I've got the theme to Rosemary's Baby in my head. Is that a good sign of mental wellbeing?
I'd like to do this song at a karaoke night. I think it would be a real crowd-pleaser. Especially if I turned up dressed as Mia Farrow, and there wasn't even a karaoke night planned. It would just be me, in a dress, playing the song on my ghetto blaster and belting out the "la"s. In a Wetherspoon's. With a baby.
A real crowd pleaser.
But I'll probably never get around to it. 80% of ambitions are never fulfilled. That's a national average. I don't know which nation, but it is definitely the average there.
Which do you think is the most ambitious country? Mauritius rhymes with ambitious (sort of), so that's one indicator. Turkey can be abbreviated as 'TRY' - that's another.
I think the least ambitious country is probably Neptune. It doesn't even have its own flag.
I try to deal with potential failure by micro-managing my ambitions. I have them, but I almost immediately snuff them out. I vow to achieve something and then decide against it before I've even had time to complete the thought. Whilst writing the last sentence, I passionately strove to swim the channel and then tore my wetsuit to ribbons.
During Lent, I fluctuate between action and inaction at such a frequency that I become invisible.
Ambition can be useful. It can make people improve themselves and the world. But it can also cause people to inflict terrible atrocities on others, under the guise of progress.
For me, the main benefit of ambition is that it rhymes with lots of things, and so is of great use in a freestyle rap battle.
Just think about it.
Ambition
Tradition
Mission
Wishin'
Chicken
Kitchen
Bitterne
Fish un (French for 'fish one')
Leon Britton
Mitten
You can arrange those in any order, and you're liable to come away with some kind of commemorative turntable.
In conclusion, remember the lesson of Icarus:
Visit Crete.
Tuesday, 25 March 2014
Friday, 21 March 2014
Who You Are
There's no such thing as Brad publicity. Even if you're publicising Brad, you probably wouldn't call it that.
It must be difficult trying to cultivate a very particular public image. If you're a children's television presenter, a politician, or a professional magician, you have to carefully judge every action and statement, so as not to discredit your persona.
I don't have that problem. Nobody cares what I do, but, even if they did, they'd realise that my persona is truthful. I don't need to watch what I say, because what I say is a function of who I am. Every statement I make accurately reflects my personality, even the ones that are sarcastic or done in a funny accent.
A children's television presenter has to be friendly and wholesome. If they transgress those guidelines, people will be less likely to trust them with their children's television programme.
A politician makes statements about how the world should work. If they are seen to have behaved in a manner contradictory to their stated opinions, people will brand them a hypocrite and will be less likely to vote for them.
A professional magician has to be able to do magic. If they cannot do magic, people will be less likely to pay to see them do a show.
It must be very stressful for them.
I have no such pressure. It is abundantly clear from previous blog posts that I don't have any guidelines restricting my words. If I cared how people thought of me, I wouldn't post stupid meaningless annoying nonsense, like in my last post.
There are no rules for me. No pressure, no stakes, no rebukes. That's why I'm so happy all the time.
That's why I'm so happy all the time.
I'm so happy all the time.
Happy all the time.
Happy all.
You see? Sometimes I'll start like that. It doesn't have any jokes, it isn't making a satirical point, it's not interesting in any way.
I can do that because I'm not a magician.
Today's discussion topic:
We've all met mean people. They may have said something cruel or thoughtless. They may have behaved in a vindictive manner. They may have snatched your hat when they surely knew you were wearing said hat because of a bad haircut. They may repeatedly make jokes about you being a fisherman, even though it doesn't make sense, and you're nothing like a fisherman.
Why do they behave in this way?
It's important to make the distinction between cruelty and thoughtlessness.
Cruelty implies a certain level of intentionality. It is the act of saying a hurtful thing because it is hurtful.
Thoughtlessness is different. Someone may say the same hurtful thing, but without realising it will be hurtful.
The latter is more acceptable than the former, but it does not absolve the mean person. Considering people's feelings is an important element in deciding what to say. If you fail to take these feelings into account, you could be seen to be cruel.
Thoughtlessness does not excuse meanness.
We are all thoughtless at times, but we should make every effort to consider the effects of what we say.
It is for this reason that I have superglued my mouth shut.
Considering the effects of what we say is exhausting. I just can't be bothered.
But, by the same token, I don't want to hurt other people's feelings.
So I've superglued my mouth shut. Now I don't need to worry about being accidentally mean. I'm also immune to being intentionally cruel.
