I’m terribly modern. Have been for ages. I hang around almost exclusively in the present. Not that present – this one… Now this one… You get the drift, you clever little thing you. Anyway, having totally nailed the whole modern thing, I thought I’d have a go at postmodernism (which is also premodernism, depending on which way you’re facing).
The first step, as you’ll know with all those lovely brains of yours, is to ‘think outside of the box’. This was easy enough, but once I was there – face all screwed up with the thinking – I realised everyone else was outside the box too It was quite crowded and some of them were wearing jeggings. Apparently ‘outside the box’ is now ‘in the box’. Probably a different, bigger box, with tape on it. Possibly made out of the laughter of unborn babies, but probably not, now I think about it. In any case, if modernism is thinking outside the box and postmodernism is thinking about the box, I’m going to be the first to try licking the box.
You look like you’re wondering about penguins. I was wondering about penguins as well, until I started wondering about whether you were wondering about penguins. Do you think this means we’re related? Me too! We should definitely catch up on all the things we missed out on since being separated at birth. I’m not sure how I feel about taking baths together, so we should probably start with showers, or I can leave my water in the bath for you to use when I’m finished. I see that you have exactly the same number of nostrils that I do. Can you play the trombone? Me neither! That reminds me – do we have a sofa? I would offer to bring my beanbag but I had to empty it out so that I could hide in it more easily, so now it’s just a bag. You can hide in it if you like.
My Dear Prospective Employers
It’s your lucky day! You’re so lucky I almost wish I was you, except that the only reason you’re so lucky is because I’m out here looking for a job. Shush now, don’t get so worked up or you’ll be sick.
I’ve forsaken the traditional covering letter because I am much better at lying in person, so I’ll save that for the interview. Instead, I’ve decided that you’ll be much better off with a recipe for oat brownies.
Step one: check that you want to eat oat brownies. People often overlook this step and are stuck with millions of oat brownies and nowhere to put them, even after they’ve got rid of all their furniture.
Acquire a box, bag or bladder of oats. Decant them into a bowl and dispose of the packaging as per local arrangements. Allow to stand.
Add a chocolate flavoured substance of your preference. If you do not have a chocolate flavoured substance, you can use chocolate.
Add milk in a sprightly fashion, as though you were once a billionaire jockey with a huge house and a trophy wife, but you abandoned it all to live in a cave and pour milk on oats, because that’s how much you like pouring milk on oats. You know – sprightly.
Pop to the loo if necessary. If unnecessary, don’t pop anywhere. Honestly, I really think you ought to be figuring these things out for yourself by now.
Step seven: Stir the mixture until it looks about right or until you need to stop because there’s penguins on the television.
This next bit’s important, so I’ll write slowly:
Plonk the stuff on a thing and whack it in the oven
Step D: Oven it, with all like fire and that
Bring it out of the oven wearing gloves or, if preferred, a hat
Remark on the fact that this really isn’t a brownie but more of a big glob of burnt shit
Chop it into bits with a chopper
Throw it away
Like on Facenook if you care about orphans with no legs
Repeat step twelve until someone calls the police
I can start immediately but will be on leave until next week because this week I’m busy cleaning oats out of my ear. Please make sure my desk is in a shaded corner, out of direct sunlight and with adequate drainage.
Dear Online Medical Community
I’ve reviewed all of your contributions to the internets and have diagnosed myself with everything. I’ll have to type quickly because I expect the leprosy to spread to my fingers any minute. Please do try to keep up.
After reading medical websites for eighteen hours straight, I realised that my vision was starting to distort. The most plausible explanation is that spider eggs were hatching somewhere in my visual cortex and eating my brain. I’ve started drilling holes in my head and gluing flies round the edges to tempt the spiders out. After I’ve finished, should I use some sort of filler to block the holes or can I just use them for keeping marbles in?
Am I supposed to be able to touch my right ear with my left elbow? I can’t. Can you? Am I eligible for financial support to pay someone else to touch my right ear with their left elbow?
Also, does Ebola taste like watermelon? My mouth started to taste like watermelon and I got so worried it was Ebola that I almost couldn’t finish eating my watermelon.
Please respond by phone because I think my eyeballs will probably have dropped out by the time you get back to me. If I don’t answer, it’ll be because my ears have exploded.
Dear St. Valentine
May I call you St.? Are you at all related to Sesame St.?
