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  • Don't

    But I did.

  • Once upon

    Once upon a time, nothing. And that went on for ages until Elizabeth burnt the daffodils.

  • Strategic Error

    The moment I pushed Astrid over the cliff I realised her suicide note was still in my pocket. I screamed, pummelled the ground with my fists until they bled. I dribbled sour spit.

    My performance played well at the trial, and here I am, a free man again, with a new name, on Beachy Head once more, planning another heinous, and this time extremely profitable, crime.

    No. I'm not an idiot. My new wife will die with me at her side, but on the other side of the world. Quite how I will get away with it, I'm not yet sure. But it wouldn't be fun if there were not a small element of danger. That's my rule.

  • Tesco Borg

  • Collective Nihilism

    Is it so stupid, so self-defeating, so lacking in ambition, so decadent, to long to belong to the Borg?

    I suppose joining would be irreversible. But frankly, that is most vibrant part of the attraction. That, and avoiding office work.

  • Spotted

    A helicopter dragging a new moon toward earth orbit.

    OMG! I must be dreaning already.

  • Why not Three Moons?

    Why does Earth have three moons? The question may sound outlandish, but recent(so far witheld) research by the Atlantis Institute for the Discovery Channel suggests that a planet of the Earth's vancucosity would normally have three moons, although one of them might be quite small.

    Outlandish though it may sound. scientists are now podering the possibility that a Force from a nearby solar system, or indeed, from another Dimension, may have stolen them.

    I will post more on this if and when I get more details

  • Easy Come, easy...

    Come to think of it, officer, we may possibly been have been married for a while, but I really can't remember. Is she a Scorpio?

  • Warning from the Sex Galaxy

    Further to my short report on The Murky Way Gallaxy yesterday, I should tell you that Orgies get boring after a while. Been there, done that. And that.

    There is a department in one of the planets' universities specialising in new forms of sexual pleasure, but they have rcently been bombed to a halt by a group of terrorist nuns.

    Or so I've been told.

  • Murky Way

    Despite its off-putting name, the Murky Way is the most intriguing of humonoid-inhabited galaxies, with a planet dedicated to every conceievable sexual prefence, even the dangerous ones. The only snag is that switching from one to the other is a real bureacratic drag. Of course there is an Anything Goes option, but I wouldn't advise it. Who wants to be screwed by a passive agressive alligator?

  • Compulsory Promiscuity

    On PlanetPerfect, you are not allowed to date a woman more than once. Every woman is beautiful and sexy and available. (so are the guys, by the way, although gays of both sexes go to a separate section, soI know nothing about them). But you can't have anyone more than once.

    If you ask, you will be banned for all sexual sctivities, even solo, for a whole 10 day week.

    What about children?

    I haven't found out about children yet. Hey, it's the middle of the night, and I'm making this up as I go along.

  • Crawler from the Planet Gurge

    This blog appears to have been invaded by a Crawler from the Planet Gurge. Over 1000 hits today and counting.

    Recently I have been filing reportd of scientific anomolies on the English South Coast, including humans turning into weird animals when shot to death. I happen to know that visitors from the didtant Planet Gurge are wanting to find out more about these phenonoma. Until they call off their search I will hold back on publishing further imformation.

  • The Museum that Stinks

    It was in the dark, underground, and smelt of cabbage and jodphurs. "They're all here" said a voice in my ear, "Everyone who has ever died and turned into a weird animal. The thing is, we can't decide what to do with them."

    I was going to sick unless I left straight away.

    "They're not really the bodies their loved oe want back are they? I saw one the other day with a tongure forked three ways and a double set of wings"

    "Urgh!!"

    "On the other hand if we burnt the lot of them, they would solve the energy crisis."

    "Yes! Burn them!" I gasped through two Kleenex.

    "Yeah, but, apart from the smell, they're all these stupid regulations. As well know, in this crazy country, everyone listens to to the Clotopot of Canturbury in stereo..." He blushed, and took a step aside. " Are you foreign by the way?"

