Vampires

"Are you one of those nice vampires?" I asked tentatively.
"No." Replied the vampire. "It's nothing personal, but you're like free-range chickens to us. no, really. We actually steal eggs from fertilization clinics and everything. As I say, it's nothing personal. It's just we're a little bit better than you in our own eyes, so that makes you fair play to eat."
"Well, I suppose that's fair enough. Couldn't you just drink spare blood or something?"
"Well, yes, I suppose. But couldn't you just take vitamins and leave animals alone?"
"They taste good though."
"Yes," he replied. "So do you. Like chicken, in fact."
I was not reassured. Fortunately, he seemed philosophical. I distracted him with a debate on Cartesian Doubt until the sun rose, then I went home.

Ceci n'est pas vie réelle

I sat on the bench next to the co-op and opened the first pack of tic-tacs. Tilting back my head, I filled my mouth up and began to crunch through the minty capsules. After I had finished my second pack, I became aware I was being watched. I turned my head slowly to look at the dog tied to the railings beside me.

"Hello!" I offered enthusiastically. Must be a sugar rush...

The dog looked at me sadly, but didn't respond. After a moment, he tilted his head to one side and looked at me wisely. I ate another packet of tic-tacs, by which time the dog had returned to washing his balls.

"What's it like being a dog?" I asked. I wouldn't normally, but I was interested.

He sat silently, thinking. A bus passed nearby, stopping to allow a few bored kids and an old lady off. When they had passed, the dog looked at me again.

"I'm not a dog." He replied, "Can I have a tic-tac?"



I got up and left. He was a bad dog, and would get no treats from me.

"My life as a Womble"

Will not be posted here. It is a private matter.

I'm not allowed in restaurants

Killing a man with a breadstick is hard work. It is also immensely rewarding.

I'm broke.

Image via Wikipedia So I've launched a new business.
My last plan (kidnapping adorable baby animals and ransoming them back to their parents) failed due to the sheer stupidity of the whole thing. Furthermore, my remaining funds were wasted on a petty vendetta with a cete of vicious badgers - I am at a loss as to who sold them automatic weaponry, but it was probably America. The landmass itself, not the people. Being French (...) I know better than to judge a whole county on a stereotype.
Anyhow, to cut a long story short - even a good story with animals and anthrax bombs - I have adopted an entirely new business strategy. In fact, it's so different from my usual business plans that you may think I've been replaced by two very crafty midgets in my clothes.
Here we go:

I have your grandmother. Send me money or I'll plant a badger cub in her handbag and throw her into the nearest sett. There's up to 15 badgers in there, so you'd better be quick with the money.
I will carry this plan out in the Autumn, when the average badger will weigh 11-12 Kilograms.

I hope you've all learned something interesting about badgers here...

I watched the romantic appliance tragedy slowly unfolding in my living room. At first, the two had hit it off brilliantly. However, it appeared that the plug was a standard 3-pin British plug, while the socket was a 2-pronged American affair. They just couldn't connect.
In retrospect, it was foolish of me to fit my house with appliances not commonly used in this country.

There are still lizards in charge by the way.

Last night, I had a dream. For no apparent reason, Bill Bailey dropped a squirrel down the back of my shirt. He seemed intent on beating said squirrel to death and eating it after it removed itself from my person.
I wonder what it could all mean...

I set the balloon down on the outskirts of London. Things have changed in the months I've been in aviation. Great beasts resembling kitchen blenders roam the country picking off lone travellers, and great lizards hold key cabinet positions. I have joined a group of freedom fighters, travelling magicians and angry mole-people. We aim to retake control of the country, one by-election at a time.

I looked over the side - Dover! The white cliffs loomed welcomingly out of the fog. So, I was above Britain again. Soon I would be home.
I retrospect, it was foolish of me to attempt a hot-air balloon trip around the world.

It is said that life is a rollercoaster.

It is not. If it were, then it would be socially acceptable to throw up on one's friends. I know from personal experience that this is NOT socially acceptable.

Yes, i know it's a metaphor. But apart from the ups and downs, there is little connection between a linear ride in little carts that serves to excite adrenaline junkies and an apparently non-linear world with bears.