I was planning to buy ten roses for the price of a small bungalow, but I got distracted and spent all of my money on anchovies. Will these do instead? I’ve made little cherub wings for them out of toilet paper and suspended them from a wire coat hanger. They look a bit like huge flies. Should I put glitter on them, or would that be weird?
I made a card to go with the anchovies. It says: “I love you more today than yesterday but not as much as tomorrow and a bit more than next Tuesday; probably about the same as that day last week when you made me beans on toast” but I realised that this would be better expressed with some sort of line graph. Then I got worried that the graph could be misleading without proper context, so now I have a sixteen page report with quarterly projections. I’ll sing it to her while she makes dinner.
Will this do?
All the best
Dear popular vampires
You are terrible vampires. No offence, but you’re a disgrace. Real vampires are all like “Raaargh!” with really good coats. They don’t sparkle and they certainly don’t knock up vulnerable teenagers, unless it’s all part of a ploy to make them taste better for the inevitable “Raaargh!”.
You see? Eating vulnerable teenagers = good vampire. Getting them pregnant = creepy vampire.
I don’t care if you are the living dead. Just try to have a bit of class about it. Kay? Kay.
All the best for your future endeavours.
Process 1 (Hers):
- Identify shops most likely to elicit spontaneous bouncing and rapid hand-clapping
- Identify shops that “only cater to malnourished fifteen year olds”. Do not cross these off list
- Order list in reverse proximity to home (because you might as well pop in, as you’re passing anyway)
- Try three hundred garments, rejecting two hundred and ninety eight of them on the basis that they can be made to fit Part A or Part B, but never both at once
- Briefly contemplate invasive surgery on Part B. Swiftly regain sanity
- Buy two jumpers
- Take one back
Process 2 (His):
- Grudgingly accept that favourite jumper has seen better days – all of which were at least a decade ago – most of which were before the left sleeve started coming off
- Agree to accompany Significant Female to retail outlets for the purpose of jumper replacement
- On entering retail outlet, grunt at overexcited salesbuffoon while wondering whether he’s your size. Seriously consider robbing him for his jumper to avoid having to try things on
- Unconsciously guided by store layout, discover overpriced cashmere jumper section
- Feel heightened perception as pupils spontaneously dilate. Clap hands rapidly, a la demented sea lion
- Consult with salesperson, nodding at the excellent points he makes regarding the false economy of cheap clothing
- Buy three jumpers and a stylish hat that makes you look very like George Clooney would, if he wore a stylish hat
- Never wear stylish hat
As a discerning cinemagoer and pick-n-mix gormet, I like to plan my sugar highs well in advance. To this end, I have compiled the following review of films I haven’t seen yet.
‘Underworld: Awakening’ is the seven hundredth installment in the series. Having exhausted all other aspects of vampire behaviour, it focuses on the morning rituals of the undead. As vampires neither shit nor shave, it’s essentially two hours of latex-costumed flossing. Basically dentist porn.
The bathroom theme is echoed in ‘Batman: The Dark Knight Rises’ in which millionaire Bruce Wayne is forced to get out of bed for a pee, just half an hour before he has to get up, after putting it off for the preceding three hours. This annoys him so much that he has to dress in black rubber and beat up the mentally ill until he fells better.
‘Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengence’ is based on the life of an English novelist who writes autobiographies on behalf of famous Hollywood stars. His misunderstanding of American accents lead to numerous errors in his text and he descends into furious alcoholism.
‘I am Bruce Lee’ defies expectations, not only by being the only film of 2012 without a colon in the title, but as a life-affirming biopic of Yorkshire glass blower Bruce ‘No Lips’ Lee, who, despite suffering since childhood from chronic hiccups, became the most prolific creator of crap glass animals in history.
‘Star Wars Episode 1 – 3D’ extends the 2D film’s theme of dual Disappointment (CGI proves to be a rubbish substitute for muppets and a thoroughly unfavourable Gungun to Ewok ratio) by adding a third Disappointment (it’s still the same, lousy film).
‘Rise of the Guardians’ charts the increasing divorce rate and consequent trend toward step-parents looking after children. Funded by the Daily Mail newspaper, it’s tag line is ‘Traditional family values: how their decline killed Diana’
Dr Seuss’ The Lorax is not appealing in the least, not even with a popcorn feast. Its storyline, I hate to say, does not convince in any way.