    "In a sense, yes, but can you get me out of here? Now?"

    "Okay, but for goodness sake, don't express any more opinioms about this, will you? I will have no option but turn you into figged-leaf Fairy Turd. Really!"

    His eyes were gorgeous.

  • The Night of the Nonupussies

    By the time we reached Littlehampton, the battle was over. 600 monopuses lay dead in the station car park, piled neatly in height order, and labelled. "Give us our human corpses back!" wailed Jimmy, probably the only human left alive, apart from myself and the film crew,.

    "Bloody global warming!" I ventured.

    "Wake up you idiot!" The doctor at my bedside was tickling my face with an oxbow flavoured duster, "This alternative reality schtick has really gone too far."

    But I needed to know what Nonupuses looked like. I needed blueberries. I needed a new, more naturalstic storyline.

    "I love you" said the woman in the next bed.

  • A Morphinated Elephant

    The first time I saw it happen I fainted for a moment. The judge didn't even bother to say the man in the dock was guilty; he just shot the convict in the head with the court pistol. The guy turned into a corpse instantly - but the corpse of a rather twisted baby elephant with three minature trunks.

    Apparently, if friends or relations had paid a substantial fine within the hour, the elephant-corpse could have been restored to human form - and, for an extra fee, given another lease of life (although most likely suffering minor brain damage) But in this case, the family had either quarrelled with the guy or were already locked up themselves, for minor offences. What's more, his best friend had been turned into a Lemonsug in this very court only last week.

    Lemonsug? To be honest, I took the next Virgin Train out of town rather than ask further questions.

  • Creative Dissonance

    "My therapist has suggested I just let it all out."

    "Bloody awful smell!"

    "Deal with it - or walk away. It's your choice. I'm an artist and I need to take risks. 'When the blast of war blows in your ears, stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood...'"

    "'Blows in your ears'? Are you sure it's 'blows'?"

    "Frankly, I'm not even sure it's war."

  • Welcom to yr nu wrld!

    Who are you? I don't like frogs.

    Tuff. While you were asleep, there was a coup. Lots of conceptual changes. For example, Woking is now by the sea. You now live in the wrold.

    Wrold? I can't even pronounce it!

    Tuff. We've changed some spelling to emphasise that nothing's the same. More to come.

    There's been an election?

    Ha, ha, ha! Election, erection! Tuff, tuff! Kling Film decides evrything...

    Evrything?

    Everything. Sorry, that was a typo.

  • Power

    She is so feeble.

    So small.

    Suspicious,

    So fearful.

    Helpless.

    Ungracious.

    And these are the bed springs of all her power.

  • "You think you've got Problems!" said St Peter, standing by his Gate.

    "We file everything on a card index! We make far too many intuitive judgements - most of our angels are either pathetically niaive or sex maniacs. Our spy system collapsed about the time of the Spamish Inquisition. Fraud isn't even officially a Sin. And the fire is going out in Hell. So will you take the job?"

    "What's the salary?"

    "You name it. All I ask is a decision within the hour."

    "And what does... the Al say about all this?"

    "Who?"

    "Er, the Big Boss, The Almighty. God. What does God think?"

    St Peter was speechless His eyes bulged to the size of hubcaps. Then he laughed in a way that sounded as if were losing control of all of his faculties. He laughed, he sneezed six or seven times, he burped, he farted. "Priceless. Fucking priceless! You don't think God exists do you?"

  • An space elephant called Oedipus

    How did she know her name? Well, because she gave it to herself. Oedipus used to have sex with her mother, which made her feel special. But her mum had been ulta-tranquilised and minced into horsemeat. "On a space station" said Nerd, the elephant trainer, "we cannot afford to waste animal protein"

    Oedipus was dead lonely now, because there were no other girl-elephants in the space-station circus. She tried it with a camel once, with disastrous results. The poor thing could even be turned into horsemeat because - apparently - she had been stuffed full of steroids and formula babymilk.

