I was sat here at my computer, wondering what I should even write about; what story I might tell.
There was nothing I could think of, so I’ll ramble on about incoherent nonsense. Good luck understanding!

Nah, I won’t be too cryptic.

I quit my job, and last Friday was my last day at work.

Now it is Monday, the beginning of a usual working week for most of the enduring, toiling, human race. But not for me. Naturally, I have used my time today to be as productive as humanly possible. Not being bound to the time restrictions of a normal job, I have been working on my new career, namely my life.

There are no opening or closing hours, there is no time schedule, no meetings, no deadlines, no rules or boundaries. I can start work from this second and never stop. I can take my business anywhere, make it grow any place, succeed in any arena. It just takes hard work. If you remain idle, your life will just sit around idle, like an empty shed, not growing or expanding or changing. In some cases, even when you have a job your life can be just as empty.

Well, my job began today. My new job.

People will often classify you by what you doooo. I am no longer bound by such a definition. I’m a professional James, and as you can see, I am alive, so business is booming.

I am looking forward to the next time someone asks me what I do, I can confidently tell them I am a free agent, just making it. Not making money, but building my shed, making it bigger, upgrading, filling it with things, cleaning the cobwebs and drinking tea the whole damn time. What’s that? It’s break time? Haha, you fool. There is no such thing as break time in this place.

One thing I hope to find in the coming months, and years. One thing I wish were easier to come by. Contentment. I want to be out of the endless race. The clawing, scrabbling climb to the top. I’ll let you know if I find it.


Mud and waves

Posted: June 2, 2014 in Does not fit anywhere
Tags: , , ,

I am better at writing things when I don’t think anyone will read it. So I’m going to pretend that, and imagine that everyone on the internet is some kind of robot. None of the real people use the internet.

All the real people are being experimented on like me. We’re all dotted around, so far away from each other, on different planets entirely, yet it seems like we’re sooo close.

We’re experimented on extensively in our sleep, so that we imagine things so vivid that they appear real. People using facebook on their phones and talking about sports and showing videos and talking about links and sending links. Its all crafted and planted and mixed with reality.

And you don’t have a family. Nor do you have a body. No hands grabbing things and clasping things. Tapping at hard surfaces, pressing into deep things.

Every night when you switch off you’re unplugged and filled up with another concoction of a day, with dreams and disasters all ready to be felt. You’re a bodiless fluff, very very contained. With tubes all pushing you around and flooding your emptiness.

Mud and waves are two things I like very much. Mud makes you dirty and the waves make you clean.

The mud is sloshy and fun and worthy of all my attention. The waves are vast and challenging.

I enjoy walking around in the waves, fighting them. It’s like playing with a great beast, that could so easily topple you. Could so easily swish you away forever. I walked along the beach for hours yesterday, in the waves, and all the violent noise, and shards of glass in my head were washed away. I wanted to keep going on and on and on.

I felt more peaceful then than I have in a while.

Anyway, if you’re a robot or a test subject, I highly recommend going out and getting really muddy. And I highly recommend going out and wading around with the waves.

You can be completely yourself, and shout as high and loud as you can, and cry and sing and do all the things your heart wants to do. You’ve got a mini ocean inside your chest that’s always crashing and smashing around, always trying to break out of your chest and explode. It needs to be taken for a walk every now and then.

I’ve been sat here for a little while now. Not a whole month, cause that’s how long it’s been since my last post. Not a month. Just like, a little while.

I couldn’t think of something super witty and funny to write, I’m feeling a little flat. Like a flat slap of spam. Slapped down onto a pavement.

However, after thinking about what to write for a little while, I thought I’d tell you about sweets.

I have never felt richer or wealthier than when I have been walking home from school with my pockets full of sweets. Walking through Central Park, with the sun shining through gaps in the great big trees, and my feet covered in mud. Yes, I felt like the richest boy in the world, despite having no money.

By sweets, I mean, small, varied, sugary, gummy or chewy or sour bits of tastiness.

