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Entitlement

August 13, 2011 in E

By David Stewart

 

The number on his wall currently stood at 4,681. Each of the digits took up a whole sheet of paper that he’d printed out and blu-tacked to his bedroom wall. Every time there was a change  he would print off a new sheet, never reusing the old ones, and adjust the number accordingly. The recent change had been a seven place increase which completely ruined his day.

The jump from 4,574 came about because a family in Wales had their lineage confirmed, which officially put them ahead of him in the order of succession and bumped him back a full seven places. Even their snot-nosed 3 year old, who was too young to know what the word “genealogy” meant, was now closer to the throne than he was.

He remembered the day he’d traced his own family tree and realised he was descended from Royalty. He could document his lineage back to King George the Third. He would while away hours tracing his finger on the paper from his own name up through his ancestors to Prince Adolphus the Duke of Cambridge and then to his father the King. It gave him great pleasure but there was always a patina of regret when he considered all the names he passed on his ascent up the tree, the names who were closer to the throne than he was.

The lineage became his obsession. He traced the ancestors of all George’s children and spent hours ascertaining which ones were ahead of him and which were behind. The initial number he came up with was 4,012. Regular births into the families of George’s older children had pushed him gradually back up the chain until he was dangerously close to 5,000 but he’d managed to jump 300 places when he finally proved the illegitimacy of an obscure branch of the Windsors. Since that day he kept a close eye on the social pages and celebrated the death of every duke while lamenting the birth of every child with blood more royal than his.

At first the engagement of Prince William had been disastrous news but eventually he realised it was actually a golden opportunity. A new, smaller countdown appeared on his wall marking off days until the royal wedding. And new books started appearing on his shelves along with the commemorative plates. Books about bomb making and powerful explosives.

 

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Protocol

August 9, 2011 in P

By David Stewart

 

Oh dear. Oh goodness me. Oh this is embarrassing. Let me assure you that this isn’t what it looks like. I can explain… um… there was a mouse! A mouse that was in here scurrying around and I didn’t notice until he’d scurried right up my trouser legs and so I had to immediately take them off but of course I couldn’t find him anywhere and I thought he must be in my underpants… you know, nestling for warmth and shelter, and so I whipped them off too but it appears that he’s… well he’s gone.

Nevermind I’m sure he’ll be back. Especially if it’s the same magic disappearing mouse that managed to find it’s way into your underpants five times last month.

No one of those times it was a hamster. Or a guinea pig, I can’t tell the difference can you?

Well not when they keep disappearing magically.

No.

Well if you’ll excuse me I have to use the photocopier so….

Yes, well I’ll just get out of your way then. I was going to dress immediately but I can see you’re in a rush to use the copier so I’ll just stand out of your way and gallantly postpone my own need to make myself decent in order that you might use the copier… don’t mind me or my predicament… you know there’s a chance the mouse might have made it’s way into your bra for warmth it might be an idea to-

Look. My manager said we can’t formally complain about you because your dad own the company but he didn’t say we have to have any part of your pervy antics. And can you please collect your photocopies and not leave them lying around for others to find?

How do you know they’re mine? They could be anyone’s photocopies- providing they’re male obviously.

I’ve worked here for two years now, I’ve seen it enough times I can recognise it when you use the black and white copier let alone the colour one.

You can keep it if you like, I’ve got others.

Thanks anyway. I have to be getting back to my desk. I’ve got work to do.

So have I, those files on my desk aren’t just doing themselves you know. But before I do that I’ll get dressed and hope that mouse doesn’t come back.

Or the hamster.

Or the hamster …yes.

 

 

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Embarassment

July 15, 2011 in E

By David Stewart

 

I was in the shower in Japan. I hadn’t gone all the way there specifically to wash, I was living there at the time. And I was shaving my head with a razor because I’ve always found the best approach to hair grooming is to remove it completely once every two weeks.

 

The phone rang.

 

Nowadays I would never leave the shower to answer the phone because it would be someone trying to sell me something but when I lived in Japan a phone call was usually a chance to speak to a friend back home who had taken the time to buy a phone card.

 

I rinsed the shaving cream out of my head and ran to the phone. I had a long conversation with my brother wrapped in a towel (I was in the towel, I never asked him what he was wearing). We caught up until his phone card ran out and when I hung up I was satisfied, slightly homesick, dry, naked and hungry.

 

Ten minutes later I was dressed and riding to the supermarket.

 

People in Japan used to stare at me. I lived in a small country town full of people who weren’t used to seeing westerners. I was strange, exotic and close to a foot taller than most people they knew. I used to be able to silence children in supermarkets with just my physical presence. I’d hear them crying and then round the corner into their aisle and they’d stop dead and stare at me before saying the Japanese equivalent of “Bloody Hell look at that thing!”

 

So I was used to being started at.

 

Once the shopping trip was done I went to get back on my bike and caught a reflection of myself in a shop window. It was only then that I remembered what I’d been doing when the phone rang. I’d been exactly half way through shaving my head. The interruption had left with a hairstyle that I can only describe as “escpaped mental patient”. Some bits shaved, some bits not shaved. It looked like male pattern baldness crossed with crop circles.

 

I rode home quickly and finished shaving my head.

 

 

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Dignity

June 22, 2011 in D

By David Stewart


Gladys thanks for coming in. How’s my favourite client? Good? Glad to hear it. I’ve got great news Gladys. Yes it is work. And it’s fantastic work – it’s the role you were born to play!  No it’s not Lady Bracknell. I’m sorry Gladys they already cast it. I know you’re perfect for the role, you’re the right age, you’ve got the class that Bracknell needs but I’m sorry say they went with someone else. Yep, I promise if  I hear of another theatre company doing Earnest I’ll be onto them like a shot but what I’ve got for you now is bigger than the stage, this is television calling! And not just a one-off part an entire series! It’s the offer you’ve been waiting your long life for, I can promise you that. They haven’t got a title yet but they’ve got a killer concept. Have you ever seen Jackass? It’s a show.. It’s really huge and it’s basically a bunch of crazy American guys who do these wild stunts which are either really dangerous or painful or gross or sometimes all three. It’s wild stuff. The problem is it’s getting a bit old now. They’ve pretty much done every crazy thing they can think of and audiences are starting to get a bit bored. But the producers realised they weren’t getting sick of the stunts they were just getting tired of the same guys over and over again. So they had a genius concept – Old Ladies! People have stopped tuning in to watch young guys careening downhill in a shopping trolley but if you replace that guy with a woman in her seventies – Bam! You’ve got must-watch TV! Old Ladies doing silly things in sensible shoes. It’s a winning formula. So what do you think? …that’s not a problem, your nickname could be Hip girl, which is short for replacement hip girl – I know you’re a trained actor, that’s what makes it so good. See if being jabbed with a cattle prod isn’t actually painful you can act like it is. -that’s exactly why we want you. You’ve got dignity. It’s your dignity that they’re after and they’re prepared to pay big money to see you lose it on TV. Well I must say I think you’re being really unreasonable. Just promise me you’ll think about it.

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Fantasy

June 21, 2011 in F

By David Stewart


I took the card out of my handbag and had ready almost as soon as he started talking. I knew his type, I’d met them too many times before. He was making every effort to impress me – so far he’d mentioned the high paying job, the Porsche and his work-out regime. I was being chatted up and it was time to stop him dead in his tracks. The prattle about his gym routine was my opening.

“My partner loves the gym.” I said.

“Really?” He said, masking his disappointment. “What does he bench press?”

“She doesn’t really do weights, she mainly does cardio.”

And there it was. That look that guys got whenever they found out they were talking to a lesbian. A mixture of lust and wonderment as if I was the welcome mat on the doorstep of their fantasy mansion.

“Would you like to see a photo of the two of us?” I said taking out my iPhone.

“Sure,” he said trying to sound as casual and off-hand as possible.

I showed him a photo of me and Sandra. Taken at the snow. In big parkas and woolly hats. Without make up. He was visibly disappointed.

“You look let down,” I said. “Were you expecting naked pictures? Did you think I was going to show you a shot of us having sex? If a guy offers to show you a picture of his wife do you immediately assume she’s going to be nude and posing? Why is it that just because I’m attracted to women you assume every aspect of my private life is designed to provide voyeuristic pleasure to men? This is my partner, we go to the snow, watch DVD’s, care for our pet dogs, talk about our lives, argue occasionally, dream of opening a cafe together and sometimes have sex that is designed purely and exclusively to provide each other pleasure. The fact that you can’t stop picturing it in your mind makes me fantasize about seeing you bent over and degraded sexually by a man twice your bodyweight. Never forget my fantasy while you indulge in yours.”

I’m not really a lesbian, Sandra is actually my sister,  I just don’t like being chatted up by wankers at parties.

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Festive

May 12, 2011 in F

By David Stewart


Dear ______

This is to certify that I very genuinely and sincerely hope that you have a Merry Christmas. I honestly wish for you all the best that the season can bring and hope this card finds you safe and well. I would also like to wish you a prosperous and fulfilling New Year. May the next calender year bring you all that you want and desire for you and indeed for any members of your immediate and extended family that you would also desire good tidings bestowed upon. Such is the heartfelt sincerity of my feelings that I’ve laminated this card in order to give it a sense of longevity not normally afforded to traditional Christmas greetings. Please do not discard this missive at the end of the festive season. Instead store it carefully and bring it out next year and every year hence for further yuletide wishes. Can I take this opportunity to also wish you a happy birthday and congratulations on any future glad tidings that might come your way in the future and would normally necessitate the sending of a card of some kind. Should any of these eventualities arise please feel free to pull this card out of storage and display it prominently. On the reverse of this card you will find a more sombre image which will be useful should you befall a misfortune that would normally require me to send you postal commiserations of some kind (deaths, divorce, job loss etc). In the event of such an occurrence please invert the card and be assured that my thoughts are with you.

All the best,

Arthur.

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Lonely

April 28, 2011 in L

By David Stewart


I’m sending you this email from my phone because I’m at a party and I’m trying to look busy because there are all these people around doing cool things and laughing and nobody is talking to me and I don’t know how to talk to anyone else so I’m hoping if I’m busy with my phone I’ll look a bit more… or maybe a bit less something.   I tried standing around with a drink looking confident but nobody spoke to me. I hovered near a group hoping I could break into their conversation but they were talking about a nightclub I hadn’t heard of. One of the girls said something about a Facebook status update and I thought I could tell them my theory about the future of social networking but before I could someone talked about the nightclub again and I missed my chance.

I just gave a really convincing laugh as if I’d just received a really important but amusing message on the phone but nobody noticed because nobody is looking at me. I spent some time looking through the host’s CD collection and this girl was really nearby when I found a Queen CD and I pulled it out and said “Queen’s Greatest hits?” hoping she’d scoff as well and then notice my Smiths T-shirt and we’d hit it off…. but she said she liked Queen and walked away.

I think I’ve eaten an entire bowl of peanuts in the trips I’ve taken to the food table and back to this couch.

I’m making a list of the girls I’d like to have sex with at this party. It started at “most of them” but now it’s “any of them.”

A girl just came up and said “Do you mind if I sit here?” and I said “go right ahead” in my coolest voice but instead of sitting down in the seat next to me she turned to a guy and said “It’s okay we can sit here, this guy is going to give us the couch.” They both looked at me and so I stood up and they sat down on the couch together and he put his hand really high up on her thigh.

I’m going home now. I think I’ll spend the night playing Minecraft and eating popcorn but first I’ll delete this email from my inbox.

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Opportunity

April 23, 2011 in O

By David Stewart


Hey I read your screenplay by the way.

Oh yeah, which one?

“The magical zombies from outer space who attack Vampires and werewolves despite being attacked by other Aliens at the end”.

Oh that one.

Catchy title.

Definitely

It’s um….

Crap?

Well I didn’t want to say but -

Don’t worry I know it’s appalling.

It’s interesting…It’s got two dozen heroes and about fifty different types of villain.

And it’s got an incomprehensible plot with a million different twists and it’s about four times longer than a normal screenplay.

No studio on earth would buy it.

Oh I know. But it’s already made me close to a million dollars.

You’re joking?

Nope.

One million?

Yep. It’s a brilliant money-spinner. That baby just cranks out cash.

How?

Lawsuits. I wrote it purely for the lawsuits.

I don’t understand.

I’ve made about a hundred copies and distributed them all over Hollywood. I’ve sent it to studios, mailed it directly to actors, writers, producers and directors, I’ve managed to get it delivered to hotel rooms, I’ve snuck it into cars. I’ve put this anywhere that I think someone who makes movies will see it.

What does that achieve?

Every morning I read all the movie websites to see who’s making what and then I spend the afternoon writing Cease and Desist letters accusing people of plagiarism. See that script contains every idea I could possibly cram into one screenplay. You name a Hollywood blockbuster and one of its ideas is in there somewhere. I just claim someone at the studio read it and stole my idea and I demand they stop production until I’m paid damages..

That doesn’t work surely?

Every time. I know it’s crap and they know it’s crap but if I take them to court I can hold up their production for a month and every day they lose costs thousands of dollars. It’s cheaper for them just to give me 20 grand or so for an out-of-court settlement. Did you see Avatar?

Twice.

My screenplay has blue aliens, that was enough for me to get 12 thousand from James Cameron. One of my 600 characters was named Cobb so I sued the guys who made Inception as soon as I found out that’s what they called their main character.

That’s immoral.

That’s showbiz.

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Random

April 13, 2011 in R

By David Stewart


Hello?

Hello!

Hello?

Hi!

Who is this?

It’s a wrong number! You don’t know me at all. I’m a wrong number! Remember them?

Sorry what is this about?

I was thinking about wrong numbers the other day. You never have them any more. Or you do but they’re always friends. In the olden days you dialed the number every time and sometimes you got one number a bit wrong and it connected you with a total stranger! You just randomly chatted to strangers.  Remember that?

Is this one of those radio prank calls?

But now all your numbers are programmed in and the only wrong numbers I get are from people who I know who’ve accidentally dialed the wrong contact. You used to accidentally call people who had a phone number that was slightly different from yours but now you accidentally call people whose names are alphabetically close to the person you wanted to speak to. And I occurred to me that I miss that random interaction with a stranger.

How did you get this number?

I just made it up! I dialed some random numbers thinking I could have a quick chat with a stranger like in the old days. I used to love wrong numbers: sorry wrong number, nevermind no harm done, have a nice day, thanks you too – it was like connecting suddenly but somehow meaningfully with a -

Look you got me out of the shower for this.

The shower! Man that’s like the ultimate in wrong numbers. That’s fantastic because I always say you’re more likely to get a wrong number in the shower and this just proves it. Wow that’s amazing. Hey do you use a sponge in the shower or one of those weird boofy mesh things because I’ve been thinking of -

I’m hanging up now. Don’t ever call me again.

Can you tell me to have a nice day first?

(sigh) Have a nice day.

Thanks! You too. Bye now.

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Sacrifice

March 31, 2011 in S

By David Stewart


Ah Brother Martin walk with me in the cloisters for a while. Join me in giving thanks to God for another glorious sunny day. Of course in this country most days are rather sunny. Those of us called to serve the Lord in his more far flung lands do tend to enjoy more sunshine than the folk who serve him at home… how long have you been with us here in the mission Brother Martin? Really? That long? Time does fly, it seems like only yesterday you came to join us. You’ve done wonderful things here at the mission, wonderful things. Shame all your good work will probably come to nothing. I’m afraid to say that word has come from the Vatican that we might be shut down. Apparently donations from parishes back home have dried up. We’re not really a very high profile mission it appears and rather out of fashion I’m afraid to say. Yes I know, I was sad to hear the news myself. Deeply saddened. I had a letter from the Abbot at the mission over in M’tongo Bay recently. Apparently they’re getting lots of donations lately. They were struggling as well but one of their brothers was martyred last year and it’s really raised their profile. Done wonders for donations apparently. Well that’s just the way of it. Brother Martin I’ve a job for you if you’d be so kind. We’ve heard the tribe that lives up on the hill are having problems with food so we’d quite like you to go and distribute these loaves and fishes to them. Oh no you must be thinking of another tribe, the ones on the hill aren’t aggressive at all. Quite a passive bunch. Yes that’s true but then perhaps they’ve been involved in more wars than any other tribe because they’re so passive and they get picked on. Any way we’d like you go and give them food. But it’s important that you test their faith so don’t just lay it out in baskets. We thought it would be good if you could throw it. Yes, although not “to them” as much as… “at them”. A test of their faith. Don’t forget they’d consider it rude if you didn’t hit- I mean feed, the most heavily armed ones first. Well then off you go and God be with you Brother Martyr – I mean Martin. Brother Martin.

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Slapstick

March 30, 2011 in S

By David Stewart


Okay cut! Stop it there everyone. Brian fix the lights and Kevin take that mirror out of the set, you can see the camera reflection and it’s spoiling the illusion. Frank can you come here for a second?

What’s up? Was my performance not subtle enough? I just thought when he kicks me in the bottom I should really grab at my cheeks and then do a funny walk. Is that not -

No that’s fine, really that’s great. I thought it was very funny and I love the way you pull a face and wiggle your mustache in the close up. Funny stuff.

Oh good.

It’s just I think we need something a bit new here. We’ve done kicking in the bottom and chasing around the table rather a lot lately and it might be nice to do something different.

Different?

Yes, something a bit new. Something we haven’t seen before.

Perhaps I could say. “You’re just a big pain in the bottom!” that might be quite a funny line.

Yes, yes, it’s definitely a funny line but there’s one small snag.

What’s that?

Well it’s silent remember? Maybe one day they’ll be able to add sound to movies but until they do we’ll only see your lips move.

Oh I forgot about that. Does that mean I’ve been wasting my time with that funny voice I’ve been using?

To be honest yes.

Oh. Next you’ll be telling me I wasted my time carefully choosing the colour of my bow-tie.

Well it is Black and White.

Pity.

Here’s a radical notion but why doesn’t he push a dessert of some kind into your face?

A dessert?

Yes. A fruit flan of some description. Perhaps a pie with a creamy layer on top.

And he just pushes it into my face?

Yes.

Well it’s definitely original.

I’ve just been thinking about it for a while and I can’t shake the notion that someone having food forcibly pressed into their face is funny. I tried it in my last comedy with a salad but the results weren’t so much funny as… lettucy.

Right.

A plate of roast beef proved equally unamusing I’m afraid to say but I think a dessert of some kind might just be what we’re looking for.

Well I’m willing to give it a go but I have to say I can’t see it catching on.

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Sin

March 20, 2011 in S

By David Stewart


“Gaaa! This damn stapler doesn’t work! Curse you stapler. Curse you to hell and back! Oooh that felt good. Sorry, sorry about that I hope I wasn’t too wrathful just now. I hope the whole “throwing the stapler across the room” thing wasn’t too upsetting, it’s just that I’m trying to be more angry. No no MORE angry. I don’t think I’m angry enough. Or covetous. I don’t covet enough. See it’s all about balance. I read this self-help book called “balancing your life” and it was all about balance. It’s good apparently. The best kind of life has real balance. There was stuff in there about eating and exercising and other things and I skimmed over that when an idea hit me. See I saw an article about the seven deadly sins and realised that it was one area where I wasn’t really balanced at all. Lust and Pride I have pretty much covered thanks to the fact that I’m so proud of my full collection of Playboy DVD’s. I’ve got every one they’ve ever put out. And Sloth I could tick because I spend most weekends lying on a couch watching TV while eating whole tubs of ice cream, which also accounts for Gluttony and Greed. I’ve never really understood the difference but I think an entire tub of Cookies and Cream followed by a Magnum for desert probably covers them both. But Wrath and Envy I don’t really do so I’m trying to be more wrathful and envious. I dedicate half an hour of my day to browsing ebay and shouting violently at things I really want. When I drive to work in the morning I give the finger and pull faces at anyone driving a better car than mine. It’s brought a real state of zen balance to my life. Ooh does your stapler work? I wish I had that stapler and the fact that I don’t MAKES ME REALLY ANGRY! See that felt great. It’s all about balance.”

