May 24, 2007

"Zeds?" comes the plea. "Zeds? I'm at my wits' end. I've nowhere else to turn. No one else to run to. Bereft. Frightened. Alone. Incomplete. [Erm] Incontinent."

*Zeds squeezes the top of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, sighing as prepares to lay down his life, once more, for the unfortunate*

He spakes: "Yes, my child?"

"What are you doing at the end of June?" cometh the plaintive response.

*Zeds flicks through empty bulging diary of social engagements*

"Well," he says, "it would appear" - he pauses, double flicking through his bus tickets executive Filofax - "absolutely bugger all. Why?"

"I might have some spare tickets to go to Wimbledon. You know, men's singles finals and all that. For free. We can get wankered and watch the matches from the bar, just to piss off the poor people. Fancy it?"

*Zeds pauses the pause of a refined and unaffected man-about-town*

*He glances out of the window, drinking in the sight of small fluffy birds chirruping merrily in the branches*

*He watches rich green leaves rustle, and flutter, in the sporadic May breeze*

*He gazes, appreciatively, at the stained glass windows of the church across the way and makes a mental note to visit soon*

*He closes his eyes, and thinks briefly of the suffering of African orphans, a grimace of Bono-style pain etched across his granite-like face*

*He offers up a prayer for the dying, and the dead, and for all the babes around the globe whose world is a less than happy place*

"Well," he says, after his priestly contemplation, "do you mind if I bite your fucking hand off?"

May 24, 2007

When my mate moved his shop three doors down the road in Hoylake recently, he forgot to mention - knowing I would be spending a considerable amount of time here - one very important point.

If I walk out of the front door, on my immediate right is a chemist, which is of course extremely handy for when I get my lady cramps.

On our immediate left, however, is an Indian restaurant. That sells curries. And onion bhajis. And poppadums. And naan breads. And pickles and raita and chutney. And at the end they give you an After Eight mint after they accidentally short change you (every single time I go in there, funnily enough).

And in the mornings, every morning, starting around 9.30am, as I sit nursing a gentle hangover and my stomach rumbles the slow groan of a poorly bear, the guys next door have their daily onion, garlic 'n' ghee cooking competition, which among other things involves them racing to the kitchen window, opening it, putting a Great Big Fan next to it, and blowing the resulting garlicky guff in huge plumes out of the window, across our back yard, through our back door, past the new kitchen, into the corridor, round the corner, through the store room, across the back office, over the counter, into the shop, over my legs, up my chest, into my nose, through my brain, around my head, into my lungs and my stomach and my heart, before resting finally in every single blood vessel of my ravaged frame.

Yes, I'm hungry. So here - share my pain...

May 24, 2007

Courtesy of Holy Moly.

From: news@prhq.co.uk
Date: 12 May 2007 10:06:23 BDT
To: XXXXX
Subject: Two UK psychic detectives have arrived in Portugal in a bid to help track down missing toddler Madeleine McCann.
Reply-To: xxxxxxxxxxxx

Hi,

We've just had this great story come about a couple of our clients and thought that it may be of interest to you.

Two UK psychic detectives have arrived in Portugal in a bid to help track down missing toddler Madeleine McCann.

Amanda Hart from St Albans and Ben Murphy from Watford believe their psychic powers could provide the missing key in finding the three year old who has been missing since last Thursday.

Madeleine is believed to have been taken from her bed while her parents were eating at a nearby restaurant close to their holiday apartment in the Algarve village of Praia da Luz in Portugal.

They had been regularly checking on her and their two-year-old twins, Sean and Amelie, before she went missing.

Amanda Hart, who has appeared on Tricia Goddards Psychic Challenge and regularly presented her own psychic radio show, says she has been receiving vital clues as to the childs whereabouts. Her partner, Ben Murphy who was involved in helping track down the murderer of teenager Sally Anne Bowman last year, has also had psychic impressions of her location.

The pair arrived in Portugal on Friday and are hoping to use Amanda’s ability as a psychic ‘tracker’ to help find Madeleine.

Spokesman Kizzi Nkwocha said: “Both Amanda and Ben have proven their psychic abilities beyond any doubt. They now hope to use these powers to help find Madeleine. Any information they get will be made available to the authorities in Portugal.”

If you'd like any further information about Amanda and Ben or news of their progress, please feel free to contact Kizzi Nkwocha on the following number or email.

Kizzi Nkwocha
Tel: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
www.prhq.co.uk

May 24, 2007

A highly successful New Zealander who works in advertising (yes, I know, but bear with me) has written a book about coping with depression.

It's called I Had A Black Dog; it's a series of cartoon-like sketches depicting how his depression - in the symbolic form of a black labrador - buggered up his life; how he started bringing his dog "to heel"; and how he copes with it these days.

One of the 38 sketches shows the author, Matthew Johnstone, lying in bed with his wife, both of them awake, him facing her, her facing the wall, both awake, both miserable.

Between them lies the dog, facing him, showing how his depression was suffocating their intimacy.

Anyone who's ever had a bout of this crippling illness will recognise the scenarios he lays out.

It's quite brilliant. Read more and see some of the cartoons here.

May 24, 2007

Verbophobia, noun
Fear and dislike of words

"Athens," said Nipper.

"ARGH!" said Zeds.