In the UK, when I was a kid, you could buy penny sweets at lots of places. Sadly, this is not the case anymore, probably cause they take so long to create a profit and cause of the hygiene problems, and cause they were such a pain in the ass to count. Basically you’d go into a corner shop or paper shop, and they’d have about ten-twenty clear cube containers lined up in a row around the chocolate/sweets section, each filled with a different sweet. They were called penny sweets because each one cost 1p. They were perfect for schoolkids with only a specific amount of 27p, or something like that, in their pocket.

And I was definitely one of those annoying kids that would buy exactly 62p of penny sweets, or 47p, or 38p. So they’d have to count them all. The only reason why they counted is because most kids lied about how many they got, or they wouldn’t bother counting them at all, so the person at the register would have to do it.

Anyway, I used to know all the best places in Plymouth to get penny sweets. I knew all the haunts. I was familiar with every dealer. I knew when there was a strange new penny sweet from Italy at a particular shop, or a super sour gobstopper, or anything hard to come by. This was before you could just order anything on the internet. We didn’t have the internet at our house til I was about seventeen.

My prime sweet career probably went from about nine to fifteen. The reason why I call it a career is because my unique knowledge ended up bringing in some dosh. I would go on foot all over Plymouth to find the good stuff, and, being a paperboy, I was on foot all the time. Soon, at school, people knew about the good stuff that I brought in for myself, and I began to sell it off to my schoolmates for basically double the acquisition cost.

It became so lucrative that I began taking orders. I even hired some mock staff, and paid them 5% of the earnings. The business was called James Merchandise.

Being a child, the first thing I did, that I considered to be most important, was come up with a theme tune for my business. Being an adult I have come to realise that most businesses don’t even have a theme tune.

Well, they’ve got it all wrong. I used to drum up a lot of business by my enthusiasm and theme tune. And also the delicious sweets I fetched.

Whenever I found a promising new sweet, I’d bring it in to school and let everybody try some, as a taster. I’d then take orders. I can’t remember all the different kinds, or hits, but one of them which is still around today, which isn’t technically a penny sweet, but did drum up some profit, was called Gum Powder. Which is a kind of sour-ish chewing gum that you get in a small black card container, with a big explosion picture on the outside, and the gum was in the shape of small black/grey nuggets.

When I was that age, I believed I could be the next Willy Wonka. Or, the first really. I was absolutely positive I knew what sweets were bad, and what were good, and had some ideas for absolutely amazing sweets. I also wanted to be some kind of dental scientist who came up with a miraculous formula for a toothpaste that you’d only need to apply once, and it would protect your teeth for life, against any amount of chewy sweets. I also dreamt about being a mutant, whereby my superpower would be that my insides had changed so that sweets are the equivalent of a healthy and nutritious diet. Basically so that I’d not have to eat any vegetables or savoury things ever again, and could just survive very healthily on sour and sweet sugary things forever.

Anyway, James Merchandise eventually died about because I told my mum about it, and she didn’t really approve of me doing two things.

Firstly, using my bus money to buy sweets, instead of catching the bus to school.

Secondly, ripping off everyone in school by charging double the price I got them for.

I wasn’t in the habit of obeying my parents, but I wasn’t a bad guy, so that kinda slowed my aspirations. And it was around that time that places stopped selling penny sweets. Nowadays, most places that do sell penny sweets call it Pick and Mix.

The only difference between pick and mix and penny sweets is the price. With penny sweets, you are charged by each individual sweet, but with pick and mix you are charged by the weight, which is substantially more expensive.

So those scumbags at village cinema and warner village and vue and all those other scumbag cinemas led the way in introducing sweets being charged by weight.

Anyway, I’m sure if you spoke to someone who bought and sold penny sweets on a large scale they might give you a different opinion about their rise and fall, but this was my perception as a boy, one which I hold still today. They were very much one of the highlights of childhood to me.