    Now you may be wondering - know I am - how on earth elephants learnt to speak, be introspective and know about Nestle's magnificent baby products. And, lets face it, you may have never have come across a gay, incestuous elephant before. (That is, unless you have seriously warped fantasies of your own.)

    Well, this the explanation I have come up with, (but please provide another one if you feel like it):

    In the future, when space travel is part of most people's lives, we will spend years of our lives comitosely bored as scientists continue failing to devise ways of travelling faster than the speed of light. So, when we reach a space station on our way to a destination we may well not reach before we die - we will want to let out hair down big time: or to put it another way, have lots of sex and lots of entertainment.

    This is how someone came up with the idea of creating an intelligent-animal circus.

    The animals would be hatched on earth, then minisculised for the duration of their space journey. Kept in boxes originally designed for something called matches. And into these box, various human attribute hormones could be injected.

    Unfortunately, no one thought to give these exotic animals the power of human speech.

    The result was disastrous... as I may tell you one day, if I can sell this fatuous idea to Hollywood or Mormons-BurgerKing.

  • Supreme Ambition

    Gerald Spent had no particular desire to become Ruler of the World, but taking into the ambitions he did have, it was hard to see what other choice were available.

    Gerald was a softie at heart. And a tidy person, too. Starting a world war was not his style. Pointless massacres of more or less innocent people, famines and worldwide epidemics he found distinctly distasteful. But to hell with it. He had no choice. Whatever way did he have to win Belinda's hand in marriage?

    Every night he fell asleep convinced, but with not the slightest clue how he would estbalish world domination and impress the girl he loved. Every night he prayed for a dream that would explain everything. And evry morning his brain awoke innocent, blank, anxious that he would be late for his shift at the biscuit factory. Gerald's fantasies of world domination were an evning thing. He only remembered them when he saw Belinda looking ino his eyes as she read the six o'clock news. What she read was irrelevant. When she was on holiday, he ran old tapes of her reading old news, but still looking immaculately sincere.

  • The Inspector is Revolting

    The Chief Inspector is revolting. Not spriually revolting of course, because he was required to attend a place of Worship every Sunday as part of his Contract with The Ministry of Justice and Eternal Retribution. But Johnny Slopper was a helluva voyeur.

    As soon as he saw signs of debauched sex through the keyhole of our hero's residence, he called for backup in the form of a 24 hour multi-camera video feed.

    But, sadly there was little cause for censurous intervention. The girl had, it's true, lain down beside our hero and had undone her jeans (not, however, from a designer label), but then started playing with her red metal crucific, sobbing and the crying wildly. And our hero looked away, ignoring his own shrivelled, blushing sex.

    Inpsector Slopper had seen enough to realise this scene would barely make the Christnas video. He got his boys to ram the front door down, telling Bull his chief assitant there was to be no sodomy till they got to the police station.

    It was then the Angel appeared (to be continued... the previous two episodes appear on this blog immediately before this one)

  • No more dreaming, ok?

    Why was I sleeping on the kitchen floor? (well, you can get an idea what had been going on by reading the previous post} There was a knock on the front door. The second knock, the third? The policeman/schoolfriend I'd been ravishing had gone. I felt bruised but not sated. Hooray! I was not gay after all! For a moment I fogot that earlier I had murdered my best friend in the bedroom.

    "Hello... darling" I said brightly to my girl friend. This morning (the bright sky suggested morning) I didn't seem able to remember anybody's name. The "girl friend" who had never had sex with me. As usual she was wearing a red plastic crucifix. "I love you," I added, which was lie. If all went well, I was going to split up with her today.

    But how could things go well? Emily (yes! yes! She was Emily!) headed straight through the bathroom where I had left... whoever he was... bleeding to death in the bath.

    It was too late to fit a lock on outside the bathroom door, then hotwire her Fiat Infintessima and... er...

