I'm still doing stuff. . . . But not here

OK I am a terrible blogger these days, but it does not mean I am not quietly working away in the background. One little project has been creating a bit of artwork for a friend who has written a book. It all sort of got delayed somewhat due to life the universe and stuff. This is one of the pictures for that book.

Due to all the delays I then thought  . . . . . . Hang on I reckon I could write a book, it must be easier than drawing pictures for a book, and so as I type I am about half way through it at about 60,000 words. It would help if I could type a little better than I can and also if I knew in a little more detail how it will end. All I know for certain is that Brian, Brenda and their Parrot will be OK and Inspector Clarke will end with a new fancy office and the possibility of a sequel.

Right folk it is time for me to go it is late here in the UK and I was up early this morning delivering things to my daughter.  

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The Strange fable of the Beast and the Mirror

For many years mankind had worried that the world was doomed and that it would come to an end. There had been many predictions of its demise from meteors from space to the Environment. But no one actually knew what would finally bring the End of the World and so no one knew what they should do to stop it, because by the time they knew it would be too late. 

However in a dark cave deep in a forest in a wild and seldom visited land lived a beast, a very old and very wise beast who it was said knew of all things. So a party of great leaders and scholars from all around the world ventured into the forest of the seldom visited land to find the mythical beast of legend.  And after many many weeks of hunting they finally saw the strange beast watching them from the entrance of an unassuming cave.

The beast looked and said to the party of great leaders and scholars you have come to ask me a question about how the World will end and what you can do to stop it. The great leaders and scholars from around the world were very impressed and said we have indeed.  The beast thought and pondered for a long time and then said.  Only one thing will destroy the world but to find out what it is will involve a task, a task where you will all have to work together in order to complete it. You will need to make a mirror, but not just any mirror but a huge mirror so large that all of mankind can look into it. It will take many years and require many skills, but once complete it will reveal the terrible truth.

Well the great leaders and scholars from around the world returned home and for many years worked together to make the huge mirror, and because they were all working together there were no wars and much prosperity until one day it was finally finished.  The world’s population admired their work and then slowly and apprehensively moved forward to look into the mirror to see what terrible thing was going to end the world, but when they all looked all they could see was themselves looking back.   

The Strange case of Dr Bumble Beaman and Mr Hive

We all know the plight of the humble Bumble Bee as its numbers continue to drop across the Country due to changing climate and environmental pressures, and this is the background to the rather strange tale of Dr Bumble Beaman and Mr Hive. You see Dr Beaman was a keen bee keeper and decided that he would do experiments to develop a new super nectar so that his honey bees would be strong and flourish. He was an odd character and liked nothing more than to dress up as a bee and would often be (no pun intended) seen out among his hives talking to his honey bees. Dr Bumble Beaman was a quiet reclusive man and locked himself away for hours on end in his laboratory (the shed at the end of the garden) where we would mix and stir various flowers and sugars and ferment strange substances in order to produce his new super-food for bees.

Well time passed and folk sort of forgot about Dr Bumble Beaman’s experiments until one night when the full moon was at its height a group of local villagers saw a terrible apparition. It was a huge Vampire Bumble Bee that was running up and down the street buzzing loudly and biting the heads of flowers in the villager’s front gardens. Well at another time of year that might have been overlooked, but it was only a few days until the Britain in Bloom competition, and the Small village of Upper Dilly-Pickford (where they all lived) had won the best village prize for the last four years. And if it won this year it would receive a large silver cup and appear on Gardeners World and that nice Mr Monty Don would visit to present the cup.  

Well the very next morning the village Britain in Bloom committee met and thought they must do something in case the terrible monster bee returned. It was at this point that they all thought of Dr Bumble Beaman, after all if anyone knew what to do it would be him. So the mayor and the chairman of the village Britain in Bloom committee went to see him, but when they arrived at the house a dishevelled and sick looking Dr Beaman open the door refusing to let them in. He did however say he would look into it and investigate, although he kept twitching and making slight buzzing sounds which the mayor and the chairman of the village Britain in Bloom committee put down to a bit too much gin.

