Parteee...

I took another look around the party. Nearby, a large man was doing something hilarious with a plant-pot, and another man was trying to chat up the fridge. After a minute, a third man opened the fridge and reached in, and a small fight erupted. To be honest, I wasn't enjoying myself. It wasn't the party per-say, but going out in general that I had an aversion to these days. I'd seen Sink the Bismarck! last week, and was worried the same thing could happen to me at any moment.
 Suddenly, I realised a woman was talking to me.
 "... So that's it really. You just sow it up, and bang! You've got a spleen fit for a King. What do you do yourself?"
Resisting the temptation to panic, I thought on my feet.
 "I... proof-read..."
 "Oh?" She continued, "Proof-read what?"
Ok, I thought. Time to prove your mental prowess, show off your ability to improvise:
 "Letters. I proof-read people's letters to David Tennant. They send me fan mail they want to send him, and I check the grammar and syntax and spelling, you know? Ooh, he's a stickler for that - won't read a letter with a misused apostrophe, not David."
 I left her looking rather baffled, under the guise of fetching more drinks. Confident I'd pulled it off, I escaped through the bathroom window and ran home. The Royal Navy attempted to sink me on the way, but no-one can stop me now!

Who doesn't want one of these?

Yea, it's a car. Driven by your hamster, rat or other rodents. Or shrunken children, I suppose. I'm not judging you...
 But seriously, why wouldn't you want one of these? You snap together a track, and your lovable, tiny animal runs around the ball, powering the car. Which really makes you wonder why we can't do this?

Oh, and I tried to work a Richard Hammond joke into this. As you can see, it didn't work...

Image and product from Firebox: Here

Religious callers?

I've developed a new hobby, namely annoying those surreal peoples who appear on my doorstep. It was simple really, based on a strategy I observed some Jehovah's Witnesses engaging in. It wasn't the normal door-to-door thing, I just followed them into Greggs. One had a roll, with chicken I think. The other waited nervously by the door, stepping from foot-to-foot and murmuring like a cartoon character. Anyway, it was then I decided to spend my life sitting in whatever fictional home I'm in at the moment, fully suited and wearing a name badge. Whenever someone knocks on my door now, I tell them about Jesus for several minutes, before leaving them in my flat and going away.
 It's a fun hobby, but rather costly. Similarly, the postman seems to be more popular with my flatmates than I ever was.
 I want revenge...

Cold snaps, Sugar-snap peas, it's all the same.

They say it's cold outside, in the real world. I don't like the real world, so I stay inside. And of course, my inside is inside a bigger inside. Do I intrigue you? Well, I'll go on regardless, you're powerless to stop me. They say it's cold... I hear them saying it, standing near my windows, pretending they're not watching me... Pretending they're just here to get some frozen peas or a quiche... But I know better... They don't hate the cold outside-outside, they RELISH it... Gives them something to talk about... So they want in... "Excuse me", They say, "I'll just reach past you... Want some sweetcorn for our Gregor."... But they're not getting into my freezer... No, no they're not.... And you can't make me leave... Not you, not your mother, not the supermarket security... I'm not leaving

To tell the truth, I've been living in the frozen Isle in Tesco since 2004. I couldn't pay for some bags of ice, and had a breakdown. Shame on you for laughing. Shame!

Snow White and the 7 racist dwarves

Ding-dong went the doorbell ominously. (Yea, doorbell stories are back, and that was a shit sentence, sorry)
I looked up from my soup, but did nothing. Maybe whoever it was would go away if I ignored them. Of course, that never works, and it was foolish to entertain the though. So, reluctantly, I got out of the soup and wiped myself down with a towel.
 "Yes?" I demanded upon opening the door. I first imagined I would be a strange sight - wearing only a towel, and with tomato and coriander dripping from my hair - but what I saw before me was shocking more even so! (I'm fucking with you now, not even I write that badly) In front of me were 7 dwarves, who at first appeared to be your typical long-bearded Tolkienesque types. However, on closer inspection, I noticed they were wearing replica Nazi uniforms.
 "Ah, good morning!" One announced. I assumed he was their leader -  A small toothbrush moustache was sat under his nose. To achieve this, he had shaved away the rest of his beard-moustache-thing, so he resembled a Hitler-coconut. As he spoke, there was some discussion behind him as to whether the group liked red people or not.
 "Can I help you?" I asked. Frankly, I didn't want to help, but there were a lot of them, and they had axes.
 "We'd like to take this opportunity tell you about some of our fantastic clothing items, my good man. Here, take a catalogue."
I took the catalogue. Flicking through it, I saw some rather nice items for dwarves - mainly chain-mail, with some plate armour thrown in for good measure.
 "Now, you may have noticed that these items are not all, ahem... In your size. But the helmets should fit, you know?"
I nodded knowingly. I continued to nod knowingly for several minutes, but the dwarves didn't leave. Eventually, I felt the need to ask:
 "What's with the Nazism?"
 "Ah, yes. Well, I'm sorry about this, it's company policy. It's not something I personally agree with, but many of the older members of the Dwarven community still hold on to the old racial purity views - You know, nasty, anti-goblin stuff: "Dwarf Fortresses for Dwarves", "Decapitate Orcs on Thursdays", that sort of thing. Anyway, we'll leave the pamphlet with you - If you make an order, make sure to mention me. Clive's the name!".
With that, they turned and left. I'm glad I got a catalogue, I can burn it and use the fire to re-heat my soup. How contrived my life seems nowadays...

Kazam!

