mr16's shoebox

DRINK IT, DRINKY!

2006-07-17T20:07:00.000+01:00

For those unsurprisingly not aware of this obscure movement, Flim Flam originated amongst African and West Indian immigrants on the East coast of America in the late 80’s. Amidst an alien culture still thirsty for pop and rock stars, incandescent with make up and fawning for publicity, Flim Flam spawned in an isolated pocket of newcomers oblivious to the image conscious, fashion heavy iconography of the media. Following more in the wake of early Jimmy Cliff material, Flim Flam’s roots were cemented when the likes of Jojo Rundiru (a former Black Panther and Reggae artist) and his friends, discovered Punk.

Rundiru tops the list of most popularly accepted pretenders to the throne of the original fathers of Flim Flam and was largely considered the first to herald this bizarre infusion of Ska, raga and punk brass band. Coming hot on the heels of the Shim Sham movement, Flim Flam was nevertheless only acknowledged in its twilight as a genre in its own right. Typically, the mainstream music industry only recognised Flim Flam during its death throes, when the creativity of its founding members was beginning to flag. Such wagon jumpers as Jonny Orange’s band, Glass Of Water Drink, capitalised on the newfound publicity: just at the time Rundiru’s generation was quitting the scene, claiming the innovation had gone stale, Jonny Orange seized the opportunity to cash in on a niche in the market.

Lyrics from Jonny Orange’s “Glass Of Water Drink”:

Drink a glass of water drink
Swallow it down
Take a deep breath and hold it
Tense your throat muscles
Mouth all shut tight
With every step emit a little grunt
Walk down the stairs
Down the stairs
Walk all the way down the stairs
Making this noise
Making this noise
Making this noise with each step
Well done
Idiot

Despite the sudden corporate interest in this scene, Orange’s band was, strangely, the only band to gain either success or credibility – and this was short lived. As the old fans of Rundiru followed his shunning of the new scene, the new fans quickly became aware of a deep-seated resentment between what they had previously considered an original, new brand of music, and the authentic progenitors of the movement. In a sudden torrent of American music magazine articles, composed of generously copious interviews with the (now very vocal) Rundiru, Orange came under heavy criticism for hijacking a theme and presenting it as his own.

Over a period of just two months, EMI had attempted to release such titles as This is Flim Flam, Now That's What I Call Flim Flam, The Best Flim Flam in the World EVER, NOW Flim Flam, The Best of Flim Flam Featuring Smimmy Shammy, Club Flim Flam Remastered - The Dilly Dally Remix, and Country Jill’s Selection of Flim Flam. Due to a threat to sue from Shimmy Shammy, EMI were forced to recall all the records bearing his name, when it was discovered that the material was bootlegged and had been contracted to a bogus agent, claiming affiliation to Shimmy Shammy’s recording line. Country Jill reneged on her contract in response to the sudden turn in publicity and EMI subsequently made half their money back from an out of court settlement. The remainder of recordings sold poorly due to a widely publicised view that none of the material was authentic, holding many tracks by Glass Of Water Drink and a selection of bands purported to be “Second Hand Flam” or “Ham” as those calling themselves “true fans” now termed them.

For the second time, Flim Flam crashed and burned, this time failing to rise from the ashes. It is not surprising, then that the movement was never heard in Europe, with its creators tiring of credit and its pretenders and record companies silent in humiliation. Nevertheless, from the few years that Flim Flam thrived underground, a scant 52 recordings still survive of the original first wave of Flim Flam.

pass the salt: proverbs from the book of slugg

2006-06-27T18:14:00.000+01:00

some people ask for the salt at meal times.
pain and suffering shall be their only reward.

some ask for salt and pepper.
they shall receive only death.

i asked for gravy and it was given to me.
i asked for pepper and it was passed into my hands.
i asked for salt and i received it not.

who is amorous unto salt?
give him not your cloak.
who has a taste for salted food?
show him the door.

a fool sprinkles salt on his own body
and says "surely this will not kill me?"
but in the morning there is only slime.

look not toward the salt user.
his ways are perverse and lead only to the abyss.
i looked and, for a time, i watched him crawl toward the salt seller.
but i averted my eyes and did hear him cry,
"look! look at my actions! are they not innocent?
come, brother! join with me in sprinkling the salt upon yourself
that it may go well with you and you might surely live forever"
but i heeded him not and turned my back upon him.
a little later and i could hear him not.
a little later still and not even his shadow remained.

who has salt in their cupboards?
let them be emptied and left forever bare thereafter.
who has salt in their cellar?
let them lock the door and throw away the key.
guard jealously in your heart the words that warn against salt,
that it might be well with you and you shall not become shrivelled.
he that shuns salt and any recepticle that once contained that condiment,
let him receive your blessing.
let him be lifted up by your esteem and give him his place at your table.
he shall surely receive his reward:
a piece of ripe lettuce.

GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT

2006-05-11T18:37:00.000+01:00

GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT episode 16

previously on GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT...

"i'm giong to attack you, GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT! attack you like you've never been attacked before!"

"oh no! look everybody - that's CYBERBORGTRON! i thought he was dead!"

"that's right, deak. he was. but now he's alive and it looks like he wants revenge!"

and now, on GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT episode 16...

"that's right zax! i want revenge! and now with the help of my new and improved CYBERBORGTRON it's you who will be destroyed this time!"

"no way! we beat you before, CYBERBORGTRON and we'll beat you again!"

"but that was the OLD CYBERBORGTRON! that was only CYBERBORGTRON DELTA! this is new CYBERBORGTRON GAMMA! with ultra radox capillary combustion! aha... aha... AHA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAA!"

"oh no! jemma! can GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT really stand up to ultra radox capillary combustion? we've never had to face the possibility before..."

"i don't know, zax... it's the only variable we've never faced before. ultra radox capillary combustion might be too much for our proteus axion core. the radiation could..."

"dammit you guys! i've heard enough about your gutless engine fears! let's do this thing now! we've beaten him before we can do it again! GO GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT TEAM!"

"what's this? GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT attacking with GIANT ROBOT DASH? you shall be defeated, GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT! try a little CYBERBORGTRON GAMMA RADIATION PUNCH!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"that's right, GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT TEAM - you're no match for CYBERBORGTRON this time!"

"oh no! it's all my fault! if i had only listened to my instincts..."

"don't be so hard on yourself, zax. i know you feel guilty about the death of your father but it wasn't your fault. but right now we've got to FIGHT!"

"you're right jemma! thanks! ok everybody, let's separate and attack!"

"yeah!"
"yeah!"
"alright!"

"GO, GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT SEPARATION!"

"what's this? a separation attack? i'll see you coming a mile away, Team GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT!"

"not if i use SPECIAL INVISIBILITY SHIELD 4 ! like this! or if i use SPECIAL ROBOT
PUNCH TURBO ! like this! noone comes back from that one..."

"AAAAAAAH! damn you, zax bloodhunter!"

"...and if i use SECRET AMPHIBIAN SLIDE MANOEVRE ALPHA you will NEVER see
me coming! HA HA!"

"NOOOO! how can this be? i've never seen such power! aaaaaahhhhh!"

"...ready to form up, SUPER CONGLOMERATE ROBOT TEAM.....?
wait for it.... NOW! form up SUPER CONGLOMERATE ROBOT!
CONGLOMERATE ROBOT.... ATTACK!"

"smash him, GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT! smash him to bits, zax!"

"billy?!! what are you doing here?!"

"i hid in the cargo hold until you were in mid action and now i'm here ready to watch the fight from the best place! go GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT TEAM!"

"zax! it's your uncle on the radio! he wants to talk to you!"

"what's this?! my uncle?!"

"yes zax! i'm you're uncle, johnstone! i have an urgent message for you: you must use COUGARUNDAROAR BEAM in conjunction with FULL CANNON KICK DELTA or you'll never break through his special ion barrier!"

"ok uncle! thanks! cougarundaroarrrr.......... BEAM! and... FULL CANNON KICK DELTA .... NOW!"

and the battle was won.
the GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT team stood victorious in the last rays of the
evening sun, their nostrils flaring with righteous indignation at their
restored honour.
their pride, once wounded, was now recovered by the might of... GIANT
CONGLOMERATE ROBOT

next week on GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT...

"quickly! zax! use SPECIAL ROBOT PUNCH!"
"i'm trying, deak, but it's not working! oh no! the ultra neuron
reactor is overheating! it's going to... AAAAAAHHHH!"
"zax! NOOOOOOOOOO!"
"we couldn't save him! dammit, evil cyberborgtron - you'll pay for
this!"
"HAHAHA HA HAAAAAAA! with your captain dead you are HELPLESS! now,
GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT TEAM... prepare to face your DOOM!"

next week, same GIANT time, same ROBO channel...
GIANT CONGLOMERATE ROBOT episode 17: REVENGE OF CYBERBORGTRON GAMMA
part 2: Shadow of a Death Kill Pain Hurter

this is what primo levi looks like when he wakes up in the morning

2006-04-30T17:17:00.000+01:00

2006-04-30T17:14:00.000+01:00

2006-04-30T17:13:00.001+01:00

2006-04-30T17:13:00.000+01:00

2006-04-30T17:11:00.000+01:00

2006-04-30T17:08:00.000+01:00

office dares

2006-04-28T18:36:00.000+01:00

1. wrap up in toilet paper like a mummy and run a circuit of the building in silence. noone will know its you if you use enough tissue paper.
run back into the toilet, quickly rip off all the tissue paper and when you leave the toilets, carrying a heap of tissue paper, look over your shoulder and say to them "what the hell was THAT all about, eh? what a WEIRDO."