I won’t end this on a low note, so one thing I will say, is that today I had a really amazing dentist appointment 🙂

I hope you are feeling very good today also,


Metal man

Posted: March 8, 2014 in Does not fit anywhere

Hi team, it’s great to see you’re still kickin it. wingin it.

I’m writing to let you know of my plans to build a suit of indestructible armor.

Yes. It’s true. I’m going to build the first one.

After it’s done I’ll let you use it, but only if you are going on a very dangerous adventure. I’ll post a calender of my planned days for dangerous adventures and you can borrow it on one of the days I won’t be using it.

I imagine lots of army people will be interested in having a go in it or maybe finding out my secrets, but if everybody in a war had an indestructible suit on then nobody would die. The only way to beat each other would be to push each other into big holes or the ocean. War would look very different indeed. Instead what I’ll do is I’ll make one for every army in the world, and whenever that army has to fight another army, they have to elect one member to wear the suit and the other army has to elect a member to wear a suit, and it’ll be like a big WWF match where you have to pin the opponent for like five seconds, and you can jump onto each other from ladders and shoot each other with bazookas and like, it would be on live TV too. So, nobody would die. And whatever trouble that country has with the other country will just have to be sorted out.

Naturally, it’ll be pay per view. But not very expensive. And all the money will go to renewable energy and food development in third world countries and cancer research.

Anyway, I’m just writing to let you know that it’ll be done pretty soon maybe.

On an unrelated note. I’ve started welding in my spare time. It is great fun! It’s like a more dangerous, bigger version of Lego. I used to love Lego when I was a kid. If you don’t know what that is, then probably google it and make sure your kids find out about it.

Anyway, have a wonderful night or day, bye bye.


Good evening friends, I’m writing something now to you from my computer board. I am not trapped inside it. I am outside it right now, it is on my leg, and I am pressing the keyboard all over the place to make words that I like appear on the screen, then I’ll let you know that you can see it on your screen too, by email or facebook or something, and you can decide whether you like the pressing of the keyboard.

Anyway, I’m writing about Smiley McGee, who is the man I met tonight very briefly, he’s probably not called Smiley McGee, but I imagine him to be.

He was very old, maybe late 70’s or mid 80’s. But had good muscles. And he was exceptionally happy.

I met him because I responded to his Gumtree ad. He was selling an electric chainsaw sharpener for tuppence.

When I handed over the $30, he was so distracted with gleeful happiness that he stopped talking about the machine and just stared and rubbed slowly together the two notes. A ten dollar note and a twenty dollar note.

His smile was so genuine, and his happiness so truthful, I feel like going round his house in a week and offering him $30 for one of his spoons. Or a piece of paper. No doubt he will think he’s fooled me into spending a whole massive thirty dollars on something that is not worth thirty dollars. He’ll think he’s the very King of Crooks, which will double his joy at receiving the thirty dollars.

But it will all be worth it for me cause he was so damn happy about it.

Part of me thinks he was going to have to sell it to me hard, or be in for some serious haggling. Like he knew I was only in it about 20%, and he had to lay on me his most professionally deadly sales pitch. But when I rocked up and handed him the bucks and took off within two minutes, he croooned with happiness. Crooooooned of the sky and the sun and love and laughter and all things good.

Right now I imagine him sat in his kitchen, at the kitchen table, with a cup of tea, just staring at the thirty dollars as it lay. A few metres across from him next to the kettle. Just thinking to himself at how bloody successful his amazing financial adventure has been.

I was very glad to have been a part of it. Long may his ambitious ventures continue. Maybe I’ll follow him on gumtree and make sure all the stuff he’s trying to sell gets sold. You can send me a private message if you like and I’ll tell you his username. It’s not fair to hide Smiley McGee from the rest of the world


hello there.

I didn’t see you.

I was quite preoccupied thinking.

What was I thinking? Well, that is a rather personal thing to ask. But I will tell you, because we are personal friends who share all sorts of deep and meaningful things with each other.

I ride a motorbike around the place. Not in a gang or to look cool. And not for practical reasons either.

Lately, a thought crosses my mind when I ride my bike.