"And is this your card?"
"No." I replied firmly. There was no point lying - the card brandished in face was a 7 of hearts, and I'd picked Death. The manic figure in front of me didn't seem affected by his magical failure. In fact, he continued happily:
 "Well, for my next trick, I need to borrow your watch!"
I tried, I really tried, to hide my watch, but he wrestled it from my wrist and hid it in a bag. Performing something actually akin to magic, he produced a large hammer from a small packet, and repeatedly struck the bag with my watch...
 "Tom... is this necessary? People are looking..." I pleaded hopelessly.
He continued, hitting the bag over and over. Then, in front of the disapproving audience gathered around us, he emptied the bag onto a pew. Several squashed oranges fell out, feebly attempting to roll on the uneven surface.
 I looked at the Vicar. He, too, was looking at me. Over his glasses, disapprovingly. I smiled apologetically. My wedding day was not turning out like I'd planned. Not one bit.

My home is infested with religious figures...

"Ah, go on, have some more wine!"
 Smiling, I shook my head and turned towards the bearded man lying on my sofa. His hand resting gently on a dog, his feet on a turtle, he looked every bit the part of an old-testament Dr. Dolittle. But he was not Dolittle, he was Noah, and he was beginning to outstay his welcome.
 "Not even a little? It's good," He continued, "I made it myself, you know..."
 "Yes." I nodded, "But I remember what happened the last time you got drunk old fellow. I disapprove of my house-guests providing anything that can be used to rationalise slavery. Besides, you've got to keep a clear head - you promised you'd get that Ark off of my lawn tomorrow. My parents are coming, remember?
 And they bloody hate boats."
There was no response, but after a moment, I detected the faint noise of gentle snoring. Sighing, I turned off the lights and headed for bed. My parents weren't coming tomorrow, but I didn't feel bad about lying. After all, God wasn't flooding the earth again either, so Noah was acting under false pretenses as well. To be honest, I think he's just lonely these days, and I understand that. But you can't just force your way into some-one's house, call them evil, fill it with animals, and turn the tool-shed into a surprisingly large boat. No sir.
 Still, it must be difficult being an antediluvian Patriarch.

Some rumbling on the grape vine....

Suggest there will be a new Lego Harry Potter range this year. I, for one, look forward to using children's toys to show how much better a wizard I would have been.
 Why not buy a Lego Paul Blanchard instead? I mean, all Harry had to face was an angry, flat-faced Ralph Fiennes. He was rich for God's sake... Me? Pah, I've been chased by a normal-face Ralph Fiennes since 1984, not to mention a host of mythical animals. Frankly, I should be given magical powers, I'd make the world  a lot better...
 Well, for Nazis anyway.

(No, not really)

Lightning always strikes me twice.

I watched Ed take another mouthful of tea. He was a nice enough guy, and had been quick enough to praise the scone I offered him, baked by my mother - a habit she picked up in rehab. Meths is an awful thing. However, one thing always bothered me about Ed - he believed he was being persecuted by Zeus. His reasons for this varied according to the amount of tonic water Ed'd drunk and the weather conditions, but his most common retort was that the pair had fallen out over a $10 bill, or that Ed had sided with the Titans and attempted to free them from Tartarus. Whatever the reasons, Ed was adamant the Greek deity was out to get him. Suddenly, I realised I'd been inner monologuing while Ed talked again. I tried to catch up.
 "... pretending to sell double-glazing. Well, I saw through his ruse, and send him away. But, he smote my house with lightening! He's gone to far this time! What was the name of that God Marcus used to use when he got in trouble?"
 "Yahweh," I sighed, "But Gods don't work like that, you know. You can't just..."
 "Nah, it won't be a problem. I'll see if Marcus's guy can help me sort out Zeus."
I paused for a second. Frankly, this was a more ridiculous conversation that usual, and I had no idea where it was going. I decided to stop now. Bidding Ed a good day, I got my coat and left. I don't care if it's my house, he can have it. I'm going to Mars. This planet is far to stupid.

Happy new year...

Well, it's a new year again. Instead of some tacky chart showing all the merry, happy things that happened to me last year (there were none), I thought I'd give you a timeline of the history of your brilliant species, humanity. Or something.

• 4,000 B.C - God creates the earth, heavens,space and dinosaur bones. This comes as a great shock to the advanced people of Mesopotamia. God also creates the first two human beings, not to be confused with the 7 million who are already alive. 
• 0 - Jesus is(n't) born (yet). He spreads a message of peace and love, before being crucified. In a typical religious manner, his simple lessons of love are interpreted as directions for 2,000 years of genocide. The same can be said for the works of John Lennon.
• 1889 - Hitler is born. He will forever be remembered for sparking an interest in the WW2 sub-genre of films, novels and computer games.
• 1957 - Stephen Fry is born. He is often looked upon more favourably than Hitler, but had yet to be played by Charlie Chaplin in a film.
• 1979 - Earth is ravaged by the Apocalypse. It goes largely unnoticed
• 1990 - I am born. I accomplish mild fame in the field of romantic fiction for bears, before dying in obscurity on a lunar prison colony.
• 2042 - Due to a transporter accident, Stephen Fry's cryogenically-frozen body is transported back in time, to the early 20th century. His adventure is popularised in a film starring Charlie Chaplin.
• 2151 - Earth is all but destroyed by a Martian invasion. This blog, and several cookbooks offering conflicting nutritional information, survive. They are used as an inspiration for the 10,000 survivors of Earth as they rebuild the species near Shropshire.