2. find someone you are not in the least attracted to and tell them sincerely that you have always loved them. best if this is someone you really hate.

3. suck your thumb and then when someone notices pull it out quickly and look really embarrassed. say "that wasn't me."

4. lick your hands like a cat licks its paws. if anyone asks you about this say "a clean house is a tidy house"

5. clutch the edge of your desk, tightly, shake uncontrollably whilst staring at your pc. suddenly lick your pc screen all over, then collpse back in your chair, eyes closed and breath a sigh of relief.

6. Edge up to a colleague in your chair (if it has wheels on) and make small incoherent murmuring noises while stroking the edge of their desk. when they look at you grimace with gritted teeth and wide eyes and back away quickly saying "okaaaaaaaaay, frigid - i get the message - sheesh! alright already!"

7. print out the words "i hate you" on an otherwise blank sheet of A4. next time you go to the loo and someone is in a cubicle slip it under their door.
some nice variations of this could involve the sentences, "i'm watching you" or "everyone knows what you've done and noone likes it"

8. photoshop a picture of your boss onto the body of a dead pig. photoshop in some stakes embedded in it. now save the image as your background wallpaper. DO IT.

9. stroke your own thigh and blush. say "stop it. stop iiiit! you'll get me into trouble, you!" and then slap your own hand just as you're reaching for your bum.

10. kill everyone in your office. hilarious.

being unpleasant doesn't pay

2006-04-18T20:32:00.000+01:00

i tried looking suspicious in various places
like shops, public houses and banks.
i tried looking suspicious in different spaces
in cars, trucks, lorries and tanks

i tried looking unpleasant in people's houses
like friends' homes and one of their mate's
and by looking unpleasant i left him the impression
that i must be someone he hates.

i tried starting fires with bracken and briars
in corners of people's bathroom.
i tried breaking wires with scissors and pliers
to make people's 'lectrics go boom.

i tried tricking people o'er roof and o'er steeple
by playing malevolent pranks
i tried to keep all the things i did evil
and never i got any thanks

cargoboy, the bodyshock smuggler PART ONE

2006-04-18T19:34:00.000+01:00

don't read this. it's not right.

he scraped at it again. it definietely wasn't normal skin tissue. where the hardness of his skull felt smooth with a soft layer of spongy skin spread tautly across it on the rest of his scalp, this area of his head - this pencil wide dimple in his skull - felt different. more like the texture he imagined an old potato to have if it had been left to dry out in the sun for a very long time. spongy yet dry.

he poked at it with a pencil. no pain. he dug at it for a bit and was sure it felt like it was scraping away like chalk. obviously this was not skin - or at least if it was it was dead and could be safely removed. after a few minutes of digging had broken the surface of this strange foreign matter he brushed his hair and was rewarded by a shower of grey dust sprinkling from his head. his finger tips quickly found the rim of tiny hole, the edges sharp and hard, but no blood.

how far can this go? he wondered as the tip of the pencil failed to reach into his skull any further, held back by the widening circumference of the nib. a straightened paperclip allowed further work and before long it was necessary for him to lean forward and tap the side of his head vigourously to empty the welled up shavings.

after a little more probing he was certain that he had far exceeded the depth of where his skull should end and his brain begin. how thick should his skull be? was this dangerous? still no blood. not even the merest suggestion of squishiness. just the same constant sensation of scraping away through something the texture of sandstone.

fear prevented him from continuing past 2 inches. this was certainly not right - he didn't want to reach the point where he needed to tell someone. hopefully nothing would happen to the hole. perhaps he had stopped before this had gone too far? after all, he had lived this long without ever having discovered this property of his skull. he could just fill in the hole and ignore it. but what with? he didn't want to have to keep cleaning it out every once in a while - that might weaken the surrounding tissue and break the surface - he didn't know how thick that surface might be.

what could he fill the hole with? metal was out because he may need to go an a plane some time and he would set the metal detectors off. wood would eventually decay or splinter. it would have to be plastic. plastic was durable and clean. he just needed to make it fit snugly. might it be possible to melt down a couple of disposable spoons and pour in the liquid plastic? it might hurt but going by his painless exploration so far he considered it was most likely safe.

2 hours later, by the careful positioning of his reflective sunglasses in front of the staff toilet mirrors, he was able to view his handywork. only a little white button of rough plastic was visible when he parted his hair. it stood perhaps a milimetre proud of his skin, but nothing a little filing wouldn't take care of. noone would notice something like that. as long as he didn't bang his head and jar it loose. or allow a girl to brush her fingers through his hair. the thought of being discovered made him feel slightly sick.

a vision came to him of standing in the middle of the office surrounded by staring colleagues, an incongruous white antenna protruding from his head. expressions of nauseated confusion blurring around him as he turned, trying to find a way out of the crowd.

what if one day the bottom of this cranial cavity cracked and a torrent of blood spurted out from his head? the pressure could be building even now, until the day when the plastic bung was finally spat from his skull like a bullet with no warning.without a doubt it would happen at work if it was ever going to happen. it would have to be at the point where some pretty girl was sitting nearby - the perfect time for him to spontaneously die in the most embarrassing way imaginable. there would be a loud pop as the little white cork shot across the room, followed by a jet of red hosing his pc screen like a whale's blow hole. if he was lucky he might have time to glimpse the horror and disgust on the pretty girl's face as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed, in a pile of broken chair pieces.

but it wouldn't do to keep thinking about this. he made up his mind; no more thoughts about what might happen. have to just forget there's a hole.

that evening, after tea, he found it much easier to forget about the hole in his head when he discovered something new about his skin. for a long time he had been trying to decide whether the mole on his chest had a spot on it that could be removed - or whether it was just a mole. a few minutes of prodding with a fork revealed nothing so he tried tweezers. the little mole made a very faint noise like a muffled wet crack that he felt more than heard. slowly, the head of the mole came away and from his skin he drew a long string of semi translucent thread, tapering away from the mole head. like the thread of a crude garment it left behind it a hollow furrow of depressed skin - a ridge of shallow where the thread left its previous home collapsed behind it.

there was no question of putting the thread back. once exposed to the air who knew what germs it would have contracted? besides it looked disgusting and he was quite sure something so ugly had no place in his body. he dangled it from his fingers, wetly. in the bin, he decided.

he explored the ridge of bereft skin the string had left behind. the furrow was a few milimetres wide and about 6 inches long. what the hell was that thing? why had it been inside him? he pressed the sides of the furrow together, hoping to crush the structure of the skin back into something malleable and smooth. but the line remained.

on closer examination tiny dimples were visible in his skin - pores surely? but all this recent discovery made him wonder. taking a needle he gave them a poke. he found it was possible to squeeze the needle through the pore and slide it to one side beneath the skin, and with no pain, quite some way.

fearful of losing the needle when it happily sank in to its end, he retracted it, nd instead, inserted the end of a long piece of wire.

why am i doing this, he thought, but quickly lost the thought as curiosity consumed him.

the wire slid along comfortably for as long as he cared to push it, finding no obstruction and always remaining visible on the surface.

how long could i leave something in there? how much could i put in there? how could i use this to my advantage? how strange, he thought. but he knew he had only tacked on that last word as an artificial addition, the last vestige of interest in what a normal person might have said in these circumstances.

rebellious pirate thoughts

2006-04-11T18:49:00.000+01:00

darkness, darkness all around,
all filled up to the brink.
darkness, darkness all around,
and plenty of coffee to drink.
i'll have one cup, i'll have one more
til it spills down my chin and onto the floor
and look! what fun! through the door
come plenty more worries to add to the store.

hurrah! i cry - and here's another!
another brother to add to the others.
i'll build a crew of worries and pangs
we'll form an anxiety pirate gang!
upon the deck stirs the crew
i at the middle in my troubles brew
and quietly drown in an unhappy stew
perversely revel in things to rue.

"avast brethren!" one pirate cries -
the one with hollowed out black eyes-
"upon horizon i see lies
the land to which our captain tries
to find - a land we must disguise
the land lest he lose blind for wise."

"What is this noise? what is this mess?"
the pirate horde will not confess
"Just something we must all attack -
a thing you would do well to lack"
"no let me see!" i cry and shout
"turn this stupid boat about!
"who's captain here? me or you?
now turn us round or be run through!"

sheepishly the crew comply
and mutter things like "oh ay ay,
but we don't understand quite why
the captain wishes to defy
his urge to sail seas of despair
- how happy our self pitious sea air
pray, stay, wallow in lonely gore
and try to get ashore no more.

"aha! aho! i see your game!
allow me kindly to explain
the dev'lish method you pursue
to keep me here, my pirate crew;
afraid i'll bolt for pastures new
should fortunes change and good luck brew
you fear one captain less you'll be
should better mood take hold of me"

"well, by hell, you're right you currs!
your twisted talk, your morbid slurs,
i find quite wrong - but what the hey -
i'm used to it now so i think i'll stay."

my pirate crew first stood aghast,
but when i stopped my speech at last
a vibrant roar, a hearty cheer
as my words reached their evil ear.
a cheer, a shout, they rolled about
and went to get the beer kegs out.
"ha haaarrr!" they cried, "ho ho ho ho"
and then added an extra "yo"
"our cap'n, he is in the know,
so with him we will happ'ly go"

and go we did, we wretched knaves,
we happy dolts, we crackpot slaves.
we went and did some going, good.
we go'ed and go'ed from the deck we stood.
we go'ed around and do'ed some things
we go'ed and killed some queens and kings
we killed a lot of annoying folk
and some really big fat bearded bloke.

then we got bored and went back home
tired out from a rather violent roam.
we all sat back and got real slack
we played with the heads in our dead heads sack.
then we all felt sleepy after dancing the tap
and we rounded off the day with a quiet little nap.

a new superhero

2006-04-11T18:29:00.000+01:00

ill man leaps from the roof tops
whincing in pain with every movement.
with a shuddering cringe he crouches on
the edge of a wall and waits to pounce.

all criminals fear his virulent wrath.
with a mere cough he renders evil doers
bed ridden with violent colds and at his
command a thousand bugs jump ship to
infect a thug.