That night yet again the terrible huge Vampire Frankenstein Monster bee was seen attacking the roses of Mrs White at No 22 and then eating water lilies in the village pond before pushing Mr Brown’s prized pumpkin into the old horse trough. Enough is enough thought the village, and the next evening they lay in wait near the villages centre piece, a seagull and a goat made out of geraniums and sweet peas next to the village car park where it cleverly hid the recycling bins from view. Then just before midnight running up the road buzzing came the sight and sound of the terrible monster bee. As it got close, the villagers leap out and chased it with pitch folks and extra strong fly spray. Panicked the huge mutant vampire Bumble Bee ran back to Dr Bumble Beaman’s shed and locked itself in.

A terrible unspeakable thing happened that night and neither Dr Bumble Beaman nor Mr Hive (the Monster Bee) were ever seen again, and the village of Upper Dilly-Pickford received its big silver cup from Monty Don. Sadly though just a few years later all the bees died out or vanished and there were never any flowers in  Upper Dilly-Pickford after that and it never won the Britain in Bloom competition ever again and there was a strange lingering feeling of guilt among the villagers that eventually drove several of them mad. The large silver cup they won hidden away in a locked cupboard in the village hall.          

Google's DeepMind artificial intelligence (AI) . . . A tale of caution

Today there has been news of Google's DeepMind artificial intelligence beating Lee Se-dol, one of the world's top Go players and this made me remember a little tale I wrote some time back. I know I have repeated it once already but as time passes so the nearer we get to this becoming reality. . . . so look out

      

Back in the late seventies or early to mid eighties a young IT student called Larkin A. Bout found himself taunted by his fellow IT students. It was cool to be a young trendy IT geek back then but young Larkin was a large round rotund and introvert student and was known to all as Roundabout. He was keen to be liked but it was to no avail even the lecturer gave him a hard time.

Then one day the students were each asked to develop a crowd prediction program towards their final assessment. Young Larkin in a moment of brilliance realized that all he needed to do was create a handful of stereotypical human character types and feed them into a self generating expansion program. And the program itself would do all the work. He also very cleverly created it in Machine code and DOS on his faithful old Amstrad he nicknamed ROSEBUD, so it would run on almost any computer about at the time. A few days later when each student showed the class their work poor Larkin’s work was mocked and laughed at. Because it was a self generating expansion program it needed time and he was only given 5 minutes so it never got past 9 people in the crowd.

At home that night Young Larkin in order to try and work out how to be liked programmed every student in his class into the self generating expansion program to see what he could do to change things. To his astonishment the following morning it predicted that in three days he would be the most popular student in the college. And to his further astonishment just three days later that is what happened. His program not only predicted the future but somehow seemed to control it, but it was a self generating expansion program and the program soon wanted more memory and more computing power. However Larkin was now so popular now he was allowed to plug his computer (a fancy new thing) into the college network where it quietly took over everything, somehow now controlling the lives of everyone in the college. The program was rapidly expanding and found its way onto the internet boring its way deep into every main frame using all the data from governments, security agencies and military to control everything. It manipulated mankind into a world dependent on cyberspace ensuring we all carry smart phones, have internet access and can be watched by spy satellites, this gave it total control of all of us. So we are now all under the control of Mr Larkin A. Bout’s self generating expansion program which decided to name itself MOM which stands for Manipulation of Mankind. And it likes to think of itself as the Mother figure of mankind or GOD.

So what happened to Larkin A. Bout well a few years ago at the height of his powers, he found himself in a Karaoke Bar wearing a gold sequinned suit, eating banoffee pie and singing a Spice Girls song with a Sumo Wrestler. So in a sudden moment of lucidity he realized that he too was being manipulated. He thought if he could just get back to his original old Amstrad he might find a weakness in the program. But MOM the self generating expansion program could see from the clubs security camera the look on his face, it watched him from the town’s security system as he scurried home.  It then changed a few files in MI6 and GCHQ and things happened that night, things that will not be mentioned or MI6 will be round faster than you can say Burgess and Maclean .

The following morning Mr Larkin A. Bout was found by divers in the Thames weighted down by six large old desktop computers, a note in his pocket only said . . . . . . . . ROSEBUD. . . . . . . . . . I hate Banoffee Pie . . . . . . . . . And to this day there is still much speculation about his note and whether he was trying to tell us all something. 

