Monday, 25 January 2016

Very Short (Unfinished) Mondays: Fairytale

This one is also from March, and is actually unfinished.  I may or may not come back and finish it, but I enjoyed reading it back so here it is...



Once upon a time, there lived this man.  Well, lots of men actually, the world was full of people.  I mean, not as many people as there are now, but still quite a lot of people.  Some of whom were men.  Where was I?

Oh yes.  The man.  The man owned a cat.  Or possibly a rabbit.  I'm pretty sure it was a cat though, because I've just remembered there's a rabbit coming up later in the story.  Anyway, so there was this magical cat.  With magical powers.  And it belonged to this man.  The man didn't have any magical powers, by the way.  He was just an ordinary man.  Except he was really good looking.  I mean exceptional.  He was a hunk.  Think of the best looking man you've ever seen and times it by about fifty.  Oh and he was also a prince.  Except he didn't know he was a prince yet.  He just thought he was an ordinary man.

Actually, come to think of it, that's the twist to the whole story, so just pretend I didn't tell you, and we'll carry on as if that didn't happen.

So there was this completely normal but incredibly attractive man with a cat that was basically an extremely clever wizard.

And the cat was called George.  George?  Gerald.  Tell a lie, Gerald was the man.  The cat was called The Great Flufferton.  But we can just call him Fluffy.  (Trust me, it's going to make things a lot simpler later on.)

So Gerald and Fluffy lived in this, well, it was sort of a hut really.  It was made of wood and was only about a metre square.  In fact it looked a lot like a small garden shed.  And it didn't help that it was full of spades and trowels and things.



Link of the Day: Chip

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Monday, 18 January 2016

Very Short Mondays: Spotting Ickenham

Another from March last year.  I'm guessing it was probably on the train on an alternative route to work during a Tube strike.


Spotting Ickenham

Spotters were not exactly welcome in Ickenham, and they weren't exactly rare either.  Since the Act had been passed, these Government officials were no longer required to wear their garish yellow uniform.

Since then, Government income from fines had increased sevenfold, and the good folk of Ickenham were significant contributors to this.  They had long since been identified as Agitators and Speakers Out, and their local area's disproportionate Spot Offence Record was no accident.

If the Government wished to crush dissent, then this did not have the desired effect.  At first, suspicious local began to turn on each other.  In the first two months, three ordinary citizens were wrongly identified as Spotters and attacked.  The third died of her injuries, and it was then that the tide began to turn.

Local activists Rosemary Heathfield and Callum Springer launched a voluntary tagging programme for dissenters.  All Spotters were required to check-in fortnightly at their Regional Headquarters, and tagging events were timed to coincide with these occasions.  The scheme proved so popular that the Spotters were soon identified by elimination and driven out.

With Ickenham now under local control, Heathfield and Springer began rolling out the tagging programme to surrounding areas.

Nine months later saw the inauguration of their National Authority, which would ultimate go on to prove far more intrusive and oppressive than the old and much hated Government.


Link of the Day: Loteria


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Monday, 11 January 2016

Very Short Mondays: Instagram

Yet another old one.  It appears I missed out and never posted a whole load of stories from my notebook.  I wrote this one last March.



Ruby opened her eyes.  Not her actual eyes, of course; no one did that any more.

The image was intermittent.  She sighed, cursed her Service Unit and gave her right eyeball a gentle flick.  It stuttered into life.

Maybe she'd make a casserole later.  She liked making casseroles.  She enjoyed the process of cooking.  She liked the smells, and she would set it on the dinner table, just watching the steam rising from it until it went cold.

Later she'd write a post about it, and update her followers on its slow decomposition until she threw it in the bin.

It would have to be vegetable though.  Meat was so expensive these days.


Link of the Day: Star War


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Monday, 4 January 2016

Very Short Mondays: Flicks

Another old one, written last February.  Clearly inspired by the Odeon in Beckenham.



Callum hated going to the loos in the cinema.  They were always, without fail, disgusting.

The toilet in the first cubicle was, as expected, blocked.  The second, for some reason, had three pence sitting in the bowl.  Callum smiled to himself, made a wish, threw in another coin, and went in the third.

The smell was just about bearable.

The film stank too.


I'm not sure if I ever decided what wish Callum made...

Link of the Day: World of Moose


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Saturday, 2 January 2016

Alan & The Albatross

Happy New Year!  I'm still around.  Sort of.  Just busy.  And I apparently wrote this in November 2014.


Alan & The Albatross

"Hey Alan."



"What?  I'm trying to work."

"No you're not.  You've been staring at that screen for the last half an hour."

"I was thinking."

"Oh was that what it was?"




"Check out my wingspan."

"What are you on about?"

"My wingspan.  Look, it's massive."

"Is that all?"

"No, that's not all.  In fact, it's not only massive, it's the largest wingspan of any living bird."

"I don't care."

"Go on, touch my feathers."


"Go on."

"Go away."

"They won't bite.  Go on, they're really soft.  Ask me how I keep them so soft."

"I'm busy."

"I preen."

"You preen."

"I preen supreme."

"Oh dear God."

"I'm pretty awesome."

"You're pretty annoying."

"Go on, what are you doing.  I'll help you.  Somehow."

"I doubt it."

"Oh go on.  What is it, a spreadsheet?  I'm good at spreadsheets."

"No, it's not a spreadsheet, and I can do it myself, thank you."

"Want to play catch?"

"Wha-Oh God put that down now!"


"Those are my father's ashes."

"Ah, so they're not yours then?"

"Put.  Them.  Back."

"Oh, okay."

"Right, now piss off."

"I'm bored."

"Look, just go catch some fish, or whatever it is you're supposed to do."


"Look, just go away."

"Just go catch some fish?  I'm not a wild animal, you know.  I didn't grow up with a mother who took me out on the open water and showed me how to hunt.  I'm an orphan."

"Look, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to-"

"Didn't mean to what?  To open old wounds?  To make me feel small?  Like a little sparrow with its little tiny wingspan, and not this massive wingspan?  Make you feel big, does it?  Bigger than this?"

"Look.  Really, I'm sorry."

"That's alright.  I'm actually vegetarian.  Do we have any cashew nuts?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Do you want to pop down the shops and get some."

"Not really, no."

"I think it's the least you could do, after what you said."

"Oh alright.  If it means I get some peace.  Do you want anything else while I'm there?"




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