You may have noticed that this refers only to verbal meanness. I am still able to make cruel or thoughtless gestures. For example, by making the fist shaking "wanker" sign or by pointing at a particularly ugly skirt.
To deal with this problem, I only spend time with the blind. I suppose I could stop making the fist shaking "wanker" sign, but that's too much hard work. So I only spend time with the blind.
With my mouth superglued shut, it makes things quite difficult. They would prefer it if I was able to speak. But I don't want to accidentally insult the quiche they've just made. (Yes, blind people can make quiches - don't be judgemental.)
We could still interact physically, in theory. But I have to make sure they're not feeling my hand and arm when I'm making the fist shaking "wanker" sign, or are not feeling my face when I've conspicuously raised my eyebrows at their terrible quiche.
To stop them from touching me at these moments, I've constructed an energy field that repels all matter. It's a highly advanced design, beyond the grasp of Earth's brightest minds. But I'm reserving it for my own use, just in case I mock someone's walk by imitating it in an exaggerated fashion, and they reach out and feel me doing it.
In this way, cruelty has been eliminated from my behaviour. All it took was some superglue, a resolution to spend time only with blind people, and an innovative energy field.
And thoughtlessness?
If this discussion has taught us anything, it's that I'm anything but thoughtless. I have thoughts coming out the wazoo. Or I would do if I hadn't superglued it shut.
So, in conclusion: people are mean for a variety of reasons. But there are always steps that one can take to be more considerate. Remember, something you consider to be throw-away or innocuous, may cause others a great deal of distress.
Meanness is an unpleasant thing. Let's all do our best to make sure we're only ever mean if it's really funny (like the fisherman thing).
***
I look forward to looking forward to something again one day.
It must be difficult trying to cultivate a very particular public image. If you're a children's television presenter, a politician, or a professional magician, you have to carefully judge every action and statement, so as not to discredit your persona.
I don't have that problem. Nobody cares what I do, but, even if they did, they'd realise that my persona is truthful. I don't need to watch what I say, because what I say is a function of who I am. Every statement I make accurately reflects my personality, even the ones that are sarcastic or done in a funny accent.
A children's television presenter has to be friendly and wholesome. If they transgress those guidelines, people will be less likely to trust them with their children's television programme.
A politician makes statements about how the world should work. If they are seen to have behaved in a manner contradictory to their stated opinions, people will brand them a hypocrite and will be less likely to vote for them.
A professional magician has to be able to do magic. If they cannot do magic, people will be less likely to pay to see them do a show.
It must be very stressful for them.
I have no such pressure. It is abundantly clear from previous blog posts that I don't have any guidelines restricting my words. If I cared how people thought of me, I wouldn't post stupid meaningless annoying nonsense, like in my last post.
There are no rules for me. No pressure, no stakes, no rebukes. That's why I'm so happy all the time.
That's why I'm so happy all the time.
I'm so happy all the time.
Happy all the time.
Happy all.
You see? Sometimes I'll start like that. It doesn't have any jokes, it isn't making a satirical point, it's not interesting in any way.
I can do that because I'm not a magician.
Today's discussion topic:
Why are people mean?
We've all met mean people. They may have said something cruel or thoughtless. They may have behaved in a vindictive manner. They may have snatched your hat when they surely knew you were wearing said hat because of a bad haircut. They may repeatedly make jokes about you being a fisherman, even though it doesn't make sense, and you're nothing like a fisherman.
Why do they behave in this way?
It's important to make the distinction between cruelty and thoughtlessness.
Cruelty implies a certain level of intentionality. It is the act of saying a hurtful thing because it is hurtful.
Thoughtlessness is different. Someone may say the same hurtful thing, but without realising it will be hurtful.
The latter is more acceptable than the former, but it does not absolve the mean person. Considering people's feelings is an important element in deciding what to say. If you fail to take these feelings into account, you could be seen to be cruel.
Thoughtlessness does not excuse meanness.
We are all thoughtless at times, but we should make every effort to consider the effects of what we say.
It is for this reason that I have superglued my mouth shut.
Considering the effects of what we say is exhausting. I just can't be bothered.
But, by the same token, I don't want to hurt other people's feelings.
So I've superglued my mouth shut. Now I don't need to worry about being accidentally mean. I'm also immune to being intentionally cruel.
