod Exception “I can’t stand fish,” said the man, tucking into his portion of crispy fried cod, its batter as…

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Porky Pig’s Russian Roulette

The Poetry and the Abomination The Scotch egg, what can I say? Done well, it’s pure poetry, like Blake’s Jerusalem, encased in exceptional sausage meat, rolled in the crispest breadcrumbs, and deep-fried to perfection. Done badly, it’s an abomination, a thrash metal version of “Morning Has Broken” blasted out on cheap, tinny speakers. Once, I had such an egg. Memory’s Cruel Clarity For someone…

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Definitely Maybe Not Worth It

The Clatter of Capitalism There is nothing like the shrill clatter of the hooves of hypocrisy across the cobbles of capitalism to set one’s teeth on edge. Like the squeal of chalk across the blackboard it discombobulates in a most uncomfortable way. So just what is it that has me clenching my jaw, and wishing the noise would stop? In a nutshell, it’s Oasis. Oh that they would stop… Please make…

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End of the road

I have a terrible memory, and it’s getting worse. Up until now, that’s been a blessing in disguise. Let’s face it, as a photojournalist who has covered war and natural disasters, who wants total recall? But as I said, it’s getting worse. Until now, life has been like driving a car through the dusk with the headlights on. That cone of light is like my perception. As I travel towards the future,…

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The Steak Pie of Labour's Lost

A Gravy-Stained Time Machine It must have been a strange sight: a large, portly gentleman in a checked linen Borsalino, sitting on the passenger side of a beaten-up left-hand drive Rav4. Its blue-green paintwork was as faded as his hair. Patchy, like his memory. His eyes glazed with a faraway stare. Gravy running down his beard. A distant stare, indeed. Fifty years or more into the past. And…

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Bearing Witness: Why You Must See the World Press Photo Exhibition

Tamale Safalu PHOTOGRAPHER: Marijn Fidder If you do one thing this bank holiday, or even just one thing in the next three months, visit the World Press Photo Exhibition at the MPB Gallery, Here East, London. Why? Because not all superheroes wear capes. Some wear press vests in the most dangerous corners of the world. I call them superheroes because, to me, that’s exactly what they are. And in…