There’s an aura of mystery around the poet and author Brian Bilston. His name is a pseudonym and in photographs he always hides his face. He found a certain fame during lockdown after publishing his short humorous poems on social media, where he was dubbed the “poet laureate of Twitter” (he’s since left the platform). He regularly posts poems on Instagram to his 142,000 followers. He has published nine books; his Diary of a Somebody was shortlisted in 2019 for the Costa first novel award and How to Lay an Egg with a Horse Inside – an alternative guide to writing and enjoying poetry – is out next week.

The Burning Hell 

I arrived late to the Burning Hell party – 20 years and 10 albums late, to be precise – so I hope they don’t split up while I’m still hanging around in the kitchen, grazing on leftovers. Their name might suggest some kind of death metal cult, but Canadian duo Mathias Korn and Ariel Sharratt write clever, funny, beautiful songs about love, the impending apocalypse and gannets called Nigel. To join the party, have a listen to Fuck the Government, I Love You or Never Work – sentiments for the ages, both. 

The Ultimate Picture Palace, Oxford 

I’ve spent most of this year living in a pretty town in the north of England. It’s been great, but I do find myself missing my local, community-run cinema: the UPP in Oxford. It’s a gem. Opened in 1911, it’s one of the country’s oldest picture houses, Oxford’s only independent one, and my go-to destination for catching up with the latest Azerbaijani romcom or Guatemalan eco-political thriller. Since I’ve been away, its Oxford University landlords are threatening not to renew the cinema’s lease. A nationwide campaign has been launched to save the UPP. You might want to consider lending it your support, so that when you’re next in Oxford, you remain able to enjoy its splendours, too.

Tish (iPlayer)

I finally got around to watching this touching, compassionate documentary about the photographer Tish Murtha on BBC iPlayer, having originally missed it when it was on at the UPP. Her startling, intimate photographs of poverty-stricken working-class communities on Tyneside in the era of Thatcher are filled with a remarkable, unsentimental humanity; one which could only really be captured by someone who came from those surroundings herself. The story of Tish herself is equally compelling, living her last years on the breadline, as marginalised and neglected by the establishment as the communities she had so brilliantly chronicled.  

Street-level Superstar: A Year with Lawrence by Will Hodgkinson

You don’t need to be familiar with the crazy-paved career path of Lawrence – singer, songwriter and wannabe pop superstar – to fall in love with this book. Hodgkinson is a despairing but doting Boswell as he accompanies the eccentric Lawrence, founder of the influential 80s band Felt, on his quest for fame, fortune and a very particular brand of liquorice. It’s a tale which oscillates between comedy and pathos every few pages, and while Lawrence’s search for pop stardom may be doomed to failure, there’s a kind of triumph here, too – of somebody refusing to compromise who they are, or what they believe in.     

Stephen Collins 

There’s not much to recommend about social media these days, its list of harmful effects being long enough to fill my infinite scroll. Every few months, though, I do stumble across something on it which does improve my life – the absurdly funny cartoons of Stephen Collins being one such discovery. I’d already encountered them in the Guardian but seeing them pop up on my Instagram feed fills me with joy. My favourite, entitled Let’s Not Play Frisbee With That Poet Anymore, is one I think about most days.