You may have noticed that this refers only to verbal meanness. I am still able to make cruel or thoughtless gestures. For example, by making the fist shaking "wanker" sign or by pointing at a particularly ugly skirt.
To deal with this problem, I only spend time with the blind. I suppose I could stop making the fist shaking "wanker" sign, but that's too much hard work. So I only spend time with the blind.
With my mouth superglued shut, it makes things quite difficult. They would prefer it if I was able to speak. But I don't want to accidentally insult the quiche they've just made. (Yes, blind people can make quiches - don't be judgemental.)
We could still interact physically, in theory. But I have to make sure they're not feeling my hand and arm when I'm making the fist shaking "wanker" sign, or are not feeling my face when I've conspicuously raised my eyebrows at their terrible quiche.
To stop them from touching me at these moments, I've constructed an energy field that repels all matter. It's a highly advanced design, beyond the grasp of Earth's brightest minds. But I'm reserving it for my own use, just in case I mock someone's walk by imitating it in an exaggerated fashion, and they reach out and feel me doing it.
In this way, cruelty has been eliminated from my behaviour. All it took was some superglue, a resolution to spend time only with blind people, and an innovative energy field.
And thoughtlessness?
If this discussion has taught us anything, it's that I'm anything but thoughtless. I have thoughts coming out the wazoo. Or I would do if I hadn't superglued it shut.
So, in conclusion: people are mean for a variety of reasons. But there are always steps that one can take to be more considerate. Remember, something you consider to be throw-away or innocuous, may cause others a great deal of distress.
Meanness is an unpleasant thing. Let's all do our best to make sure we're only ever mean if it's really funny (like the fisherman thing).
***
I look forward to looking forward to something again one day.
Tuesday, 18 March 2014
Dust Run
Lord Knows I've Tried
*phone ring*
Seckeratary: Hello, Lord's phone. No I'm sorry he's not here at the moment. Can I take a message? OK, great. Just let me get a pen.
*gets pen*
Seckeratary: Right, I'm ready. Yes. Yes. Mm-hm. Yes. OK. Yes, no problem. (*is writing message on paper whilst*) Bye!
*puts phone down*
*Lord enters room*
Seckeratary: Ah, there you are. Someone was just on the phone.
Lord: Sorry, I was in the toilet. Anything important?
Seckeratary: No problem. I wrote it down.
*finds paper*
*reads paper*
Seckeratary: He says he's... (*scrutinises own handwriting*) tired. He's tired.
Lord: Oh. Is there a name?
Seckeratary: No, he didn't say.
Lord: Oh. Never mind. At least I know now.
*LORD THINKS HE'S TIRED.*
*LORD DOESN'T KNOW HE'S TRIED* < crucial
SCNE 2
Louise: Why can't you find a job?
Neil: I've tried! Lord knows I've tried!
LORD DOESN'T KNOW THAT
THAT IS THE CRUX
Friday, 14 March 2014
1+1=2
Imagine a world where the steps you've taken matter less than the steps you've forsaken and stop...
No.
It's no good.
Two days ago I started a draft blog post that began like this:
The process by which I intend to find my calling is as follows.
Fail to endure, enjoy, tolerate or deal with almost everything in the universe. Hitch your wagon to whichever star remains.
That's not a good start to a blog post, but don't want to go back to the blank page. I've already jumped into the freezing ocean, there's no point in climbing back out now.
The die is cast. The ship has sailed. The bridge is burned. The writing is on the wall. The jelly has set.
No turning back.
There's a strange dichotomy in being a progressive recluse.
And it's just been sitting there, so I thought I'd begin afresh with something new. Something strange. But I lost confidence before the end of the first sentence.
I'm struggling here. I have been for a while.
But perhaps there's mileage in those first four words. Perhaps I can produce several bite-sized ideas in quick succession and fill up the page.
***
Imagine a world where children are at war with the elderly. The children would win. They would be cruel, vicious, energetic, ruthless, annoying. The wiser elderly would kill some children in traps (Lego beneath a dangling bomb), but the children would win in the end.
They'd be happy. They'd grow up happy. They'd know they were winners. They'd know they were stronger.
But they would age. And the stronger would grow weaker. And soon they would find themselves on the other side of the great divide. The war would not have ended. The war would never end.
The new younger generation would be crueller, viciouser, energeticer, ruthlesser, annoyinger. The new elderly would try the same Lego-based traps (though the Lego would be licensed, branded, tied into the latest pop culture craze), but they would no longer work because the new children can hack into bombs now and stop them dangling.