STAND NOT IN HIS WAY YE SINNERS

for this man shall surely floor thee and
make thee poorly.

a hacking cough at the back of a
shadow's throat signals his presence -
and then he is gone into the night like
the welcome end to a fever.

a master of minor maladies, ill man has
the power to overwhelm with the crushing
impact of a gale force cough or a tidal
hose of sneeze.

a few people in the world have the power to beat him
- but none of them want to.
the cost would be too great.

secret faces

2006-04-11T18:28:00.000+01:00

it is the smile of power
and has reached me in my darkest hour
when things were about to go sour
and i was about to make a nearby

colleague cower

the smile of power is a secret face
i hide it from the human race
you might think it a disgrace
and if that really was the case
round the table i'd give you chase

when you do a secret face its great
it puts you in a mental state
that calms when your teeth start to

grate
because people round you nauseate

but wait

far better your wrath not to sate
no guts to eviscerate
dont heap innards upon your plate
- secret face will bloodlust-dissipate

oui monsieur mais NON! nein ya EINS! ay lad

2006-03-21T21:51:00.000Z

a warning about frenchitis
(with thanks to mista 97)

one day i woke up and found i had become french
overnight.

"mais non!" i thought. "comment est ce que je peux etre
francais? et pourquoi?"
but no answers came - there was nothing for it but to get
on with the day. i thought it would just go away after id
had a cup of tea and a brisk walk to work.
unfortunately i couldnt communicate with anyone when i
got there and there was no way to explain what had
happened.
i had forgotten my anglais.

at first my colleagues thought i was playing the fool
until my sincere sobbing convinced them i must actually
have gone frenchy.

how could this have happened? at first they speculated
that i must have some strange kind of amnesia. of course
i understood nothing of this at the time and had to rely
on a colleague who could speak french - as and when she
was available.
however, after a few tests it turned out that i had
contracted a virus which had affected my place of birth -
and therefore my entire history had been relocated with
it.

what was a poor garcon to do? fortunately for me the
company had a branch set up in belgium. it was agreed
(via translator) i would be crated up and shipped out
that very week. hopefully the virus would have given me
family and friends there who would be able to help me
out. indeed, the more i concentrated, the more i could
recall my new alternative history - little antoine, my
mischievous nephew who liked to drink a lot of red wine,
jovial henri, my older cousin with a penchant for red
wine, chantale, my red wine-loving aunt, benoit, my
red-faced, red wine guzzling uncle and marie-clare, my
huge grandmother who also enjoyed the fruit of the vine
as long as it was a hearty rouge in hue.

i went to live with them while i reoriented myself in my
new identity. i grew used to them quickly and over the
following months truly became part of the family. happy
days.

one day, little antoine looked up at me with his innocent
little eyes and asked me (in french of course) "oncle?
why haven't you said 'aw-hi-haw-hi-haw' recently?"
bless the child - he was right. while i had stayed with
them i had used to say 'aw-hi-haw-hi-haw', 'oui monsieur'
and 'sacre bleu' as much - if not more - than any of
them. indeed, even when there was no call for it you
might have often caught me twirling my curly moustache as
i swaggered about town in my blue and white striped vest, shouting "tuez les cochons
anglais!", "saussissons!" and "oui monsieur! a le
weekend!".

but now i realised my french mannerisms were
waning. could my immune system be fighting off the virus
at last?

it was only 2 days later when henri bustled through the
door with 16 bottles of wine, yelling "jean paul! jean
paul!" (they called antoine jean paul. for no reason.)
that i could really be sure i was losing my frenchitis
bug. for the first time i found it irritating to hear the
french accent which meant that i was returning to my good
old british tendency to hate anything that wasn't
british.

i jumped up and meant to shout 'hoorah!' in traditional
british fashion - but all that came out was "ya!"
what was this? some new mutation of the disease? i looked
down at the floor where little antoine had been playing
only a moment before and found him replaced by a fat
little boy in leiderhosen.

"ach, nein!" i cried in despair as i hurtled out the door
past the man who i suddenly knew to be heinrich.
i heard a muffled "wie gehts!" as his 16 bottles of
blonde bier smashed on the floor.

"scheisse!" i thought. will this never end? the theme
tune to quantum leap sprang into my head - or at least
the first line of it did - playing agonisingly on a loop,
over and over. "das ist ein nightenmarzig!" i cried as i
ran, panic stricken through the town and plunged into the
first kafe i could find.

from the caffeine fueled thinking that ensued, i decided
that a conscious effort was required to combat the virus.
despite knowing no english words at all, i would try to
focus my mind on the most english things i could. maybe
that might helpenhoffen.

i thought about big ben, beef-eaters, fish and chips,
chavs, bulldogs with union jacks on their chests, caravan
parks, coal mines... and suddenly the phrase 'eh-up'
sprang to mind. in my french-german limbo of identity
this phrase seemed only vaguely familiar but it seemed
like a british thing so i concentrated on it.

"eh-up, eh-up, eh-up" i chanted furiously, beads of sweat
trickling down my brow with each incantation of this
fresh source of hope. and then i remembered 'now then,
now then, hows about that then?' shortly followed by 'in
my day when i were a lad', 'ee by gum' and 'down t' mill'.
with a start i realised i had gone too far and had become
a yorkshire man.

not only this but a yorkshireman in belgium: a dangerous
combination.
there is no provision for yorkshire delicacies in
belgium, such as eating christmas cake with cheese.
without such essentials the typical yorkshireman is
liable to go berserk and run amok in a very short space
of time.

my only hope was that i might still retain some vestige
of french and germanness that might enable me to keep it
together long enough to get off the continent and back to
blighty.

unfortunately for me i ran out of time, went berserk and
got killed.
if there are holes in this story its because its not true
and because you didnt read it properly.
and anyway, what story? i don't even know what you're talking about.

old man willow

2006-01-31T19:40:00.000Z

old man willow goes
(soflty goes) hush his toes,
through silent streets only he knows -
at night his shadow never shows.

old man willow finds
(different kinds of) people's minds,
watches thoughts behind the blinds
in sleeping homes each dream unwinds.

old man willow blinks
(and still he slinks) in blackest inks,
listens, hears, and thoughtless, thinks,
into the darkness ever sinks.

old man willow tries
(glistening goodbyes) to close his eyes,
reflect black pools of distant sighs
from long ago where mem'ry lies.

old man willow's dawn
(a wintry morn) from rev'rie torn,
dark comfort lost brings curtains drawn
dark comfort lost, cold light reborn.

old man willow cries
(softly dies) quiet disguise,
until with next evening to rise
here sits his temporal demise.

old man willow soaks
(yet floats) in half drowned vagrant boats,
groans in day, at twilight, croaks,
awaits the tides of night time moats.

old man willow seeks
(what hollow cheeks!) through shadow peeks,
of which loss only darkness speaks
until through night, again day leaks.

to what earthly horror the meek are bound,
what chains of guilt, wrapped wrist around.
a face on river surface, found
once lost, recovered, swiftly drowned.

the face, submerged, looks up in dream,
pale, lifeless masque, deathly serene.
looking up, spies dappled gleam;
a candle afloat in a boat down stream.

doonyashka bear

2006-01-25T19:17:00.000Z

for everyone who has written to me recently
enquiring what the russian is for "the bear
of despair":

"yevgeny doonyashka"

is what the russians call the bear of despair.

when an old woman hears her son has gone and
invested all his money in the business of a
family enemy she cries "DOONYASHKA!"

when a father hears that his daughter has
gone into the workhouse you will hear him
yell "DOONYASHKA!"

at a russian grandfather's breaking point
you may even hear the rarely heard "YEVGENY
DOONYASHKAAAAAAAAAAA!" - but this is seldom
mentioned as the word Doonyashka is bad
enough - but to invoke the bear of despair's
full name you would have to be at a point
beyond hope.

i once heard a beggar woman mutter "oi oi.
doonyashka is me" as she ambled down the
cobbled streets of Boishnev, a rural town to
the north of Moscow. she was followed by a
gangly younth who echoed her with "ay.
yevgeny doonyashka." at which point the old
woman spun round and slapped him in the
face, furiously warning him never to say
such a thing again unless he was in darkest
peril.

i stopped the old woman and asked her to
explain to me the meaning of this strange
saying, doonyashka.

"ah, young man" she said, "it is a sad
tale."
I filled her upraised swarthy palm with
coins and she went on, "once doonyashka was
a happy bear living peacefully in the
mountains. he walked with the animals and
talked with the birds. butterflies would sit
on his shoulders and rain would steer away
from him. the sun loved him and it was
always spring where he walked. but then one
day the terrible thing happened..."

at this point the old woman shook and trembled so
fiercely i thought she was sobbing.
she then wailed something incomprehensible
and extremely loud. it was some time before
i could console her enough to press her to
continue.

finally she said, "the terrible thing... the
thing that you must never do to a russian
bear... oh young man! when i think of it..."
she almost fainted but i caught her before
she hit the ground, surpressing the thought
that her faint had been very well aimed in
my direction and i had yet to see a genuine
drop of moisture on her cheek.

after a few pokes in her ribs she seemed to
wake up and it only took me 30 more coins to
get her speaking again.
"you have to understand, young man... in
russia, if you give pancakes to a bear..."

again her hand went to her brown, weathered
face.
"once, a long time ago, a well meaning young man from the village
offered the bear a plate of pancakes. the
bear was never the same again. that bear...
was yevgeny doonyashka."
the old woman seemed to jump at her own
words and feverishly looked about her as if
expecting an imminent consequence of her
words, meted out by some zealous, law crazed
passer-by.

