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.