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Depth

March 14, 2011 in D

By David Stewart


“Good morning class my name is Miss Constance and I’ll be your substitute teacher for today. I’m sorry to say Mr Barry has been taken sick so they’ve rung my agency and here I am ready to fill in. Goodness look at all you eager young learners. I must say you all look very smart, in both senses of the word. Smart can mean intelligent but it can also mean “well presented” I’m going to write that on the board. Smart….intelligent…well presented. Good. Now. Lets see what notes Mr Barry has left me. Ooh they’re a bit sparse I’m afraid. According to this he wants you to “Keep studying Quantum Electrodynamics.” Goodness me that’s very… what kind of class is this? Year 12 physics. Well that’s… normally I teach Primary school and occasionally art and craft in senior school if I have to and I don’t know much about Quantum Electrodynamics which is… Nevermind – does anyone here know a song about Quantum Electrodynamics? No? Are you sure? I’ve got some castanets to hand out that we can use. No? Ah. Well I know a song about a frog. Who would like to hear my song about a frog? They’re very sciency frogs. You probably dissect them later in the course so – biology? Really? I thought dissecting frogs was a physics thing. Well then I’ve learnt something today. Who else knew that dissecting frogs was something they did in biology? All of you? Good.  Well there we are then. So I suppose nobody wants to hear the frog song then? Okay I suppose we should really get stuck into some work about Quantum Electrodynamics. No more messing about and straight on with some serious study. Okay can you hand around this stack of paper and can you hand these around. Now when everyone has got paper and some paints I want you all to roll up your sleeves and do me the best fingerpainting of Quantum thingamy that you can. Really capture those Quantum’s with the paint. But before we begin have we all got smocks?”

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Agreement

March 6, 2011 in A

By David Stewart


Now before we all take our places at the table I need to remind everyone of the Christmas Charter that we drew up after the unpleasantness of four years ago. I know it’s not really a festive beginning but we all agreed we’d do it every year.

Firstly no political party or politician, living or dead, currently serving or retired, shall be mentioned at the table with the exception of Nelson Mandela and Hitler, whose name shall not be invoked in comparison to anyone here present.

Secondly Brian shall keep his atheism to himself and shall not scoff derisively whenever anyone mentions anything even remotely religious. The believing members of the table will refrain from suggesting Brian will end up in hell. The agnostic members will refrain from standing up and shouting “Well I think you’re both just smug and annoying” and storming off. Kevin that last one is directed at you.

There is to be no swearing at the table and that includes crow impressions and saying the words “shitzu,” “arson” or “country” very slowly.

Aunts Mabel and Ethel shall refrain from sharing their views on homosexuality or people of Asian descent at the table. In exchange no member of the family will claim they recently sodomized a Japanese man. Nobody is fooled anymore.

The following subjects are not to be raised under any circumstances: Dr Who, Star Trek, Star Wars – either the original trilogy or the prequels, anime, manga or any other subject already argued at length in Facebook and twitter exchanges.

The following anecdotes are not to be recounted again – the one about the time it was 40 degrees at Christmas back in the sixties, the time Arthur cried because he didn’t get the bike he wanted, the time Nan gave Grandpa a hat that was exactly like the one the Prime Minister had… yes Nan I know it was but… yes I’m sure it was but the point is you can’t tell us because… nevermind

This last one is new but I’m totally serious – anyone found trying to convince someone on the children’s table that Justin Bieber has died will be expelled from Christmas without appeal.

Everyone understand? Yes Nan I’m sure the resemblance was remarkable but do you understand you’re not allowed to tell us about it? Right? Good. Well then Happy Christmas everyone and let’s get stuck in.

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Pacifism

March 1, 2011 in P

By David Stewart


Excuse me  sir, begging your pardon sir but the lads have asked if I could have a word sir. If you’re not too busy sir. It’s about the Germans sir… we think we quite like them. I mean I know we’re supposed to hate them, what with the war and everything and the Kaiser doing… whatever he did that made us go to war with him, but at a personal level we don’t really have a problem with them. It seems to me that we’ve got a lot in common with the Germans – they’re all standing around in long muddy holes like we are, and they’re all shooting aimlessly in our direction just like we shoot aimlessly in theirs and they like a drink, football and Christmas and they don’t like the French – they seem like our sort of lads. If we met them in a pub then we’d more than likely get on like a house on fire. In fact I can honestly say the only problem I have with your German as a person is that he keeps trying his best to kill me – but then that’s understandable since I’m trying my best to kill him. So what I was wondering was if we stopped trying to kill him and then he might stop trying to kill us and we could get together for a drink and a chat about football. We was wondering if you might be able to tell the Generals and the other top brass to consider the idea for a bit and -   Treason? Really? I thought treason was killing the King or something – Is it really? Well we had no idea. That seems a bit extreme if you don’t mind me saying so sir I was just – No, fair enough if that’s the regulation then that’s- consider it forgotten. I’ll cast it out of my mind as soon as I’ve instructed the lads to cast it out of theirs. Well I’m sorry to have bothered you sir, I’ll just be away now to shoot at some Germans. I’ll give the Hun what for, don’t you worry about that. Good day sir.

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Contact

February 23, 2011 in C

By David Stewart


The comedian walked off stage and made straight for the storage cupboard that the club called a dressing room. His set had gone down well. The tried and trusted material got laughs but more importantly the new bit about modern technology had shown some real promise. He’d been thinking for a while about the immediacy of new technology, how in the old days if someone had a complaint they had to actually find a pen and paper and an envelope and a stamp in order to articulate their grievance and then subject it to a postal service and the whims of a newspaper’s letter-page editor. But thanks to modern technology an irate person could make their incandescent rage known instantly and often vent it directly at the subject of their outrage. Onstage he’d called it “The devaluing of offence” and come up with an equation involving “level of outrage” subtracted by “effort required to express.” He’d proved that in the past the net result was usually negative which meant nothing was done. But in the future the “effort required to express” figure had decreases so dramatically the end result was (ironically) positive and then took the form of an email, a tweet or a forum post.

He was fine-tuning the routine in his head when he decided to check his twitter feed. The audience had responded already and the tweets poured across his screen – one person worked at an electronics store he had slagged-off briefly and took issue with his passing comments. Umbrage was also taken by six iPad owners who felt he was dismissive of their technology choice. A girl claimed most of his points were taken from an article she had written for a website he’d never heard of. Several others felt his routine had been simplistic and a sign that he was losing touch with his audience. There were more but he couldn’t bring himself to read them.

He’d been considering a drink in the bar and a chance to mix with the punters but he suddenly felt more inclined to hide in the room until the club closed. In order to pass the time he took a pad and a pen and sat down to write something. His first thought had been a new routine but he surprised himself by penning an angry letter to a newspaper about declining standards in comedy club audiences.

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Lesson

February 17, 2011 in L

By David Stewart


She stood on the corner of the city block with a hand-drawn sign saying “Free Hugs” in an attempt to restore her faith in humanity. She learnt at lot.

At first she learnt that there is a fine line between being given a hug and having your bottom groped. She later realised that in fact the line wasn’t fine it was quite large and was actually called “The entire of her lower back.” She learnt a lot of people had no trouble crossing this line.

She discovered just how many people believe that anyone doing anything even vaguely out of the ordinary must be making a hidden-camera television show.

She was alarmed to realise just how many older people felt the need to tell young people how disappointed they were in them. Somehow holding a sign saying “Free Hugs” meant teenagers had no respect or self-discipline.

It took her about half an hour before she could easily identify the sort of person who would read her sign and sneer while making a loud comment about: “That Free Hugs thing being so old.”

She had to explain herself to several people who didn’t understand the concept. Every time she did her explanation became more concise but her voice less convincing.

Every so often, once a while, in amongst the doubters, the sceptics, the mockers, the accusers and the gropers, someone would fling their arms wide and embrace her in a massive bear hug. They would grin at her, she would grin back, and they would walk away with her faith in humanity restored.

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Fellowship

February 15, 2011 in F

By David Stewart


“Good Afternoon Ladies! It’s lovely to see you all here again. My this is a marvelous turn-out. I think this is the most people we’ve had so far this year. Lets give ourselves a big clap. And let’s have another big clap for Gladys who agreed to play host for us tonight and open up her home. She told me the place would be a mess after her Grandkids came to visit but we all knew that by the time we showed up her sitting room would be as immaculate as always. And thanks to everyone who bought scones, cakes and flans. I eat so well at our monthly get-togethers I go away feeling like I could never eat another thing ever again! I must get the recipe for these cheese scones, they’re lovely. Anyway we must get down to it. I’d like to introduce you to Arthur who is going to be our virgin sacrifice for the evening. Say hello Arthur.”

“Hello”.

“Now Arthur assures me he’s a virgin but then you can basically tell just by looking at him can’t you? He’s got that fresh virginy look. The Star Trek t-shirt is another give away, you’ve never had to fling that particular garment aside in the throes of mad animal passion have you Arthur?”

“No”.

“No of course not. Now Arthur dear sit quietly here and have a piece of passion-fruit sponge. We have to do some boring housekeeping talk for a bit and then we’ll light the candles, strip you off and get to work with the ceremonial blade. You’ll love it dear there’s lots of dancing and some incantations, Enid does a lovely incantation, and then we’ll remove your heart and revel in your blood while we praise the dark lord. Perhaps someone might decide to wear your untarnished and never-utilised genitalia as a kind of hat, we’re very open minded once the bloodlust hits. Comfy?”

“Yes”.

“Super. Right ladies, other business first: it’s fundraising time again so we need to sort out who’s going to back what for the cake drive…”

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Smug

February 9, 2011 in S

By David Stewart


You smug people of today have no idea how easy life is. Back when I was smug I had to work for my self-righteous feeling of superiority. Back then finding a band nobody had heard of took hard work. You had to go to obscure clubs, you had to hang around the cool record shops. We had to search for our street credibility. The only place to buy a band’s T-shirt was at a gig and if you wanted to get your hands on an obscure B-side or demo tape you had to know someone and prove to them that you were smug enough to deserve it. I remember back in the eighties when I was proving everyone I knew was beneath me, I had to really work for it. When I sneered derisively at a guy who listened to something you could hear on commercial radio I earned that sneer through months of hunting around for the music and fan cred that earned me the right to be smug. But today, today you can jump on the internet and within half an hour you can download a band’s entire catalogue including B-sides and live bootlegs. You can order T-shirts from their website and get your smugness delivered straight to your door. Hipsters of today have no idea what being truly smug is all about. You think you’re the cutting edge of smug but let me tell you I was smug back when smug was only available on vinyl.

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Improvisation

December 24, 2010 in I

By David Stewart


No this is no good at all. This isn’t going to put us on the map. This country is full of cathedrals and museums and wonders all of which bring the tourists flocking. Rome has all that stuff from those old guys… can’t remember their name – Romans, that’s them. They’ve got Roman stuff. Florence has art work. The Venetians have even flooded their streets to bring tourists in. And what do we have? A tower. And not even a tall tower or an impressive one, just a bell tower next to a big church. Nobody is going to see this. Nobody is going to go out of their way to see a dull, white marble tower when they could go to Rome and watch a big building that lions used to eat Christians in. Are you sure the priests won’t let us carve pornography into it? People love it when artistic things are smutty – it makes them feel less inferior. Well then there aren’t really any options left are there? I mean religious frescos are all very well but everyone’s got one and when you’ve seen one image of Mary looking wistful you’ve pretty much seen them all. Hang on… is it my imagination or… if you stand here and look that way… does it look a bit off-centre to you? Not a lot, just a degree or two. Here’s a thought… get an engineer down there and bugger up the foundations a bit. Not too much, don’t knock it over. Just give it a bit of a list. Make that bastard lean. You watch, we’ll get tourists coming to Pisa by the end of the century, I guarantee it.

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Resource

December 22, 2010 in R

By David Stewart


Dear Sir,

I’m sorry to have to advise you that after extensive research into the circumstances of your son’s expulsion from St Swithberts Boarding School we do not feel you have legal recourse to take the matter to court. While I agreed after our first conversation that the three reasons presented for the disciplinary action (“Urinating in the shower, Minor Vandalism and Poor Marks”) didn’t constitute grounds for expulsion I have since had cause to alter my opinion thanks to further discussion with the school’s Headmaster.

The charge of “Urinating in the Shower” was not an isolated incident and occurred repeatedly. I assumed, as I’m sure did you, that your son was using the shower at the time of the offence but have since discovered that he was merely passing the facility and harboured a dislike of the student who was currently conducting his ablutions.

The counts of “Minor Vandalism” did not involve minor acts of vandalism on school property but quite extensive acts of vandalism perpetrated on minors. Seven members of the junior school, aged between 5 and 9 years, had the word “scum” permanently tattooed on their foreheads by your son who was sitting on their chest at the time.

Finally the “Poor Marks” were not a reference to his exam results but related to a large letter “P” which your son attempted to “brand” anyone he felt wasn’t wealthy enough to share the same room. As a result of this policy numerous students and several members of the teaching staff received second degree burns and permanent disfigurement despite repeated attempts to confiscate the branding iron.

In conclusion St Swithberts have acknowledged your donations to the school over the years but are insistent that the offences constitute a definite breach of their clearly stated student behavior policy and they are unwilling to discuss the issue further. In my professional opinion if the matter were to go to court the school would not only win but be awarded damages. Your family name would undoubtedly suffer undue adverse publicity. I would maintain the advisable course of action would be to purchase the school and replace the teaching and administration staff. A process that I believe would only be slightly more expensive than hiring  my firm to represent you in court.

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Analogy

December 21, 2010 in A

By David Stewart


They’re building a wheel in my town. A big wheel. Like a Ferris wheel but huge. Several stories high. The day they started building it I first struck up a conversation with Linda. I was laying the groundwork, establishing the foundation. As the weeks rolled by the wheel stared to take shape and our conversations became more relaxed. We shared stories about our weekends. I lent her DVD’s. She started telling me what colour tie she thought would suit my eyes. The day they opened the wheel I asked her on a date. We saw a movie, it wasn’t as good as I’d hoped it would be and the cinema was half empty but it was our first date.

I’d dreamt about making love to Linda for two years and finally we did on the wheel itself. In one of the pods. It was amazing. The fact that someone photographed us and we appeared in the paper didn’t worry us at all. You couldn’t see our faces and nobody knew who we were. I was thrilled – who else has a memento of their first time?

Not long after that we had a few days where our relationship became really hot. We were so passionate I thought we were going to catch fire. But then the cracks started to show. Things began to fall apart and eventually she closed our relationship down. The day they started dismantling the wheel I opened her letter and my heart broke.

For a while I was inconsolable. I would go for long walks that somehow always ended up at the construction site. It seemed they were always taking away a new piece just as I arrived. I cried a lot in those months. I’d like to say that life had it’s ups and downs but my memory of that time is just one big down.

They’re building the wheel again. The pods are back at the site and they’ve started putting the frames up. There are workmen everywhere. I shout at them to hurry up from the other side of the chain link fence. I yell at them if I see them slacking off. I’ve offered to work for free to speed the process up but they’ve refused my help. Linda made a comment about my tie last week. On Friday I lent her a DVD.

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Interruption

December 20, 2010 in I

By David Stewart


“Commander we’ve received reports of increased Z’targ activity in quadrant 19. Our sensors are picking up anomalies in the ethereal flux and all communication has been lost with outpost delta-B. We need someone to lead a Sigma team into the sector. I need hardly remind you that the vital peace treaty meeting between the Zurvian and Palaatu delegations are occurring nearby on the fourth moon of Zmbotang which – sorry. Sorry can I just take a minute? I just need a second. I think it was the moon of Zmbotang that pushed me over the edge. I mean I know a job is a job and it pays the rent but god knows this wasn’t how I pictured my life when I got accepted into drama school. I had dreams of doing Shakespeare, serious theatre. I imagined the lowest I’d stoop would be doing bit-parts in televised drama. And now I find myself reading about increased Z’targ activity in quadrant 19 and it’s all just overwhelmingly depressing. Are you sure your computer game needs all this narrative recorded? I played a bit of pacman in the university lounge and I don’t remember there being much in the way of a story arc in that. Is it really necessary for me to demean myself so that… no okay fine. No it’s not a problem I’ll do it. I just need to take a few seconds to myself so the sound of the last vestiges of my self-esteem shriveling up and dying doesn’t put me off and make me lose character. I wouldn’t want the people playing this game to have their enjoyment spoiled by the sound of Captain Acerus having a crisis of identity in the middle of a mission briefing. Just give us a second… my ego is nearly crushed completely… just a few more dreams and ambitions to kill off…. there. Now I’m ready to go again. Shall we take it from the top? Lovely.”

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Explanation

December 18, 2010 in E

By David Stewart


As requested I present my explanation of the events of last week for which I am prepared to take full responsibility. Firstly I would say in my defence that it was a really well-made horse, a fantastic piece of Greek craftsmanship. Had you seen the horse in question you would agree it was the work of great artisans that any city would be proud to display as a trophy of a vanquished foe. The carvings really were very intricate.  Yes on reflection I’m prepared to admit that leaving a battle with only a large simulated animal behind you is an odd way for an army to behave but I’ve never pretended to understand Greek ways. I also blame my unfamiliarity with Hellenistic culture for my failure to hear the giggling noises others claimed were clearly audible from within the horse. I assumed Greek carvings made noises, on reflection I’m not sure why I thought this but as I’ve mentioned they were really very intricate.

I can assure you that nobody was more surprised when a lot of heavily armed and vengeful but amused Greeks emerged from inside the horse. I consider this to be most unsporting even in war time and I can assure you that in addition to this letter I’ve drafted a strongly worded letter to several of the Greek pantheon complaining in the strongest possible terms about the actions of their worshipers.

It’s my recommendation that if we ever rebuild Troy and manage to scrape together enough survivors to repopulate it we make sure that all sentries carefully examine any wooden gifts left by retreating armies. And they shouldn’t confine themselves to a simple examination of the exterior no matter how intricate the carvings. A concerted effort should be made to interrogate the animal in question. “Hey there! Are any combatants of any kind contained within!” would be a cry I recommend all guards learn and utilise whenever the situation arises. I’d also like to point out that perhaps not running off with Greek queens in the first place might save us further conflicts in the future.

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Revelation

December 16, 2010 in R

By David Stewart


“And the last item on the agenda is from the guys at the security desk who wanted me to read this out at this meeting: “Staff are advised that the car park is monitored at all times by security cameras which record activity in the car park -    …which record activity in the car park at all times. The cameras are designed to alert security to any suspicious persons or activity in the car park area and they are not – are not is in bold – of a high enough quality to identify faces and being black and white are ineffective at identifying people by their clothing. They want me to go on and point out that the identity of the couple who occupied themselves for twenty minutes in the car park after last week’s farewell drinks could not be determined and so assure them that they retain their anonymity… although I think Bob and Carol’s dual outburst of “Oh My God” when I mentioned the presence of the cameras has probably let the cat out of the bag somewhat. Anyway the point of the message is to be careful because you can be seen on camera even if you can’t be identified.”

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Insistent

December 15, 2010 in I

By David Stewart


I’m telling you Mayor you have to close the beaches. Shut them down. If you don’t there’s going to be more deaths just like the Clarkson girl. If we don’t close the beaches, tell everyone what’s going on and organize a full hunt we’re going to have a bloodbath on our hands.

I can’t close the beaches it’s tourist season for God’s sake.

If you don’t take action now this is the last tourist season we’ll ever have. This town won’t be a summer destination we’ll be a ghost town with a beach nobody will ever swim in again.

Let me get this straight. You want me to close the beaches-

Yes.

-in the middle of our busiest time of the year-

Yes.

-the few months that keep this town afloat during the other three seasons-

Yes!

-because you had a dream?

A really vivid dream. It wasn’t one of those ones you forget the details of when you wake up, I can still see the teeth now biting into the flesh.

Why am I even having this discussion?

It was all four of them and they were eating tourists and killing them, there was blood everywhere and bone and body parts and for some reason juggling balls, but that’s just dream logic for you.

Let me ask you this, and I honestly can’t believe I’m even forming these words in my mouth, express as a percentage the chance that all four of the Golden Girls lose control in a carnivorous feeding frenzy on our beaches. And before you answer take into consideration the fact that the cast is 75% deceased and I’m fairly sure the surviving one isn’t in possession of her real teeth.

Yes but are you willing to take the chance? Even if it’s unlikely the thought of cleaning up all those dead bodies and juggling balls is… I mean the Clarkson girl-

-is alive and well and currently busking outside my office with a piano accordion.  Now if you’ll excuse me.

I feel really strong about this. More strongly than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. If you’re not prepared to at least put this to a council meeting I’m afraid I’m resigning my job.

Well then we’ll just have to find ourselves another assistant librarian.

Well don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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Look

December 13, 2010 in L

By David Stewart


I remember the first time I got the look. It was in year seven. I was trying to fit into a new school and not doing a very good job. I read a lot, mostly fiction, but other stuff as well. I especially liked joke books. My parents had given me a set of books for Christmas. Three volumes of hilarious graffiti. Each page packed with amusing sayings and bon mots presented as humourous scrawls on the sides of buildings and public wall spaces. Witty pieces of wisdom like “I used to be decisive but now I’m not so sure” and “If ignorance is bliss there should be a lot more happy people”. I used to follow my parents around reading them these witticisms out loud. Looking back it was their own fault for buying me the books in the first place.