I’m not a morbid person, and I’m not depressed, but as soon as I cruise along down past the cars stuck in a queue. I wonder if today will be the day I crash.

Lots of people have told me how dangerous riding a motorbike is, and how much more likely it is that you will be involved in an accident. I’ve heard all the horror stories. When I get on my motorbike I wonder if it is now.

I wonder if I will be lying on the cold pavement ten minutes from now. I try to imagine what it would feel like to fly off the motorbike. To tumble and crash and rip like a computer being thrown from someone’s window. Will my legs break like the computer monitor cracks and shatters. I picture it all in my head.

I don’t ride my bike dangerously, most of the time. And I don’t speed. But it doesn’t stop me from wondering just if today is the day. I’ve got kevlar jeans I wear whenever I ride my bike. I think about those jeans. Will they last.

I’ve never experienced extreme pain before. If I could choose, I would like the pain to be awful. But without leaving me unable to do the things I like to do. Like, climb trees and run and play sports. So, I wouldn’t want any long term injuries. Although, having said that, one thing which I wonder is, if I were to somehow become paralysed from the neck down, or the waist down, would I become very productive? Would I lead a more meaningful life? My natural talent is creating things. Like stories and ideas and pictures. But I am not very productive. If I were paralysed, or even if I was just hospitalised for a long time, would I create things more often than I do now? Would I really dedicate my time?

Have a think about it. If you were hospitalised for a long time. What would you do? Are you happy with your honest and truthful answer? You don’t need to tell anyone but yourself.

Anyway, thank you for reading my ramblings. I really have been thinking about crashing a lot lately, and I just had to spit it out of my head.

Good night

p.s here is a photo of my bike.954766_10151648495914292_107828134_n

Helpful Thoughts

Posted: September 7, 2013 in Fiction/Stories
Tags: , , ,

Writing on a piece of paper is like scratching your leg. It’s exactly like scratching your leg. The difference between different kinds of writing, is how you do it, and how your leg is feeling.

Sometimes my leg is very itchy somewhere, so I reach down my trousers and find the itchy spot and scratch it with my nails so that it goes away. Sometimes it goes away for a while. Sometimes it reappears at a spot near where you last scratched and you have to go and scratch more and more! Sometimes you feel it far away from the last spot, like you’ve just scared some unknowable, immaterial sensation to the other side of your body.

There’s a little man in your clothes running around and tickling you in places. He runs over to one of your body’s hairs and tugs and kicks it. But he’s very small so it doesn’t hurt. Then you come by and scratch. A huge great big scrape down from the sky, or a massive lunging mountain worm whooshing through your clothes.  And he hides.

Sometimes when I scratch, the itch just jumps a bit left or right, and back again. And I scratch and scratch but it never reaches the itch. Never gets it.

Now you can see, writing is exactly like scratching your leg. They are almost identical in every possible way.

One other thing I have realised:

Making fruit salad is exactly like setting a fruit salad on fire. The decisions made of ingredients, of juices, of bowls, are practically indistinguishable from the decisions of timing, fuel, location and who’s salad.

Let us think of the practical similarities.

When I make a fruit salad, I want it to make someone, usually myself, happy. The same is true of when I set a fruit salad on fire.

When I make a fruit salad, it makes me happy because it tastes delicious and makes other people happy.

When I set one on fire, it makes me happy because it is a funny joke and makes other people happy.

Occasionally however, it is not a joke. Occasionally, you must set the fruit salad on fire. You must. Because the fruit salad is covered in poison arrow frog’s, and if you do not set it on fire this instant, the children at the party will eat it all and eat all the poison arrow frogs too. There are no bin bags or plastic bags available, and the little children are uncontrollably tempted. The salad bowl is too heavy to lift, and you are in a location where there are no tall ledges or tables. The salad bowl is also very wide, and brimming with poison arrow frogs. The frogs are all knocked out, and will not be going anywhere. All of the other adults and people at the party are enjoying themselves and will not help because they believe the frogs are just gummy frogs. But you saw them leap in. You are in a clearing in the Amazon rainforest anyway. Next to the bowl is a lighter and a can of gasoline. The children, all the children, are running now to try the fruit salad and the gummy frogs, from 360 degrees round they are running. You have ten seconds.