"oi-i-i-i-i-i! doonyashka!" and now she
really wept.
"our nation morns for you!"
i offered some tissues and she dabbed
clumsily at her eyes.
"thank you, young man, thank you... you see,
doonyashka could never eat pancakes. it was
the only thing he wanted and couldnt have.
he smelt their beautiful fragrance wafting
up from the village sometimes and dreamed
often of stuffing them in his mouth. but
alas, doonyashka was a stuffed bear and
could not eat real food. when the young man
offered the bear the pancakes, it was all
the bear could do not to tear the man limb
from limb. but instead a terrible calm
descended over doonyashka. he fell into a
deep and dark depression, staring endlessly
into space for hours - sometimes days. he
wandered about in such an aura of loss that
his sadness became infectious and spread
wherever he travelled. where he appeared
normally happy villagers would burst into
tears for no reason.

"doonyashka's eyes disappeared and in their
place were dark wells of nothingness.
eventually he disappeared into the mountains
and was never seen again. but to this day it
is said that you can sometimes hear him at
night walking through the town. he makes no
noise but for the soft tread of his furry
feet - but all around him becomes still and
silent with an infinite sadness - until he
leaves... that's how you can hear him - when all is still and silent as the grave."

i thanked the woman for her time and for
relieving me of the burden of so many heavy coins
and went on my way - a sadder, yet wiser,
man.

why bad guys laugh

2006-01-25T19:04:00.000Z

(by hugo 13k)

bad guys always do laugh like
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
why is them always do laugh when good guy in
danger?
i tell why.
here is the why:

because they being so rude it funny.
evil villains is just people with normal
conscience what get twisted by humour of how
terrible it be to say rude thing to someone
you being the nice to.

here example:

"hello. nice to meet you. and i am hugo 13k."
"hello. it nice to meet you too. and my name
is john."
"shut up."

that be it.

now you go do the look at the emperor what
am in returning of a jedi. he is VERY rude
to luke because he throw lightning at him.
so he laugh MUCH. he laugh so much because
he know he being SO RUDE - look at him - he
cant even speak. he just open mouth and
yell.

but darth not find funny. he think joke is
RUBBISH. chuck off emperor over rail. "bye
emperor. now you dead."
but emperor only joking.

darth not take joke very well.
he think "it all very well emperor. but that
my son and he doing a die because of you
stupid joking."

maybe emperor misunderstand situation. he
see luke be rude to dad by cut off his hand.
emperor find this VERY funny and get carried
away.
him not realise cut off hand am ACCIDENT
ONLY. not joke. luke is "very sorry dad, but
you keep whacking me with light sabre
because you think it funny".
darth take joke too far then get jealous
when emperor make funnier joke with
lightning.

at end darth not wheezing with pain before
him die. him laughing - look at smug grin on
face and sideways glance at luke. him try no
show it but him find whole situation
HYSTERICAL. darth think funny because it so rude to throw off emperor over rail.
AND him secretly press button blow up death star - luke not know.

but luke make best joke at end
when him stick dad on bonfire.
then watch him laugh when ghost dad appear
with ghost mates.
good thing they find funny too.

ghost yoda say at ghost darth "ha ha! idiot.
just when you start feeling better on way
home from star detroyer, luke put you on
bonfire. bet you not see THAT coming."
ghost obi wan laugh too.
ghost darth look sheepish and say "yeah.
very funny. chip off old block." him try to
laugh with ghost obi wan and ghost yoda but
it OBVIOUS he embarrassed.

but where ghost emperor?
him not there.
emperor are WELL EMBARRASSED he si done the MOST RUBBISH joke.
and noone laugh.
him think "my lightning joke funny but noone laugh."
so he do the sulk and cry like a baby and not go to party with other ghosts.

leiah come see luke staring off into space.
her not see lukes imaginary friends. her am
thinking him is nuts. her poke him and try
get her special brother back indoors.

this am how you can tell luke are on way to
dark side. him love being rude and it make
laughs for him.

EVIL MEN LAUGH AT BEING RUDE AND NOT POLITE.
so you is must not to do the rude or you are be EVIL.
do not you be evil.
you be good.
rude not funny.
rude am dark side.

classified ads - new edit - digitally remastered

2006-01-24T18:35:00.000Z

i am a fighting man and i like to fight. i fight everything i see. including women and children. even animals. and inamimate objects. i will fight you too. you will lose. call me on 08813 I-F-E-E-L-L-I-K-E-F-G-H-T-I-N-G-T-O-N-I-G-H-T and ask for a fight. you'll get one.

Socially deluded neurotic with paranoid homicidal rage fantasies seeks understanding female human with similar hatred of alien invasion and deep seated mistrust of robots for mutual face patting and help in preparation for the coming intergalactic war.
The successful candidate will have 3 years experience of stealth and infiltration of suspected secret alien base strongholds masquerading as offices, factories and corporations. Also required is an interest in lazer weaponry. Experience in Ninjutsu or willingness to learn would be an advantage. On the job training provided towards valkyrie pilots license. Those with a fear of being ACCIDENTALLY jetisoned into the cold vacuum of outer-space alone with no air, or those intollerant to being locked in the trunk of a car for a few hours, need not apply. 01987 205 206

If, like me, you enjoy the thought of waking up in the middle of the night to find your partner staring at you with a glazed expression, drool dribbling down their chin and smeared across one side of their face, whispering "I'm watching you" then I'm the man for you. Join me in my empty bare-brick-walled bedsit as we shout and throw things at the tv together. 0846 498 358

Do you like sticks? I like sticks. I like piling sticks and bricks.
Sticks on bricks in heaps of six make me feel like giving licks.
Sticks? Bricks? Licks? These get my ticks and cheer me when I'm in a fix.
Throw some tricks into the mix.
For she who from these things gets kicks - she'll feel real good when me she picks.
Call 0116 236 836 - ask for Geisel

Blond man seek blonde woman for mutual staring. No sudden move. Eating is for weak. Join me and we do the psyching eachother up in silence then we are doing the prepare to engage enemy. Drinking is for weak. Don't ever twitch near me. Socks are for old and infirm. If you breath you are coward. I no coward. I breath NEVER.

Don't want anyone who is likely to scream for help. You can't contact me - I'll contact you. How? Don't worry - I'll find you. In fact if you live in 81 Kingsbury Avenue, Surrey I've probably already found you. Your house is too cold and you've run out of milk.
To call me don't phone - just knock on the door to your cellar. Or just stamp your feet on the floor 3 times and yell "Itzleplitz, Itzleplitz, here is your Pitzlefritz"

If you like peaches then you'll like me because I look like a peach. Some people say I have a peach for a head. You can smooth my face and it's just like stroking a peach because it's so soft and slightly furry. I also have an adequate number of eyes and a mouth but they're quite small. I can hear ok and I have enough limbs. Please call me if you aren't easily shocked by apperances.
Call me on 0845 654654654654 but please speak quietly as my ears are sensitive. If you hum I cry softly.

Very fat and ugly, yet strangely sexy male seeks attractive young lady for standing up conversations that just happen to be behind a butcher's counter. Must be comfortable being surrounded by fresh meat and customers. Must be prepared to talk to other people during our dates and possibly work on the till while I have my lunch break. Call me on 0845 M-E-A-T-4-U and ask for the boss. Or alternatively visit our website to fill out an application form.

Fun and crazy agorophobic party ANIMAL seeks whacky indoor lass for OUTRAGEOUS antics and all kinds of rebellious stay-at-home INSANITY!!! I like surfing the net, checking out MAD stuff on the web and emailing. If you like heart pounding fun and want to enjoy some extreme mouse clicking action, log on to my world for the wildest e-ride of your life! Email me on ultim8trekkie@geekdorknerd.com. I don't like speaking on phones. Or in person. All conversation will be written only.

I hate women. But you can't live without them so come on then. Might as well get this over with. Contact Dave on 654684654645

I love to type. I just love it. I just love to type so much that I'm telling everyone I can. There's just something about typing that sends shivers of glee down my spine. I could type all day. Sometimes I type just one letter again and again and again and again. I never copy and paste. That would stop me from enjoying more time typing. Do you want to come to my house and watch me type for a few hours? You can even use my typewriter if you want, while I use my PC keyboard. If you make any mistakes I will ERASE you. Write me a letter using PRINT ONLY. NO handwritten letters please. Write to John at PO Box 684987546579876546876548756465468478.