There were people in my new school who called themselves Graffas. They used to practice their tags on pieces of paper and occasionally on the backs of chairs. They talked about how much they loved Graffing. Graffing was their life. I was delighted to finally find common ground. I didn’t understand their music, couldn’t skateboard and wasn’t allowed to watch the films they talked about but graffiti, that was something we clearly had in common. I approached the Graffers which was the first time I had willingly entered any space they occupied. They were graffing on paper. I said in a loud and clear voice (I had excellent diction as a child). “ have a piece of graffiti for you. It goes like this: I hate graffiti, actually I hate all Italian food.”

That’s when I first got “The Look”. In place of the laughter and hilarity and appreciation and acceptance that I had been expecting their faces had an expression that at the time I didn’t understand. In the years that followed I came to know it well having experienced it often. The Look said: you are confusing, you are strange, you are not one of us, you are shit. Never speak to us again.

While I didn’t comprehend it at the time I understood the basic thrust of The Look enough to realise that my other witty graffiti would not go down well, nor would my interesting fact that the singular of graffiti was graffito. I backed slowly away and retreated to the safety of a book.

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Lost

November 23, 2010 in L

By David Stewart


Damn!

What?

We have to go back.

What do you mean?

I’ve lost my watch. It was my lucky watch and I can’t find it. We have to go back.

We’re not going back. Are you sure you took it with you?

Of course I’m sure, You asked me the time every ten minutes on the way there. Do you think I was just taking lucky guesses?

When did you see it last?

I took it off and put it down on those grey things because my wrist was itchy and -

Those grey things?

Yeah the ones we had stacked up in the back there.

The grey things that have gone now?

That’s them. They’ve gone and my watch was on them. Where did they go?

We dumped them out of the plane.

What? When?

Back there. When I said: bombs away. They all fell out. Which is what they’re supposed to do since they were bombs and we’re flying a bomber.

Well we’ll just have to go back and find where we dropped them. My gran gave me that watch.

We’re not going back.

Where did we drop the bombs then?

Dresden.

Dresden?

Yeah, It used to be quite a nice German town with a population in the tens of thousands but now it’s a large pile of rubble with a population of a lot less.

One of whom is probably wearing my watch.

Your watch is spread out in little bits over a radius of several miles.

My Gran will be furious. You’re not even prepared to go back and have a quick look?

No.

Well I think you’re being totally unreasonable.

You’re an idiot.

Fine. I’m not talking to you for the rest of the trip.

Suits me. We’re due back soon anyway. What’s the time?

Hang on I’ll check… it’s twenty past three.

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Fraud

November 16, 2010 in F

By David Stewart


Gentlemen after months of careful study and analysis I am prepared to stake my reputation on the fact that this recently discovered manuscript can definitely be attributed to William Shakespeare. I can declare without a shadow of a doubt we are now in possession of another work borne from the great mind that gave us Hamlet and Macbeth. Now I’m aware that many of you feel this is in fact an attempted fraud perpetrated on the literary community but I am confident that this is not the case. I believe the main character of the play to be one of Shakespeare’s most carefully crafted comic characters. Despite being identified only as “A writer of epic poetry” he is clearly a fool on par with Falstaff but much more subtle in characterization. His interactions with his wife Margaret, their baby daughter, also named Margaret and son Bartholomew manages to be both touching and amusing. I was especially affected by the interactions with his eldest daughter, who despite being still a child is clearly the wisest character in the piece. The play’s narrative takes us into familiar Shakespearean territory – following some bad advice from the protagonist his son removes the head of the statue in the main square, causing uproar in the local community of the village, an unidentified location somewhere in Fife Scotland – …No I’m sorry can we save questions until the end of the – …No I didn’t know there was a town in Fife called Springfield and I’m not sure that I can see how it’s- …yes I know Homer was an epic poet and of course I’m aware that Marge and Maggie are both shortened forms of Margaret I fail to see your point… No of course I don’t watch it, I’m a scholar I don’t have time for cartoon television programs. …is there? Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa, Maggie – I’m sure these are just coincidences. Next you’ll be telling me the owner of the local tavern is named Maurice and the main constable is called Wiggum. They are? Oh. And is there a vicar in the show by any chance? Is he called Lovejoy? Well then I can see there might be… I’m prepared to concede that… bugger.

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Recollection

September 8, 2010 in R

By David Stewart


“Ha! Yeah man I can totally clear that up for you. It was Joni’s house. Put all argument to bed I was there and I remember like it was yesterday. Stills and Crosby had been singing together for a while but they knew there was something missing. They needed a guy who could do the high harmonies. Everyone knew Nash was the guy but he was still committed to The Hollies. But they got together at Joni Mitchell’s place. They sang together for the first time in her living room and it was just beautiful. Joni was there and so was Mama Cass and Grace Slick came by later on. They sang You Don’t Have to Cry and Paul Kanter played guitar on Wooden Ships. And then they did a really early run of Judy Blue Eyes and Where the Streets Have No Name, which was later a big hit for U2. They just floored us man. Garcia was like, totally blown away and he knew the Stones were recording Exile just down the road so he comes back with Mick and Keith and they just flipped. It was an awesome scene. Nash was in a neck brace at the time and Stills was in a wheelchair and I think Crosby had a metal leg and maybe an arm. The Beatles came by and John brought Mark David Chapman, the guy who murdered him, and we were like “Woah man, that cat completely killed you man!” and he said: “no it’s cool he’s totally sorry,” so we were groovy with it. He was nude too, shit we all were except Clapton who wore a kilt. But we didn’t care because of the music man, the music was just out of sight. They did those three-part harmonies and then six-part harmonies and eventually it went to like sixteen parts. Just the three of them. With Stills playing two guitars, bass, drums and some stringed thing he picked up in India. I remember Joni had a pope. In a box. Not the current pope but one of the older ones, like a medieval pope. He was just blown away. She let him out of the box and all he could say was “Fuck” but he said it real slow like “Fuuuuuuuck”. He was one impressed pontiff let me tell you. So yeah. Joni’s house. Happy to have cleared that up.”

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Pose

September 6, 2010 in P

By David Stewart


Okay class the first pose we’re going to adopt is called The Supplicant Goat, it’s a pose that not many of you might have heard of because it’s one of the New Wave Yoga poses that take into account ancient Indian techniques but also includes modern western thinking. If you could all lie on your mats and face the front of the room. Everyone facing this way, face the front of the room. Actually who’s bag is this? Sorry do you mind moving that to the back of the room with the others. We can wait. Okay now I need you all to face the front of the room and kneel down. Now slowly bring your head to the floor in front of you. Slowly and easily. Now touch your forehead to the mat and hold that pose. Keep your eyes closed and feel the stretch in your… back and thighs. And also feel the negative energy flowing out of your forehead into the floor. But keep your eyes closed at all times. Because this is such a new pose we’re going to hold it for a while and as we’re doing that some of you might enter a state called… Barry. And when you enter Barry it’s not uncommon for you to imagine hearing things in your mind. For example it might sound like my voice is now coming from the back of the room when in fact I’m still over there – I mean here, I’m still over here in front of you. It just sounds like I’m over here behind you. And if you hear a sound like someone going through your bags then that’s just a heightened state of Barry. The sound of zips undoing is an indication that you’re really releasing negative energy from your forehead it’s just zipping away into the – ooh rolex, cool – sorry zipping away into the floor. And if you’ve achieved Barry you have to make sure you keep your eyes closed especially tightly and press that forehead to the floor so you don’t get distracted by anything that sounds like someone emptying a wallet. Okay now we’re going to be quiet for about ten minutes. Keep staying in the Supplicant Deer position even if you hear what sounds like someone leaving the building. Just keep experiencing Barry…

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Nickname

September 2, 2010 in N

By David Stewart


Gday, My name’s Ray. Actually it’s not really it’s a nickname. The guys call me Ray because  my real name’s Peter. Don’t worry everyone misses the connection it’s not really all that direct. People started calling me Pete and then Repeat and then for a while they called me Repeat Offender but that got shortened to Fender which stuck for a while but became Fender Stratocaster then just Strat then Stratty. It got complicated then because some people started calling me Fatty Stratty because I’ve got a bit of a spare tyre but others called me Batty Stratty because once at a party I took some acid by mistake and spent a night in the bath convinced I was a penguin. I had two names for a bit as the first group changed to calling me Chew the Fat and then just Chew and then Chewbacca but the second group started calling me Batman and then The Dark Night. The Chewbacca group went though a bunch of Star wars names really quickly so for a while I was Chewbacca, then Han Solo, then Yoda which lasted a whole week and Princes Leia which only lasted one staff meeting. Meanwhile the Dark Night guys got stuck on Dark for a while but they changed that to Darth just as the Star Wars guys got to Darth Vader so both started calling me Vader at the same time. Vader became Vades which became Shades which became Sunnies which became Ray Bans which became Ray. Actually all this happened in the space of a week so it’s possible that it’s changed again by now. I keep responding whenever anyone calls out pretty much anything. Well it’s nice to have met you but if you’ll excuse me I have to go and ask someone what I’m called now.

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Pitch

August 31, 2010 in P

By David Stewart


Gentlemen I believe my script is both commercial and artistically credible. If you agree to make this movie you will be rewarded at the box office and at the awards ceremonies. At its heart it’s a love story but it’s also a coming of age tale. It’s about a young girl who is torn between the boy she grew up with and a beguiling stranger who comes into her life. The twist is that she knows the boy she grew up with is a wild child with a criminal past and the stranger is down to earth with a good job, so he actually represents stability and the guy she’s known all her life is the risk. And while this is going on she starts to see elements of both of them in her own father which makes her realise there is a lot more of her in her mother than she first thought. Throughout the course of the film she realises who she is and what links her to where she’s from…. the um… the script has real… real passion and the characters are three dimensional and while it’s demanding it’s also rewarding and not too demanding… and… and I can sense you’re not… I sense from your silence you’re… did I mention she was a stripper! Yes the girl is a stripper so there are scenes that play out in the strip club and her friends are also strippers. So is her mum! Although we only find out that in flashbacks where she’d be played by a much younger actress. And the guy she grew up with is a vampire! And the new man she meets is a zombie so she’s forced to choose between a zombie and a – and they have armies with them! An army of zombies and an army of vampires which go to war and she’s caught in a middle… with her stripper friends. It’s a zombie/vampire comedy film with strippers and a coming of age story. You will? That’s fantastic! That’s great. Oh that’s brilliant. Just give me a few weeks to um…tweak the script a bit and I’ll have it on your desk ready to talk budgets. Brilliant… mum will be thrilled.

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Pronunciation

August 30, 2010 in P

By David Stewart


Ah. Sorry. Yes there’s been a bit of a mix up I’m afraid. When you said does anyone have a pilots licence I thought you said “A Pilates licence” and I’m a qualified pilates instructor so naturally I put my hand up. Pilates. It’s a kind of exercise. It’s great you should try it. Really? P-lart-ees? Is that right? I never knew that before, what a dill I’ve been pronouncing it wrong all year. Well you can see how I got confused because Pilots and Pilate’s do sound very similar when you use my pronunciation. Well anyway I’m here now and I’ve got excellent core muscle strength and abdominal tone so… goodness there are a lot of dials and switches and things. And you say both pilots are dead? Well they should have exercised more I think. If only you’d called me before they died rather than after I could be a lot more help. Nevermind, I’m here now. So it’s me and this gentlemen here. Sorry I didn’t catch your name? Blackbeard? Really. That’s a lovely name. And does your parrot have a name too? Lovely. And are you a pilot? Oh that makes sense, what with the eyepatch and the wooden leg and the hook. Goodness another mix up. Well that makes me feel better because I don’t think my hearing was at fault I think the stewardesses pronunciation of “Pilot” clearly left a lot to be desired. Speaking of stewardesses could we perhaps get some more peanuts? Oh well it’s just the two of us with a plane to land so -  What? No I’m sorry but I’m going to insist he wait his turn. I don’t care if he is a qualified pilot he didn’t respond when you asked the first time and Blackbeard and I did so I think politeness would dictate that he wait his turn. Well his being in the toilet is no concern of mine I responded to a call so it’s rude of you not to at least give me a try. I’ll attempt to land the plane and if you’re not satisfied with my attempt he can have a go. That seems only fair. Right then – I think I’ll just start flicking switches in order and take note of what happens as I go. How hard can it be?

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Exchange

August 25, 2010 in E

By David Stewart


Come on. Everyone else has paired up and there’s just you and me. What do you say girl – your place or mine?

It’s just I know I could do better. Maybe another guy is going to arrive any minute.

No the party’s winding down. This is it. I tell you what, how’s this for a plan:  we’ll go back to your place and have sex and then I’ll fix that virus problem you said you had with your computer.

Okay, deal.

Fantastic.

And you can hook me up to my wireless internet while you’re there.

Ah.

What?

Well it’s just that’s a big job. I mean the virus thing could take a while and the internet as well… it just feels like you’re getting a really good deal.

I tell you what. I’ll do my strip routine for you. I’ll strip off and give you a real show, then we’ll have sex and you sort out my computer problems.

Okay, done.

Although I used to strip professionally so now it’s like you’re getting a really good deal.

How about in addition to the computer issues I fix that problem you were having with your mobile phone…

(Thirty minutes later)

…so to summarize. You come back to my place and I strip off, give you a lap dance, we have sex and then you fix my computer problems and my phone while I bake you my chocolate sponge cake and let you tell me your theory about the three Matrix films and then I give you a shoulder massage while you copy your anime DVD’s for my brother then you clean my car while I take some photographs of my breasts for you to save onto a memory stick.

Done. That’s a fair deal that’s equal on both sides.

Although my chocolate sponge cake really is delicious…

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Gaffe

August 20, 2010 in G

By David Stewart


Welcome back to the election gaffe-off which tonight is coming to you live from the press-club in Canberra. The rules are simple – both party leaders have consumed a bottle of tequila and are now sharing a stage for an hour. Their various gaffes are being recorded and will be reported in full in tomorrow’s press. This format replaces the traditional leader’s debate which has recently become a stale opportunity for leader’s to turn questions into pre-prepared statements.

The evening began sedately with the Prime Minister attempting to outline a policy without ever stating what the policy was actually about and whether she was for or against whatever the policy regarded. The Leader of the opposition meanwhile spent ten minutes trying to pronounce the words “Prime Minister” before launching into a scathing attack about the government’s refusal to address “The problem of the…thing,” an issue which clearly caused him considerable irritation.

Then the gaffe’s finally started to begin in earnest. The PM admitted she only pretended to enjoy Football. The Leader of the opposition confessed to finding his wife boring – the first point of agreement between the two leaders for the entire evening.  Race then dominated the proceedings and it looked like the PM was going to register the gaffe of the evening with a comment about “bloody Asians” but was topped by her opponent who wholeheartedly agreed and expressed a mistrust for “all  fucking migrants” the first use of the f-word in an official political broadcast.

A moderator introduced the topic of gay marriage which prompted the Opposition Leader to scream “Shut Up I’ve got a fucking funny joke about poofs!” at the top of his voice while the PM attempted to make it clear that gay people shouldn’t be discriminated against at all ever and also shouldn’t marry or adopt children.

You join us just as the Leader of the Opposition has taken rather a melancholy turn and started to lament the loneliness of the political life, a theme the PM seems only too happy to warm to. Both leaders are in tears now claiming that the Australian people don’t understand them. And they’ve just declared the other to be their best friend and are now in the middle of a tearful hug. I’ll go on record here as predicting a drunken sing-a-long any minute, possibly Khe Sahn but I wouldn’t rule out Throw your arms around Me.

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Questions

August 19, 2010 in Q

By David Stewart


The war council was in place. All eye-stalks swiveled towards the leader as he took command.
“We must discuss our plans for planet earth. Have we found the weakness in the humans that we can exploit to our own end?”
The head spy in charge of earth-intelligence oozed an embarrassed sheen of slime and shuffled his tentacles awkwardly. “Um about that, exalted leader. We find the humans confusing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They confuse us!” Said the number two spy. “We don’t understand anything about them. They get terrified of one small furry creature and put down traps to kill them and then they willingly feed another larger furry creature who attacks their furniture and sheds hair on their beds.”
“They have arguments that sometimes become violent caused by games involving a ball.”
“The males say a woman-earthling is “hot” and that they would like to make physical contact involving their dangly parts but if their dangly parts do touch anything hot they become agitated and make the screaming noise.”
“And the words “sick”, “wicked” and “bad” can all be negatives or positive descriptions”
“And they are repulsed by their own bodily waste and yet refer to it constantly in speech and find jokes about it to be hilarious.”
The leader held up his tentacles and interrupted their anguished cries. “Clearly what we need to do is to make further efforts to understand their ways. I suggest we establish a means by which the humans give us all the knowledge we require.”
“How would we do that, Oh exalted leader?”
“We set up a database of information. Something that the humans themselves create but we can access. Something that provides every fact about their race and will allow us to analyze them fully as a species. A storage of all earth knowledge.”
“The humans have a primitive version in place already. The call it an Encyclopedia. We found it lacking in many important details.”
“What we require is one of these encyclopedia with every fact in place and nothing omitted. Only the humans would be stupid enough to allow such an invaluable resource for an invading species to ever exist. And we will trick them into making it themselves.”
“We could call it A Trickypedia!”
“Hmm… catchy but the name is a bit obvious. Could we come up with something that rhymes with Trickypedia?”

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Structure

August 18, 2010 in S

By David Stewart


Okay this next slide is one you’ll all be familiar with. It’s just our corporate structure. The CEO at the very top of course and the various departmental heads and staff members arranged in a-

Sorry Brian why is there a badger in our corporate structure?

What do you mean?

Just there below the Deputy Assistant Director of Marketing.

So there is. A badger.

Are you telling me that I’m below a badger?

No of course not. It’s clearly a mistake of some kind.

Perhaps it’s supposed to be a raccoon?

It’s not any woodland animal. It’s a mistake. There’s no badger anywhere in our corporate structure.

Why is there a clown in there as well? Just below the Vice President of Merriment.

We don’t have a clown in our corporation. In fact I’m fairly sure we don’t even have a department called Merriment.

Are you telling me I’m getting paid less than a badger?

No it’s a mistake. They’re both mistakes – the badger and the clown are not supposed to be there.

What about Thor the god of Thunder?

Oh come on! Which idiot put Thor in our corporate structure?

My money’s on the clown. I bet he’s the one who produces our pie charts as well.

I can’t believe someone has been buggering around with our corporate structure. This is a vital document that’s essential to the smooth running of this company and some fool is having fun with it. For the last time we do not employ any badgers or Norse gods, there is no department of merriment and no clowns work anywhere in our corporation! Right, I’m moving on. This next slide is our financial report.

Why are we spending 300 grand a year on balloons?

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Suave

August 17, 2010 in S

By David Stewart


She looked gorgeous. But then she always looked gorgeous. We both entered the lift on the ground floor together which meant I had 37 floors of small talk to be impressive. I always dreamed of exactly this chance. I had a plan: a series of witty one-liners about how stupid Arthur the security guard was. Guaranteed laughs.

The doors were just closing when Greg’s hand came into view. He forced the doors open and stepped inside. He looked cool, tough and masculine. Suave. He looked suave but then he always looked suave. Stupid word. But that’s how he looked.

“I hate lifts,” she said. “They always make me nervous. They just don’t feel safe.”

Greg ran a hand through his thick black hair. “They’re actually amazingly safe. There are three separate cables supporting the lift, any one of which is enough to take it’s weight on it’s own. There’s also two sets of brakes on either side. In the incredibly unlikely event that all three cables snap, any one of the four separate braking systems is enough to slow us down. At the bottom of this shaft there’s a spring-loaded pad designed to absorb shock. We’re safer in here than we are standing on the street.”

She gave him a look. It said she wanted him to take her there in the lift and trusted him completely and thought he was the best thing in the world.

I wanted to be looked at like that.

I cleared my throat: “”Of course what most people don’t consider is if the floor of the lift rusts and gives way there’s nothing between us and a 39 storey drop to our certain death.”

She gave me a very different look.

I hate the word suave. I hate it with a passion.