For example, in this situation, if you are a sensible person, you will set the frogs on fire. No doubt you will have had to make a decision not dissimilar to this at some point prior to now.

Now you can see, making a fruit salad is almost a duplicate of setting one on fire.

I hope this has challenged your perspective and provided and alternative way of thinking about fruit salads and writing.

Have a wonderful day 🙂

This morning I am sitting at my computer with a funny hat on. I’m a little bit tired, and a bit cold. And I cant imagine any other circumstance in which I’d be sitting here wearing this hat. Since I’ve had it, I’ve worn it less than ten times. I’m not going to describe it to you or put a picture of it, you’re just going to have to imagine in your head a silly hat that you wouldn’t really wear in public. And voila. Since the last time i posted on this blog lots of things have been going on. The news has been on EVERY DAY, and theres been newspapers published, loads of newspapers, every day too. And its probably been 60 days or so since the last time i wrote here, maybe more. And, assuming the newspapers and news shows weren’t always talking about the same event, atleast sixty things have happened. So I’m going to list sixty things that have happened, going backwards from this day. Today is the 7th of March 2012. I’ll tell you the news for today at the end of this overview.

6th March: An urgent evacuation order has been issued for central Wagga Wagga in southern NSW as floodwaters threaten to reach a 159-year high.

5th March: Officials in Kostanay, Kazakhstan, were shocked when Ricky Martin’s pop hit “Livin ‘la Vida Loca” played instead of the national anthem at a ski festival.

4th March: Emperor Akihito, of Japan, was discharged from hospital today after undergoing a heart bypass and rehabilitation.

3rd March: Ören village in Turkey has been quarantined after rabies was found in a goat and dog.

2nd March: 2 trains collided head-on in Warsaw, Poland; 8 people died, dozens were injured.

1st March: FIFA have confirmed that they will will conduct a routine examination into Bahrain’s 10-0 win over Indonesia (football)

29th February: New research from the University of Liverpool has found that the Tyrannosaurus Rex had the most powerful bite of any creature that has ever lived on earth.

28th February: A monster saltwater crocodile has been caught near a popular swimming hole in Darwin’s rural area.

27th February: The creator of the children’s character Fireman Sam, has been detained by airport security at Gatwick after he made a remark about a woman wearing a hijab.

26th February: A man from Quintong, Philippines, thought to have been dead and buried weeks ago turned out to be alive. His wife found him in a neighbouring province, claiming she slapped and punched him to make sure she was not talking to a figment of her imagination.

25th February: America has a new sporting hero. Jeremy Lin is a 23-year-old basketball player for the struggling New York Knicks, who until just a few days ago, was officially homeless.

24th February: A British magazine said finalists for a prize given to books with bizarre titles include “Cooking with Poo” and “Estonian Sock Patterns All Around the World”. Horace Bent, diarist for the magazine The Bookseller and custodian of the Diagram Prize, which is given annually to books with strange titles, said this year’s finalists include Saiyuud Diwong’s “Cooking with Poo,” which refers both to the author’s nickname and the Thai word for “crab,”

23rd February: Slovaks have been voting overwhelmingly in favour of naming a new pedestrian and cycling bridge near their capital after 1980s US action film and TV star, Chuck Norris. The actor’s work has become a popular source of kitschy fun among Slovaks and a mainstay for local jokes about macho strength and invincibility.

22nd February: Australian Foreign Minister Kevin Rudd has resigned amid what looks like a power struggle with the woman who took over from him as prime minister, Julia Gillard.

21st February: Police in San Diego said a would-be robber who armed himself with a fluorescent light bulb was foiled when a clerk refused to hand over any cash.