I'm really well endowed. Everyone loves me cos I'm loads of fun at parties and they all laugh at my jokes. I've got a mansion with a hundred rooms. And I've got servants and I own 3 corporations and I'm famous and an actor and a member of the SAS and a secret agent and I'm in a band. I'm in the police and the army and the airforce and the navy seals. I'm also really handsome and muscular. I have a tank and lots of guns. I fly a jet and a helicopter and I've won several Formula One Grand Prix. I have lots and lots and lots of friends. Please someone call me. 04576 984 984

No-one really expects me to be the way I am when they meet me - intriguing. I guess it's because I'm enigmatic, pensive and distant - but that's just my intellectual side. I read voraciously - I just can't help it. I'm really sensitive and romantic because I know what women like. I'm sensitive and caring and intellectual as well. I love books because I love to read. There's just something about books - they're so full of wisdom and beauty. I think I love them because I value knowledge and intelligence so much. When people meet me they always say how clever I am and they're amazed by how many books I've got. I expect I've read dozens of books in my life time. Literally dozens. Definitely more than you have, anyway. I think it's because I just have that kind of mind - intellectual. I'm just always reading or thinking or being whistful. But also sensitive. Call me and learn a thing or two. 04451 984 645

I'm a mechanic. I fix things. I can fix your car cheaply. Call me and I'll fix your car. Mike - Ostenberg Mechanics, Charborough, just off the high street. Dial 06484 I-L-I-K-E-S-Y-A-C-A-R

Did I see you walking down the high street in Bristol the other day?
You - with an angry expression on your face, muttering hateful threats and swaggering drunkenly from one side of the road to the other, occasionally shouting incomprehensible abuse at passers by but mostly oblivious to the staring, frightened faces around you -
Me - swerving to a stop in my taxi as you fell and rolled a little way down the road in front of me before pulling yourself onto the bonnet of my car and saying "Spleergnsasha frkkin fgaff". Call me - I think we'll have a lot to talk about. Sharon - 04954 654 987

I saw you - coming out of a pub Friday night yelling and singing with your drunken mates. You were wearing the same untucked work shirt and black trousers as all the other lads, had the same spiked hair style, huge, obnoxious mouth and glazed expression - but there was something about your feet - those beautiful, strange, vomit covered shoes that I found enigmatic and startlingly attractive. I was the girl you yelled "ORRIGHT DARLIN" at and tried to lift her skirt, before you got into a fight with a bouncer. Please call me - I think we have a lot in common. 04894 6548 8446

I have no money but I have lots of tea. For the tea drinking experience of a lifetime give me a ring and go and buy some biscuits. I also have napkins, saucers and tea cups. I will expect you to pay for your tea. It's not not free. No-one gets a free ride. 30p per cup. 10p if you part exchange by bringing a biscuit or contributing milk. 684+84654644546846984

I ... AM THE MYSTERY KING.
The ruler of riddles and emperor of enigmas.
If you call me I will stop the timer linked to the bomb set to destroy the polar caps and flood the ENTIRE WORLD.
All you need to do is answer this IMPOSSIBLE riddle:
I rise in the morning and set in the evening only to be reborn the next day when I rise again and shine down on the world from my sky-like throne. I provide light to everyone in the world and I'm the sun. What am I?
a) The Sun
b) A lightbulb
c) A car
You must pick the correct answer THE FIRST TIME when you call the following number OR EVERYONE IN THE WORLD SHALL PERISH IN WATERY SEA OCEAN WATER.
Ooooh! Salty! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaa!
AND you have to guess my number from the following code:
SDLFIJSRLFIJSDFJSLIDGJLFILSDJF 02542 113118 SOOSIGILOGISDISLGIJSLDJOFSIJGFIJGLIJGILJ
The clock is ticking! Or IS it? Yes it is.

someone do - cos this well good

2006-01-21T23:04:00.000Z

below is an idea submitted to me by a little friend who doesnt speak very good english so some explanation may be required in advance. my friend had an idea for a music video featuring spaceships because he loves the spaceship so much, bless his imaginary little heart. i told him about my blog and he was so excited about the idea of sharing his vision of the spaceship music genre with the world that i couldn't say no.
the idea is that there are lots of spaceships flying past the camera while a song about spaceships is played. unfortunately my little friend lacks the ability to conform to standard script writing format so you will have to work out a lot of what he's writtne yourself. evem i dont understand all of it. here it is...

idea for music video for spaceship.
i am hugo and this mine. my idea yes?
spaceship is good so need video.

it start: all is black.
"what this?" you say. you dont know. but what it am is SPACE. THAT why it black. then you see it - stars. then you think "aaah - it SPACE" and you know be it space then.

THEN you get WHOOSH straight over your head and you thinking "WHAT THE BLOODY!!!!! WHERE IS THAT GO? NOW I NOT SEEING COS IT SO FAST BE! WOW!!! BLOODY WOW!" and now you think you see - SPACESHIP!

because it on screen again flying past so nice you love it - WOW!
spaceship i love you.

then go the music. slow first and quiet. mm uh mm uh mm uh - it go. like drum on keyboard. mm uh mm uh mm uh - and it go like that.
then you get more spaceship more and more coming in and you is WOW! some spaceship so big you make crazy face and want to stroke - BUT YOU CANT STROKE! IT ON TV IDIOT! but SO REAL!

ah spaceship i love you. you is nice. BUT THEN WAIT LOOK! MORE SPACESHIP! but hang on - what is this? BAD SPACESHIPS! OH NO! but look - good space ships lazer bad spaceships - ok now but very exciting. WOW! WOW? YES! STILL WOW!

but you think how? how can still be wow when so many spaceship?!!! but yes - even though you not believe - it is still wow.

and the music goes:
"Spaceship
Spaceship spaceship
spaceship spaceship
Spaceship spaceship"

IT SO GOOD!!! yet so refreshing. ah yes.

but it keep going and it so good you love all the way through.

THEN BANG BANG BANG!! like fireworks but actually LAZERS doing the explode.
that finish then.

so that my idea. you like. so make it. i want see on tv.

ode to robots

2006-01-21T22:08:00.000Z

robots good and robots true -
i like robots more than you.
robots splended, robots fine,
robots of multiple design.
robots ugly, robots palid
because they never eat their salad.
robots from every race and nation
deserve our sincere adulation.
robot noble, robot mighty
this kind of robot comes from blighty.
robots suave that learn to dance
this robot must have come from france.
robots bad and robots stupid
damn you all to hell.
if you cant be good robots
you're not even worth a rhyme.
robot ninja dressed in satin
you must come from land of japan.
robot calm and robot peaceful
we need more of you in breeeeeeestol.
robots strong and robots giant
robots standing there defiant,
robots noble, full of honour,
enemy is now a goner,
robots fight for truth and justice
these robots deserve from us kiss.
robots, robots, everywhere
robots from here and over there.
robots never even care
if they were made in aberdare.
aberdare is in wales
where people have little curly tails
but thats got nothing to do with bots
of which i still have to say lots
robot honest, ne'er a liar
robots will save you from a fire
or if you fell on a funeral pyre
a robot would not let you expire
a robot knows that would be dire
a robot would save you even when he was not on hire
or if he was in the middle of singing in a choir
or in the middle fo saving an object of his great desire
when it had accidentally fallen into a mire.
even though the edges of the mire
might be surrounded by wire and briar,
the robot would transform into a flier
and rescue you from that burning fire of flame and hot.
would he chicken out? no he would not.
you might think "what balls hes got"
but he hasnt cos hes just robot.
some robots turn into a plane
and then they turn right back again.
there are no robots in poor spain
for this the spanish are to blame.
but blame them and you blame in vain
for spain has no brain for robot building game.
robots big and robots solid
please fight only robots horrid
robots mean and nasty die
cos good 'bots kill them - thats why.
i hear you sigh as they say goodbye
but i dont, do i?
you wanna know why?
now just you stop that cry
robots always come right back
as soon as we get 'bot-attack
here come robots - here they are!
they have travelled from afar
part of the way some were a car
but now relax cos they are here
bad robots quake in angry fear
die you bastard bad-bot, die!
and on the ground you now must lie
until your evil bad-bot mates
collect your rusty metal plates
and put you back together again
to wage more war on big steel men
we must have these bad-bot types
the good-bots hold no spiteful gripes
cos they know good will always win
and thump the baddies in the bin.
win win win!
the good-bots kin
will always crush their foe like tin
and with a noisy lazer din
will end the day with robo-grin.

"Hey. We want our violence doubled."

2006-01-21T19:44:00.000Z

"Hey. We want our violence doubled." - lyric from a song by Fugazi
The following is a record of correspondence.

Dear Fugazi,

I noticed that in one of your songs you mentioned that you would like "your violence doubled". I am writing to enquire as to how I might double my violence as I currently feel I am not receiving my fair share.

I have looked on your website and could find no trace of any such
advice and there are presently no helplines at all to assist with this matter. Further more, upon enquiring at my local police station my sincere enquiry was met with disdain and bemusement at the desk and I was advised that violence was not the solution.

I deeply regret this rather hostile reaction to my legitimate request for doubled violence and am growing concerned at the lack of support for people like myself who feel that their quotient of violence is less than half the public average.

Can you help me or do I have to go elsewhere?

Yours sincerely,
Confused.

Dear Confused,

Thank you for your letter about "doubling your violence". We appreciate your interest in our services but are you aware that we are not the company you refer to as "Fugazi"?

We are a manufacturer of toilet rolls supplying mainly corporations and businesses.

If you would like to purchase toilet rolls (preferably in large
quantities as we are not a publicly available merchandiser) we would be happy to assist. Otherwise, we feel we are sadly unabale to give advice on "doubling your violence".

You may wish to watch the film "Fight Club", which has excellent
suggestions in novel violent ventures.

I hope this may be of some help.

Yours faithfully,

R B Rudenstein
Sales Administrator
Allegro Office Supplies Ltd.

Dear R B Rudenstein,

Thank you for your letter replying to my enquiry about doubling my
violence. Your suggestion of watching Fight Club was a good one - I have watched Fight Club several times and am well familiar with the techniques of organising underground bare knuckle men's groups.

I enjoyed your letter. It made me laugh. It made me think that you and I have something in common. Perhaps you would like me to come and eat some of your food late one night next week? How is Thursday about 2am?
Yes, then. It is date. Yes.

Lots of love,
Your new best friend,
Mr.16
(You must always address me by my proper title - "MISTER" - or else our
friendship will come to an abrupt and tragic end)

Dear Mr.16,

Thank you for your kind invitation to dine with me at my house.
Although extremely kind, I regret I must decline your generous offer of your company.