    Emily came out of the bathroom without pulling the chain, holding a sub machine gun. She grinned with mischief and popped a pill in my mouth. Not like Emily at all. This is when I woke up again, before we could kiss.

  • Murder, Sex and Practical Problems

    I killed him before I knew what I was doing, and then I had to decide what the hell to do. The neighbours might have jeard the noise, and Emily was coming to supper. I took some lasagne out of the deep freeze, and realised that unless I cut Ernie up there was no room for his body in there. I got the giggles. I had no hacksaw, and his blood would splash everywhere.

    Maybe I could get Emily to help me? I giggled again, more likea guffaw. Emily wore a crucifix and sung in a Cathedral choir. In fact, it was her choir singing that stopped me trying to take our relationship even as far as first base.

    Still, no time to work out why I hadn't had a proper girlfriend since Claire got a job in Rejevick three years ago. Emily would be the sort of girl who would be passionately loyal to our non existent sexual relationship and visit me in prison...

    Reality struck home. My heart was beating like a military gun. Sweat was making me feel like a self-basting chicken. I had no pickaxe, garden, basement or shovel. All I had to do is dial 999 (was that still the emergency number?) and use the waiting time to think up a good reason I had stabbed my best friend in the back with some nail scissors and then with an electric screw driver.

    Hopeless. Ridiculously hopeless. Before I could find the bottle of heavy duty sleeping pills that Clare had left behind, there was a heavy knock on the front door. The police, of course. When I opened the door (what choice did I have?) I was flabberghasted to see - in police gear - one of my best friends from school. Chuck? Peter? Rob? We hadn't seen each other in ten years. We kissed and had dirty sex on the kitchen floor. The other matter would have to wait until we were sated. That took some time.

  • The Origin of Darwin

    The theory of Evolution was actually invented in the 22nd Century, and retro-fitted to the world's science history by engineers at Microsoft-Walmart, it can now be revealed.

    Charles Darwin did, it is believed, exist, but he spent most of his life as a boatbuilder in Whitsable, who won one of the first Music Hall reality shows, hosted by Robert ('Charley') Dickens.

    Although the world in fact began very much as in the seven-day account given in the bible, the software engineers at Microsoft-Walmart decided it was time for a new theory and a complete rewrite of intellectual perceptions "just as a lark". Later "larks" included Einstein's theory of relativity.

    Karl Marx was a hologram. Jesus saves.

  • Where is Heaven?

    Heaven is just a planet in a distant solar system which no one can get to until they die.

    "That's stupid" said Vanessa. "You can't possibly prove it, can you?"

    "Not yet. But where is heaven, then?"

    "What does Douglas Adams say?"

  • Earwigs in Space

    Of course it wasn't part of NASA's plan, but less than a year after blast off, an earwig climbed its way ouf of a door fitting, grew very fast and announced it was taking over the ship.

    Our captain surrendered immediately and was sealed, rigid, into an transparent egg for being pathetic.

    We knew the Earwig's name was Sebastian because he handed us all business cards. "First of all chaps," he announced in his jolly, Gameshow Host voice, "I want you all to change sex."

    "How do we do that?"asked Lydia. She was gorgeous, at the moment.

    "There are conversion packs on the table... but you" the earwig added, pointing at me with at least three of his legs, "are going to be our god." Sebastaian gestured to a gilded thrown, sitting on top of a bonfire, which had just appeared from the scenery dock.

    "Is that God with a capital 'G'?" I asked,

    "Shut the fuck up, and sing something out of Mother Butterfly! NOW!"

    That's when my alarm went off, beside my bed in the military hospital. All in all, I was glad it had been a dream. Puccini is not really my style.

  • God is Back

    Or something like that... I'm not sure what I'm meant to do now I'm here. As a Visiting Angel, I'm meant to Prepare The Way - that's all He Told me. But how? (should 'how' be spelt with a Capital? I'm Confused - no, confused, because I'm just a sidekick. Maybe "Sidekick...?"

    Away with the punctuation already.