20th February: The hotel chain Travelodge surveyed 6,000 Britons, finding that thirty-five percent of adults in Britain admit to sleeping with a teddy bear to help de-stress and sleep at night.

19th February: The residents of the island town Grand Isle, Vermont, have been struggling to catch an emu that has been on the run for the past several weeks. The Grand Isle farmer has posted an ad into the paper that has said, ‘Free emu if you can capture it’.

18th February: An unprecedented investigation into hibernating bears has provided scientists with vital insight into the state of “suspended animation”, which might one day allow space travellers to sleep for months at a time.

17th February: According to MI5 files released today, Nazi counterfeiting during WWII was so effective that it destroyed confidence in British bank notes in Europe after the defeat of Germany. The forged notes, made by prisoners at Sachsenhausen concentration camp, were so skillful only an expert could spot they were fake.

16th February: Researchers at New Mexico State University said they have identified the Trinidad Moruga Scorpion pepper as the hottest pepper in the world

15th February: A North Dakota man who admitted shooting a TV because he was angry about the volume has been sentenced to six months in jail.

14th February: A Wisconsin grocery bagger took home the $10,000 grand prize at the National Grocers Association’s 26th Best Bagger Championship in Las Vegas.

Okay, so thats lots of things. Not sixty things I know. Still, this should be evidence enough that lots of stuff has gone down. I had to make a conscious effort to not put bad news on every day. Not because I’m a miserable person. But because nearly all the news stories I came across were negative. And so the question remains, is good news worthy news? How should we go about deciding what news is worthy and what is not? By the extent to which a person is moved to action? Or to tears? Should news be disconnected from feelings/emotions altogether? Anyway. these are questions I’m asking myself now in my head. Today the news is that I am still alive in Australia somewhere. If you want any further information on any of the news items I mentioned, pm me and i’ll provide links.

I hope you get a good share of good news today. Bad news is informative and helpful, good news is too. But good news can also create hope. Which is one of the most powerful things in the world. With it a normal person can accomplish incredible things. Hope can determine the direction of your whole life. Until you have hope, you won’t know how much of a struggle it is to keep it alive. It is fragile and our minds our fickle, and for some people, they cannot even comprehend hope. They don’t know why they have none. Keep your hope alive by feeding it good news. That’s my advice for today 🙂 Also, one more piece of advice. Go to a sweet shop or department store, ask the clerk what her/his favourite chocolate is, buy two, and give the clerk one. Then walk straight out the door. Don’t even wait for a response.

I wish many love messages and happy thoughts to whoever you are inside,


The Loot

Posted: September 5, 2011 in Funny Pictures
Tags: , ,

Whats that James? You post more regularly now you’re out of work?? How perceptive of you. It is time for another collection of images which I harvest from the internet like any treasure hunter. Except this time its wallpapers, I hope you like. If you want any information on the artists/photographers ask me.

have a joy joy day

Also, laziness= not putting capital letters in the title of a blog entry. BWAHAR! Thats right! Its me who didn’t put capitals in this blog entry! Infallible logic=I am lazy.

I thought I’d post another short story I’ve written, to touch your senses in a special way 😉

is that a wink? yes it is. Let me know if you like the story. Its for kids, but lets face it, you’re a kid really.

The Shambly Gambler (Part One)

The shambly gambler wambled his woggly bottom togs across the soggy jogging bog of Bango. When all of a sudden! Bango himself flew down from his high window and stamped his bronze feet in front of the man who gambly shambles.

‘Why?’said he ‘Why stamp so bronzely in my path? I shamble all day in the soggy jogging bog, even the humble logs clog my morning jog’.

‘Silence! For many years I and my wealthy cohort of car salesmen and foreign media moguls have allowed you and your twin brother the usage of our fine training facilities for no cost other than the usual billion pounds a day, however! As you probably don’t know, times are changing my old exploited-minority-friend, the government has put a huge air tax on car salesman. Probably because salesman talk so much, far more than the average person, so we’ve got to pay that little bit extra for the oxygen we use up. And so, from now on, whoever uses our facilities, will need to pay 50p extra per ten years. Also, I am a nasty person, and I don’t like you’.