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Agony

July 27, 2010 in A

By David Stewart

God this is awful. I can’t believe none of them laughed. That’s my second best joke. That’s the highlight of my routine and it didn’t get a response at all. Maybe the didn’t hear it correctly. But I said it so clearly and I’m known for having excellent diction. “He lacked A sense of porpoise” That’s hilarious. Surely they’re capable of making the mental leap: Purpose to porpoise to dolphin to dauphin. It’s not that hard. I mean I knew some of them might take longer than others but – Oh God is it possible they don’t actually know that the heir to the 15th Century heir to the French throne was known as the dauphin? No – everyone knows that surely? Lord help me if they don’t know that then my five minutes of material on the marriage of Louis the XI to Charlotte of Savoy isn’t going to get nearly the reaction it deserves. I don’t understand, I absolutely stormed it at my historical society club dinner last week but everyone in this pub is looking at me like I’m from another planet. Oh God I’m being heckled. That large rough-looking man in the work shirt is actually shouting rude things at me. Quick I need a witty reply – There take that! Ha! Not a massive reaction from the crowd which is disappointing, maybe they need another second or two to translate the latin. God this is terrible, now everyone is shouting at me to get off. How dare they! Don’t they know who my father is?  Okay this is going badly and the only thing that’s going to save me is a quick cut to my best material. Oh no they’re making too much noise now. They need to be quiet for three minutes while I set up the punchline or my impression of Jacques Derrida won’t have nearly the impact it – did that man just throw something at me? I believe he just hurled a drink receptacle on purpose. I need another witty put down. Take that! Oh god now they’re upset. No I didn’t say he was from the Taliban, that makes no sense, there’s no character called Taliban in The Tempest. Right that is it! That’s just it! Tomorrow I’m buying this pub and I’m going to ban the lot of you. See who you think is a wanker then!

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Cabaret

July 26, 2010 in C

By David Stewart


I was walking through a really nice piece of bushland out past the Grampians. Really lovely area. Gum trees and a path winding through them. Not another soul around and the perfect place to get some thinking done. I’d seen a kangaroo off in the distance and heard a wombat passing through the undergrowth nearby. Looking up into the trees I thought I could see a Koala. To be honest it’s a fairly fine distinction between a sleeping Koala and a grey lump in a tree but I knew it was a marsupial when it started to move. I was delighted. Seeing a Koala in the wild is fairly rare but seeing one awake and moving is rarer still. Seeing one sing is something else entirely.

“Start spreading the news!”

He had really nice tenor voice.

“I’m leaving today!”

He danced out on a branch performing a sort of soft shoe shuffle.

“I wanna be a part of it. New York New York!”

I have no idea where the top hat and the cane came from. He must have been hiding them in the branches.

Then there were a whole chorus line of them. The male Koalas (bucks I think) in top hats and tails, and the girls (does, but don’t quote me on that) wearing sequined gowns. They danced in formation. They did tap. They sang backing vocals and hit all the notes.

Coloured lights came from the bushes. Shimmering confetti fell from the trees. At one point the first Koala grabbed a girl from the chorus line and danced while the band played on. They were amazingly light on their paws.

The finale was fantastic. He held the finale not for ages “New York Neeew Yooooooork!” They gathered in a formation behind him and froze grinning in a tableau while pyrotechnics went off.

I was too stunned to say anything. A wombat clapped and I think a kookaburra asked for an encore. Suddenly they were gone. The chorus line disappeared into bushes. The lead singer started to climb his tree, he got halfway and turned to me: “Breath a word of this to anyone and you’re dead”.

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Concern

July 23, 2010 in C

By David Stewart

It was my fifth session and I was just starting to relax. I’d been reluctant to see a psychologist to begin with but Craig made things easy and was an excellent listener. He wanted to know if I had any recurring dreams so I told him about the rainforest, the dream where the animals all watch me from a distance and repeat anything I say. I stared at the wall as I told it and when I looked up Craig wasn’t writing on his pad anymore.

“Are there any… penguins in the forest?” He asked.

“Now you mention it there are. Lots of them. Some on the ground and some in the trees.”

Craig stood up, which is something he’s never done in one of our sessions before and went around to sit behind his desk. “What does that mean?” I asked.

“Oh nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all. Doesn’t mean a thing.” He was sweating even though the room was fairly cool. “What are the penguins… what is that they’re doing? If they’re doing anything I mean.”

“Dancing. They’re dancing”.

He jolted in his chair.

“Dancing you say? Well that’s interesting. Fancy that. Dancing penguins in a forest. Are they normal colours or-”

“Green. They’re always green.”

I heard him gasp from across the room.

“I’m sorry Mr Robson but that’s all we’ve got time for today.”

“It’s only 3: 46. We’ve still got-”

“Sadly that’s where we have to end it. I’m sorry. We’ll have to stop there.”

“Oh. Well shall I make an appointment with Miss Carstairs on my way out?”

“No. No that won’t…. just hold on a second.” He picked up the intercom and spoke into in a low voice but I’ve got excellent hearing. “Alice I’ve got a code red. The rainforest dream with green penguins and they’re dancing!” I could also hear a small shriek from the outer office. “Take the can of mace with you and use both locks.” He hung up. “Well Mr Robson. Thankyou for coming.”

“So another appointment…”

“I’m afraid I’m retiring. So I can’t take any more appointments. I’m totally retiring completely so it’s been lovely seeing you and good luck with… everything.”

I went to shake his hand but he jerked back suddenly and tripped over his own wastepaper basket. I saw myself out and heard the door lock behind me.

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Espionage

July 21, 2010 in E

By David Stewart

I hadn’t seen Brian since Uni but it was definitely him. He looked exactly like he did the last time I’d seen him, storming out of a history lecture ranting at the lecturer for neglecting to mention alien involvement in the second world war. He was buying chips (not back in Uni, back in uni he was eating wizz-fizz, when I saw him the other day he was buying chips). “Want to know why I’m buying chips?” he asked when we’d said hello and established how little we’d changed.
“Cause they taste nice?”
“I’m a spy,” he said. “I feed them to enemy agents”
There was no appropriate reaction to this but then there was never any appropriate reaction to anything Brian had ever said or done. He agreed to explain things to me as long as we didn’t go outside and I promised not to tell a soul.
“The food chain is a beautiful thing. A wonderful interconnected series of links in which everything has its place. Except seagulls. They have no natural predators. None. And they only eat things people throw them in parks. What does that tell you?”
I opened my mouth. He continued. “They’re aliens in the natural food chain. Outsiders in the circle of life. Which means they didn’t evolve with the planet they came here from somewhere else.”
“Aliens?” I said doing my best Scully impression. He nodded like a more fanatic Fox Mulder. “Not the main aliens but spies. The perfect alien agent. They hang around human beings listening but nobody ever thinks to keep their voice down around them. You see them looking in windows. They’re always there. Watching. Listening. Eating Chips.”
“So why do you feed them?”
“They have no idea I’m onto them. They haven’t realised I know what they are. So I feed them false information. I sit on a park bench and talk into my phone,” He held up an old TV remote “They don’t know the difference. I pretend to have important conversations about Earth’s defenses. I talk about the missile bases we have all over the world. They listen and report back. If it wasn’t for me the aliens would know how badly defended we really are!”
Once I knew he was there I saw him often. Chatting into his “phone” in the park surrounded by seagulls.

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God

July 20, 2010 in G

By David Stewart



She had no idea she was a god.

Beth sat on a park bench every day eating her lunch, drinking her coffee and finishing the experience with a twix that she should told herself every time was the last one ever because her diet started tomorrow. While she sat she would watch people passing by and invent stories about them. The man walking the dog had no idea his wife was home in bed with his sister. The young couple were plotting the death of her mother so they could pay off their debts with the inheritance. The woman eating the sandwich was a psychiatrist who was committing a massive breach of her ethical standard by turning the life of one of her patients into a comic novel. The elderly man feeding the birds suffered from a rare kind of dementia, in three weeks he would become convinced he was a pigeon. The young girls laughing together on one of the benches wrote songs together at night, in a few years they would be accepting Grammy awards and headlining stadiums.

She had no idea why she felt the need to write their life stories in her head. It was a compulsion she couldn’t fight and never felt the need to.

She had no idea she was a god just as her subjects had no idea where their fates came from. They never knew the reason their lives turned out as they did was because a woman in the park eating a twix found them entertaining.

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Impulse

July 19, 2010 in I

By David Stewart


“It’s fate. It’s fate telling me that there’s no escaping who I am. See I’ve had these urges for as long as I can remember. I’ve wanted to do things… bad things. And I know they’re not the sort of things my momma would approve of. She’s passed now. But she raised me right. And part of that raisin’ was not hurtin’ other people, and hurtin’ was just the start of what I wanted to do. So I decided to get away. I got in my pickup and I drove. I didn’t have no place in mind I just drove. I wasn’t drivin’ to anywheres I was drivin’ away from something. But then fate stepped in. I got a message from fate telling me who I really was. This song came on the radio. Johnny Cash. I love Johnny Cash. It was Folsom Prison Blues. I know every word of that song and so when I heard the line it was like a bolt outta the blue. “I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.” I knew it was coming and I sang along and as I was singin’ those words I looked up and the sign said “Welcome to Reno.” Reno! What are the chances of me driving into Reno, even though I had no idea where I was, just when Johnny sings that line? It was fate. And then I saw you wearing those croc shoes and I HATE THOSE FUCKING SHOES so I had to follow you down this alley and shoot you… to watch you die…in Reno. Fate, it’s Fate. …what? What do you mean? San Remo? Really? San Remo? Near Phillip Island? Actually that would make more sense since I started driving in Melbourne and Reno is in America. I never thought to question that. Just like I never thought to wonder why I had an American accent all of a sudden. So the sign didn’t say Reno at all? Well I guess it wasn’t fate then. And now I come think about it the radio was playing an ad for some carpet cleaner and not Johnny Cash at all. Oops. Well this is embarrassing. Oh and I see you’re actually wearing boots not crocs… oh dear…. um…Look I’m going to shoot you again now so I can watch you die quicker.”

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Message

July 17, 2010 in M

By David Stewart

He handed her this note as she left the train.

“Dear person on the train.

According to my calculations your daily grooming takes the following amount of time…

Hair care: 10 minutes
Foundation: 2 minutes
Lipstick: 2 minutes
Eyeliner: 2 minutes.
Mascara: 5 minutes.
Accessorizing: 5 minutes

In addition to this daily routine you spend the following amount of time on a weekly basis.

Eyebrow plucking: 5 minutes
Upper lip waxing: 5 minutes
Additional hair care: 30 minutes.

In addition to this weekly routine you spend the following amount of time per month on further beauty and hair treatment:

4 hours.

According to my calculations you spend 26 minutes a day making yourself “Beautiful”
Assuming you perform this operation 7 days a week with the addition of an extra 40 minutes for your weekly routine you spend 222 minutes per week making yourself “Beautiful”
Assuming you perform this function 52 weeks per year (with the additional monthly routine included) you spend 14,424 minutes per year on your face alone, which equates to 240.4 hours or just over 10 full days a year. This only includes the face and makes no reference to any treatments that you may utilize for areas of your person concealed by clothing.

I estimate your age to be 36 years which (assuming you began personally grooming at age 18) means you have spent over 6 months of your life dedicated to your face. In this time you would have been able to…

Become fluent in Esperanto.
Read the Encyclopedia Britannica all the way through once and a second time up to the entry on Dachsund.
Master a woodwind instrument and learn all the clarinet parts from the score of My Fair Lady.
Become a competent painter and complete portraits of 98 individuals of your choice.
Learn the entire of a Shakespearean comedy and create the props necessary to perform a one person show.
Write a 400 page novel and redraft it three times.
Practice circus arts to the point where you could juggle 8 rings, 6 balls or 3 chainsaws while riding a unicylce and conducting an entertaining stage patter.

When you next come to attend to your personal grooming please consider how much more fulfilling your life could be if you altered some of your practices.”

He liked to believe he was making a difference.

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Mystique

July 8, 2010 in M

By David Stewart


“Okay. Gentlemen I feel confident that you’re going to be blown away by what we’ve come up with. I’ll be honest, we at Ovations Public Relations were a bit taken aback to be employed by The Freemasons, I mean I personally didn’t know what one of you was until I was put on this working team, but we think we’ve really taken your dilemma and excelled ourselves. You wanted to rebrand and modernise the face of masonry so can I present your new figurehead: Jason The Mason! Isn’t he fantastic? This is just a mock up photo we’ve done with someone from our office. If we go with the full campaign we’ll hire a model who is even more buff but this gives you the general idea. A tanned guy wearing nothing but sunglasses, a masonic apron and at-e-tude. He’s cool, he’s in your face and he knows the handshake. See our view is that we could rebrand masonry not as a secret society but more as a gang. It’s your posse. Masons are your homies.  You’re no longer part of the brotherhood you’re in the Brutha-hood! Join the gang whose members appear in court as the judge not the defendant!

…okay I’m sensing an air of hostility towards this idea. You guys didn’t seem as blown away by Jason as I thought you’d be. Is there any point showing you the video where hot chicks start to get horny when he puts an apron on? Okay. Pity… the chicks are really hot. Never mind as we promise at Ovations there is always a second concept that’s just as good. According to our focus groups when people think of masons they think two things, well three if you include: “what’s a mason?” The first was “outdated and old fashioned” and the second was: “Spooky, world-wide conspiracy controlling all forms of government.” This lead us to our second concept which we’re calling “Masonry – join the guys who really run the planet.”

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Patience

July 7, 2010 in P

By David Stewart

The legendary Nude Ghost of Merlynston appeared at my door last week. He was wearing clothes at the time but I knew he was the nude ghost because he told me he was and I believed him. Apparently he wasn’t really a ghost he was the inventor of the world’s first time machine, or at least he will be – or he was and he will be because he invents it in our future and his past. He came up with the idea in 2067 and decided to travel back in time to 2010. He took a copy of a sports journal with him and planned to get rich (he got the idea from a movie, they must have crazy movies in the future).

The problem was the Time Machine had issues and separated him from his clothes and possessions and spread them through time. So he arrived in 1953, stark naked and confused, although not as baffled as the woman who lived in the house at the time who screamed when a naked man appeared in her front room. The legend of the naked ghost was born as he ran off into the night. Marvin explained to me that his time machine only traveled in time and not space so he could only appear in our house which he owned in 2067. He dropped in today because according to his calculations this was the exact moment when his Time Machine was due to appear after they were separated on their maiden voyage. Not long after he arrived there was a strange sound like a choir impersonating machinery and then an audible pop. There in the middle of my living room was a single sock and a pair of underpants.

“Bugger” said Marvin with considerable feeling. “I got the time right but it’s not the machine it’s just more clothes.” He held up the underpants “I could really have done with these back in 1953.”

He left with his head hung low. I promised to mail the other sock to him if showed up but it was a minor consolation.

The next day I remembered a book I’d found in the house a month ago. It was some sports journal from 2067 but I thought it was a weird prank and threw it out.

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Reality

July 5, 2010 in R

By David Stewart

Mr Bickson? Good Morning my name is Charles Alex I’m  a private investigator with Alison, Alex and Acroyd Investigations. You’re wife hired me last month. No, no don’t worry it’s not related to any details related to your current life, she employed me to find out the truth about that weekend in 1969. Apparently she, along with the rest of your family, is sick of hearing you boast about attending the Woodstock Music and Arts festival. They hired me to find out whether you did attend the event as you claimed. Mr Bickson I’m here to tell you that you were not one of the people present at that historic gathering. Not only is there no record of you attending the event but I have eyewitness accounts placing you in  a completely different state at the time. You’re neighbor, a Miss Waterson clearly recalls you spending the afternoon of August 16th naked in a mud puddle in your own backyard under the influence of psychedelics of some kind. She believes the music you were listening to at the time was Jimi Hendrix although in her words she was never a fan and feels that it could have been “another of those noisy guitar people”. Although I would believe this accounts for your own recollection that you: “had a wild time grooving nude while Jimi played”. She also witnessed an event that occured in your own pumpkin patch which I feel explains your memory of making love to a voluptuous woman with a suntan and she describes as “a memory she’s tried to forget every day for years”.  Her story is corroborated by several other witnesses including a police office who recalls you calling him Janis throughout his attempt to caution you for unruly behaviour. Mr Bickson your wife has asked me to tell you she never again wants you to utter the phrases: “Yeah Woodstock, man that was a crazy scene” “Today’s kids don’t understand what life was like for those of us who were at the Stock” and “You can clearly see me in the movie in the crowd scenes”. You are however permitted to use the phrase “if you remember the sixties you weren’t really there.” In fact she would like you to recite this every morning after you wake up.

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Technology

June 30, 2010 in T

By David Stewart

She said he spent all his time on the computer and they never did anything new. The break up was so bad their friends still described it in hushed tones. The public screaming matches at a restaurant. The final day when he took to her wardrobe with scissors and she burnt his football memorabilia in the backyard. She moved out screaming up at the window with him shouting abuse from what used to be their bedroom. And then both got to work.

He sat down at his computer. He assembled every photograph he’d ever taken of her and put them in a folder on his desktop. He deleted all the ones in which she was posing and looked attractive and found only the worst examples, the most embarrassing shots taken when she was caught unawares, the “oh you have to delete that one” photos and the ones from their holiday when a drunken night had led to some flashing escapades in the hotel corridor. He knew the things she hated about herself, her nose which she always said was too big, the mole beneath her left breast, the fact that her pubic hair grew wild and unruly if she didn’t wax. With the latest version of photoshop, which he purchased especially, he sat down and went to work. Soon he had five shots he was pleased with. In every one he’d made her nose slightly larger, not grotesquely “that’s obviously shopped” larger but still slightly augmented. The mole was doubled in size in the flashing shots and he’d painstakingly replaced her neatly trimmed pubic area with a large bushy expanse of black hair. The blue eyes that first attracted him lost their brilliance. He reduced her breast size slightly and expanded her waist and hips. He put them on the internet posted as “My ex girlfriend.” They were viewed by four people and immediately swamped by a barrage of sexier, meaner or more amusing photographs.

She wrote a short paragraph about the time she caught him masturbating to the presenter on a children’s television program, photocopied it 10,000 times and threw them from a hot-air balloon she’d booked a ride on.

His story was the joke item on TV news bulletins all over the world. He became a viral video, an internet meme and an international joke. She became the toast of the celebrity party circuit.

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Doubt

June 18, 2010 in D

By David Stewart

What the hell am I doing with my life?

Sorry?

I’m talking about this! What’s this?

It’s a carrot. And not just any carrot. It’s a prize-winning carrot. You’ve won best carrot again and the judges are going to be here soon to judge the best Veggie in the competition.

Is this it? Is this what I do with my life? I grow carrots?

You grow the biggest carrots in the world. You’re the country’s most famous Prize winning carrot grower.

I’m sorry Marjorie but I’m just realising what a joke my life really is. I can’t think of anything more pathetic than growing giant carrots.

But you love carrots.

Nobody loves carrots! What sort of idiot loves fucking carrots!

Ethel! Language! You’ll be disqualified for conduct unbecoming.

Oh who gives a shit? I hate giant carrots. I despise these massive orange bastards. The real thing is okay in a salad but these enormous monstrosities are just obscene. They taste appalling. What’s the point in a carrot if it doesn’t taste nice?

But look at the size of it.

I spend hours tending to carrots. I’ve neglected my husband and my children so I could do everything possible to make bigger carrots and win the stupid veggie of the year competition. The year my prize Orange Majesty lost to Edna Cartwright’s parsnip was the worst night of my life. Can you tell me anything sadder than a woman crying herself to sleep because her freak vegetable came second to someone else’s freak vegetable in some pointless competition?

Now Ethel calm down. You’ve had some fairy floss and you know what you’re like with too much sugar.

Oh it’s not the bloody sugar it’s my entire life. I told off my Grandson the other day because he’d spent two hours on the internet. I told him he should get out and enjoy some sunshine. And then I spent the afternoon laying down aphid traps. I have no idea what he was looking at for two hours but I bet it was more productive than waging a pointless war with an insect in order to protect a mutant vegetable. Fuck this Marjorie I’m off to throw this carrot into a dumpster and I’m going home to sign up for a facebook account. Good luck with the competition and if your marrow wins first place for god’s sake don’t bother telling me.

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Passion

June 14, 2010 in P

By David Stewart


-Passionate? I don’t think I’m an especially passionate person. Although I do get angry when I see people using Internet Explorer. I mean you should be on firefox at the very least but you’re not surfing the net unless your surfing in chrome.

-What do I get passionate about?  I have a petition here that I’m writing to demand Stephen Moffat, the new headwriter for Doctor Who, limit the Doctor’s use of the sonic screwdriver to the purpose it was originally intended which is turning screws and at most manipulating locks. Russell T Davis turned the Sonic Screwdriver, or the Sonic screwup as I call it, into a magical device capable of doing anything which completely ruined the original premise which was…

-I tell you what I get passionate about and in fact this Saturday afternoon I can show you. I’m part of an atheist group that pickets church fetes. We turn up with signs saying “There is no God” and make sure those Christian bastards get a taste of some rational thinking. I have no objection to them selling home-made cakes and old books but when they do it in the name of their imaginary friend it’s an affront to reason.

-I’m passionate about Billy Joel. Really. I hate him.

-I’m passionate about the use of appropriate grammar on the internet. I’m trying to petition the government to utilise a program which will disconnect anyone from the internet who misuses the possessive apostrophe. My wife believes it should operate on a “three strikes and you’re out” policy but I think a zero tolerance approach is the only way.