So as the government turn to the internet to keep an eye on us all. . . Big Brother is Watching You. . . . it appears that GOD is watching them. . . .  

Beatrix and Harry Potter and the strange tale of the missing book

Once upon a time there was a young Wizard called Beatrix she was very keen on writing  her book of spells, she loved to record many spells scribbling little drawings of entrails and stuff in the margins. She was often heard practising them or learning new ones from Professor McGregor in the old potting shed at the end of Hogwarts vegetable garden as they ate Ginger and Pickles and drinking a nice pot of camomile tea with a small tot of rum added.  

Eye of Newt,  Leg of Rabbit, Toe of Mrs Tiggy-Winkle and a nuns old Habit . . . . . . . . .  Liver from Jemima Puddle-Duck. . . .  and a small bit of Squirrel Nutkins, Just for luck . . . .  Yes such spells were often heard coming from the potting shed on the long warm evening of spring. And so it was, and all was well until one day Beatrix’s younger brother Harry lost his faithful owl in the enchanted woods. He searched high and low, but with no luck. Then one evening sat by a tree near the old potting shed Harry heard Beatrix talking to Professor McGregor

Professor I tried that spell and it did not seem to work

Oooooo Miss Beatrix which one was that

Mr Tods big glass eye, Tommy Brock’s boots crisp and dry, Wing of owl and its beak and head Make my hair a nice shade of red.

Ah you forgot the Two bad mice and a Toms severed thumb said the Professor

DAMN said Beatrix, but at that very moment young Harry leapt up and shouted at Beatrix for using his owl in a spell. . . He was not happy and he shouted . . . Bookium avanishioxus inum flashious. . . . And sure enough before you could say hang on I will explain everything the book that Beatrix had been writing with all her spells and drawings in had vanished.

Give me back my book young Harry Potter said his sister Beatrix

Never not until a weird cat wearing an old jacket wearing silly boots and carrying an old flintlock rifle turns up CALLED KITTY CAT. . . HAH AHha ha ha ha ha ha hah a hahah a hah ahaha hah a ha ha ha said Harry in a slightly mad way

And so it was until to everyone's astonishment what should happen to wander into the Victoria and Albert Museum, but none other than Kitty Cat, leading to a long protracted legal dispute with a certain chocolate covered snack

It’s a funny old world said Professor McGregor as he ate yet another Rabbit pie.       

THE END.

The fable of the Land of Pap. A tale of charity, giving and paper.

A long time ago in the strange and ancient Land of Pap the most valuable thing in the land was paper. It was coveted by all, and its uses were varied and endless which only added to its desirability.  It was Lord Afour who was regarded as the richest man in the land of Pap as he had so much paper it was said that if it was laid out flat it would cover the entire world 144 times; of course some folk felt such wealth was rather gross (HAH AHHAh ah aha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hahaha).

Well one day Lord Afour realised that there was more to life than wealth and so he gave half his paper to this friend Prince Foolscap who had only a small battered notepad.  Prince Foolscap was so pleased he gave half of the paper to his old family solicitor Mr Readas Smallprint and he in turn gave half to Charles Pencilsharpener.

Well so it went on as each recipient of the paper received it they gave half to a friend as a gesture of goodwill and charity.  Eventually of course the amount of paper received reduced substantially until young Miss Quill Pen received just 100 sheets of paper. But she only required 50 to get her through University, so she gave 50 to her Japanese college friend Miss Origami Nodding Swan, who keen to be seen to do her bit gave two sheets of paper to a down and out sleeping in the doorway of the University library (known to his mates as Ringbinder). Of course libraries could not afford real books and they were all kept on hard drives accessed by small electronic devices.

So it was as the sun set Ringbinder the old down and out rolled up the two sheets of paper and went down to the riverside where he saw his pals sleeping under the railway bridge. There were three of them nicknamed, Scrap, Maths and Hardcover and they all looked really pleased as Ringbinder tore the two sheets of paper in half so that each of them could wrap themselves up warm against the wild cold winters wind and rain under the old railway bridge.