‘No! Please no!! No I cannot! It is quite possibly impossible for me to afford the extra fare of 50 pence per decade for your air! I rarely am hardly, barely able to pay the daily billion pounds per day!?’

‘Shutup minority!’ shouted the angry Bango as he slapped the quivering old man on his forehead with a stamp that read in capitals ‘bumface’.

Bango flew off into the sky followed by his rich cohort of car salesman and foreign media moguls, the majority of which wore lab coats, flapped their arms and made lots of incoherent noises, like seagulls.

The clouds filled with sadness, the grass steamed with badness, the vast hills loomed madness. These things are not good.

The Chinese ambassador, submerged in the sand of the beach, could feel this change! He leapt atop a cloud to see wherefore the badness had emerged.

‘You below! Whatfore how is this badness appearancing?’


‘Aah! Pardon myself, I have the bad grammar many times due to my poor trainings in the English. Allow me rephrase to you a separate meaning, Howlo upon this badness cometh yow?’

After a great deal of negotiation and extremely poor grammar the Chinese Ambassador gave the brothers three hundred sheets of blue A4 paper and sixteen boxes of Skittles.

‘Um. Thank you Mr ambassador’

‘Bonjorno!!’ he shouted as he disappeared in a cloud of red smoke.

Meanwhile, back in the soggy jogging bog, Bango was sitting with his cohorts planning more ways to sneakily take peoples money.

‘What about..if we tell people there is a million pounds in a bag somewhere..but we don’t put any money in it!!’

‘Haha! Yes that will make us a fortune! Everyone will think there is money in the bag but there is not any!! Haha! You rich cohorts were worth every penny!’

Many years ago Bango was not so concerned with money. He was a poor potato farmer from Poortown but as soon as he discovered that money grew in his potatoes, he stopped farming them for food, and instead farmed for loot. He became consumed with greed and appeared on many television shows pretending to be a nice man, but he was really cheerily taking people’s money secretly.

Back in the bog, Bango received a telephone call.

A ploy! A foul plot! A deception of the deceptive! A trap set out on the trapper by his fellows! The phone call was from King Business himself. Months earlier Bango had signed a contract for the firing of a poor employee because he was too poor to buy clothes. But the contract was not for the employee…the rich cohorts had switched the name to Bango.

Bango was thrown down from his high tower! He fell with a thud only metres from where The Shambly Gambler and his brother, The Stumbly Grumbler were trying to build a house from boxes of skittles and blue paper.

Then there was red lightning flashing in the sky, the smell of stale milk filled the air and the sun turned black! The gaggle of wealthy media moguls and car salesmen flew from every direction up into the sky with their bright white labcoats, squawking and screeching.

They clambered atop each other to form a rich flying giant labcoat-wearing monster, insanely aware of worldwide economy and marketing techniques!

‘Gentlemen! From this day forth the price of every item that can be bought will be increased by 20 million pounds!’ the huge figure laughed monstrously ‘And all hourly wages to every employee everywhere will be reduced! By 200% percent!’

‘Thankfully you and I don’t have jobs, so we wont lose any money from gaining wages like all those other poor shmucks!’ said the Stumbly Grumbler and then once more the Chinese Ambassador exploded from the sand of the beach up into the sky!

‘You cannot let the monster roam free! Only you can defeat it! Even if just for my sake! I work as an electrician part-time you see, and now that my wages are reduced by 200% I’m going to be losing a lot of money even if I go on sick leave’

‘Your English seems a lot better now?’

‘Oh err yes I’ve been at night school…anyway, bye!’ and with that he disappeared

(End of Part One)

anyway, let me know if you like it. and definitely let me know if you dont like it. Negative feedback is much more useful than positive. But don’t just lie!

Have a good day yee poor shmuck whoever yee are 😀

Whats this? the title of this blog entry has nothing to do with the entry? Hahar, you caught me.You win twenty smackaroos