Muttenchops!

That is all...

"ist tot"

It is 1883. Returning home late, Friedrich finds God has been murdered. Who has killed a a being who by definition is undestroyable? Of course, the list of suspects is immense. Blame first falls on his son, an ambitious young man with everything to gain from his fathers death. Jesus, has had little contact with his father for 30 years, living with his mother and stepfather. Since God left his mother at birth, Jesus has a clear motive.
However, after his will reading, God's benevolence becomes transparent, and the list of those who gain from his death grows.
Was it Saint Peter - vying for a desk job? Or Satan, who has long promised vengeance on his enemy? Or Edgar, the butler who serves little purpose in the plot and seems unnecessary?

As Fred continues his investigation, he comes to a worrying conclusion: "God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him." He is left with one question - How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?

ist tot is the first novel in the Friedrich Nietzsche trilogy.

True Romance

"So what if I only met her when she tried to steal my wallet?" I cried. "She'd fallen on hard times."
"And she might not long be out of jail - but we all make mistakes"
I watched the figure opposite me closely, studying his face.
"And she has prospects! In today's world, people need entertainment - and a filthy crack-whore is the first place they'll look!"
Father did not look impressed. His barely-concealed rage had turned his face a strange shade of crimson, and veins I didn't know people had were bulging below his eyebrows.
"Oh." I added, "Did I mention I'm rich?"
With that, his anger dissipated like ice-cream in the oven. Arms open wide, he smiled broadly;
"You can marry my daughter! Welcome to the family!"

I was hit by a worrying thought earlier - kids go through puberty. This put me off the idea of having them at some point, but then it occurred to me that it would be at least 20 years before I had kids going through it.
And by then, they should have replaced teenage anx with chocolate that's good for you...

My lightbulb blew the other day, and I've been living in darkness ever since. I don't know how many of me it takes to change a bulb.



Seriously, it's dark, and something's moving behind me.

It's not easy being small. Norman had always protested it was a heartbreaking birth defect, but he was secretly a Rice Krispy Guy. However, he'd failed his aptitude test at the end of High School, and been unable to follow in the family business. Shunned by his demanding father and his brothers - especially Snap - he had entered a career in marketing. He led a rather successful career, but unfortunately his bosses had been embezzling his pension fund over the years. Almost broke, Norman spent his last few years populating snow globes, pretending to be an Eskimo, and fighting off blizzards.

Things have gone wrong at the shop! The sign has collapsed, killing several cats.
There is an ongoing investigation.

It was around 7,

and I was not expecting visitors. However - and whoever they were - they were insistently hammering my door. I decided it would be best to find out what they wanted.
Upon opening the door, I was greeted by an unfamiliar site. I looked closely, and found it was several fish of different sizes, in an old-fashioned diving costume full of water. They nodded curtly as one, handed me an official looking envelope, and barged into the house. Before I had a chance to open the letter, a team of deer pulling a wheelbarrow of rubbish came arrived. I followed them into my living room, where they had already ripped up the carpet. As I watched, the emptied the rubbish into my floorboards, before replacing the carpet over it.
I mounted the small, carpeted mound in the middle of my room, noting sadly that it would obscure my vision of the television when I was sitting on the sofa. Now that things were calmer, I opened the letter. Apparently, nature had decided to clean up.
I didn't get any further before I became aware of running water. Rushing to the bathroom, I found the fish had flooded the room, and were frolicking happily. I left the house, and headed down the street. First, I would get a new toaster, then I'd sort them out...

Behind, two bears revered a truck up to the wall, and proceeded to dump a load of nuclear waste through my kitchen window.

Remember kids, don't fuck with nature.

I have opened a curiosity shop for cats. It is doing great business.

Christmas is coming early... Not really.

I'm thinking about creating a supermarket-style shop and opening it at Christmas. I get why no-one else does - It seems unfair to those who do celebrate it, and its nice to have a day that's about peace and love for one another, even if it is often overtaken by crass commercialism. It may also be illegal, I dunno.
However, there could be a profit (prophet, get it... ho...ho...ho...) in it. Last minute flowers, food you've ran out of just before the family arrives, cheap generic toys for your cousin's husband's kids from his first marriage you forgot about that'll be at your house later for Turkey. And so on.

