Saturnalia

Selfless Goodge

Today Frederick Goodge directed traffic, not like Oscar winner Steven Soderburgh, more like a brightly coloured poorly paid steward.

Then he went home and looked in the mirror. Imagine his surprise when he discovered he was not a real person, but actually someone else's alter ego! His self esteem plummeted so he had some chocolate, a boost to be precise and he began to feel better about himself again.

Waxing Squirrel

Today, October 28 2009, Frederick Goodge had a day off from work (science museum, space attendant) so he went to the park and had his legs waxed by a squirrel.
It was a good day, sunny.
Autumn sunshine is Frederick's favourite kind of sunshine, joyous, not too hot and now Frederick doesn't have to shave his legs for at least 6 months. Peace.

Whaam!

Today Frederick Goodge had a run-in with the police, an encounter which can only be described as

onomatopoeiac!

Fred was riding his bicycle down to the Streatham Ice Rink for ice hockey practice when he was approached by a police car for going too fast. Fred said with a winsome flick of his eyebrows "That was nothing, you should see me when I get my skates on!"

The policeman didn't know what this meant, not privy to Fred's intended destination, and thought Fred was being flippant. Fred was then asked to stop pedalling and fill in a form with details of his family going back to the Doomsday Book including how many pigs his Great Great Great Great Great Great Uncle Derek used to have. Fred thought this information was quite interesting but surely irrelevant and the policeman, who as it turned out, was only temping, replied that it was sacred police procedure and absolutely not to be questioned.
Fred complied but secretly sniggered in his head.

Then the policeman, who as it turned out, was only joking about only temping but was too embarrassed to admit that he had actually wanted to be a policeman, said: " Now I just need some proof of I.D, a recital of a Shakespearean sonnet (not one of the gay ones) and confirmation one way or another of whether there is a God."

Fred tossed and turned and eventually came up with the goods, wondering what the rigorous procedure might be for anything more serious than riding a bike quite fast.

Then he went to ice hockey practice and let in 6 goals because he was distracted by the enormous pettiness of everything. His team mates didn't really care as they were too busy complaining to the referee that the ice wasn't icy enough.

London Docklands Museum

Today Frederick Goodge received an emergency call (red phone) and was asked to come immediately to the London Docklands Museum. Frederick said "You bet, Cheeky Boo", then put down his (fishing) rod, jumped on his (push) bike and shot off in the direction of West India (Quay).

Round the roundabout and once more for luck, the superstitious but highly reliable Frederick Goodge arrived at the museum in plenty of time but went in to the wrong entrance and was mistaken for an ordinary member of the public (Joe or Edna) and nearly charged 5 pounds! Frederick explained himself and was motioned into the secret staff headquarters, the room with the big sign on the door clearly marked "Secret staff room: staff only no ordinary Joes or Ednas".

Frederick was handed a walkie-talkie for the first time in his life, he was very excited but he didn't need to use it as there were no emergencies or even visitors that quiet Tuesday afternoon.
Then Frederick gave back the walkie-talkie, faxed over his timesheet and left, thinking all about what he had learned in the museum, like how London used to smell really bad in the 1700s and now it doesn't smell so bad but it is full of annoying people in suits, so swings and roundabouts, if you see what I mean, and then Frederick went round the roundabout and home.

October 16 2009

Frederick Goodge awoke with aplomb. No, make that a plumb. Yes, recently he had taken to going to bed with pieces of fruit the night before in order to avail himself of a tasty, wholesome breakfast without having to get out of bed.

He bit into his plumb and drew back the curtain. It was pouring with rain but as far as Fred was concerned, it was just a drizzle. Boy was he in good mood today! His spirits hadn't been so high since the last day of high school, when Fred finished 6th in the 70 metre dash, beating his personal best by actually finishing the race and then going to the local wetherspoons with his friend Archie Hoodwinkle for a burger and a pint of beer for under a pound.

Fred finished his plumb, leapt out of bed and landed in his clothes, which had been laid out the night before to save time. He decided he wouldn't shower today as it was raining (albeit only a drizzle, perhaps a splash at the sink?) and he had several (4) things to do, which is a lot for Fred as his typical day entails only 1 or 2 things at the most.

the 4 things Fred had to do:

1. shave
2. buy some milk
3. fill in an online form to do with N.I contributions
4. go and see some jazz

My favourite place in Edinburgh

My favourite place in Edinburgh is the zoo. It is open all year round, even on Christmas day when traditionally the animals like to spend time with their families and reflect on the events of the year and the meaning of life. Last year during the festival a penguin called Nils received a Knighthood in recognition for his services to the Norwegian Army. Whilst I am not such a big fan of armies or any of the Scandinavian countries (except Sweden and Finland) and would never consider joining an army unless called upon to do so by a charming flightless bird, I do support any gesture that strengthens ties between countries and species.

As an amateur zoologist myself, I advocate equal rights for all animals and if penguins ever wanted to develop nuclear weapons I would certainly support their case to do so.