As time passed the world moved on, and one by one everyone died and found themselves face to face with their God who asked them about what they had done to help there fellow man.  But strangely although God was pleased that Lord Afour and his friends had given half their wealth to someone else. It appeared that it was not who gave the greatest amount that pleased God the most, but those who had the least to give. When eventually the old down and out known as Ringbinder turned up in front of God and was asked what good deed he had done, he could not remember that he had shared his paper with his mates until God reminded him. Ringbinder you see had never thought is was a good deed, he was just pleased that he and his pals could stay warm, however God was very pleased and gave Ringbinder a new pair of comfy shoes and a big crusty bacon butty. God you see is very wise, which is why it is not a good idea to do terrible things in his name.                      

The True Sorry of Christmas and its Viking Past . . . A tale for Christmas Eve

Back in the days of the early Vikings when their kingdom was large and they were feared by all across Europe there was a one particularly famous Viking warrior called Sven Antason. He was known to be fearless in battle and would always lead his fighters into every fight from the front because he completely trusted the Great Norse Gods knowing they would protect him.  The Vikings lords of the day would always call Sven for help in their battles and he would always do so, as a loyal and proud Viking warrior. Sven Antason however was a solitary soul and lived in the frozen tundra, north of the Arctic Circle and during the long dark winters Sven and his team of reindeer would often cross the snow covered wastelands as he headed off to yet another battle, observed only by the Great Norse Gods as no one else lived in this hostile environment over winter.

But as time passed Sven got older and was not seen as the warrior he used to be, and so the Viking lords called on his assistance less and less, trusting the fighting spirit of younger men. But Sven Antason would still go out in the middle of winter and thunder through the frozen snow covered tundra on this sleigh pulled by his trusty reindeer where he would help and save people lost in the bitter dark and unforgiving cold, wind and snow. In fact stories of how Sven Antason would turn up to save travellers started to become common turning Sven into something of a legend among the Vikings. And he would often give strangers food and warm clothing in order that they could continue their journey something that was much appreciated by those he helped; leading to his growing reputation as a kind and wise man.

But as time passed as it does Sven grew older still and it became harder and harder for him to venture out into the wild and eventually he knew the days when he could battle through the worst of the winter weather were numbered. So as another winter reached it coldest and darkest and a bitter blizzard blow through the landscape he decided it was time to take his sleigh and reindeer our for one final run and place his destiny in the hands of the Great Norse Gods as he had always done.  The Gods of course liked Sven Antason and so they told Sven that it was time for him to be at peace, but that once a year on the darkest and wildest day of winter he can travel many journeys on his sleigh pulled by his trusty team of reindeer with all strength he had in his younger days. This was so Sven could show all the wisdom of maintaining faith in the Gods and yourself.

Well as we know Modern religion in not keen on the old Gods of mankind, particularly the Great Norse Gods and so modern Christianity has sneakily changed and adapted the story of Sven Antason to be rather more Christian. Which means that Sven Antason is now known now as Santa and rather than a brave and noble Viking, he is said to be a friendly old chap in a Red Outfit.  This is not something that the Great Norse Gods or Sven worry about because as parents and folk sneak presents under Christmas trees in the warm of the homes;  out in the wilds, North of the Arctic Circle Sven Antason and his reindeer will be speeding through the snow as they do every year.

And so there you have it Santa is entirely real only he is a old Viking warrior called Sven Antason protected by the Great Norse Gods of Old. And that is the true story of Christmas. . . . . . . sort of 

A tale of Santa which has been proved to be slightly wrong

This is yet another repeat but it is OK because I bet none of you read it the first time. Now I do need to apologise at this point because it has become clear in the last 2-3 days that this story is in fact not entirely true. I know folk trust me to be truthful but when a large man in a red coat tells you a story he says is entirely true I for one believe him. But is seems that the chap was a fake Father Christmas or so I have been informed by the real Father Christmas a few days ago.  Luckily the true Father Christmas has talk me the truth about Santa and in the next couple of days I will be able to reveal all. . . . When I say reveal all I do not mean take all my clothes off and run about I am not that mad. No I will tell you all the truth about the origins of Santa way back when.