-I’m passionate about how bad the Australian Olympic uniforms are for the next Olympics. I haven’t seen them yet but I know they’ll be appalling and a national embarrassment and I want to get my outrage in early before it’s drowned out in the general flood of indignation.

-I’m passionate about bottoms. God I love bottoms. Seriously I can get really excited by a good bum.

-I’m passionate about everything- masterchef, survivor, talent. I’m just a really passionate person.

-I’m quite passionate about the fact that the village in my homeland has been poisoned by wealthy developers who have illegally dumped chemicals into our water supply but the government refuses to do anything about the situation. Few people in this country seems to share my passion. Thankyou for asking.

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Raid

June 11, 2010 in R

By David Stewart

It started as a company team-building exercise. Paintballing. Sales versus accounts. We won.

Sales demanded a rematch. We agreed if they paid. Then it got serious. Every weekend – paintballing without mercy, the losing team pays for next week’s game. For seven months it was all we thought about, we discussed tactics, drew up plans. We had a vacancy in the department and chose the candidate based on fitness not qualifications.

Then Brian bought some paintballing guns on ebay. We didn’t have to pay for two-hour sessions anymore, we could spend an entire day waging war in national parks.

So why wait for weekends? Why sit in an office wishing the days would pass quickly when your team and the enemy had a common lunch hour? 12:30 on the dot we’d rush off to a park. 40 minutes a game, last man standing wins for their team.

October 15th was the day it got out of hand. I was sitting at my desk when I heard someone scream: “It’s a raid!”

I looked up and saw the sales department storming the room, masks on, guns ready.  Rogers was standing in the corridoor completely unprotected. He copped three direct hits in the chest and went down straight away- not because he was observing any rules but because one was a groinshot. Clarkson made a dash for his desk but got a round in the back. Kelly looked over her cubicle to see what was going on and took a hit in the forehead.

I hit the deck. Thankfully I always kept my weapon under my desk because I liked to hold it during conference calls. I guessed they’d be  sweeping down the main aisle with two flanking teams on either side. I turned my swivel chair around and used it for cover. Six shots, four kills. When I got to the next desk I threw a weapon to Arthurs who was crouching unarmed behind a filing cabinet. She took down three more in a suicide raid.

“Grenade” shouted a voice behind me as Brent threw a paint-filled balloon taking four casualties. There were only two left and I heard one of them say “We’re in trouble, call in the air raid”. Suddenly the fire sprinklers went off spraying paint all over the office.

That’s when I knew it had gotten out of hand.

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Stamps

June 6, 2010 in S

By David Stewart


“Hello, excuse me, Man. Hello Man.” He came up to me on the street. He was a funny looking guy. Really pale and sort of greenish. His eyes kept changing colour. His fingers were webbed I couldn’t help but notice. “Excuse me Man. I was wondering if you could explain an aspect of the primitive culture you have on this plane – I mean on this – in this town. The primitive culture you have in this town.” he looked pleased with himself.
“Well I’ll do my best,” I said.
“Stamps. Can you explain to me stamps.”
“Postage stamps?”
“Yes. This is correct. Post-age stamps. Please explain them.”
“Well they’re just little bits of paper. Sticky paper. And they’ve got a picture on them. And you put them on envelopes to send letters to people.”
“And then they can be used again?”
“No. They only get used once.”
He scratched his head in confusion which moved his entire haircut. “So tell me please why some stamps are exchanged for thousands of your earth dollars?”
“Well it’s because they’re rare.”
“Have they become imbued with healing qualities?”
“No.”
“Do they contain the spirits of your dead ancestors and must be maintained in order to preserve a link with the afterlife?”
“No.”
He made a weird sound that I took to indicate frustration. “So you tell me that the only reason the stamps became valuable is because there are few of them?”
“Yeah, that’s about it.”
“Even though they are no longer used for the original purpose?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of odd when you think about it.”
“Odd? Yes this is the earth-word I’m searching for. It is odd that a tiny piece of paper originally sold for a tiny sum can become very valuable merely because all the other similar pieces of paper are no longer accessible. This is odd. I struggle to understand your race.”
“Yeah. If it’s any consolation we don’t really understand ourselves. So where is it you’re -”
“Can you tell me anything about the long-range ballistic defense capabilities of your planet and any early warning systems you may have in place for the detection of invasion forces arriving from other galaxies?”
“Oooh…. no not really I’m afraid. I’m in retail so I tend to be better with marketing analysis to be honest. Intergalactic defense isn’t really my area.”
“No matter. Thankyou earthman. You have been most helpful.”

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Regret

June 5, 2010 in R

By David Stewart

I should have said flying. When he said “Which superpower do you want?” I should have said flying. It would be great to fly, to be able to go anywhere and see anything. Such freedom. I’d give anything to be able to fly. In fact I’d give anything just to be able to move.

I had no idea the guy was serious. He said he could grant me any superpower in the world. Any power at all. So of course I said I’d like to stop time. I mean who wouldn’t? I’d never need to study for exams again – just stop time and go and look up the answers. I’d get revenge on every bully in the school and the girls changing rooms would no longer be some kind of exotic mystery. I had so many plans – the perfect crime spree, untold wealth and incredible power. Sigh.

I said “The power to stop time!” and he clicked his fingers and was gone. So I stopped time. What I should have said was “The power to stop time and the ability to still move around and affect things even though time was stopped and then the power to start time again.” But I didn’t. So here I am. Frozen. In my periphery vision (I can’t move my eyeball) I can just make out the girl I was going to undress after she froze. She’s frozen now but I can’t move a muscle to get near here. I’m stuck here, frozen for the rest of… well not time because I’ve stopped time. I’m stuck here for the rest of whatever there is when time stops.

I should have said flying.

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Substitute

June 1, 2010 in S

By David Stewart

Well this is a predicament. I definitely shouldn’t be here.  I shouldn’t be at Lords full stop. I don’t like cricket. I only came because friends had a spare ticket and I knew Rachel was going so I thought I’d turn up and see how things went. I thought all the people injuring themselves was what normally happened. I didn’t know one person getting carried off the field was unusual let alone seven. Apparently it’s a first for cricket let alone The Ashes, whatever the hell they are.

I should definitely have kept my mouth shut. When they asked if anyone could help out the English team I thought they meant offer some solace to the wounded. And I thought since I’m a fully qualified Reiki practitioner I was just what they needed. I only found out they needed me to play when the put me in these ludicrous white pajamas. Now I’m a substitute fielder whatever that means. Goodness there are lots of people here.

Just stand out there and field, they said. There’s only one ball left anyway they said, which I have to say strikes me as bad planning. I would have thought in a big game like this they’d have brought along more than one ball.

Right so that man there is going to bowl and I’m to stand here and field. Apparently Australia need four runs to win the ashes and we need one wicket to win. But if neither happens it’s a draw. Hopefully the ball won’t come anywhere near me.

Oooh he’s hit it. He’s really hit that rather hard. I think I should probably sprint over there and try and stop that. This will be close but if I dive I could probably cut it off. I wonder which will annoy them more, letting the ball go or getting grass stains on these pants? Nevermind dive… I’ve stopped it. The ball’s stuck in my hand. Goodness what a reception. Everyone is clearly delighted. I’m a hero. This is fantastic! And there’s Rachel in the front row looking ecstatic. I think I’m in with a chance here, I’ll go and get a hug and see if I can… oh dear. They’ve all stopped cheering. In fact they’ve started groaning in disapointment. They didn’t seem too pleased when i stepped over this rope here.

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Illegal

May 31, 2010 in I

By David Stewart

It’s against the law to wear a top hat while drinking tea in public in Watson Ohio. Not only is it against the law but the fine is $400 American. And the law is actually being actively enforced. I know this because myself and three of my friends recently paid this sum to the police officers of the town of Watson while I was there on holiday.

“You can’t seriously be fining me for this?”

“Yes I can son. And I am.”

“But it’s a stupid law.”

“Then it’s an even more stupid person that breaks it. Look on this as a stupidity tax.”

“But it’s just an old law left over from years ago that nobody had bothered to repeal yet.”

“Nope. Not true son. It’s a new law. We wrote it up ten years back.”

“Why?”

“Well son it’s like this. We thought if we passed a really stupid law then really stupid college kids and tourists would think it was hilarious to come out to Watson to break it. And sure enough here you are.”

“Wait, are you telling me you do this deliberately?”

“Yup. Every town in the US has a law like this now. It brings in the tourists and raises a fortune for us in the police department. We’ve made nearly 10 grand this year alone from you numbnuts.”

“I can’t believe I’ve been scammed.”

“Why do you think every shop around here sells top hats?”

“I was wondering.”

“Well now you know. Here’s your hat back. If you’re thirsty there’s vending machine in the main street. Sells a mighty fine darjeeling.”

“Thanks.”

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Plan

May 26, 2010 in P

By David Stewart

I thought we’d managed to pull off the perfect April Fools prank. We stole Danny’s prized VW Beetle, drove to his workplace, broke in and then dismantled the car and got it in the back door. It took a while but we got all the parts into his office and pushed all the furniture back to make a beetle-sized space. Three hours later we’d reassembled the car and were cleaning up when Carol rang.
“Hey Carol, we’re just finishing up now. Tomorrow he’s going to find his car gone and when he gets into work it’s going to be parked right here in his office! Where are you?”
“Danny’s office. Where the hell are you?”
“We’re in Danny’s office.”
“No you’re not. Trust me I’ve visited Danny in his office loads of times. I’m looking in the window and it’s empty.”
“Then where the hell are we?”
“I’ve got no idea.”
“We’re in Clarkson Accounting.”
“It’s Clarkdale Accounting. He works for Clarkdale accounting.”
“Shit.”
“Are you telling me you dismantled the Yellow Peril and put it back together in the wrong place?”
“Umm… yeah I think so.”
“You’ve just brought a stolen car into a complete stranger’s office!”
“Carol… why is it called the Yellow Peril?”
“Because it’s yellow and breaks down a lot.”
“This car is blue.”

There was a long pause. Rob was trying to get my attention.

“Danny’s car is definitely yellow.” Carol sounded very sure.
“This car is definitely blue.”
“So you’ve dismantled a stranger’s car and assembled it in another stranger’s office?”

Rob was really eager to get my attention now.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Well you know how we assembled the back first and then rolled it back so we had room to put the front on?”
“Yeah!”
“We’ve rolled it against the door which opens inwards. We’re kind of trapped.”
“Can’t we dismantle it again?”
“We need to get to the back and we can’t because it’s up against the door and there’s no room to roll it forward. And there’s no other way out.”
“Carol…slight problem. We seem to have broken into a stranger’s office and trapped ourselves inside with a car we stole.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“This is a disaster. There is no way this could possibly get any worse. Hey careful with that pole, if you hit one of those sprinklers and it goes off we’re-    ….fuck.”

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Subterfuge

May 25, 2010 in S

By David Stewart

“Right everyone we’ll make a start. It’s part of our new School Action Plan to start all staff meetings on time and so we’ll begin and latecomers will just have to read the minutes. First item on the agenda is Tim Simpkins the new boy who started this week in Mrs Wattle’s grade 2/3 composite class. Now I know there are those of you who believe that Tim is too old for the class he’s been placed in but I would like to remind you that he does suffer from a physical disability which makes him look older than he is. And yes I’ve checked his condition does cause the child to grow to a larger than conventional size so the fact that he’s nearly six foot is not- …look Roger I’ve told you before Tim Simpkins is not a full grown man. He’s a child with a disability- …I’m sure because I asked him if he was really a man and he cried. I don’t know about you but I don’t enjoy making young boys cry, even if they are larger than me. No I don’t want to see the newspaper I’m much more interested in moving on to the next item on the agenda. We’ve got a busy schedule…. Yes, you’re right that does look like him. In fact that’s Tim Simpkins without a doubt. What on earth is he doing in The Age? “New Minister for Education promises to see schools first hand.” Are you suggesting the Minister for Education has enrolled his disabled son at our school to- …no. No! No that can’t be right! Although it would explain why he asked to see our curriculum documentation, I remember thinking that was an odd request for an 8 year old.  Are you seriously suggesting that we’ve had the Federal Minister for Education masquerading as a small child in Mrs Wattle’s class? Alright I promise to look into this matter first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll make it my top priority. We’ll move onto item two- apparently there’s a student in the junior classes who is parking his lexus in the staff car park. I’ll deal with that tomorrow as well. Item three- apparently we’re going to have a very important visitor next week- a councillor from the local mayor’s office. …for some reason I’m less excited by that now than I was this morning.”

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Vindication

May 24, 2010 in V

By David Stewart

Technically yes, you’re correct I did fare evade. There were two whole stops when I was on the tram without a ticket. You obviously noticed me standing by the machine attempting to purchase one but you don’t care about that. The fact that I searched for change so I could purchase a ticket and then removed myself from the vehicle as soon as I realised I didn’t have anything smaller than a large note isn’t relevant  is it? My attempts to be a good citizen mean nothing to either of you – as far as your concerned you’ve caught a fare evader so it’s a job well done. Even though that fare evader is an honest, law-abiding member of the community who made a brief mistake. Well done. You must be two very proud ticket inspectors. Now as I understand the law I have to provide you with my name and address. As I understand it you’re also capable of alerting the authorities, they’re the ones in real uniforms who catch real criminals, should I try and affect an escape. I’m also led to believe that you have no authority to use force on me in any way. While you may feel that the advantage is in your favour I know the opposite to be true. You see I’m a retired gentlemen and my time is essentially my own.  I was catching the tram to watch a cricket match at the local club so I’ve packed food and drink to last the day and have no concrete plans until much later this evening. I am however more than happy to spend the rest of the morning and the afternoon right here on this quite comfy bench regaling the two of you with stories about my life and travels. …Yes I will tell you my name I think that’s an excellent place to start. It’s Gerald. …No I won’t divulge my surname just yet because I wish to tell you all about  my uncle Gerald after whom I was named. During this account I will weave several subtle clues which you may utilise to ascertain the street number of my house. Not the flat number I think I’ll reveal that to you much later after I’ve told you all about my Grandchildren. Just wait while I get my thermos out.

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Awkward

May 18, 2010 in A

By David Stewart

And would you welcome our next contestant from Melton in Victoria it’s Mr Barry Rogers! (Applause) Welcome Barry.

Thanks Ted.

Now Barry you’ve decided to answer questions about John Tyler the 10th President of the United States of America.

No… No that’s not correct.

It isn’t?

No my subject is John Tyler, lead guitarist and songwriter from seminal heavy metal prog rockers Angel Scream.

Ah… that’s a pity because the questions we’ve got here all relate to the President. Do you know anything about President John Tyler?

I didn’t even know there was one.

Hang on I’m just getting a message from the producer in my earpiece. Okay…. okay right. Sorry Barry but it’s live TV and we can’t throw to a commercial yet so your time starts… now! On what date was Tyler’s Presidential inauguration?

I don’t know!

April 4th 1841. Who did Tyler send to China to negotiate the terms of the Treaty of Wanghia?

I don’t know!

Caleb Cushing. Tyler’s father was the Governor of which state?

New York?

Virginia. The vetoing of what kind of bill in June 1842 led to the first attempt to impeach a President in American legal history?

Please make this stop.

A bank bill. The USS Princeton accident claimed the lives of two of Tyler’s ministers. One was Thomas Gilmer, who was the other?

This is the most humiliating experience of my life.

Abel Upsher. Who did Tyler throw his support behind after he pulled out of the 1944 Presidential race?

I don’t know and I DON’T CARE!

James Polk. The lead guitarist from which rock band shares his name with President Tyler?

I don’t know.

Angel Scream. On what date did Tyler die?

Wait I knew that! That’s not fair I knew Angel Scream I just stopped paying attention!

January 18 1962. And there’s the buzzer. So Barry at the end of your time you scored no points on John Tyler the President of the United States. Which means you’re the equal leader along with Carol who answered no questions about Jim Morrison the British Member for Parliament and Brian who scored no points on questions about John Lennon, the British mariner. John us after the break when Arthur Crampton from Newcastle will be answering questions about The Rolling Stones, a group of amateur geology enthusiasts from New Zealand.

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Copyright

May 17, 2010 in C

By David Stewart


Knock Knock.

Yes, can I help you?

Mr Freemont?

Yes that’s correct.

The same Mr Freemont who returned to life after being technically dead for three days?

That’s me. I’m a genuine medical miracle apparently.

You’re also in breach of copyright.

Excuse me?

Mr Freemont I represent Universal studios who recently purchased exclusive rights to the story of Jesus Christ and your “Medical miracle” as you term it an act of plagarism.

I don’t understand.

A character in an upcoming film Jesus of Nazareth returns to life after a period of three days, you’re own return to life is-

Yes but Jesus was crucified on a cross. I fell down some stairs.

The manner of the death isn’t the subject of this law suit it’s the subsequent resurrection that breaches-

Hang on,  my resurrection wasn’t my idea it was a miracle that-

I have to stop you there Mr Freemont as the words “Resurrection” and “Miracle” are now the property of Universal pictures as are “disciple” “messiah” and “leprosy.”

But I’m nothing like Jesus.

According to our research your father was a carpenter, you own a pair of sandals and last week your face appeared in a tortilla in mexico.

I thought that was Elvis.

It depends on the angle of the lighting.

This is absurd. Can you see it your christian hearts to forgive me?

I don’t do forgiveness Mr Freemont I’m a laywer and an atheist. I just serve notice.

God this is awful.

Don’t say God Mr Freemont, that character is also a registered trademark of Universal Studios.

Right. Sorry.

Here is your summons to appear in court. Until your appointed court date I must warn you not to return to life again and to refrain from restoring sight, walking on water or feeding large groups of people with small amounts of food.

But I work in catering.

Not anymore.

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Pointless

May 13, 2010 in P

By David Stewart


Hello my name’s Darren James and I wrote and directed this movie.

Hi. I’m Rob Hendricks and I play the part of Jim …and this is the first one of these I’ve ever done.

Really? This is your first DVD commentary?

Yeah.  I was a bit surprised to be asked actually.

You didn’t think you were the commentary type?

No I just didn’t think they did commentaries for OH&S Videos.

A lot of people don’t but I always do. So Rob tell me what’s going through your mind right now?

Well I’m wondering what sort of person would watch an audio commentary for a video called “Ergonomics at your workstation.”

No in this scene, as an actor. What was going through your head when we were filming this?

Oh sorry. Um… I was thinking: I’m walking to the desk… hope I don’t trip over.

It’s a shame you didn’t, we could have used that for the outtakes featurette which is mainly shots of you doing the stretches slightly wrong.

I’m surprised you didn’t put in those establishing shots of me entering the office.

They’re in the deleted scenes. And there’s the option to watch the 22 minute Director’s cut with the extra footage back in. I think it helps establish your character. So tell us, as an actor how do you prepare for a role like this?

Well I… turn up and listen to the director and try to be a guy sitting at a computer.

But there’s a deeper layer than that isn’t there? I don’t want to cover this in too much detail because I’m sure you’ll discuss it in the Making-of featurette which we’re shooting this afternoon.

So this commentary is more about the technical stuff?

No that’s the commentary I do with the editor.

Right. That chair was comfy.

It looks good too. It looks like an office chair.

Well it is.

The whole set looks like a real office. It’s very authentic.

It is a real office.

I spent hours making sure it looked perfect.

So you took a real office and worked on it to make it look like a real office?

I spent a full hour just working out the best place to put that cup full of pencils.

The one I knocked over?

Yes.

And put back on the other side so I wouldn’t knock it again?

Yes. That’s the one…

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Excuse

May 12, 2010 in E

By David Stewart

“I have a theory about women. I’ve had it all my life and going out with you has confirmed it as truth in my mind. There are two types of women in the world: Chicken Nuggets and Peanut M&M’s. All women are delicious, like nuggets dripping in sauce or chocolaty Peanut M&Ms.  But Chicken Nuggets aren’t women you want to go out with. Chicken nuggets are all the wost parts of the chicken. They’re the gristle, offcuts, foreheads, buttocks and the bits that even the chicken was happy to get rid off. They take these skanky, raw scraps and they mush them together into a nugget shape that they coat in preservatives and artificial flavours. Then they freeze it and ship it to stores where sad, pimply teenagers who pick their nose drop them and sneeze on them and then fry them in rancid fat.  The end result might be delicious but if you think about what they really are they make you sick.

Peanut M&Ms are different. They take a yummy peanut that you could happily eat right there in the factory and then they coat it in chocolate. Pure liquid yumminess that turns a humble nut into something yummier. But then to make it even better they coat it in any one of a rainbow of delicious colour. I still don’t understand how they make it a perfect pellet of delight. If it was on a conveyor belt there would be a flat bit where it sat on a flat surface. But if you examine one it’s flawless. The only conclusion I can come to is that each one is hand-crafted by trained artisans who apply the sugary coating with special brushes making sure there isn’t a blemish on the delicious surface.