Sadly, I am a very busy person, married with children and a hectic
career that demands all of my time. I am asleep most of the time I am at home. Therefore I regret I will not be able to become your new best friend, but your interest is kindly appreciated.

Thank you for your kind interest.
Kind regards,

Yours faithfully,

R B Rudenstein
Sales Administrator
Allegro Office Supplies Ltd.

Dear R B Rudenstein,

Why do you keep writing me all these letters? This borders on
harrassment and I'm sure your company wouldn't be very happy that you are wasting their time writing me letters at work.

I've never even met you! How could I be in love with you? It's ridiculous! No-one in their right mind would fall in love with someone they have only received a couple of confusing letters from, let alone build a shrine in their bedroom to that person and dance around it with a burning tambourine even though it scorches their hands! No-one! And frankly I don't have the time any more.

Please stop writing or I will have to consult legal advice about a restraining order.

Yours sincerely,
Mr.16

Comicsbooks From My Childhood

2006-01-13T11:24:00.000Z

I have been sorting out my collection of shoeboxes in which i keep things and i have found one box with comics from my long forgotten childhood:

SPACE 1999 | TRANSFORMERS | ROBIN HOOD
MEG AND MOG | DOCTOR WHO

I will put these in my links at the bottom of the this, my online shoebox, be sure to look and see what else i have in there...

extract from a diary entry on the creation of the bear of despair

2006-01-10T20:18:00.000Z

today is a dark day for all
for today i created "the bear of despair from aberder" in a new drawing.
some will say "you've spelt 'aberder' wrong" - but no - i haven't.
it's not the aberder of wales which i can't spell anyway.
it's a different aberder.
an even worse place.
of despair.
which makes the bear of despair even darker than ever.
things havent been this dark since the creation (and immediate subsequent destruction) of "inverted smurf".
even remembering the name sends a shiver down my spine.
some things should never be drawn.
but the least said about "inverted smurf" the better.
pure evil.
the bear of despair from aberder is not quite as evil but he is indeed a dark, dark bear of unholiness.
he came about by my looking at a picture book called "bad mood bear".
the bear of despair from aberder looks identical to this bear except for his staring hollow eyes (possibly just black sockets, the depths of which contain only shadow) and sharp spiky teeth.
i imagine him walking through a desolate empty town aimlessly.
would you approach this bear?
only by mistake.
you might see him from behind and think "aaaah - what a cute little bear. is he lost? i'd better just go and help him".
but then you would get close and see his eyes and you wouldn't be able to run away for the fear paralysing your legs.
not a nice bear.
a bear who has lost everything but the motor neurones that keep his legs walking and his blank eyes staring into the distance.
who can help this bear?
no-one. he is beyond help. leave him alone.

lost chapter from a bland man's life

2006-01-10T20:12:00.000Z

'I'm going to bully you.' said the little man.
'I'm going to bully you so much your hair changes colour.'
'Please don't bully me.' said the fat security guard, his eyebrows raising anxiously.
'I'm going to bully you.' said the little man, again, with the finality of tone that suggested that there was an end to it. The matter was decided and it would be childish not to accept the way things were.

'After all, life isn't fair.' mused the little man, philosophically and whistled as he walked out of the office, hands in pockets, eyes to the sky like a man taking a stroll in the park.

The fat security guard stared down at his thumbs for a moment, then said quietly to himself 'But I don't want to be bullied.' before resigning himself to his fate, recalling some wise song lyrics he had once heard, "You can't always got what you want".

He was an ugly man; his face pitted by the scars of burst spots from decades ago and a bland, goat-like dullness in his eyes that conveyed in an instant to everyone he met for the first time that he was a very boring man. Which was why he had this job. In the interview he had used the word "patient" but in reality he was aware that this virtue of his was just plain and simple dullness.

His slow mind ticked over and eventually came up with the thought 'I wonder how he intends to bully me?'
Childhood experience had taught him the many ways one could become a victim of bullying but despite long and cruel years at the receiving end of playground nastiness nothing he had ever endured had changed his hair colour. What could the little man be planning? The fat security guard didn't think to question why - it was his lot in life. You didn't get to the ripe old age of 51 without accepting a few facts of life.

He looked up at the sound of a knock at the window. It was the little man. He was smiling and waving enthusiastically, as if waving to his family while on holiday in a hot country.
The man gestured - pointed at the fat security guard and then drew his finger across his throat, slowly, then nodded with a warm, friendly grin. And left.

what kind of a man smells of meat anyway?

2006-01-04T19:58:00.000Z

this is the question i asked myself when standing in the queue in the supermarket the other day: "what kind of a man smells of hot meat?"
i had just bought some freshly cooked sausages from the delhi counter and had already paid for them when a dvd caught my eye just as i was about to leave the place. so i went back in and went to the tobacco counter where you pay for dvds and music - this is a seperate section of the store from the row of tills where you pay for food.
as i queued behind a rather attractive young lady it occurred to me that i smelt hot meat coming from one of my bags - which was understandable because i was carrying hot meat in a bag.
but as i waited it also occurred to me that noone could see the hot meat in the bag as i had put it in my pocket - least of allo the girl immediately in front with her back to me.
so to all within smelling range i was a man who smelled curiously of meat.
what kind of a man smells of meat, i asked my self - in fact perhaps the girl in front of me was asking herself the same thing - and starting to panic.
surely the only people who smell of meat are butchers and strange lonely men who waddle around the highstreet with bulky looking long coats, staring at people's legs, hungrily.
had i become one of those people?
i hoped not and tried hard to think of something else before my embarrassment made me look any stranger (i was sure i was blushing from self consciousness at that point). i thought about the meat in my pocket and how hungry i was, which caused me to salivate a little more than usual. i MAY have let out a little moan of anticipation - i love sausages and i love them even more when im hungry.
the girl in front turned around briefly (perhaps to see what kind of man smelt of meat) and i averted my gaze from the back of her legs and my eyes came into focus just in time to see the surprised look on her face as she quickly turned around again and hurriedly paid for her items.
fortunately she left pretty quickly and i was relieved to see that she didnt turn around to check out the weirdo behind her again. of course, i later realised that in order for me to have noticed this i must have been watching her as she left, which is another cringeworthy thought. i wonder what the guy behind me in the queue must have thought?
i paid for my dvd and left, breathing a little easier to get away from people that probably thought i was a maniac but would be unlikely to see me again.
as i walked away from the counter i thought about how, that lunchtime at work, i had managed to stuff the entire contents of a colleagues lunch box into my mouth and hide the empty box under my desk moments before she discovered it to be missing. she had looked me straight in the eye whilst my mouth was full (of her lunch) and said "have you seen my lunch box?"
i shook my head and she innocently went around the rest of the office looking for it, occasionally asking people if they had seen it.
i nearly choked trying to keep a straight face and hold my mouth closed as i watched her go.
it was that thought that made me start chuckling to myself as i went through the exit of the supermarket that evening and passed the woman who had been in front of me in the queue. she gave me furtive, uncomfortable glances as we waited at the pelican crossing with our shopping bags, side by side.
i stopped laughing and felt embarrassed again.
then i thought to hell with it and gurgled loudly, allowing a little trickle of saliva to dribble down my chin as i slowly turned my head toward her, smiling.
"hellooo" i said in my best impression of mr bean.
she gave up waiting for the lights and turned and walked off down the road. i wonder how far a detour she took?
maybe next time i should follow her and find out.

the rambling grove

2006-01-04T18:59:00.000Z

here i am in my grove, rambling.
i like to ramble in my grove.
it is a rambling grove and nothing but rambling must be done in it.
but it is not very big so i cant ramble very far before i have to turn around and start rambling the other way.
this is why some of my ramble sometimes spills out and overflows into your world.
my apologies but my rambling is so powerful that it cannot be contained in such a small grove.
channels must be dug around the grove to cope with ramble overflow.
if the limits of the grove are reached the rambling may build up pressure and spurt out in a dangerous jet which can injure and even kill in some cases.
so we must have safety valves for the outlet of excess rambling and unfortunately fate has chosen you to become one of those valves.
so be a noble valve and carry your duty honourably, serving your country with a patriotic spirit and you shall be rewarded for your burden in heaven. (after dying a slow and painful death from rambling radiation poisoning)
ok?
if you accept, then simply do nothing - you will continue being bombarded with this rambling.
if you don't accept then also do nothing but think about how you should really learn to accept your fate as you will still receive the rambling anyway.
"all life is suffering" - buddha
so please allow me to help you live life to the full and keep sending you my ramblings.

a little song for when you feel insignificant...

2006-01-04T18:57:00.000Z

oh boy do i annoy
im the "annoy boy toy"
its the thing in my brain that gives me lots of joy
to annoy is my ploy and i like to say "ahoy"
when i see an opportunitoy
to make someone say "oi"

OI OI OI
the thing they all soy
when i do the old annoy
then start acting coy
cos im that sort of boy
peace of mind i destroy
with a well placed annoy

ooooooooooooyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

bear of despair

2006-01-03T09:18:00.000Z

bear_of_despair
Originally uploaded by mr16.

Chavs on Wheels

2005-12-05T15:38:00.000Z

Chavs on Wheels
Originally uploaded by mr16.

2005-11-02T21:07:00.000Z

Picture the scene:

a little boy crying in the back seat of his parents' car
his parent in the front seat crying out of desperation to get him to shut up
the mother turns to him, exhausted from his spoilt brat crying, her red eyes streaming,
and begins to sing the Toys R Us tv advert jingle...