    I've started shaking. Big deal SHAKING. Incoming Message. The first He's Sent me.

    MAKE THEM FRIGHTENED YOU IDIOT. MAKE THEM SHIT THEIR PANTS IN FEAR OF ME!!

    Yessir. But around here, if they talk about you at all they say God is Love.

    What about the new weather patterns? Haven't they noticed?

    Well, er, that's Man Made Global Warming! Nothing tod do with You. And they tell me Jesus Saves.

    We're Rebranding, you fool. Haven't you grasped that yet? Love and Saving Souls are as far away as that Softie Jesus is now, on Planet PD $8.6.

    Where's that, Boss?

    Ha, ha! God knows! I Haven/t even Invented it yet. Except the Void and a few stick
    insects.

    So You want them to Fear You?

    At last! You've got it! And you're not going to hear from Me again, until they start making human sacrifices in My Hono(u)r. The Queen and Osborne-Cameron on the same bonfire...

  • Ice cold with Agatha

    Cousin Agatha was an extraordinary women. Not so much her looks, although she did look magnificent when she was dressed up for a ball or a wedding reception - or indeed on the one occasion I saw he in court, as her unfailing ability to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and - to blunt = screw up my life.

    I knew had no choice but to ask her to my wedding. She would, I was convinced, find a way to be there anyway, and stand up at the appropriate moment to announce to the priest that she knew just cause Emily and I shpould no be joined in Holy Mat.

    In fact there were hald a dozen just causes, but that's by the by.

    If I had been the bridegroom, I could have collected Cousin Agatha from her lodgings in Willesden myself, fed her a couple of the drinks in the car, sobered her up with coffee laced with valium or something stronger,and placed her behind a pillar at the back of the church, and relaxed until the reception when she bound to wake up in time for the buck's fizz or similar.

    Unfortunately

  • Professor Grambo's Curious Ambition

    On the evening before his 61st birthday, Professor Horace Grambo decided it was time he started thinking about posteriority. What had achieved so far in life, besides marrying - and in due course - divorcing - two women? He had, probably, fathered Kathleen who never spoke to him. He had almost certainly fathered Geoffrey (look at his nose!) but Geoffrey didn't even know he existed, and thought he was the son of a now disgraced politician.

    By the by. Professor Grambo had enjoyed more success in his academic life. He'd had a sub atomic particle named after him, for goodness sake! In fact he had named his inferred discovey after himself. Brilliant academic manoevring. Unfortunately, barely three years later a smarmy bastard callled Ancona found the professor's mathematics at fault. The Grambo no longer existed, long before anyone set eyes on computer simulations of the damn thing.

    Professor Horace Grambo however, definitely did exist. His ego needed no computer simulating to make it uncomfortable for anyone (besides Dorothy Sting, his lab assistant and latest fiance) to be near him at work.

    Dorothy could often read Horace's thoughts. "I know what you could do" she whispered in his ear a heartbeat after their routinely brief sexual encounter( we're back with the evening before his 61st birthday). "You can reduce the whole human race to the size of a golf ball."

    "Don't be ridiculous." The Professor suspected a moment ago Dorothy had exaggerated the size for her orgasm,and turned his back to her.

    "I'm serious!"

    Perhaps she would have let the idea go if her fiance hadn't shortly began snoring.

    "Horace I'm serious!" She shook him. "Horry! If you don't reduce the whole human race to the size of a golf ball right now, I'm going to leave you, I promise." Dorothy pushed away his groping arm. "Lots and lots of little people in a ball or no more fun for your codger." She stood up by the side of the bed to emphasise her sincerity. "I'm going to sleep in the bathroom!"

    Maybe to be continued.

  • Customers are requested

    "Customers are requested to move any corpses or near-corpses from the central aisle so the catering trolley can pass through the train unimpeded. Have a good day."