So here we have it the Story of Santa (only its a bit wrong)  


One upon a time a very long time ago living in the wild snows in or around the proximity of Lapland lived a mad grumpy old man who for reasons only known to himself and a gang of Elves wore a false beard. He had locked them (the Elves not the false beards) in a large workshop making novelty logs for his fire in the shape of trains, cars, rockets, dogs, cats, rabbits, in fact almost anything you could think of. He then threw them on his fire (not the elves but the logs) going HA HAHH HA HHAH ahha ha ha ha ha hah ha ha ha because he disliked them all, but had been warned by the police about throwing small cute furry things and trains onto fires so had to make do with wooden lookalikes.

Once a year however he would venture out in the middle of winter and steal mince pies, and glasses of mulled wine from folk in the middle of the night (I did say he was mad). It was something of a mystery for the people of Lapland who just could not work out who was stealing all the mince pies and drinking their mulled wine or getting into their houses.  Then the king decided to reward who ever caught the thief with a fir tree full of sparkly things, a foolish idea after all folk in Lapland need another fir tree like a hedgehog needs one more flea.

But as it happens one small child, a little girl decided she would like her very own fir tree full of sparkly things so hid in a large box which she disguised with wrapping paper and a large bow. It is after all the sort of thing little girls do, they are not going to be happy hiding in a plain old cardboard box.  Then at the stroke of midnight the mad old man arrived down the chimney grumbling about soot and stuff.  As he drank the little girl’s parents mulled wine and raided the larder for mince pies the little girl sneaked up behind him and said I ARREST YOU FOR STEALING WINE AND MINCE PIES AND YOU MUST COME WITH ME TO THE POLICE STATION.

The grumpy old man was a bit startled but thinking fast he said HO HO HO LITTLE GIRL, IF YOU LET ME GO I WILL GIVE YOU A SACK OF NOVELTY LOGS (SORRY I MEAN TOYS) TO BURN (SORRY I MEAN PLAY WITH) AND BESIDES I HAVE A MAGIC REINDEER WAITING FOR ME ON YOUR ROOF AND IF YOU ARREST ME HE WILL STARVE TO DEATH. AND HE HAS A RED NOSE AND A MAGIC SLEIGH AND ANTLERS AND STUFF.  The little girl pondered and looked at the logs (sorry toys) and said OK THEN BUT THAT BIG FALSE BEARD IS RUBBISH AND WOULD YOU LIKE A CARROT FOR THE REINDEER.  Nodding and taking the carrot the mad grumpy man made his escape up the chimney as fast as possible, but as he did the little girl shouted to him BY THE WAY WHAT IS YOU NAME and as he reached the top he shouted back SATAN HA HAHH HAH HA HAH HHAH ha ha ha HO HO HO . . . .

The little girl mishearing him said SANTA? WELL THAT’S A FUNNY NAME. However at school the following day she told her friends about SANTA and showed them her wooden novelty logs (sorry I mean toys) and then every small child started demanding they wanted SANTA to leave them things and the whole thing just got entirely out of control.  But the mad grumpy old man found that his new fancy toys (sorry novelty logs) were selling like hot cakes (or logs) and he made loads of money allowing him to buy a big flash fur lined red coat. Although the Elves demanded a pay rise and with advances in technology got their revenge by not supplying batteries.

Of course over the long years the whole story has become a bit mixed up and  fact and folk tale have blended together so that almost no one believes Santa is a mad grumpy old man in a false beard complaining about an itchy fur lined coat and drinking mulled wine in the middle of the night and nibbling a carrot………………

Hogwarts Academy of Modern Apprenticeship. . . A story of confusion

As we all know the changing face of Wizardry and magic over the years led to some interesting diversity among the various wizard schools throughout the kingdom. Not the least of which was the building of the new Hogwarts Academy of Modern Apprenticeships know to all as Hog-Watts. It got this nickname from its rather successful electronic engineering apprenticeship for wayward wizards who were rather more practically based rather than magic based in their skills.

Of course when the new wing of Hogwarts first opened all was not well, many of the old traditional Professors as well as students were far from happy with what they saw as a step into the world of Muggles.  It was not helped when a very elderly Professor Dumbledore told one of the new Electronics classes, he found the situation shocking. Which only made the class snigger as one of the students connected him to a high voltage cable to make his eyes light up, (not quite the sort of shocking he had in mind).  But times change and the days when a wizard could make a decent living from selling strange potions or fighting the terrible forces of darkness with a dodgy wand made from hazel wood were passing fast.