"theres a magical place we're on our way there
with toys in their millions all under one roof
its called toys r us...
soon after bedtime when dark night time falls
jeffrey and helpers clean up all the crap..."

she continues the song as it is surprisingly effective in temporarily calming the brat, leaving him drooling in awe of all the THINGS he is going to make his parents buy him before breaking them and making him get something else - and all the things he can break in the store - until she gets to this point:

""theres millions!" cried jeffrey "all under one roof!"
its called toys r us toys r us toys r us"

my question is this: why does jeffrey CRY "theres millions!"
presumably, jeffrey works there regularly and yet on this particular night he is evidently overwhelmed by the number of toys around him.
perhaps he works long hours and always at night - jeffrey is such a freak that they obviously dont let him out in the daytime when he would panic the kids.
so he only comes out at night and works all night through to clean up after the little brats who have destroyed the place the day before.
when he cries "theres millions!" is he not referring to all the broken pieces of merchandise lying around the floor that will take all night to clean up, only to have more children soul destroyingly ruin everything the next day.
conclusion: jeffrey is insane.
not only does he have to cope with being a girraffe headed circus freak hidden away from people and daylight, but he has to cope with the tasks of ciciphus.
"jeffrey and helpers" - you assume these helpers are his colleagues also working in the store but would it not make more sense if they were his wardens, supervising him lest he run amok?
this kind of tormented victim would not be left in the store at night alone in case he got out and wreaked his revenge.
the "helpers" "help" him to stay "under one roof" and keep working without running around like a maniac.
they probably use cattle prods as he has a long neck and could probably reach them too easily with his girraffe jaws.

"down jeffrey! down!"
bzzzz bzzzz bzz
"AAAAAAAARRRRRRR!"
"quick! stop him! he's loose!"
"RAAAAAAAAARRRR!"
"damn you, you freak - you got peterson!"
"he'll pay for that! use your cattle prods!"
bzzzz bzzzz bzzzzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.... ah ... ahhhh..."
"that got him. damn you, jeffrey. looks like its an extra long stay in the cellar for you this week."
"peterson... my gosh... what has he done to peterson...?"
"im gonna be sick..."

poor jeffrey.
poor poor jeffrey.

thats why toys r us is bad.

don't like sharing the company lift

2005-11-02T20:30:00.000Z

The lift doors open. There's a fat business man inside, smiling and humming his own tune. I recognise him from some boring meeting I must have attended in the past but I can't remember his name. All I remember is that this man is tedious.

I get in, press a button and force myself to return his polite smile.

I think about whether or not to ask this man if he wants to be a member of my pirate crew as I am going to become a pirate captain. He doesn't look the type at all, which is all the more reason to ask him - when I decide to lose a few hands overboard he'll be the first to walk the plank.

"You're uh... quite tall aren't you, uh... uh... (he forgets my name)... Ha ha. What's the uh... weather like, uh... up there? Ha ha."

I laugh like a 16yr old girl trying to flirt. Very sarcastic but disguised enough to be mistaken for politness - if it were noticed at all. I imagine what it would be like to plunge the blunt end of my pen into his chest and wonder how much force would be required to get it all the way in - before I realise that I should be concentrating as he was still talking:

"So uh... What, uh... do you do, uh... in this, uh... actual... department?"

"I collect papers and pass them to people to sign."

"Ha ha. Yes... very, uh... ha ha... funny. Ha ha."

"Yes."

The lift stops at a floor with a ping.

"After you." I say, smiling.

"No, after you... oh, er... after you..." There is an excruciatingly irritating moment when we both try to get out at the same time but due to badly timed courtesy, both fail to make it.

"No, I insist." I say.

"It's alright - after you... ha ha"

"Get out of the bastard lift."

"... er... Sorry...?"

...

"Get out."

He is speachlessly angry like he's going to start a fight.
I sigh and start rolling the skin around my face with my palms as fast as I can, groaning loudly and bending forward slightly. It makes a wet slappy noise as my mouth, cheeks and eyelids are contorted into unnatural shapes.
When I stop he's still there staring at me, so I have to start shouting "IT'S MY LIFT IT'S MY LIFT IT'S MY LIFT".
He gets the message and leaves.

Today is not a good day at the office for me. It's one of 2 different kinds of Bad Day - the one where I have too little to do. The other kind is just the opposite but at least it's not boring. I'm going to have to find something to occupy my irritable little mind.

I choose the fattest, ugliest person in the office and pretend to myself that I am head over heels in love with them in an ironic masochistic sort of way.
I stare lovingly at her smoothe, bulbous second chin and imagine kissing it tenderly. The thought is so utterly horrific that I instantly feel nauseous and delight in the power of my imagination over reality. If I could affect myself so much with just a thought, what more might I be able to achieve with just the power of my mind? And could my powers be used for good and not just for evil? As it turns out the answer is NO. These are bad powers and could only be used for plotting evil.

Damn it I'm bored.

On his my through the bulding, to pass the time I sometimes like to practice lying at the bottom of the stairs in a crumpled heap, so that if anyone passed that way they would be shocked and rush to help. This is relatively safe as the people in the company that aren't so lazy they have to use the lifts to go anywhere are cleaners and only visit the stairs early morning or late at night.
On this particular occasion it occurred to me that I might go one step further and learn to fall down stairs as a professional stunt man might - after all they had to start somewhere, too. So I decided to try a small flight of stairs first - and slowly, planning to gradually build my fall to a professional level over time and possibly find my way into the stunt industry.
It was painful. But it was something to do for 5 minutes.

I get back to my desk eventually and stare at my reflection in the pc screen.
I look like I'm sulking so I guess I must be.
An email pops up on my screen from a colleague: why haven't I replied to the previous email and am I still sulking because of not getting a pay rise?
I reply:

"not sulking.
sitting in corner facing wall doing rocking and groaning
sounds like this:
uuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
uuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnn
uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
doing a bit of drooling also
most people have left the office now but there are a few people still around keeping well back from my area
i will have to go and visit them soon and give them "the test"
to do "the test" is very easy:
you sneak up behind someone and stand next to them for a while
then when they notice youre there you grab them in a bear hug from behind and squeeze them tightly around their ribs
whispering loudly "this is a test. IM TESTING YOUUUUU"
it works best on people you dont know very well - but most people will find this horrifying.
do this for about a minute while they shout at you to GET OFF ME YOU FREAK
no matter what hold on tight and dont answer back - stay silent until people start to approach.
then let go and look at them disgusted and say "look i told you i dont feel the same way. just let it drop ok?"
then limp away moaning loudly "he... he TOUCHED me... in the ... the BAD place"
and start crying
if you make it back to your desk before someone restrains you, quickly take off both shoes and one sock, grin with mad, staring eyes and say "where WE'RE going we won't be needing THESE!" and drop them in the bin
then sit back in your chair, relax, leer at your audience while absent mindedly rubbing your stomach, murmuring "you're next" whenever you meet someone's eyes."

The reply to my email comes back quite quickly:
"Are you bored?"

the coffee sweats

2005-11-01T16:18:00.000Z

here they come
the coffee sweats
heat rising up under my jumper
(why am i wearing a jumper?)
i should have known this would happen
now i must take off my jumper and turn on

the fan

the fan is under my desk so noone can see it
still hot
loosen tie

instantly cold
put jumper back on
turn off fan

sweat gone cold
trickles down my back
nose tingles
i sneeze 5 times

hot again

deadline

2005-10-30T20:28:00.000Z

12:17 came out of daydream about film i haven't watched but imagining
what's in it.

12:17:15 felt really guilty about having stared at a blank pc screen for 20 minutes when my boss is going insane gecause of the amount of work that needs to be done and i need to do some things urgently

12:18 decide that i just can't concentrate on this spreadsheet that needs to be finished and handed to my boss in 15 minutes or people will start screaming. time to go to the loo to buy myself some time to think about how to tackle this problem.

12:22 after having sat on my chair daydreaming for another 4 minutes, thinking about getting up - i get up and move surreptitiously toward the loo, carefully concealing my phone in my pocket so they won't suspect im going to play solitaire on it for a while.

12:23 arrive at toilet door, open, enter, close, lock, phone out, solitaire well and truly muthafukking ON

12:51 deadline well and truly missed i leave the toilet having improved my average score, hoping my bosses will have left for their urgent meeting for which they need my spreadsheet

12:52 they have left, and there is a message on my pc saying "expenses spreadsheet?!!?" which irritates me because i hate it when people use too many punctuation symbols when one would suffice.

12:53 sit down and spin on chair, knowing noone can see me in my sheltered part of the office.

12:54 i could do that spreadsheet now but im really hungry.

the hairline guy at my work provokes me with his silent presence

2005-10-30T20:27:00.000Z

there is a little man where i work with a big, perfectly spherical head who sits on a desk by the lift. each time i pass him i note how perfectly his hair is cropped to a tight, neat line, so pedantically sculpted that i have an urge to seize his head and draw a line around the edges with a thick black permanent marker. but then i think - what if i went wrong and strayed outside the lines? i would have to colour in his entire head! poor little round headed guy. he never asked to be born with a head like that. never meant to incite hailine rage in others. and yet it is somehow his fault and he must pay with his skin colour. i always wondered if it were possible to bully someone so much they changed race. the danger of course is that once
started he might (MIGHT - but maybe he might not - he might like it...?) struggle and i may be unable to finish the job as neatly as he has begun the job by clipping the edges of his hair to such an immaculate - nay DIVINE - border line. my efforts would degenerate into mere scribble and he would be left with a partially inked head! a scribbled head! the horror! well it would be his own fault. that little bastard. it would be a mercy to him that after i got fired and escorted from the building i should follow him home and jump him in a dark alley to finish the job that evening down a dark road, from the darkness i leap, screaming

"is this what you wanted? WELL IS IT? IS IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT?"

and seize the little bowling ball, wrestling him to the ground.

