Journalism is highly overrated. Journalists are pretentious gasbags who waffle endlessly about very little, using swishy sentences and big words to prove their magniloquence and superiority to the human race in general. The same cannot be said for Mr Brew, who is the most humblest person in the whole world. And modest.
Mr Brew is somewhat of an enigma. A shadowy, fleeting figure, omnipresent in the digital world of gaming; watching, waiting, writing. Like a superhero crimefighter if you will. But perhaps writer instead of superhero. And maybe gamer instead of crimefighter. But nonetheless, gaming delicacies and travesties alike are brought under the unflinching judgemental hammer of Mr Brew, who whips out compelling gaming journalism, his two-fingered typing bringing shame upon lesser mortals who use all their fingers, and yet still make spllenig misteaks.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Mr Brew and his myopic wife (Mrs Brew) firmly believe that. Which is why his writing, by sheer law of averages, must appeal to at least someone in the world. His life’s mission is to find them. And also to get 32 Maltesers in his mouth at one time. He came dangerously close once, but was unexpectedly foiled by the advent of a particularly malicious housefly within a nasal orifice. No passersby were seriously harmed.
Any similarity to the writings of any persons or John Walker are purely coincidental and/or/maybe direct plagiarism. Plagiarism is not illegal in my home country of Newerth, and for legal reasons, I deny everything. Except the unfortunate return to the first person, which Mr Brew has hastily rectified, and shall nevermore do so again.
Mr Brew would be utterly enchanted to hear from you, regardless of who you may be. Unless you are trying to sell pharmaceutical aids, which are absolutely not required. Or want to leave Mr Brew your Nigerian inheritance. Or sell your cat. Or are from Slough. But anybody else will be welcomed with open digital arms and virtual hugs.
Mr Brew leaves you with this heartfelt gem he read on the back of a matchbox: “You can lead a fool to wisdom, but you can’t make him think.”