The Awkward Foal - A Short Story

Once upon a time (back in the 80s) there lived an awkward foal. Despite being well over a year old, it was still definitely regarded as a foal and absolutely not a horse. Neither a filly or a colt, it was simply an indeterminate and dubious foal and a phenomenally awkward one at that.

In those days (back in the 80s) it was believed by the majority of the cognisant population that awkwardness was simply a hapless accident of birth but now it is widely accepted that it is not only awkwardness but life itself that is an inevitable, unremitting and unbearable accident of birth.

The awkward foal lived to be about six (6) and then awkwardly passed away.

The end.

p.s At the funeral there gathered a couple (3 to be exact) of animals (a donkey, a pigeon and a stoat) but they didn't know each other so no-one knew what to say.

p.p.s for example, eventually after the ceremony was over, (everyone was surprised at how long it was but said nothing) the donkey said to the stoat, "are you a weasel?" and the stoat said "no" and the donkey said "oh, i find it quite difficult to tell the difference," and then when it couldn't have been more awkwarder, the pigeon shat all over the coffin and it became even more awkward than it had ever been before.

a poem about tennis

at wimbledon
what an atmosphere
all those strawberries
all those balls
balls damn balls and statistics
how much would you pay
for a ticket you fair weather carpet licking mug?
traditionally we suck
at a game we invented
a man called roger
from switzerland
so cool under pressure
debonair and graceful
gazelle-like
ninja-esque
won so many times
was garnered with a cow
quiet please
there's a new buck on the scene
he's from scotland
and he really wants to win
not for a cow
or a goat or even a bear
but with all that prize money
he could certainly
if he wanted to
have his own zoo

www.commonsenseandlaziness.com

let's just say
you are attacked
for the sake of argument
by a shark
unfortunate yes unlikely perhaps
around these parts
but not impossible
now
with the internet on your phone
blessed with signal
you perform a quick search
"how to survive a shark attack"
on google or whatever
and wait for relevant results
or you could
if you wanted to
simply hit the fish
on the nose
with your handy mobile device
and get out of the water
as quickly as possible
you stupid bloody asking-for-trouble lazy lacking-in-common sense have you nothing better to do why do you think our ancestors came out of the water in the first place what's wrong with reading a book or watching Jaws on TV cack-handed attention-seeking twonk

a poem not really about but inspired by michael jackson

of course it doesn't really matter if you're black or white
much more important is what's inside
a banana with blue skin
is still a banana
(albeit a weird one)
they grow on trees you know
make extremely tasty muffins
and share half their genes with muggins

a rainbow of despair
scrub up diana you dirty wench
a phantasmagoric life in a bubble
the colour of money
the price of fame
the hanging gardens of celebrity gone wrong

on the same day
the pop king passed away
a plane flew around the world
powered by the sun
even at night
amazingly somehow
when night falls and darkness descends
a light shines to begin again

gerry howell's phoenix soup: France would be a fine thing

gerry howell's phoenix soup: France would be a fine thing

a poem about politics and dogs

You live under a regime
Life is tough (under a regime)
Shitty escalators (that only go down) and broken lamps
Elections are rigged
Shoes are banned
You vote with your feet

Those ridiculous Ugg Boots
You wear all year round
Your feet must be boiling
But they're just so comfy!

Life goes on
But change will come
Every dog has his day
There's a rota you see
For example
Monday 12th January English Cocker Spaniel
Wednesday 19th August Norwegian Elkhound
Friday 25th December aka Christmas Day Beagle

And so on
Except the Hawaiian Poi Dog
Which is now extinct

Boo suck tyranny
Long live democracy!

dead pets are forever

Quote of the day:

It's true that we don't know what we've got until we lose it, but it's also true that we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives.
-- Anonymous

I suppose this means I didn’t know I was missing this email until it arrived. This is not untrue. But when I was about eight my pet guinea pig Marengo died and I missed it straight away but this does not mean I didn’t know I had a guinea pig when Marengo was alive. Recently I read about a lady in the newspaper who turned her dog into a diamond ring when it died. I did some research into this and what you do is cremate the animal, then heat the ashes up to a high temperature and mix the carbon with some other chemicals to make a diamond. Prices start from start from £2,495. This seems like a lot to me; you are better off doing it yourself, if your microwave goes up to 3,000 C. Besides, I don’t need to wear the remains of an animal around my finger to remember it, if you are so worried about forgetting your dead pet, then you probably didn’t like it very much when it was alive. Marengo is dead now but I remember him, and not just because he pissed on the vicar’s lap when he came round for tea.

Fancy that!

Like a lot of sane people, I had an imaginary friend when I was a kid. We used to hang out together, swap football stickers (annoyingly, we had the same ones), talk about girls (annoyingly, we liked the same ones and the girls clearly preferred him to me) and help each other with homework (annoyingly, he would copy me and I'd get into trouble).

We lost touch when we left school. I went to University. Got a 2:1. I went to France. I lived in Paris, near the Pompidou Centre, which I really like. I think it will be amazing when it's finished.