The elderly would die. The young would laugh in triumph. And the cycle would begin again.
Everyone from the ages of eighteen to sixty-nine would just sit there and watch the whole disaster, knowing that they were once evil. And that they could do nothing to stop themselves becoming evil again.
***
Imagine a world where no-one was interested in dinosaurs. We'd know about them, but we just wouldn't care. We'd find bones and shrug. Jurassic Park would never have been written or adapted. Museums would have to rearrange things.
People would still be quite interested in Godzilla. He's not exactly a dinosaur. But people would be less interested in him.
The Flintstones would still be on, but the fictional world would be a bit less rich.
***
Imagine a world where the Heimlich maneuver was a famous battle strategy from a poor later-season episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
The episode would even be called 'The Heimlich Maneuver'. It would be pretty terrible. It would feature Worf or Kira finding out about an ancient gambit that could help an outnumbered ship destroy all its opponents by shimmying back and forth in a little dance. Seriously, it would be total dogshit.
And they'd say that it was because they were rushed for time because of production issues and the writers' strike, but even so... There would be a bit at the end where Odo and Sisko play basketball and a bowl of punch falls on Morn's head. Like, it would sound good, but the execution would be totally off.
A series low.
Imagine a world where despite this seeming like a reference to a specific real-life thing, it actually wasn't. You don't have to imagine.
***
Imagine a world where there was a dynamic, progressive politician called Adrian. Far-fucking-fetched.
***
Imagine a world where the afterlife only lasted for an hour.
You'd have time to realise you were dead, and to say hello to all of your loved ones. You would be pressed for time. It would be a bit of a scrum, to be honest.
Everyone who has ever died would arrive there at the same time, and there would only be an hour for people to accept their fate and settle their affairs. Some people would probably freak out, so someone has to deal with them.
I don't know if it would be everyone together, or if there would be sections.
Imagine an afterlife where there are two sections: one for people with surnames beginning A-M, and one for those with surnames beginning N-Z.
If you wanted to say goodbye to someone whose surname was in the other section, you could arrange it, but it would involve a lot of forms. It probably wouldn't be worth it.
When the hour was nearly up, there would be a countdown, just like New Year's Eve. People would count in their own languages. Some of the dead people would have come from a time before language developed (or surnames, for that matter), so the countdown would confuse them.
Then everything would go blank, and that would be it.
Imagine a world where that, smart guy.
***
It worked. Those four words have given me an entire raft of ideas. And they have hopefully entertained you, dear reader.
I might eat a cereal bar now.
No.
It's no good.
Two days ago I started a draft blog post that began like this:
The process by which I intend to find my calling is as follows.
Fail to endure, enjoy, tolerate or deal with almost everything in the universe. Hitch your wagon to whichever star remains.
That's not a good start to a blog post, but don't want to go back to the blank page. I've already jumped into the freezing ocean, there's no point in climbing back out now.
The die is cast. The ship has sailed. The bridge is burned. The writing is on the wall. The jelly has set.
No turning back.
There's a strange dichotomy in being a progressive recluse.
And it's just been sitting there, so I thought I'd begin afresh with something new. Something strange. But I lost confidence before the end of the first sentence.
I'm struggling here. I have been for a while.
But perhaps there's mileage in those first four words. Perhaps I can produce several bite-sized ideas in quick succession and fill up the page.
***
Imagine a world where children are at war with the elderly. The children would win. They would be cruel, vicious, energetic, ruthless, annoying. The wiser elderly would kill some children in traps (Lego beneath a dangling bomb), but the children would win in the end.
They'd be happy. They'd grow up happy. They'd know they were winners. They'd know they were stronger.
But they would age. And the stronger would grow weaker. And soon they would find themselves on the other side of the great divide. The war would not have ended. The war would never end.
The new younger generation would be crueller, viciouser, energeticer, ruthlesser, annoyinger. The new elderly would try the same Lego-based traps (though the Lego would be licensed, branded, tied into the latest pop culture craze), but they would no longer work because the new children can hack into bombs now and stop them dangling.
The elderly would die. The young would laugh in triumph. And the cycle would begin again.
Everyone from the ages of eighteen to sixty-nine would just sit there and watch the whole disaster, knowing that they were once evil. And that they could do nothing to stop themselves becoming evil again.