  • The Angel Leipsick comes down to Earth

    The Al (aka Almighty God) took Angel Leipsick (who you can meet in the previous post http://start-rainbow.blog.co.uk/2012/10/07/the-angel-who-ticked-none-of-the-boxes-14991801/) aside and instructed him to go down to earth on a Secret Mission. "Before we launch this Christianity thing" said God, "I want to find out what's really going on down there right now. Just observe, flit around, stay incognito..."

    I should say that The Al said all this to the ugly and odd Angel Leipsick in a Dream. God had been around long enough to appreciate the value of Deniability.

    Leipsick felt giddy with excitement. "How do I get down there, your Alness?" he asked.

    God yawned. "Details, details... Meditate?"

    What did that mean? Leipsick (who you will know from reading the previous post, really did look odd) fell into a deeper sleep and dreamt he'd been reborn beautiful.

    Anyway, to cut a long blogpost short, the next thing our ugly hero knew was...

    Well, this a serial, so I won't tell you yet.

  • The Angel who ticked none of the Boxes

    Once upon a time there was Angel called Leipsick. By Angel standards Leipsick was too small; his (or her) left wing flapped without apparent reason; he sneezed a lot. Worst of all Leipsick spoke with a nasal but clearly fake Bronx accent. God knows how s/he came into being.

    But the Eternal Godhead admits to no mistakes. "He (or she) is a Cross I have to Bare" God declared one morning at Assmbly.

    Archangel Gabriel coughed in his artificial, creepy way. "Your Almightiness, may I draw your attention to the fact that Christianity hasn't happened yet. There has been no Cross, and no Crucifixion..."

    "Shut you gob, Gabby" his Almightiness replied. "If use a metaphor, it's eternal, right?"

    The Archangel cringed. Recently he had a nightmare: The Boss had turned him into a psychedelic mushroom.

    "Besides," God continued, "I've been thinking we should redesign this Christianity thing from the ground up."

    The Committee of Angels discretely groaned. The first draft had taken forever.

    His Almightiness winked, in a way that most of Those in the Room felt inappropriate.

    To be continued - but only if there is sufficient public demand. I think I'd like there to be.

  • Tubular Sanscript

    There's a soundless song trapped in my heart.
    The music's wild, but the harder part,
    Is the words are written in tubular sanskript

  • Second Thoughts

    Just after he jumped from the 16th floor window, Jason remembered he hadn't emptied the dishwasher or

  • Fabulous Creature

    I loved the dragon I found at the bottom of my garden. It ate too much lettuce and made my dad angry, but that was all that was wrong with it.

    I liked the dragon most for the design that repeated and repeated along this (or her) lengthy back.

    "That the Nike logo!" said my father's friend, who was an important lawyer.

    "Not really," said my dad. "It's a little less curly."

    Nevertheless, a court decided otherwise when the Nike Corporation sued. Soon after the trial, two men in suits arrived at the front door to take my dragon away.

    "Bugger this for a lark!" said the dragon - his (or her) first words of English. "And you've never even bothered to vary my diet or give me a name." The dragon had a faint lisp. "Typical!" the word came out full of saliva.

    "Typical of what?"

    He - or she - never answered. Instead, the dragon evapourated itself into a cloud of green and golden smoke. The two men in suits were about to arrest me for polluting the atmosphere, but my dad bribed them, and they went away.

  • On the other hand...

    "On the other hand" said my father, then took his last breath.

    I wanted these words to be etched on his gravestone, but the rest of the family thought my suggestion was in typically poor taste. And then, out of their blue, I inherited most of his money.

  • Last Line

    When she died, the mortician was shocked to discover Pamela was mainly made of glass

  • Breathe Deeply...

    .. or the neighbours will think I've been on one of my killing sprees again

  • First Lines

    No man is an island. But there are different approaches which achieve almost the same thing. Thomas Frobisher Gently, for example, spent most of his life suspended over Lydeard St Laurence, West Somerset in a rather uncomfortably furnished barrage balloon. He called it Nathaniel after his great grandfather on his mother's side.

    For 364 days a year the balloon was invisible.

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