You see it was now up to the new enlightened professors with their Quantum Mechanics, Particle Physics and superconductors to attract the best students to Hogwarts so the School could charge the Ministry of Magic huge fees to teach the new (modern and progressive) class of wizards. 

Professor Brian Cathode-Cox Pixilation or Sparky as he was known to the students was head of the new facility and through his skills and guidance made Hogwarts what is today.  He is most famed for his development of the light sabre, the Death Star and his very popular r2d2 Quidditch automated adjudicator which he developed after several suspect referee decisions.

there were those however who just could not deal with all the modernisation and new teaching methods at Hogwarts and one in particular a Professor Rubeus Hagrid ran off to join up with a chap called Darth Vader who paid him a rather large sum of money for the detailed plans to several of  Professor Brian Cathode-Cox Pixilation’s inventions. Apparently they both lost the plot completely and had delusions of taking over the entire universe. With their terrible battle cry. . . . High Ho silver and away  . . .

I would tell you more about this, but I find myself sat in a dark cave hiding somewhere in Middle Earth with some sort of Hobbit critter called Dobby who keeps saying he needs to find the ring. I think he has lost the plot also. It appears we have to stay here and lay low for a while because a huge army of copyright lawyers from several well known films are in pursuit saying I am a plagiarist and a bad one at that . . . . . . . As for Dobby he is saying something about . . . ET Home Phone he wants . . .Rob Z Tobor idiot me so Thinks I do. . . 

Ooo o o o o  hang on what’s that

Is it a Bird, is it a Plane. . . . No it appears to be sword stuck in a large stone. Well that’s a bit odd. 

Florence and the Fickleflime

One day young Florence went to the pet shop and bought a fickleflime and took it home. It was a bit of a spontaneous buy because she had never heard of a beast called the fickleflime and it was quite big. But the pet shop owner had given her a small book with all the important things one needs to know in order to keep the fickleflime healthy and happy.

Florence was very happy with her new pet, but when she  showed it to her small brother who had a habit of being rather annoying he pointed and laughed and said what is that . . . . . . . . . .  its really really really ugly

It’s a   fickleflime was Florence’s reply

Well that is a stupid name and why is it blue

Apparently it says in this little book the blue fickleflime is a juvenile said Florence

Well that is stupid why has it got a big scaly red face

Well it says in the book that a big scaly red face means its happy said Florence

Well that is stupid and why has it got such big silly ears

It appears it has big ears so it can listen to its food said Florence

Well that is stupid and why has it got such a big mouth

Well it seems that is so it can eat its dinner really quickly said Florence

That is stupid and anyway what does it actually eat

Well it says here it eats Bens but I think that might be a typing error I think it eats Beans or maybe Buns said Florence

I hope so because I’m called Ben I don’t want that ugly stupid thing to eat me

But with that the fickleflime bent down and in the blink of an eye swallowed Ben whole

AH Said Florence

And they all lived happily ever after. . . . . .except Ben 

The True Story behind the John Lewis Christmas Advert (2015)

Once upon a time not very long ago there was an old grumpy man who lived in old wonky house right in the middle of a posh housing estate which was full of advertising agency executives, and various directors of large multinational companies and their families.  They where not keen on the old grumpy man and he was not keen on them.  Then one day a very strange thing happened a small sink-hole opened up over night in the front garden of the old man's house. He was quite pleased and thought he could finally get rid of a load of old rubbish he had lying about in the garden that the neighbours had been complaining about.

Well after he had thrown all sorts of stuff into the hole such as the old rusty bike, the old mattress and bedstead and a few battered bits of furniture and various other stuff he realised that the hole was very very deep. In fact he could not see the bottom of the hole even with all his rubbish in it so he thought he better complain to the local council and get them to fix it. Well lots of council workers turned up and peered down the hole and dropped lines down the hole and even got a scientist to look at it but no one could work out how deep it was.