If you think about the Chicken Nugget women you realise the deliciousness isn’t worth the horribleness. But the more I think about M&M women the more you appreciate how special and wonderful you are. So that packet you found in my pocket isn’t there because I’ve eaten some M&M’s. I would never do that because I’m following that diet you set out for me. I just carry an empty packet with me to remind me that I’m lucky enough to snag an M&M woman. That packet is really a photo of your soul.”

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Pets

May 10, 2010 in P

By David Stewart

Dear Martha,

I must ask you kindly not to give me any more pets in future. I understand you’re a big-hearted person and while it is thoughtful to give pets with disabilities to a sight-impaired person such as myself my own daily care is quite an effort without having to look after a blind dog as well. Not that I don’t love Pickles. He’s very affectionate. When he hears me sit in the recliner he makes his way over to my side and jumps straight into my lap. Although being blind he can’t check to see whether my lap is actually empty at the time. This week alone he’s jumped straight into my knitting, a tape recorder and a bowl of soup. Whiskers the cat is also a delight although his blindness does add an element of adventure to our lives. I often hear him and Pickles fighting. At first I assumed they didn’t get on but now I realise they just bump into each other a lot. Sadly my own vision impairment prevents me from keeping an accurate tally of the number of cats in the house at any given time. Four times yesterday I let Whiskers inside when he was mewing at the door and each time wondered how he’d got out again. It was only when I felt him brush against both my calves at once that I realised I’ve been providing a haven for a number of neighbourhood felines. One of them has taken to biting the pages of my braille novel which serves to amend the text substantially.  I assume Arthur the deaf and dumb budgie is a continual delight but since I can’t hear him and he can’t hear me I’ve got no way of telling. The latest addition to my menagerie will fit in nicely although I’m confused as to the difference between a dyslexic fish and a normal one. Do fish normally read quite well? Either way I thank you for the thought but must ask again that you desist from further animal presents in future. Now if you’ll excuse me I must go because it sounds like the agoraphobic cow is having a freak out in the back yard again and I need to put a bucket on his head, a challenging task even for the fully-sighted.

Yours faithfully, Enid.

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Duty

May 7, 2010 in D

By David Stewart

“What’s that? What’s that in the corner of my eye? It moves whenever I turn to see it. Hang on… it’s my tail! It’s my tail! I could bite it! Hooray! Come here tail. Wheeee chase the tail chase the tail chase the tail. Ooh I’m getting dizzy now. I’ll stop and have a scratch. Oooh hang on. What’s that I smell. Cat! I smell cat. Must chase cat! Run across the park. Whheee I love the way my ears flap. I’m sure I can run faster than this though, it’s like something is holding me back. Nevermind run fast! Through the hedge. Across the playground. This is great I love… whatever it is I’m doing. I think I was chasing something but I can’t remember what but it’s okay because I’m having a great run. Now I’ll run up to those kids and bark at them. That’s a great game which I’m sure they’ll understand the rules of straight away. See I run up and bark and you- oh they’ve gone. Nevermind there’s a pond! A pond a genuine pond with water and everything. Must run to the pond. Gee running is hard all of sudden, much harder than usual. Nevermind splash! Whahay! Fantastic look at all this water I can bark at. I love a good splash in water… wait a minute I seem to have some sort of lead attached to my collar. Hang on there’s some guy holding the lead. What’s going on there… oh it’s coming back to me now. All that Guide dog training I did. Oh yeah I remember now. That whole seeing-eye dog and the blindness and… ponds were definitely a no no. Oops. Right. Okay I’m a guide dog and that’s okay. I will lead the master back to the car park slowly and carefully and keep an eye out for traffic and… wait what’s that? What’s that in the corner of my eye? It moves whenever I turn to see it… It’s my Tail!”

a

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Discovery

May 5, 2010 in D

By David Stewart

Ring Ring, Ring Ring.

“Hello Darling It’s me, it’s Walter… I’m great. I’m amazing in fact. We’ve just made the most amazing discovery. Antarctica is teeming with wildlife! It’s incredible. We’ve been down here on this base for 5 months now and I always thought there wasn’t much here but apparently it’s just full of animals. Barry and Reg made the discovery earlier today. They were out searching for rock samples and they realised they were being watched by thousands of penguins. The reason they didn’t notice them the first time is because they’re albino penguins. Apparently there are millions of totally white penguins kicking around this place but we’ve never noticed because they keep their eyes closed. But Barry said he fell over and accidentally made a noise like a fish and a thousand pairs of pink eyes opened at once. It freaked them out apparently. Reg thinks the penguins conceal themselves when they have their eyes open by nestling underneath polar bears and pretending to be their scrotums. The two round pink eyes look just like Polar bear testicles.  But that’s not the most exciting part. There are other albino animals here as well. There are marmosets, sloths, okapi and even a variety of giraffe! All of them pure white and invisible when they keep their eyes closed. Reg spotted the giraffe first and said it explains why he once saw a pair of polar bear testicles hovering 12 feet in the air. It was actually the eyes of… yes I know it doesn’t sound plausible but Reg and Barry said… because he made a noise like a fish… I don’t know I didn’t ask him that, just a general fishy noise. …No I haven’t seen them myself but… of course there are polar bears in Antarctica, I haven’t  actually seen any but… Well it’s April. April the 1st.  …what are you saying? Nooo. No they wouldn’t do that, I’ve filed an official report and everything… oh crap.”

a

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Asset

March 27, 2010 in A

By David Stewart

It took 3 years of playing pubs before we got someone from a record company to come to a rehearsal. We hoped he would sign us up straight away. He spent the first song looking at us all as we played. Nothing on his face. We finished and waited for him to speak: “Did you write that yourselves?”

We nodded. He nodded too. “It sounds like Memory Motel. By The Stones. Same chords.”

We played another original. An uptempo number. He didn’t move at all. “Ever heard of the Yardbirds? That one sounded just like Over Under Sideways Down. Their biggest hit.”

“When our regular bass player gets here I’ll be a lot more dynamic,” said our lead singer who was filling in on bass as well as singing. “I’ve got some moves which -” The record company guy waved his hand as if this didn’t matter.

We played another song. At the end of it he looked at the guitarist. “So do you normally play guitar or are you a keyboard player filling in?”

“No I play guitar.”

“Did you guys write that one yourselves?” We nodded. He nodded too. “Volunteers. Jefferson Airplane. Sounded just like it. Only Grace Slick can really sing. She’s got an amazing voice.”

He got a text during the next song and was still replying when we stopped. “That one sounded like Memory Motel again.”

“Should we play another fast one?” I asked from behind the drumkit.

“No that’s okay.” He put his phone away and looked directly at me and then at every member of the band in turn. “You’re playing is competent enough but not really very exciting; you look like the sort of boys my daughter ignores at school; your attitude isn’t rebellious it’s just desperate; your songs are basically a re-write of classic rock from the late sixties, so there’s really no reason…”

He stopped when our bass player walked in. She’d texted earlier to say her bike had a puncture and she’d be late. She was wearing tight bike shorts and a tank top. Her long blonde hair was tied back. She flashed him a smile and stepped into the light where he could see her blue eyes. He looked at her the way my mum examines cuts of meats at the market.

“…no reason why I shouldn’t sign you up immediately. Welcome to the record label.”

A

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Lesson

March 25, 2010 in L

By David Stewart

I was 11 years old and she taught me a valuable lesson. She provided an important rite of passage moment that every child has to have in order to reach adulthood. And she never knew.

She was about 24. She had long black hair and she laughed a lot. She was tall and had large breasts that I was just starting to realize held some sort of magical appeal. To be honest when I think about her now all I can really picture is black hair and cleavage. She was talking to my mother and I was listening and watching…

“Well I wanted to plant geraniums but I’ve got this excellent book called Planting by the Stars, it changed the way I think about my garden. It’s obvious really: the zodiac has a very real and profound effect on our lives so why shouldn’t it affect plants in the same way? I wanted to plant geraniums but then I thought no – because that would mean by the time they came into full life they’d be Capricorns, and that’s a terrible sign for a flower. It’s just too practical. A great sign for a hedge but not for something that’s supposed to have an inner beauty. So I waited and planted them when they would be a Scorpio instead. They died sadly but I know they’re still with me. Somewhere in my garden are some truly beautiful spirits of Scorpio geraniums in full bloom.”

She taught me a valuable lesson that day, she taught me that grown up’s didn’t know everything. Just being an adult didn’t automatically mean you weren’t an idiot.

A

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Mistake

March 23, 2010 in M

By David Stewart

“Okay welcome back from the lunch break. I hope you’ve all refueled ready for this afternoon’s session. Now this morning we learnt about received opinions and how much damage they can do to a company like yours if you don’t challenge them. Remember the three rules: Challenge what you know, Learn what you don’t, Assess what you find.  Now we’re going to take what you learnt this morning and with some practical applications see how your firm can overcome received opinions and be ultra-competitive in the 21st century marketplace.

Here in this box I have some things that will help us deal with received opinions. I’m just going to tip them onto the table!

Now who can stop and tell me what you’re doing right now! You see you’re all reacting to a received opinion but this is a chance to Challenge what you know – No don’t do that! It’s okay, stop screaming, I need someone to have a stop-moment and clarify for the group – No it’s okay they don’t bite, they’re harmless carpet snakes – please stop screaming! Can we bring the room back to order please we need to – Well of course it bit you, I’d bite you too if you hit me with a ring-binder. I said they don’t bite but what I meant was they’re not venomous. He’ll let go if you just stop shaking your arm. Please everyone calm down! It’s just a few snakes and some blood and your scaring them! No there’s no point trying to get out I’ve locked the door so – Oh No! You didn’t have to do that these snakes are really expensive and – NO HE SHOULD NOT TRY AND KILL THE REST AS WELL! Just calm down people! I’m going to bill your company for the death of a trained snake and if anyone else gets any wild ideas with a pair of scissors I’ll have to – No the table won’t support everyone’s weight, can we get off the table please! People can we – Oh see that was always going to happen, it wasn’t designed to support an entire sales department. Shit there were at least three more snakes under there when it collapsed. I don’t give a stuff about your broken leg I’m more concerned about your ability to deal with received opinions and my trained snakes… Oh I knew I shouldn’t have quit my teaching job.”

A

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Lies

March 22, 2010 in L

By David Stewart

“Mr President before we begin your first Pentagon briefing it’s my duty, while it’s just the two of us, to give you what we in the military refer to as The Mindfuck Talk. I’m sorry to use such a crude expression in this hallowed room but believe me it’s been used before by every one of your predecessors when they’re told what I’m telling you now.

We should begin with some news about the nation’s nuclear arsenal… there isn’t one. Atom bombs don’t exist, it’s a crazy idea anyway- split something really teeny tiny and make a massive explosion? Crazy. I know, we’ve all seen the footage but it’s all just a clever spin on historical events. At the end of the World War the Japs decided to resort to desperate measures. They got a sqaudron of Kamakaze bombers; Planes loaded with as high explosive and boxes of uranium. They meant to hit Darwin, not the atheist evolution guy, it’s a city in Australia.

Thankfully we got wind of the idea and bombed their wharehouse in Hiroshima so the plan blew up in their face, literally. A massive stockpile of explosives- kaboom! A glorious moment. Nobody knows what happened in Nagasaki,we think it was an accident. The Japs knew they had to surrender but their people wouldn’t just accept it. So our boys cooked up a plan and put it to their top brass. We’d take credit for Hiro and Nag and claim it was a new super-weapon which would allow them to capitulate and save face.

Russian spies realised it was all a fake and rather than calling us out on it they just claimed to have the technology themselves. We both spent the Cold War pretending to have bombs the other side knew didn’t exist which turned us into the two biggest players on the block. Other countries caught on and they all fell in line pretending to own some themselves.

I know Mr President I felt cheated myself when they told me. I grew up practicing duck and cover under my school desk just like you did. I joined the military thinking we had a massive arsenal of the greatest killing machines ever, it was quite a kick in the teeth when I found out. We should press on Mr President- what would you like the truth about next: Aliens, LSD, Roswell, giraffes, JFK or Madonna?”

a

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Peril

March 17, 2010 in P

By David Stewart

I’ve been cleaning the outside windows in high-rise buildings for years. You name it and I’ve seen it as my cart gets lowered past the window. But I’d never seen anything like this before.

It was a boardroom with one of those huge tables that powerful people sit around. And believe me these people were powerful. Both the Bushs were there: George and George his Dad. Bill Gates was chatting with that weird bald bloke who runs Apple. Oprah Winfrey was on one side of the Pope and Jamie Oliver sat on the other. The Queen of England was smoking a cigar with Rush Limbaugh at one end of the table. Stephen Spielberg was chatting with someone who I assumed was a Sultan of some kind and they were both sharing a joke with Ringo Starr, which surprised me. It took a while to place the person in between Rupert Murdoch and Stephen Fry but eventually I realised it was Elvis who was clearly alive and had grown a beard.

At the head of the table was a large flip chart that Hugh Hefner was writing on with a permanent marker. At the top of the chart were written the words: “Priorities” and underneath with a series of items with levels written next to them. “Choose new leader of United Nations” had “high” written next to it as did: “Determine Oscar winners,”  ”Start new war in Africa,” “Come up with new global pandemic scare” and “Conceal evidence of latest alien contact.” The word “low” was written next to “Solve world hunger” and “find sustainable energy source.”

I was trying to read another item on the board when I noticed Hugh was staring straight at me. I gave a small apologetic wave as he raised a finger to point in my direction. One by one every head in the room turned to look my way until all the most important people on the planet were facing me and not looking impressed. I started cleaning the window as if I hadn’t seen a thing.

Hugh turned back to the flip-chart and wrote “Kill Window cleaner” and next to it wrote “V High Priority”.

Madonna stood up, produced a large knife from the folds of her leather pants and walked towards the window.

a


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Frustration

March 16, 2010 in F

By David Stewart

She walked into the office and took her coat off, just like she did every morning. I watched, just like I did every morning, hoping she was wearing the low-cut pink top. This morning it was the blue blouse which normally had a very high collar but today plunged even lower than the pink one did.

Unlike every other morning she didn’t go to the coffee machine, instead she came straight to my desk. She looked around and realised, like I did, that we were alone in the office, a rare thing on a work morning. I tried not to stare at her generous cleavage but it was impossible when she leant right over my desk and said: “Would you like me to take my clothes off?”

I put down my cigarette and tried to blow smoke nonchalantly like I was the coolest guy on earth. “Yes” I squeaked and in one move she had her navy blue top over her head revealing…

…a pair of breasts entirely covered by black tape. Large strips of gaffer tape were wound around the length of her body, cocooning her in impenetrable black layers of sticky cloth. “Oh,” she said without emotion “I forgot I put tape on this morning. Do you have any scissors?”

I dived into my desk drawer hunting for scissors: a vase, balloons, a small dog, leaves so many leaves. No scissors. I suddenly remembered two things. The first was that we kept a swiss army knife in the fish tank and the second was that we worked in a non-smoking office and I had never smoked a cigarette in my life. The second thought nagged in my head as I ran to the fish tank and reached into the murky brown water to grab the knife that sat at the bottom. “I’ll just be a second” I said to her. She said nothing and instead started to float gracefully towards the ceiling.

I opened the knife to reveal what I thought was a blade but turned out to be a spoon, as did the next knife and the next one. “It’s a swiss army spoon!” I howled as she floated up to an air vent and with an audible pop was sucked out into space.

I woke up suddenly. Alone on my futon.

I can’t even get laid in my own dreams.
a

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Definition

March 12, 2010 in D

By David Stewart

First day in a new job. Waiting for the phone. 27 minutes. Ring Ring. I pounce: “Hello you’re through to Friendly-Talk, the free phone counseling service. My name’s Amanda.”
“Hi Amanda, I was wondering if you could help me with a question.”
“Well I’ll do my best.” My hands were poised over the index of my manual.
“I was just wondering if I’m a serial killer or not.” Searching. No mention of serial killing in the manual.
“Well… are you having homicidal thoughts?”
“Not now.”
“Oh good.”
“But I always do just before I kill anyone.”
“Oh.”
“But the question is: am I killing people serially? Or am I just a murderer?”
Thankfully “Insane” was in my index. “Well-”
“How many people do you have to kill to be a mass murderer?”
“Um… twenty? Have you… have you killed twenty people?”
“Hang on I need to count them.” He paused while he counted. I gave up on the manual and waved frantically to my boss who waved back cheerily and went off to the canteen.
“I don’t think I’ve reached twenty yet… unless women count, in which case it’s 27.”
“Right. Can I ask why you kill people?”
“Crocs. Those stupid rubber shoes. I hate them. I see someone wearing them and I just lose it.”
“Well I have to say it’s all sounding a bit serialish.”
“Are you sure the croc thing doesn’t make it justifiable homicide?”
“I think that’s more for people who have been tormented by their victim. I don’t think it applies to fashion choices.”
“I don’t keep a souvenir or send messages to the police or torture them. I just dump the bodies.”
“Well it sounds very serial killer to me. If the shoe fits-”
He raised his voice suddenly: “What shoe? What shoe are you talking about!”
“No shoe! It was just an expression.”
“Right sorry. I’m a bit on edge. I’ve just found out I’m a serial killer. It’s kind of a blow, to say nothing of the fact that I owe my mum 20 bucks. I hate losing a bet”
“Well perhaps-”  He hung up. I thought for a few moments, filled out my log book and grabbed my bag.
“Taking your break already?” Asked my boss as I passed.
“Going to buy some new shoes.”
“I thought you said crocs were comfy?”
“Yeah, for some reason I feel like a change.”

a

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Improvising

March 11, 2010 in I

By David Stewart

Saturday nights in that shared house were the best nights of my life. And it’s all thanks to Robbo, Dougie, Meat, our drug dealer and the ghost that haunted our house.

We’d start the evening with some dope and put our feet up on the coffee table. This was just our way of warming up and annoying the ghost who we quickly learned was a stickler for decorum and hated feet on furniture. Eventually she’d get really riled up and you could sense the psychic energy in the room. That’s when we’d take a hit of speed and get ready.  We called it Poltergheist Classic Catches. She’d fling items off the bookshelves and we’d practice diving one-hand grabs and speccies over each other’s backs. One of the greatest moments of my life is still shouting “Cazaaaaly!” when I leapt on Robbo’s shoulders and pulled off a magnificent grab to haul in Dougie’s golf trophy before it hit the wall.

Usually she’d run out of things to throw just as the amphetamines were wearing off which meant we’d take a hit of Ecstacy and wait for the shrieking to begin. An anguished howl of “Begone from this place!” really goes off when your veins are pumping with E and by the time she moved on to her later hits (“I bring damnation on your souls!” “Death death deaaaath!” and “Oh why don’t you cretins ever listen to anything I’m saying? Sometimes I don’t know why I bother”) we were all pumped to the max and hugging each other like idiots.

We knew when she killed the lights it was time to drop a psychadelic and hold on for the ride of your life.  Sometimes she’d manifest herself and sometimes I just hallucinated that she did and sometimes things got even crazier, Lights, walls dripping blood, you name it. She made out with Robbo once although that might have been just something I dreamed or else Dougie got really confused one night. Anything is possible. I was sure she spent one night dressed as Michael Jackson but then I thought it must have just been weirdness in my head until I found a single jeweled glove behind the couch one morning.

They were great nights and they’d go until all hours  and only stop when Meat had to find his clerical collar and go take a mass on Sunday morning.

a

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Prejudice

March 10, 2010 in P

By David Stewart

Son, can you come into the study for a moment, I’ve got something to tell you.

Something wrong father? Nothing serious I hope.

Well it’s some news I’ve had recently that I feel it’s my duty to pass on to you.

I’m all ears.

You recall the tale of how I met your mother in an orphanage?

I certainly do. It’s a sterling tale of how two orphans went on to marry and establish a world-wide business empire.

Your mother and I have reached an age where we felt curious about our past. We took it upon ourselves to research our roots.

Genealogy. An excellent past time.

I’m glad you concur. The thing is I’ve tracked down my real parents.

And were they of Royal stock as you’ve always suspected?

They were tailors. The Cohens.

Do you mean you’re Jewish?

Very much so.

Well I must say this is a blow. You do realise I’m part of a group at my university that believes the evils of the world can be blamed on zionists and the worldwide Jewish conspiracy?

Yes, I’m only too aware.

And now I find out my own Father is an evil, subhuman, userer who is genetically predisposed to hate the superior aryan race. What does mother think of this?

Well she was shocked I won’t deny. But more startled by her own line of research which revealed her birth-name to be Goldberg.

Mother’s Jewish as well? Goodness this is a blow. How am I going to break this news to my chums at the Fellowship of Ayran Might? My parents are the filthy Jew.