I came back to London. I got a job. Then a Cat, which I called Waterloo, after the battle between France and England that took place in Belgium. I like the way they decided to hold the battle at a neutral venue. But it took place on a Sunday and Napoleon Bonaparte used to go to church on Sundays and when he turned up after mass the battle was almost over. He arrived just before the final whistle and the English got him in a headlock, then put him in a prison on a little island miles away from the nearest cheese shop. That was his punishment. Apart from that, he quite liked living on the island, he had the place more or less to himself, which meant parking was never a problem. He had no-one to conquer so he formed an army out of ants and attacked a tree. He was doing well but it started raining so the ants went indoors.

In 1821 Napoleon took up topiary.
He made a statue of the Duke of Wellington out of a bush.
Then he put it in a frock and set fire to it.
He laughed so hard his head fell off and he died.


188 years later I bumped into my imaginary friend at a party in Stoke Newington. It was the 15th June, the date of the Battle of Waterloo just because people like coincidences so they can imbue them with significance. I told him my imaginary friend was right, I never did become a pilot for the US Airforce, but a freelance (unemployed) writer instead. I asked him what he did and he said he was a cryptozoologist.

"Perfect" I thought. I had some punch and he had a glass of water. Then he told me he doing a PHD on the ABC.

"The alphabet?" I said.

"No," he said, "Alien Big Cats."

Then he introduced me to his boyfriend. I was surprised that he was gay.

I reminded him we used to talk about girls when we were kids. He replied that he doesn't collect football stickers anymore either. Then he asked me if I had a girlfriend.

"Yes," I said, "but not a real one".

Chow bella

chow chow the chinese dog
or chow chow the american relish?
don't make the same mistake
i did

Part time Complaints Officer

Dear Sir/Madam,

I have just applied for the above position via your website and I was informed that my application for a part-time job has been rejected as I stated that I was not interested in working full-time. This does not make any sense to me; it must be the result of a technical error on the part of your website or you simply do not know what you want! (This is the problem with so many underachieving individuals in society today.) However, I would like to reassure you that I am still interested in the position of Part time Complaints Officer as I have a great deal of experience in this area and would very much like to be considered for it.

Kind regards,

Gerry Howell

P.s If I do not get this job, you will be hearing from me again - you have been warned.

France would be a fine thing

Creator of cars and keen collector of squares, Louis Renault (1877 - 1944) is widely regarded as one of the most French people in the history of France and indeed the world.

For starters, he was born with finesse in Paris to his laissez-faire, debonair parents as they strolled along the Left bank discussing portentiously the works of the dead poet Vincent Voiture (1597 - 1648, famous poems include Hibou hibou ou est tu, mon hibou? and Raisin raisin je t'aime mais tu n'est pas humain.) It was clear then that to be a truly insane writer or a maker of small cars was little Louis Renault's inevitable destiny.

Loius Renault took to Gallic life like a duck to water, or a Frenchman's dinner plate. His first word was "galette", a sort of generic term for pastry based cake, his second was "Guy Forget" (two words technically, but irrelevant as no-one had any idea what or who he was talking about) and his third was "brmm brrmm". His parents were struck with worry, thinking this might be a sign that the otherwise advanced and preternaturally gifted baby might be a little bit Belgian.

All concerns were allayed when the young Louis Renault was garnered with a baby brother, reassuringly called Marcel, who in a classic French surrealist twist, turned out to be several years older than Louis. Yes, Marcel was 20 before Louis was in his teens but this didn't stop either of them developing a strong fraternal bond and an unshakeable passion for Brie.

For a bet Louis wore a beret for the whole of 1899. He slept in it and went swimming in it and even played tennis in it.

His brother lost the bet and had to ride his bike sidesaddle for the rest of this life.

Uncomfortable and humiliated (sometimes mistaken for a eunuch) Marcel was spurred on to make engines. Louis had a natural flair for wheels (experimenting briefly with square ones) and together they constructed engines with wheels. In the spring of 1905 their father gave them some doors for Christmas and they attached them to the engine.

They collected tokens from a cereal box (Louis pining after croissants) and sent off for the rest of the parts needed to make a car. By the end of the year, the Renault brothers were ready to launch their first automobile. It was a huge success and nearly took off but for the lack of wings, an addition which they left for their American friends Wilbur and Orville Wright to make.

A few years later, Marcel died in a car accident and Louis decided to drive to the funeral. The whole of France deemed this a highly insensitive thing to do and threw olives at Louis' house for a week.

Louis survived the attack but could never look at an olive again without thinking of his brother Marcel and singing the Marseillaise backwards on one leg.

Louis continued to make cars and people bought them and if they didn't have any money, Louis, being a hip and modern sort of chap, would accept the equivalent in high-fives. By the 1940s Louis was bankrupt and had very sore palms. When the Nazis invaded Paris at about teatime, Louis was too tired to wave and the Nazis thought this was rude. Louis thought that invading was rude in the first place and when the Nazis asked Louis to build them some tanks so they could rampage all over the French, Louis promptly said non and blew a raspberry.

The Nazis took control of Louis' car making factory but Louis refused to reveal his secret recipe, instead telling the Nazis he put mayonnaise in his cars to make them go. This trick was instrumental in the downfall of the Nazis, slowing them down and making them smell really bad and turning Louis Renault into a national war hero.