***
Imagine a world where no-one was interested in dinosaurs. We'd know about them, but we just wouldn't care. We'd find bones and shrug. Jurassic Park would never have been written or adapted. Museums would have to rearrange things.
People would still be quite interested in Godzilla. He's not exactly a dinosaur. But people would be less interested in him.
The Flintstones would still be on, but the fictional world would be a bit less rich.
***
Imagine a world where the Heimlich maneuver was a famous battle strategy from a poor later-season episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
The episode would even be called 'The Heimlich Maneuver'. It would be pretty terrible. It would feature Worf or Kira finding out about an ancient gambit that could help an outnumbered ship destroy all its opponents by shimmying back and forth in a little dance. Seriously, it would be total dogshit.
And they'd say that it was because they were rushed for time because of production issues and the writers' strike, but even so... There would be a bit at the end where Odo and Sisko play basketball and a bowl of punch falls on Morn's head. Like, it would sound good, but the execution would be totally off.
A series low.
Imagine a world where despite this seeming like a reference to a specific real-life thing, it actually wasn't. You don't have to imagine.
***
Imagine a world where there was a dynamic, progressive politician called Adrian. Far-fucking-fetched.
***
Imagine a world where the afterlife only lasted for an hour.
You'd have time to realise you were dead, and to say hello to all of your loved ones. You would be pressed for time. It would be a bit of a scrum, to be honest.
Everyone who has ever died would arrive there at the same time, and there would only be an hour for people to accept their fate and settle their affairs. Some people would probably freak out, so someone has to deal with them.
I don't know if it would be everyone together, or if there would be sections.
Imagine an afterlife where there are two sections: one for people with surnames beginning A-M, and one for those with surnames beginning N-Z.
If you wanted to say goodbye to someone whose surname was in the other section, you could arrange it, but it would involve a lot of forms. It probably wouldn't be worth it.
When the hour was nearly up, there would be a countdown, just like New Year's Eve. People would count in their own languages. Some of the dead people would have come from a time before language developed (or surnames, for that matter), so the countdown would confuse them.
Then everything would go blank, and that would be it.
Imagine a world where that, smart guy.
***
It worked. Those four words have given me an entire raft of ideas. And they have hopefully entertained you, dear reader.
I might eat a cereal bar now.
Tuesday, 11 March 2014
Bob
Dietary Requirements
by
Orgon Dewes
"Well, he's terrified of rungs."
"That's not an allergy," said Marissa.
"No, but I thought I should mention it."
"Rungs."
"Yes."
Marissa wrote down 'rungs'. "So... no ladders?"
"No, no. Ladders are fine. It's just the rungs. No rungs."
"Right."
"But all of our ladders have rungs."
"Oh. Really?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Then, no ladders, I guess."
"All ladders have rungs. What's a ladder without rungs? Just two long bits of metal. Or wood."
"I suppose you're right."
Marissa crossed out the word 'rungs' on her notepad and wrote 'ladders' instead.
"I think that's it."
"So... gluten's fine? Nuts?"
"Yeah, he's fine with nuts. He likes nuts."
Marissa wrote down 'nuts'.
***
What kind of woman is Marissa?
The answer won't come from a brief description. She is not defined by her appearance, nor a brief biography. Her age will tell us nothing. Her occupation will offer no clues. Her clothes are a red herring. Her accent is simply colour.
Who is she? How can we know?
Can we know?
Perhaps we can't. Perhaps there's nothing to grasp. Perhaps distance is a boon. If we were to touch the stars, our hands would burn and we would be blinded.
Marissa is beyond our comprehension.
But she does own a notepad.
That's something to hold on to.
Good afternoon.
My name is Paul, and today I will be taking you on a journey.
It's not the kind of journey you can make by barge, bike, balloon or batmobile. It's a journey of the imagination. I'm here to guide you through the wonderful world of my own writing.
At times, you may feel disorientated. That's fine. That's normal. It happens to everyone at first.
But remember that I'll always be here to hold your hand and shunt you in the right direction.
'Shunt' sounds unpleasant. But it doesn't have to be. You can shunt with love.
We began with a very short story. Remember? Then we moved on to a discussion of one of the story's characters. Then I introduced myself.
Do you remember? If you'd like a quick re-read, be my guest.
All of a sudden, we were at three hundred and fifty-seven words.
The blog post was well under way.
***
I don't know, man. The days just keep coming, don't they?