I think you’ll find it’s not just your parents…

What are you saying?

Well if I’m Jewish, and your mother is Jewish then…

Oh God.

Yes I’m sorry about this.

But that means I have a sub-human intellect. And yet I’m Dux of my school. This is a conundrum.

Yes, I can see the dilemma.

I don’t feel especially depraved.

And yet being Jewish you must be.

Yes. Look there’s no chance this is a mistake?

The man at the records office was very thorough.

Good Aryan stock was he?

As Aryan as you or I.

Right. It’s quite the blow to think you’re part of the solution only to find your part of the problem.

Yes I can imagine that would be rather a shock.

A

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Pressure

March 8, 2010 in P

By David Stewart

“Ah you must be the new recruit. Excellent, you’ve arrived just in time. We found his latest bomb and I’m afraid it’s a biggie. It’s through here in the back of the storeroom.  Amazing isn’t it? Enough densely packed explosive to blow this school to smithereens. It’s encased in what looks like crystal so we can’t cut into it. There don’t appear to be any screws and the timer is ticking down fast.  It’s rigged with a heat sensor. If it goes below 28 degrees or above 29 it blows. And this dial is a noise sensor which can’t go higher below 40 or above 50 decibels, so you’ll have to sing to it. Only careful you don’t wake the puppies. See the box on the side, two dozen month-old labradors, fast asleep now but if they wake up they’ll set off the movement sensors and it’ll blow. There’s another dial here which we’re not sure about. It’s obviously supposed to register an amount of something but too much of whatever that something is will set it off. So if you do something and that dial flickers above that red point then keep doing whatever it is but don’t do too much of it. The only way to disarm this bastard appears to be a related to this keypad here which needs a ten digit number. The only clue is this complicated equation which he’s printed on the side here and it continues around here on this side which is sadly obscured by these crates of Nitroglycerin. They’ve got nothing to do with the bomber, apparently it was a school science project.  Oh and watch out for this unexploded World War Two sea mine that’s here as well. Not sure why a Primary school in Kew would have a large, spiky, metal ball full of explosive in thier store room. They say it’s harmless but it started ticking when I kicked it earlier. Well that’s all you need to know. Here’s a sturdy hat, a screwdriver and a small pair of wire cutters. Remember if you do expose any red or green wires then cutting one  will disarm it but the other causes boom-time. Sadly we can’t remember which but if we ever find out we’ve promised ourselves we’ll write it down somewhere. Good luck.”

a

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War

March 7, 2010 in W

By David Stewart

I’ll tell you something interesting which will explain the medical procedure I’m about to perform: In the First World War 14 million people died.  I know, terrible isn’t it? But here’s a thing most people don’t realise. After the war there was a flu epidemic which stretched across the globe. Do you know how many lives that took? Twenty million, six million more than the war. True statistic and it surprises everyone I tell. When I heard that it got me to thinking- the human race is at war… at war with germs. Sometimes we fight each other and a few million die but all the while humanity is waging a massive conflict against infection- and the casualties are enormous on both sides. We decimate germs in massive numbers, we even commit genocide sometimes. But while we celebrate this hollow victory, diseases claim their own victims from our ranks. Millions every year die in our constant ongoing conflict with germs. But it’s all going to stop here and now. You see Mr Cartwright I’m going to inject you with this! Yes, you’re right it is a big needle but it’s got a big job to do. No it won’t kill any germs, what would be the point in that? Even if I claim total victory in the battleground that is your swine-flu ridden body it’s only a minor skirmish in the war.  This syringe doesn’t contain a weapon… it’s a peace treaty! The first ever attempt to end the war by negotiation! I’ve written a comprehensive peace accord document and then made it microscopic! Well almost microscopic. It’s actually visible to the naked eye so it will hurt like a bastard going in but I’m hoping if a germ stands a good distance back he can read it like a billboard. And he will agree to my reasonable terms, peace will be declared and I will be hailed as a genius! I’ll be the first cleaner in the world to be awarded the Nobel prizes for peace and medicine in the same year! What? Yes, cleaner. No I’m not a doctor they kicked me out of medical school because I kept taking kidney’s home. Today I’m a cleaner with a vision and a stolen, second-hand syringe but tomorrow I’ll be the greatest scientist my psychiatric ward has ever produced!

A

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Title

March 5, 2010 in T

By David Stewart

Your majesty, my congratulations on completing your tenth year as our sovereign.

Thankyou trusted adviser. Is it going well do you think?

Very well indeed sire.

Excellent.

Majesty now that you’ve reigned for a decade tradition decrees it’s time to give you a the.

Give me the what?

No majesty, not the. A The.

You’re making no sense.

A The, meaning a The suffix. As in Richard the Lionheart.

Oh I see. A The. Right. Well do you think I could have The Great?

It’s been taken your majesty. By Alexander the Great.

Yes but he was a long time ago and he was a Roman so people aren’t going to get us confused.

Even so.

What about The Really Good? Or the Really, really good?

It’s not very snappy.

What’s another word for Great?

Well we had a chat about this at the Trusted Advisers Annual cricket match and we were thinking more along the lines of The Adequate.

The Adequate?

There were some who thought The Barely Adequate but those of us who’ve seen you juggle talked them up to Adequate.

It’s hardly going to leap out of the history books is it?

It’s better than The Bit Crap, which we were all for giving your father until he bought us speedboats.

What about The Learned? I’ve always wanted to be thought of as Learned.

It does rather go against your earlier claim that Alexander was a Roman. To say nothing of that speech you gave last week claiming cats grew on trees.

Yes that didn’t go down well.

Another suggestion we had was: The Oldest Not Dead Offspring Of His Father.

Well that’s not catchy at all.

It does abbreviate to TONDOOHF, which has rather a ring I think.

What about The Strong?

You cry if you have a rash.

The Just?

You executed someone for giggling at your tree-cat speech.

The mighty?

In your reign so far we’ve lost three provinces to barbarians, two castles to bandits and your summer palace to a group of squatters.

The ubiquitous?

Do you know what that means?

No… Tell me, do you have a sports car to drive to your speedboat?

No, your majesty as it happens I do not.

Would you and the rest of the First Advisors XI care for one each?

That would be very generous your majesty.

The Generous.  Yes I like that very much.

a

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Information

March 4, 2010 in I

By David Stewart

I’m not crazy. People think I am because I mutter to myself and I shout a lot. And I’m homeless and I don’t wash much. But I’m not crazy.

The problem is the wireless. It’s all about the wireless. When you’re at your computer and you send information over your wireless connection it travels through the air to get where you’re going. But not just through the air it travels though things as well. It goes through walls and whole buildings and anything. It goes through people. Remember that next time you’re sending an email. That information passes right through someone who passes by. Most of the time they don’t notice because they don’t have the kind of gift I do. It just passes through and they don’t care. But special ones like me and lots of others in asylums all over the world can hear the information. When it passes through our heads we can hear it and understand it.

That conversation you had online with your friend in Starbucks? I heard it all.

The online newspaper you visited? All that information passed through my head.

Your facebook status updated in my mind.

When you told people what you had for breakfast on twitter you told me even though I don’t’ know who you are.

I saw those pictures you downloaded (I quite enjoyed those) and even the ones you’re boss downloaded (I’ll never get them out of my head but I’ll keep trying).

And not just you, everyone around you. All that information passed through my head and sometimes it comes out of my mouth and sometimes it makes me scream. That’s what causes madness.

In the old days it was prayers. Everyone’s prayers passed through the air and some people could hear them all. But today it’s wireless. It’s information passing through the air and straight through my head.

But today I realised something new. Not only can I hear the information, I can send it too. I’m no longer just a receiver I’m a transmitter. I’m not just hearing petitions, I can answer them as well.

Tomorrow I’m going to start broadcasting. To everyone. Tomorrow I’m going to talk to the world. Tomorrow everyone else will get to find out what I had for breakfast, and so much more. Tomorrow you can all have a turn at the madness.

a

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Residue

March 3, 2010 in R

By David Stewart

Ring Ring. Ring Ring

Hello?

I’m in the kitchen.

Oh no.

I’m in the kitchen.

Oh stop this please. Please stop. I can’t take this anymore.

…I’m in the kitchen. He’s got a knife.

You’re not in the kitchen. There’s nobody there. The kitchen is empty.

The kitchen. I’m in the kitchen.

No you’re not in the kitchen! You’re not! You were but that was 30 years ago. You’re dead now and I’m sorry. I’m sorry they didn’t hear when you rang for help. I really am. I’m sorry you had to die but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’m just a stranger who bought a house. Please stop calling.

I’m in the kitchen.

There’s nothing I can do. After he killed you he killed himself. I can’t avenge your death and you didn’t leave anything behind. There’s no reason for you to still be here. Please stop calling my number.

The kitchen.

YOU’RE NOT IN THE KITCHEN! You’re not! Please walk to the light or let go or something. Please don’t call me again. I can’t take it anymore.

I’m in-

I’m hanging up. And tomorrow I’m moving out. And then you can have your damn kitchen all to yourself!

Slam.

Ring Ring.

a

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Sacrament

March 1, 2010 in S

By David Stewart

“….in the name of the Father, The Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen… So if the parents and godparents could come around the font. That’s right. Don’t be shy I just do a trickle of water on the forehead, I don’t do full immersion. Or the Slam Dunk as we sometimes call it! Ha ha! There won’t be any splashing so crowd around. Right, so we’re on page 145 if you’re following in your prayer books. Now… By what name are we to baptise this child? …Really? What an original name. Is it? Well fancy that… I’m more of an Inspector Morse fan myself. Well then… Right. In that case… Right… here goes… baptising now… No! No I’m sorry I can’t do it! I can’t baptise a child Ood Sigma Gallifrey Tardis O’brien. I’m sorry I can’t. I don’t care if it is your favourite program it’s a foolish name and all your friend’s think so too, even the ugly one over there in the stupid scarf. It’s ridiculous and I’m not going to besmirch the holy sanctity of baptism with silliness. No I won’t calm down! You come in here with your cameras and your massive mobile phones turning what used to be a solemn occassion into a circus. And we all know you wont come back! We know you’re going to march out of this door and I’ll never see you again unless it’s in a few years from now with some poor unfortunate mite you’ve decided to call Tarzan Marzipan Hogwarts The Tank Engine! Well I’m not going to do this anymore. Why should I sully a sacrement I hold dear for people that are just going to fuck off to a party and never set foot in my church again? I say we just cut to the chase and you bastards can piss off now so I don’t have to spend the rest of my day feeling ashamed of myself. Go on get out! Fuck off out the door before I slam dunk your ipod or whatever you call it. I’ll see you both again in 20 years when little Ood murders you both in your sleep for saddling him with a stupid name for the rest of his life. I’ll gladly perform your funeral free of charge.”

A

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Publicity

February 26, 2010 in P

By David Stewart

“She’ll talk to me I’m her publicist. Yes I’ll hold…. Madonna darling it’s Tristan,  I’m just calling back with the publicity ideas we fondled last time we had some face to face. It’s bad news I’m afraid I’ve spoken to the tabloids and they won’t give you front page for another adoption. The best they could offer was one of the early pages if there were good photos of you actually rescuing the child from a natural disaster. I could organize a fire in a village but is it worth it just to share half of page 7 with a Big Brother winner? …They do like the marriage idea but sadly Nelson Mandella said no. I know I thought it was a great match too but according to his people he’s not interested. And Oprah says she won’t consider going dyke at least until she’s dropped out of the top 100 rich list. …Religion? Well you’ve tried them all love. You’ve pretty much done the full set and besides it’s a dead end it really is. All the religions are seen as too old fashioned. Thanks to Dawkins athiests are just smug and annoying and nobody is going to put you on the front page for turning Agnostic. “Madonna unsure about God” is hardly a captivating headline. …You’ve done nude love, you really have. I don’t think there’s a person on the planet who hasn’t seen your tits and frankly after the display you put on at the Grammy’s after party there aren’t many people who would want a second viewing. No offence love. I do have another idea up my sleeve though, something new. …We announce that you’ve become a Publicity Addict! It’s brilliant, sex addiction is big right now and all we need to do is tweak the concept slightly. We buy a place somewhere remote, call it a Publicity Addict Rehab Centre and book you in. You can relax for a bit while we churn out stories about your “disease” and then you can come out and do the rounds of press and TV telling everyone about your heroic battle with Publicity addiction. And the great news is that you’ll be the first. Whenever anyone says they’re a Paddict, that’s my name for it, they’ll say “like Madonna”. You become a brand. I know it’s perfect. I’ll get everything set up right now. Bye my darling. Kisses.”

A

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Conspiracy

February 25, 2010 in C

By David Stewart

Dude?

What?

Dude come over here. I’ve got something well heavy to lay on you brother.

What is it Brian?

I know the truth man. I know the truth.

What truth?

Some people are not what they seem. There are people, I think it’s about a third of the population but it could be more, and it even includes like, leaders and everything, these people right, are not who they say they are… they’re lizards!

Brian you’re a nut.

No man hear me out. They’re like lizards who have worked their way into our lives and are secretly controlling everything. Society as we know it is being run by reptile creatures.

Brian-

Reptiles man. Scaly skin and everything!

Brian-

And they walk among us. They could be anyone we know.

Brian! You’re a goanna!

What?

You’re a goanna Brian. I’m a goanna, you’re a goanna, we’re both goanas. We’re lizards Brian.

Woah! Dude you’re tripping me out. Are you saying you’re like a reptile?

We’re both reptiles Brian. We’re lizards. That’s our species, that’s what we are.

This is really heavy man, I just can’t believe what you’re laying on me.

Brian have you ever looked at yourself in a mirror?

No, never.

That’s because LIZARDS DON”T OWN MIRRORS! What did you have for breakfast Brian?

Flies. Flies are good.

Have you ever in your life eaten anything other than flies, bugs or insects?

Are beetles insects?

Yes.

Then no.

You’re a lizard.

Why didn’t anyone tell me this earlier?

We kind of assumed you knew. You have a blue tongue that’s twice the length of your head, wasn’t that a giveaway?

Well I did think it was kind of weird.

Are you trying to tell me you thought you were a human being controlled by lizards?

Well yeah. It just seemed like a good theory.

Brian we live in a zoo. We’re in the reptile enclosure. You’re a goanna, I’m a goanna and everyone we’ve ever met has been a goanna. Now shut up I’m trying to get some sleep.

Dude!

What?

Dude I’ve got another theory.

What now?

The guys who open up the cage and dump in a bunch of flies. I don’t think they’re really lizards. I think they might be human! We’re being controlled by humans!

Piss off Brian.

a

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Might

February 23, 2010 in M

By David Stewart

Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s popular saying “The pen is mightier than the sword” was validated during the latter half of the 20th century after Lazlo Biro patented the ball-point pen. The veracity of the bon-mot can be proven in graph form if the rise of the disposable biro is charted against the decline in the popularity of sword-carrying amongst the general population. Early in the 21st century however the expression was struck from popular records thanks to Ernst Gruber, a German technology blogger and fantasy-film enthusiast. Gruber entered into a heated discussion with poet and luddite Hans Flisk over the general value to society of those who used twitter. What began as a genial if pointed discussion soon turned to verbal abuse before weapons were drawn. Flisk produced a four-colour bic and was reportedly astonished when Gruber brandished a large broadsword. Witnesses later recalled Flisk quoting Bulwer-Lytton’s famous saying although they noted he did so from behind a nearby pillar. The satirist apparently set out to prove the validity of his arguement and the power of his biro, by penning a scathing piece of prose called “Twits who tweet”. Gruber’s sword however was no ordinary weapon. He had adapted the handle with a keypad, screen and wi-fi which in effect turned it into a combination weapon/blackberry. He had christined it the Broadband Sword and before Flisk could proofread his composition, Guber had twittered his 12,000 followers with 140 characters of vitriol about his opponent’s sexuality. After a moment of inspiration, Flisk penned a haiku which the person he showed it to described as: “Probably funny but essentially illegible”. Gruber meanwhile had updated his blog with a hastilly typed post called “Satirist doesn’t materrist” which was immediatly hyperlinked by his network of friends all around the world. Experts believe Flisk’s next move would have been to use his considerable artistic skills to sketch a caricature of his opponent, most likely lampooning the latter’s noticeable overbite. Sadly this can only ever be speculation as Gruber’s final act of the conflict was to sever Flisk’s hands at the wrist and beat him with the flat of his sword as he bled to death. Devotees of the work of Flisk gather annually to mourn his loss and always gain a small measure of satisfaction from the knowledge that as he left, Gruber slipped on Flisk’s biro and fractured his pelvis.

A

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Responsibility

February 22, 2010 in R

By David Stewart

Hi. Nice to meet you and welcome to the building. I’m Brian but don’t feel bad if you don’t remember. I know what it’s like on the first day, you meet so many new people and all the names just go in one ear and out the other. What do I do? Well I’m just a lowly payroll accountant I’m afraid and I’m also the Office Wanker. The Office Wanker. Didn’t your last office have a wanker? Oh. We decided a few years ago that the best way to deal with office politics was to have elections to the various office jobs and formalize what is normally a casual sort of social structure. Responsibility is one of our company’s key values so- Well as Office Wanker it’s my job to email  jokes about accountants, and I have to say inane things during staff meetings and if I see an amusing office prank on the internet I’m duty bound to make a half-arsed attempt to replicate it. Last week I saw this picture where someone had entirely filled a cubicle with balloons and so I spent an afternoon blowing up a packet of 24 party balloons and… yes, yes it is a bit pathetic, 24 isn’t many and a few popped anyway so it was more like 18 at the end but still… I wanted to be office stud but sadly I didn’t win the election. I didn’t even nominate for Office Wanker but someone else put my name up and I was the only candidate. If you want the job then elections are in August so… it’s an easy position and you can have my collection of hilarous office posters and the “You don’t have to be crazy to work here but it helps” T shirt which I have to wear on casual clothes days. Well think it over. I’d really like to run for the Office Drunk election because between you and me I find myself hitting the bottle pretty heavilly every lunch time. Well if you excuse me I have to go. I’m supposed to photocopy my bottom at least once a week, but I’ll be back later on because I have to invent an annoying nickname for you, it’s all part of the Responsibility.

A

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Science

February 18, 2010 in S

By Dave Stewart

When he woke up he found his hands tied behind his back, His feet bound tightly to the chair legs and the woman standing over him. She looked angry and was holding two notepads and a biro.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” she said. “I’ve written the word “bad” on one of these notepads and “good” on the other. I’m going to untie your hands and give you the bad pad and a biro. Then you’re going to write down everything that’s bad for you. Food, drink, exercises everything. Then write everything that’s good for you in the other pad.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Start with Eggs! Fucking eggs! Are they good or bad? I’m sick of you changing your mind all the time. Are eggs good for me or not?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a dietitian. I’m a physicist”

“You’re a scientist! You do science! The papers always say “Scientists say eggs are bad for you” and then they say “Scientists say eggs are good for you” Make up your fucking mind!”

“But scientists never say that. One branch of science releases a comprehensive study about one aspect of something and reaches a series of conclusions. The media then over simplify it and either turn it into an alarmist report or a feel-good one. That’s what they do.”

She broke down and started sobbing. “They’re either good or bad. I need to know.”

“Nothing is that simple. Cigarettes are a relaxant and expectorant. They’re excellent for stress relief it just happens they’re also fatal in large doses. They’re definitely bad but they’re also kind of good.”

“I need it to be simple. Like bananas. Bananas are good, that’s simple.”

“Why are banana’s good for you?”

She looked at him as if he was an idiot. “They’re a good source of potassium. Everyone knows that.”

“And what’s so great about potassium?”

“Well… it’s potassium… it’s good.”

“If you’ve got a kidney disease potassium can be fatal.”

“So… bananas are bad?” She howled a cry of anguish that echoed around the basement.

“No bananas are just bananas. Nature didn’t make them good or bad it just made them.”

“Four things!” She shouted suddenly. “Tell me four things that are definitely absolutely positively good for me! Just four things!”

He thought for a second. “Research, Avoiding oversimplification, understanding how the mainstream media works and releasing kidnapped physicists.”

A

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Request

February 17, 2010 in R

By David Stewart

So this firewall should block any outside attempts to gain control of your computer.

And all those viagra emails?

There’s not a huge amount I can do about that I’m sorry. It’s spam, everyone gets it.

Fair enough then. Well thankyou for your time young man.

Not at all. That’s what they pay me for….um… there is one other thing…

Yes?

Well I was just wondering….

Yes, what is it?

Well I was wondering if I could be a saint?

A saint?

Yes your holiness. A saint. I thought that since you were the pope and I’d done such a good job getting the virus off your laptop you could maybe make me a saint.

It’s not really that easy I’m afraid. There are rules, you have to have done two miracles.