"just be grateful i dont do your eyeballs too you follically precisioned nazi!"

and i finish the colouring in of his poor little ovoid bonse.

when its all over, i give him the strokes on his head and i do the patting on his weary, confused, circular face.

"hush now. hush. stop crying. its aaaallll over now. aaaalllll done. good boy."

ruffle the hair. pat the head. give him a sweet for his trouble. leave his shiny, black-inked face staring after me in shock. an older - yet wiser - bowling ball.

perhaps there should be a build up.
notes passed to him under the toilet cubicle door one word at a time
on individual scraps of paper:

your

hairline

is

too

neat

then start leaving marker pens on his desk for him to find every morning. scratchy threatening sketches on postit notes left stuck to his pc screen. a hint of what is to come if he doesnt mend his evil ways. that little tyke. hes really getting to me now. im getting really angry with the little rascal just thinking about that damn hairline. boy is he going to pay.

ill get you you bastard.

ill get you.

to do list

2005-10-30T20:26:00.001Z

another thing to do in offices:

it can get quite lonely at work sometimes.

a 5 foot sound partition is erected around my set of desks to dampen the noise of all the telephonists in the rest of our open plan office.
i sit with 3 senior managers who talk about other senior managers and innuendoes, neither of which arouse my interest.
They are here about half of the time so i spend a lot of time working alone.
the screen behind me is not very effective in dimishing the agonising cacophony of sales banter and inane teenaged nonsense conversations, but it does have the benefit of allowing me to practice my faces without being seen.
i pull lots of faces, wide ranging in expression.
some of my favourites are The Condescending Smile of Amused Contempt, The Overjoyed Open Mouthed Surprise of Sudden Hatred, and The Half Smile Spastic Tired Grin of Ignorance.
One recent addition was The Patronising Blink of Delight at a Cute But Vastly Inferior Creature Such as a Dog But in This Case Actually a Person.
This occurs when someone goes too far in saying something hideously stupid and causes my hackles to rise to the point where i would like to eviscerate and cannbalise their screaming torso whilst crying and smiling in joy.
Some of these expressions extend into the world beyond my desk in the form of a consistent style of walk such as a furtive creeping along the sides of the wall or a half limping half leaping lumber complete with dangling arms in front of gurning face.
this most often occurs while in the stairs, corridors or toilets - anywhere where its not likely i will get seen acting like this.
whilst studying the progress of my own psychological descent into chaos the latest development that i have brought to my attention is that of the extension into story backgrounds for these expressions.
some invariably now boast a character history which unfolds a little at a time as bad moments in the day pass.
every time something starts to really get to me a character gets a little break and has a run around the playground.
none moreso than "The Creature".
The Creature is the extension of the expression called The Patronising Blink of Delight at a Cute But Vastly Inferior Creature Such as a Dog But in This Case Actually a Person. whereas previously this expression was projected into a scenario involving the preson that prompted the expression as a direct response to their own horrific behaviour, it now has a freedom all of its own.
The Creature is an imaginary (note how i label it as "imaginary", which proves i'm not insane) little gremlin with a leash.
i dont hold its leash - i let him run free about the office, salivating over everything and having a GRAND old time.

bless his heart.

he just LOVES to run around.
and i look on with the tearful loving gaze of a devoted parent at his sons first steps (The Patronising Blink of Delight at a Cute But Vastly Inferior Creature).

i think he is greenish grey in colour and has a very large mouth which he fails to ever close entirely for lack of mental dexterity.
it is always half full of saliva which is spilt over a wide radius from his path by rigourous shakes of his oafish head.
he is capable of sitting in the corner patiently and lovingly looking at up his master, wagging his stubby little tail for all of about 30 seconds at a push before his over animated personality demands his instantaneous release onto the warpath to tear up the carpet, walls and ceiling.

like a little pupy dog daemon.

aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh.

i find this image helps me to assume the facial expression as i wonder around the building, shaking off the effects of what ive just overheard from some young brainless twirp. when you next feel angry with someone having said something so stupid it makes you cringe - try this - and see how close to the border you actually walk.

the blabalab

2005-10-30T20:26:00.000Z

this are the riddle: what am the blabalab?

the blabalab be it what this is:

i do the blabalab on desk when noone is doing the look at me is doing it: the blabalab - all over the desk.

here it be
it does the sound like "blabalab" it goes.blabalabalabalabalabthen me am doing the splat like baby style all in it on the mess with me hands.
at the mess splat it go doing the sound like "splipislpattysplatsplop"splipislpattysplatsplop
and what it is it be this: when me is am the getting so damn bored because my am do gets no work to make do - me does the sick all down myself.t

hat is what blabalab be: sick.then me do the grin: "eeeeeeeuuuuuugh" me say with smile and me am doing the head tilted forward looking up through me eyebrows.
but noone see.

blabalab on desk.splipisplattysplatsplop with hands in blabalab.blabalab everywhere.

just because i bored.

wipe up with tissues the blabalab.

and off it get the bits on shirt.
"eeeuuugh. get off, bits" me am do say.
now big yellow stain on at white shirt.
"what?" me do say "how i am getting off this mess? it be is DISGUSTING and it STINK."
at least am is i not bored any now more.
but stinky. damn stinky.

now all am quiet around office it is.
they be do come back soon now.
and then they is doing the see of it.
and the smelling.

they is going at do be in the smelling of it RIGHT bad. and if me stopping the cry before they is am back i is will do be the smiling lots and lots. and me is say: "how you doing chaps? i cant smell anything bad - it must be your imagination" before they sitting is. and they is say: "what?"and i is say "nothing" and then me is start do the smile again. all nicey and yummy like nothing is wrong. they might do say: "what is that smell?"or might they is do the say: "hey, whats that stain on your shirt?" but me just do smile at they.

please help me i think i need to speak to a doctor.

When in lift

2005-10-30T20:25:00.001Z

when in the lift at work, standing behind someone quietly waiting to arive at another floor whisper - barely audible its so quiet - but loud enough to only just hear -
"in a minute im going to..."
then mumble nonsense very quietly so they cant hear
if they look round at you pretend you havent said anything and its all in their imagination by looking like youve only just noticed them and smile politely
then just before the lift doors open
whisper behind their ear quite loudly
"DONT SCREAM"

charlie mouse

2005-10-30T20:25:00.000Z

the next time someone comes up to you and starts talking to you at work, say this without looking at them:

"i'm not talking to you, charlie mouse - you're not real."

then look up at them and look pleasantly surprised and say

"oh it's you. sorry - i thought you were someone else."

Forward to everyone one you know

2005-10-30T20:24:00.000Z

a mobile phone virus?!!!

oh my gosh!

panic panic!
i just receivedd this email forwarded from about 50 people about something really scary! what shall i do? i'd better forward it to as many people as possible whether ive checked it out or not!
as you are a good friend, please read the below and panic with me about nothing.
as you can see the ICE emails everyone has been getting is all a big scam! i heard someone put an ICE number on their phone and then DIED!
and someone else put an ICE number on his phone and it instantly downloaded all the money from his bank into someone elses bank account and then his phone blew up!

i cant believe it!

apparently you dont even have to enter the ICE thing in your phone any more - it just turns up on your phone out of the blue and gives you an electric shock. sometiems this can KILL! and it spits acid at you and fire and bullets.
theres NOTHING YOU CAN DO about it - so BEWARE!!!! and also LOOK OUT! the best thing you can do is panic and email everyone you know and tell them to panic too. try and make the email as long and convincing as possible so that they forward it on to their friends for their own good. we need to get everyone panicking about something they cant do anything about.

PANIC PANIC PANIC!!!!!!!!!

save yourself the bother of an actual virus and just manually delete all the information you have in your pc and phone.
if you have the virus on your phone, delete all your contacts and phone numbers - to be on the safe side, if you have ICE written down on a piece of paper, scribble over it, tear it up and throw it away - in fact BURN it. then try to forget you ever heard the word ICE. then burn all the books in your house - in fact be safe and burn your house down to make sure. then join the new movement to fight the virus by joining the CAMPAIGN AGAINST WORDS (CAW) and lets start burning libraries -together we can make the world a safer place for our children.
when we finally have rid ourselves of language then we shall be free of the tyrany of the imposed responsibility of words. let all the nations unite so that we can go back to being cave men in feudalistic tribes that fight ignorantly amongst ourselves. only then shall there be peace and man can live in harmony whilst being at war with everyone else. please forward this to EVERYONE you know, then destroy all the technology you possess - then go on a riot - then kill yourself. its better to be safe than sorry.

here is a testimony;
billy jenkins (attorney and professional drive counter, 32 yrs)
"i got this warning email that has only just been written toady, 3 days ago and didnt do anything about it. i just deleted it from my inbox. 2 weeks later my pc blew up from a virus while i was sat there, instantly killing me and leaving me with chicken pox. i know now i was very foolish and should have read the email. now i tell all my friends that they should destroy all their technology and become a vagrant like me."

or how about this:
jenny bilkins (questionnairre tick box analyst, 23 yrs)
"i read this email and i is moved to tear by the good work it do. i tell all my friends they should burn they houses down and live on street. now me is much happy. thank you email warning. i is doing the love at you."

or what about this one then eh?
" i love deleting email. but one day i didnt delete enough emails and suffered the consequences. now i have no legs, arms or eyes and have had 3 skull transplants. all because of emails and phone virus warnigns i foolishly ignored"
what a tragic waste. and yet you could avoid all of this by simply throwing your pc out of the window.
please send this to everyone you know and tell everyone you meet on the street loudly and in an unclear voice with much gesticulation.