Then, I worried about upsetting Jesus, and the big man himself. After all, it's his birthday, and his father is a very influential person in some parts. Of course, it would be unfair to ruin his birthday - as we all know, the shops are closed because JC likes to partake in a bit of Supermarket Sweep for his Birthday, and who are we to ruin it for him?

"Think for yourself"

That's what we're always told. However, what's the alternative?

Why... Thinking for other people, of course!

Hi, I'm Paul Blanchard, founder of Thinkfast Industries. How often have you found yourself unable to efficiently think?
Class or workroom tests - failed due to an inability to work out the right answer!
A potential relationship left floundering - due to your inability to think of a witty line or compliment!
A relationship ruined - simply because you can't think of an excuse as to why you're wearing your wife's best hat and silk lingerie to entertain the vicar!

Here at Thinkfast Industries, we want to make these embarrassing failures a thing of the past. We employ 200 of the country's thinkers to help you out! Simply call us up, and let one of our unqualified experts do your thinking for you!
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"a sad moment in British politics"

These were the words used by Health Secretary Andy Burnham use to describe the British National party's victory tonight. The BNP has seized one of six seats in the Yorkshire and Humber region after receiving 120,139 votes. Andrew Brons, a former lecturer, won a seat on the European parliament, for the first time in the history of the BNP.

Unsurprisingly, the event has been greeted with widespread outrage. Even before the announcement, anti-BNP protesters stopped party leader Nick Griffin from entering the Euro election count in Manchester. Waving placards and surrounding a car Mr. Griffin is thought to have been in, they forced the BNP leader to sneak in the back entrance.

Griffin - a holocaust denier who was convicted of inciting racial hatred in 1998 - Stated that "It's outrageous what the left Labour Party are doing”, and threw in his support for Brons. He continued, saying: "We're here to look after our people because no one else is."
He also stated "This is ordinary decent people in Yorkshire kicking back against racism, because racism in this country is now directed overwhelmingly against people who look like me." Presumably, he is referring to British-born whites, and not taking a stand in favour of short, fat ugly men.

Andrew Brons is certainly right about some things though. After the count, he stated: "The onslaught against us has been more than against any other party in recent times, [here’s where he starts to show some failings] but somehow we've overcome it. Despite the lies, despite the money, despite the misrepresentation, we've been able to win through."
Until last year, Brons was a politics and government teacher at Harrogate College. His capabilities as a worthy representative for our country in Europe can be demonstrated by his political past- in the 1970s, he stood for the National Front in 5 elections, and also briefly lead the party. This respectable past should show how opposed he is to the ideas of fascism and white supremacy.

The European Parliament has two meeting places. These are the Louise Weiss building in Strasbourg, France - the official seat - and the Espace Léopold complex in Brussels, Belgium. I suppose it's ironic that we've just been commemorating D-day, where the last lot of fascists to take up residence in France and Belgium were shown the door.

A picture of a BNP member on the Daily Mail website (here) raises further concern – I’m pretty certain I own the same suit.
I don't often go on the Daily Mail website, but I was interested to see what they said. You know a party's bad when even the Mail claims they're fascist...

In Scotland On Sunday today, Nick Nairn is apparently discussing making the most of the asparagus season. I shall be doing the same.
I've ordered a pizza. It will not feature asparagus.
It's an awful food, and only has any use insofar as it replicating giant grass in a garden diorama made of vegetables.
I am not doing this.

I surveyed the carnage before me...

Tar pits were a rare enough phenomenon, I supposed. While they were very interesting, and a potentially good spot for a day trip, it had been foolish of me to host the company picnic here. I reminisced on this, and how I'd soon be fired, as I watched the head of marketing slowly sink into the sticky fluid. As the last of the tacky tartan rugs sank from sight, and the fire brigade hosed down the rescued picnickers, I slipped away as subtly as possible.