Easy. Retrieving data from Cardinal Helmut’s hard drive, that’s one and the other is a bit trickier to explain because you have to understand the rules of World of Warcraft but-

You also have to be dead.

Oh don’t worry about that bit. You’re infallible, I read that on Wikipedia. So if you say I’m a saint what’s anyone going to do? It’s just that I’ve been feeling really sainty lately and my girlfriend says I’ll never amount to anything so if I came home and said “Ha! I’m now the patron saint of wrist injuries and my birthday is a holiday in Botswana”, well she’d have to sleep with me then.

Canonization is the most sacred and holy gift that a pontiff can bestow. I can’t just make someone a saint because they’re not getting any action.

How’s this for a deal: Make me a saint and I won’t tell anyone what you’ve got on that hidden folder in your hard drive.

You bastard.

Well it wouldn’t look good.

They’re only episodes of Doctor Who.

Yes but they’re illegally downloaded. And those Billy Joel albums weren’t bought on itunes either.

Alright, I’ll make you a saint if you promise not to answer anyone’s prayers and never heal the sick without a cardinal’s express permission.

Wicked.

A

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Selection

February 16, 2010 in S

By David Stewart

Kill you? Oh I have no intention of killing you. I rather thought it would be more fun if we played a game. A game with the highest stakes you’ve ever played for in your life!

Before you I have placed five vials of liquid. Five glass containers bearing different beverages, each one unique in its purpose. In a moment you will consume the contents of the vial of your choosing and in so doing decide your own fate!

In one vial I have placed a deadly and painful poison. Drink it and within seconds you will suffer agony so profound that when death arrives it will come as a blessed relief. Another vial contains a powerful narcotic of my own devising. It brings about unbridled joy and euphoria with no harmful side effects except a slight blurring of the vision and an unfortunate but temporary discolouration of the urine. A third vial contains a drug that induces madness and dementia. Fifteen minutes after it’s consumed the unfortunate drinker becomes a raving lunatic prone to visions and the most implausible of fantasies. While the final vial contains a harmless but pleasant tasting liquid. It’s sort of lemony, I had some earlier and found it very refreshing.

What do you mean that’s only four? Poison, drug, madness and lemony… bugger that is only four. And I’ve got five vials. Crap. Hang on I’ve written it down…

Sorry about this I’ve had a lot on lately what with the world domination plans and building this huge base and hiring the staff, I’ve been run off my- Ah here we are, I knew I had it written down… Oh according to this it’s not euphoria its euphonium. That can’t be right. I can’t have invented a liquid that turns you into a euphonium. …And the poison needs work it says here. …And apparently it’s actually the madness inducing drug that has a lemony taste. But it still doesn’t say what the fifth liquid is… wait a minute- I drank the lemony tasting one 15 minutes ago. That means… oooh the fifth vial is turning into my mum! Hello mum, I’ve been become a criminal mastermind! Hooray for me! Oooh pretty vials lets play hide and seek with them. Count to 20 vials! No not twenty- Fifty. No wait count to Zimbabwe. I’m going to hide behind my own legs!

a

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Battle

February 10, 2010 in B

By David Stewart

General, I’m afraid the enemy will be here any minute. We’ve lost sir.

Well that is inconvenient. That’s a jolly nuisance I must say. What happened to our lot?

You mean the 19th battalion sir?

That’s the chaps. Weren’t they strategically located between where the enemy was and where we are now?

They’re dead sir.

I say, That’s dashed bad form, weren’t they wearing their cunning disguises?

They were dressed as trees as you ordered.

Well then they should have been damned near invisible.

They were dressed as trees… in a desert.

They should have huddled together to look like a copse.

In accordance with your orders they were dressed as Christmas trees. The enemy shot at the flashing lights.

I thought we could solve the twin dilemmas of camouflage and lack of morale at the same time. Didn’t they seem at all cheery as they died?

No sir.

Oh. And what happened to my secret weapon?

You mean the books about hypnosis sir.

Powerful stuff. My wife’s aunt was cured of smoking thanks to that book.

It’s effectiveness was rather dependent on getting close enough to the enemy to perform the hypnosis.

Yes, now you come to mention it that is rather a shortfall.

That and the fact it only included instructions for the cure of nicotine addiction.

 

Well I thought the lads could improvise. After dissuading the enemy from the smoker’s life they could continue the hypnosis to include not killing us.

Sadly we’ll never know if they were capable of such tactical thinking, what with them all being dead.

Well this is a blow.  And I had such a good victory speech prepared, some lovely passages and really juicy analogies. Oh here’s thought. Perhaps instead of surrendering we could team up?

I’m sorry sir I don’t follow.

Well obviously the enemy is a lot better than us at fighting and not dying while dressed as a festive tree but we hold the upper hand when it comes to writing cracking speeches. So instead of a surrender we offer to become their speech writers. They can do all the killing and I pen their stirring words of a victory.

What you’re suggesting is nothing short of treason and I’m duty bound to shoot you if you attempt it.

Colonel. Come here. Now I want you to look deep into my eyes, you can feel yourself becoming sleepy…

a

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List

February 9, 2010 in L

By David Stewart

Whenever he met someone who was gay he subtly interviewed them and added their interests to his list. There was no scientific evidence to back up the theory but he was sure it held true: Gay people didn’t develop hobbies because they were homosexual, their interests and past times affected their sexuality. The idea was to comprehensively catalogue the hobbies of gay men which would give him a list of activities to avoid. Most had talked about their love of musicals (23 homosexuals) and cooking (19) which was why he never went to the theater and always ordered take away. Bushwalking scored surprisingly high (12) and so he made sure he only ever walked in suburban areas. If he had to venture through bushland he had always jogged until four gay men in a row had told him how much they enjoyed jogging. The one time he’d been in a small section of bushland after that he’d crawled for almost two kilometers. The fact that three gay men had confessed a love of football had upset him until he’d inquired further and reclassified their interest from “Football” to “The Richmond Football team” which allowed him to continue supporting his beloved Magpies while reinforcing a stereotype he’d always believed about Tigers fans. He would spend hours on his list, carefully categorizing, cross referencing and organizing the data into spreadsheets. And then one day his world fell apart:

“So what do you and your partner like to do? What would you say your hobbies are?”

“Oh interesting question. Well the one thing we both adore more than anything else is making lists.”

A

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Fail

February 8, 2010 in F

By David Stewart

Once I realised the time machine actually worked my first thought was to go back and kill Hitler. I’ve always hated Hitler (I think it’s got something to do with how annoying I find Charlie Chaplin, they do look so alike) so I thought I could go back in time and kill him or at the very least hit him a bit. But I realised it would completely alter the course of history which apparently is bad.  Then I had an idea. If I went back to the bunker in 1945 I could kidnap him just before he killed himself. Then I could bring him back to my time and show him how he was remembered. I thought someone with the ego of Hitler probably died thinking he would be revered as a German hero so it would cause him incredible mental anguish to realise he was hated and ridiculed in the future. The actual kidnapping went off without a hitch (although Eva Braun can really scream when she’s startled) but the problems started when I got him home. I’d hooked up my laptop to a big screen and planned to start by showing him a youtube video of the infamous Hitler Rant, where footage from the film Downfall is subtitled in order to make him look especially foolish. Sadly I clicked on the wrong link and ended up showing him a clip of a young kid trying to throw a cat in a pond but falling in himself. Hitler loved it. I’ve never seen a dictator laugh so much. “Ha! Ze boy tries to throw ze kitty into ze water but falls into ze pond! Sploosh!” He thought it was hilarious and I had to admit I did too. He made me watch it fourteen more times and then begged me to click on a link that promised a video of a kid getting hit in the face by a soccer ball. We spent the next six hours watching funny video clips. Eventually I feel asleep and when I woke up he was gone. He’s out there somewhere now doing god knows what. I occasionally see a comment on youtube that I think is him and I’m pretty sure he’s signed up to reddit but as for his current whereabouts I have no idea.

(Although I could probably ask him since I did accept his Facebook friend invitation.)

a

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Predictions

February 4, 2010 in P

By David Stewart

Good news! Excellent news! Julius Caesar has just been murdered in the senate!

That’s not good news, that’s a terrible. That’s the single biggest disaster to face the Roman republic in years.

Yes but you’re missing the point woman- the point is I predicted it! One of my predictions has come true!

You didn’t predict that.

Yes I did. Remember we were out buying a hat and you said “Ooh look it’s Caesar” and I said “Beware the Ides of March!” I saw this coming.

If you saw it coming why didn’t you give him a more useful prediction? Why not: “beware senators with knives” or even better: “The following are a list of your colleagues you might think of giving a wide berth for a bit.”

Ooh you know nothing about the way’s of soothsaying.

I tell you what I do know. I know you said beware the Ides of March but as far as I could tell you didn’t say it to Caesar you said it to Mr Marius the fishmonger.

I didn’t! I clearly said it in a deep and booming voice to the Consul himself. Why would I make predictions about fish sellers when I’ve got the greatest man in Rome to predict at?

Then why did you say “Beware the Ides of March and how much is that Mackerel?”

I don’t have to explain the sayings of my sooths to the likes of you woman. I’m the man who predicted the death of Caesar himself. After this people will come flocking to my door to have their fortunes told.

We’ll see, most people around here still haven’t forgiven you for ruining that orgy last year.

The end of the world is a very difficult thing to predict! It’s not my fault people got all panicky about it.

So who did kill him anyway?

Who?

Caesar.

Oh him… Cassius, Cascar, Cimber… and that Brutus chap, the one with the nice cheekbones. I predict big things for that boy.

A

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Connection

February 3, 2010 in C

By David Stewart

Brian didn’t know anybody else on the train.

Stranger One: An older woman. 25 years ago she had called the police to complain about the noise coming from a party Brian had hosted when he was a student. He’d been arrested for marijuana possession.  A few nights later he threw stones at her windows but got the wrong house by mistake.

Stranger Two: A middle-aged man who had written a letter to the newspaper which they’d published that morning. Brian said if he ever met him he’d like to punch him in the face. He once pulled Brian’s mother out of the path of a speeding cyclist and saved her life.

Stranger Three: A middle aged lady. She’d backed into Brian’s car in a Safeway carpark and then driven off. She’d been talking on her mobile phone at the time to a young woman who had rung the wrong number looking for a clothing company she wanted to work for. Brian had come back with his shopping to find a dented fender.

Stranger Four: The middle aged lady’s five year old son. In 12 years he would get Brian’s daughter pregnant. He would not go with her when she terminated the pregnancy. He would spend that night at home having cyber sex with an 18 year old waitress from Oklahoma.

Stranger Five: A young male office worker who answered the telephone in a clothing company. Three nights ago he’d had cybersex with Brian in a chatroom. He told Brian he was an 18 year old waitress from Oklahoma.

Stranger Six: A teenage girl. She’d called Brian by mistake earlier in the week because his number was one digit away from a clothing company she wanted to work for. He thought she sounded frustrated. She would later grow up to work as a nurse. She would hold his daughter’s hand while she terminated her pregnancy.

Stranger Seven: An accountant with the tax office. Later that day he would decide Brian’s taxes needed to be audited. When he was growing up he was terrified by the night someone threw stones at his bedroom window while he was sleeping. Earlier that morning he’d read a letter in the newspaper and told his wife he agreed whole-heartedly and wanted to shake the writer’s hand. Once he’d lost concentration while riding his bike and had nearly hit Brian’s mother.

A

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Apocalypse

February 2, 2010 in A

By David Stewart

“Aaaaand your listening to 3FG the home of classic rock from yesterday and today. This is Dirty Dick Richardson with you until the morning shift get off their arses and come in at 6am which means we’ve got another 3 hours together. I’m still waiting for your calls on tonight’s topic which is Farting and Sex- I know it’s all we seem to talk about on this show but we’ve never done both topics at the same time before. Have you or the person you’ve been with ever let rip while on the job? If so give us a call on 9618 2222… aaaaand I’ve just been handed a piece of paper by my producer…apparently… is this true? This isn’t a joke? Okay according to this note there are what appears to be alien ships in the sky… and weird bug monsters on the ground all over the country… there’s something about lasers… fire breaking out… pandemonium and death… the army being hopeless overwhelmed by superior numbers and firepower… lock yourself inside and don’t come out… well that’s… that’s very… just looking at my producer for further developments but I’m afraid she’s on her phone and in tears so I’m pretty much on my own now. Presumably there’ll be more details at 6am in the first news bulletin of the day and I imagine Rhonda our eye-in-the-sky traffic reporter will have something to say about it as well, especially if it affects city bound traffic. Well I’m not sure how the alien invaders reproduce or if they have gastro-intestinal systems but if any of them have ever farted during sex and can speak English then give me a call on 9618 2222 that’s 9618 2222. Later in this hour JoJo is coming in to give her celebrity gossip report, assuming she’s still alive, and I’ve got Dirty Dick’s Dirty Joke of the week, stay tuned for that it’s an absolute ripper. But first here’s some Nickleback.”

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Fashion

February 1, 2010 in F

By David Stewart

Can I help you madam?

Yes you can. This is the most exclusive fashion boutique in the city isn’t it?

Well we like to think-

And every item of clothing here is the latest style?

Our ranges comes straight from the catwalks of Paris, Milan, London and New York.

Can I show you this photo? That’s me at my sister’s 21st. Which means it’s 23 years old now.

And you haven’t aged a day madam.

But the clothes have. Try and look past the hair if you can and just see the dress. What the hell was I thinking?

Well madam, we all make mistakes.

Exactly! It was a mistake. Do you know how long this shop has been here for?

Umm… no. I’ve been working here for two years so…

Well I can tell you it was here 23 years ago when I wanted a dress for my sister’s 21st. And a woman who looked a lot like you, only she was a natural blonde and I think her tits were real, said this dress was perfect for me. The dress that you and I have both decided was a mistake.

Well-

So what I want to know is- was she an idiot and we both made a huge mistake then or did she know what she was talking about and we’re both wrong now?

Times change madam.

So why does your advertising use the slogan: “Timeless elegance?”

Because…

And really what’s changed? What occurred in the last 23 years that made the perfect dress into a mistake? The invention of the internet? Twenty twenty cricket? The death of George Harrison? Was it bringing Doctor Who back? Was that the catalyst that turned me from a fashion goddess into a woman wearing a dress that looks like it was made from Christmas decorations?

Who’s George Harrison?

The point is I want you to have this photograph. I want you to have it so you know what you really do for a living. You might think you sell people the latest fashions but all you’re really doing is giving them outfits their future children can laugh at. Two decades from now every woman you’ve served in the last two years is going to be saying: “What the hell was I thinking?” And someone like you can tell them we all make mistakes.

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Revenge

January 30, 2010 in R

By David Stewart

She thought her world was over when they took her license away. She drove everywhere but the speeding ticket forced her to pull the bike out of the garage and blow the dust off. On that first night she thought her world had collapsed until she realised that by cutting through the cemetery and riding as fast as she could it was possible. Just.

Every night she would leave work the second her shift ended and jump on her bike. She would arrive home breathless and sweaty but always just as the opening music started. She never missed an episode. Every week night. It was her life.

When she drove her mother would use the first half an hour after her return home for nagging. Why haven’t you found a man? When are you going to move out? Why don’t you use the cosmetics I bought you for christmas? When she had a car this half hour of nagging was over as the theme music started. But once she was on a bike the half-hour nag and her favourite program coincided.

So she made them both a nice sugary cup of tea and hid the insulin. “It’s a different artificial sweetener, that’s why it tastes a bit funny.”

The coroner ruled an accidental death.

Now she had nothing to disturb her half-hour of television watching.

The problem was the ride though the cemetery. Right past her mother’s grave and the voice in the twighlight: “You murdered your own mother! How could you kill me like that? I sacrificed my life for you!”

If she rode though the graveyard she could hear it clearly every time, and it echoed in her head for the rest of the night.

If she rode around the cemetery her trip home took an extra half an hour.

A

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Paranoia

January 29, 2010 in P

By David Stewart

The problem was she really liked lions. She’d always loved lions. It was partly their majestic nature, partly their noble bearing but the real reason for her affection was because she imagined they spent a lot of time eating monkeys. She was fairly sure that if a lion got it’s paws on a monkey it would tear it to shreds, which as far as she was concerned was exactly what all non-human primates deserved. One afternoon, in order to find fellow sufferers who might understand her, she had typed “fear of monkeys” into Google and discovered not one name but two. Apparently she suffered from Maimouphobia or Pithikosophobia, neither of which she could pronounce. She also discovered a Canadian rock back called “Fear of Monkeys” and decided to buy their album.

She normally didn’t watch nature documentaries in case they showed a shot of some gibbons or even worse a marmoset. But she forced herself to watch this one because she’d read a review in the paper that talked about graphic footage of a lion devouring it’s prey. She prayed the prey in question was a monkey. She longed to see a whole pride of lions devouring a baboon or even a gorilla. At exactly 17 minutes into the documentary, after a long section about a species of bird that hid from each other as a mating ritual and were consequently nearing extinction, she saw footage that made her world collapse. It was all about new discoveries amongst the primate world. Apparently a species of chimpanzee had been found which manufactured basic tools. They kept special rocks for breaking nuts and were even starting to establish primitive weaponry.

It was her worst nightmare realised. Every night she carefully checked her house for primates and then locked the doors, secure in the knowledge that all the monkeys were locked out. She normally slept soundly but that night she didn’t sleep at all, haunted by visions of an orangutan with a rudimentary lockpick.

A

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Angle

January 28, 2010 in A

By David Stewart

“Your manuscript is what we in the publishing industry call a Conditional Novel.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well an Unconditional Novel is one written by an established author or even better a big celebrity. Novels by models and former politicians are very big right now.”

“And so a Conditional novel is…”

“Basically it’s one that needs an angle in order to sell.”

“Couldn’t the angle be that it’s a really good read?”

“In a word- no. We need a sales angle. That’s the condition on which we’re prepared to publish your manuscript.”

“Okay… well it’s got a really strong female character, is that a good-”

“No you misunderstand me. The angle has nothing to do with the book and everything to do with you. You’re not a poverty-struck single parent are you?”

“No.”

“Pity. Too young to be a Holocaust survivor. Criminal record?”

“Parking offenses?”

“No it needs to be jail time. Reformed criminal who writes novel in Jail is a great angle. What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a teacher. Is that a good angle?”

“No it’s positively spherical as far as angles go. English is your first language I take it?”

“Yes.”

“Pity. Are you a former stripper, gang member or orphan?”

“How can you be a former orphan?”

“Good point. Oh well it looks like all the traditional angles are out of the question which means we have to resort to more drastic measures. Have a peppermint by the way.”

“What kind of drastic measures?”

“Posthumous publication. Novels by dead authors are very angular. The great masterpiece by a formidable new talent sadly taken from us just as the world noticed his genius.”

“That sounds good… but how does it work?”

“Well lately I’ve found the best way is to keep a handy supply of poisoned peppermints.”


A

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Career

January 26, 2010 in C

By David Stewart

Dear Diary,

Really excited. Today is my first day as a professional hit man. I’ve got my weapons (shotgun, pistol, hunting rifle and bowie knife) and I’ve placed my advertisement on the online classifieds site. I spent ages on the wording and I think it’s perfect. Vague enough not to arouse suspicion but clear enough that if you’re looking for a hitman you know I’m your guy. Now all I have to do is wait for the phone to ring.

Dear Diary,

I’ve had to revise my advertisement to clear up some misunderstandings. I got a lot of calls yesterday and everyone wanted to use my services but none of them wanted a hit man. They were all very sure about what it was they wanted and some had very specific needs. They were prepared to offer a lot of money but there isn’t enough cash in the world to make me do what some of these gentlemen wanted.

Dear Diary,

Three days and no calls. Mother rings every day, sometimes twice. I’m thinking of sniping her from a distance just for practice.

Dear Diary.

Four more days with only one call. Some cretin wanted me to take out the Prime Minister for $40. I told him a job like that would cost a lot more and he said he could go up to $67 if I did the Treasurer as well. All I want to do is murder people for Money. Is that too much to ask?

Dear Diary.

First real job. Not as glamorous as I hoped for but as the caller pointed out I never said “Humans only” in my ad. It should be easy because the target has fairly regular habits and I’ve always hated cats so there’ll be no conscience issues to worry about.

Dear Diary,

On lawyer’s advice I’m pleading guilty to all the charge even the public indecency one, although I still maintain that it’s the policeman’s fault for grabbing my pants as I was trying to get over the fence.

Dear Diary,

Just met my new cellmate. Ironically what he said he was going to do to me tonight is exactly what someone was prepared to pay me top dollar for when I first posted my ad. And he’s getting it for free. Worse still- it turns out he’s a cat lover. Regret killing my mum now because I’d really appreciate visitors.

A

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