It's difficult to maintain a sense of rhythm when we're all just bobbing about on a sea of time. I wish we had the occasional break from time, just to contextualise things. Just a couple of buoys of no-time, to help mark out the horizon.
Let's lighten the mood. We can put a halogen lamp in each of the 'o's, and a reflective strip on the stalk of the 'd'.
I think I should actively try to map my daily emotional journey. If I can find a pattern, I might be able to judge when to soften the highs and harden the lows. I could do it in my Outlook calendar. I could crunch the numbers and do a line chart.
The happy/sad spectrum is like the tides: mappable, dependent on the moon, irrelevant to the landlocked.
This blog post has been going downhill ever since Marissa.
It's not her fault. She couldn't have known.
I should have shown more faith in her, that's all. Why did I think I would be more interesting than her? Is it because I have male genitals and she - for all I know - doesn't?
Am I sexist or solipsistic (and selfish)?
***
She stepped over a bucket and around several crates full of empty glasses.
Against the wall stood two six-foot long pieces of wood. They were thin, cylindrical, and each one had a series of notches in its side.
Marissa approached the pieces of wood and looked at them carefully. She ran her fingers down the smooth sides of the sanded beech. She felt the inside of one of the notches with her index finger.
"Something should be here," she thought.
"Marissa!" Robert shouted from upstairs.
"What?"
"Can you come and give me a hand? This bloke needs me to sign something, and I'm not sure what it means."
"Yeah, just a minute," she said. She turned away from the wood and didn't look back.
Four miles away, at the bottom of the river, a dozen smooth beech rungs lay half-hidden in the mud. Even the fish kept their distance.
One day, everything broken will be whole again.
One day, we will all be afraid.
Thursday, 6 March 2014
Hey
I'm just gonna bang out a quick post.
No pressure, no pressure.
Just a quick how are you and a brief what's happening.
It's not a work of art. No, sir.
Just an update to let you know that, hey, I'm still here, still living day to day, still riding the snake, still keeping my end up, still representing, still sticking two fingers up at The Man, still hitting them corners in them low lows girl, out there, driving hard, doing it for the little guy.
It's a tip of the hat is what it is.
No long conversation, just the hat tip. A nod in your direction. Just in case you were concerned. I'm fine. I'm doing fine.
Ow.
I just collapsed and smashed my face on the edge of the desk. It hit me right in the teeth. Not actually on the teeth, but above them. Above the teeth, but below the nose. The moustache area.
Ow.
Not really. I don't know why I lie.
Anyway, this has been fun. Sorry it's been such a rush. Next time, we'll have a proper catch up. I'll block out a couple of hours in my calendar. We can go to that place you like. I'll buy you an ashtray. Then we'll go somewhere for ice cream, like we did that time.
Remember?
Where does the time go?
Anyway, seriously, I'd better be off. No rest for the wicked, right?
Oh, before I forget - here's a good prank:
Go to a friend's house and swap their umbrella stand for their fruit bowl. They'll start thinking their umbrellas are incredibly long and thin, and that their fruit is all squat and in the hall now!
Later!
*rings bell of parked bicycle*
No pressure, no pressure.
Just a quick how are you and a brief what's happening.
It's not a work of art. No, sir.
Just an update to let you know that, hey, I'm still here, still living day to day, still riding the snake, still keeping my end up, still representing, still sticking two fingers up at The Man, still hitting them corners in them low lows girl, out there, driving hard, doing it for the little guy.
It's a tip of the hat is what it is.
No long conversation, just the hat tip. A nod in your direction. Just in case you were concerned. I'm fine. I'm doing fine.
Ow.
I just collapsed and smashed my face on the edge of the desk. It hit me right in the teeth. Not actually on the teeth, but above them. Above the teeth, but below the nose. The moustache area.
Ow.
Not really. I don't know why I lie.
Anyway, this has been fun. Sorry it's been such a rush. Next time, we'll have a proper catch up. I'll block out a couple of hours in my calendar. We can go to that place you like. I'll buy you an ashtray. Then we'll go somewhere for ice cream, like we did that time.
Remember?
Where does the time go?
Anyway, seriously, I'd better be off. No rest for the wicked, right?
Oh, before I forget - here's a good prank:
Go to a friend's house and swap their umbrella stand for their fruit bowl. They'll start thinking their umbrellas are incredibly long and thin, and that their fruit is all squat and in the hall now!
Later!
*rings bell of parked bicycle*
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