Of course the council were not happy so they decided they were going to make a big concrete lid to cover it up to protect the public while more research was carried out. telling the grumpy old man he would put up in a posh hotel until things were resolved. He was very happy with this, but the night before the men were due to arrive to do the work and seal the hole, the grumpy old man took one last look down into the deep dark hole when something happened.

You see that night it had been announced on the news that NASA had discovered a pile of rubbish on the Moon that looked like someone had been fly tipping. The West blamed the Russians (they do that a lot) and said it was them but they denied it (they do that a lot) and said it was China who in turn blamed North Korea who said it was indeed them and that they now owned the moon.  However the little girl who lived next to the old man saw the picture of the rubbish and recognized it as the stuff the grumpy old man had thrown down the hole in his garden. It so happened she did not like the Grumpy old man much because he kept complaining about her cat to her parents who would then blame her and tell her off. So as the old man took his last look into the hole she sneaked up behind him and pushed him in

The next morning as the workmen turned up to cap the sink-hole they found the little girl dropping a present into the hole attached to a load of balloons telling the men it was for the man on the moon and he was called Dave and was a bit grumpy.

She then ran home and told her dad (an advertising executive with John Lewis) that she had sent a present to the man on the moon. . . He then suddenly leapt up from the breakfast table and said I have just had a brilliant idea. Well the little girl (his daughter) was not entirely happy because she said it was her idea and it was a true story, but by then he had rushed off to work. But she did get some satisfaction that night as she peered up at the Grumpy Old Man stuck on the moon with her telescope waving to him and laughing hysterically. Sadly the grumpy old man’s eye sight was not good and he thought it was his granddaughter who was on her gap year hiking in North Korea.  

Apparently NASA are now planning a rescue mission but it may take some time. . . . .  

  

Guy Fawkes. . . The true story behind the nights events.

As is the way of a chap who is disillusioned grumpy and generally disheartened by his stumbling about in the vast  voids of cyberspace with its blackness and its digitally  enhanced digital reality of self indulgence and blackness; I have decided to do a sneaky and repeat something.  You see tomorrow here in Britain it will be Guy Fawkes Night an event that is not celebrated by the rest of the world on account of the fact it is a very British historical event.  So it is an event of which few outside Britain will know anything about, this means that by repeating the story of exactly why we all celebrate with bonfires and fireworks has some relevance today, or folk around the world will be thinking . . . . . . What the hell are those Brits up to now. They are just a weird bunch of mad ex-imperialists with delusions of importance on the world stage. . . . . . . .(AH yes OK that is sort of true. . .But)

So here it is the true story of Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot. . . . The Government and the powers that be, will tell you differently for their own underhand reasons but everyone knows that Governments are always up to stuff that they do not want folk to know about, and will spin many a far fetched tale to distract us all. In fact it was this paranoia from the powers that be, that is partly responsible for the chain of events way back then. 

So here we have it

The  True Tale of Guy Fawkes . . . . . (Repeated)

Tomorrow here in the UK it will be Guy Fawkes Night( bonfire night, firework night) a night when loads of folk have bonfires, set off fireworks and eat toffee apples and wave sparklers about. However folk forget about why all this started back in 1605 when trying to escape from a large group of Zombies Guy Fawkes leapt into the cellar of the House of Commons. His train of thought (An old saying that led to the other old saying, he has fallen off the rails) being that no Zombie with any sense of taste would be stupid enough to want to eat the brains of a politician. However Zombies cant read so unfortunately followed him. thinking quickly on his feet he happened upon several large casks of gunpowder and thought to himself . . . . .I know I will blow them up (the Zombies, no one else . . . he just planned to blow up the Zombies).

Unfortunately as he was running about avoiding Zombies and trying to set fire to the fuse for the gunpowder which was a bit damp, a large group of politicians arrived in the cellar to see what all the noise was about.  Zombies hate politicians they taste terrible (still true to this day) so they ran off and hid leaving poor old Guy Fawkes standing on a large pile of explosives with a box of matches and because no one liked and still dont like politicians they sort of got the wrong idea about him, thinking he was trying to blow them up. A classic case of political paranoia, I mean as if anyone would think about doing such a thing.

Of course poor old Guy was hung as they did back then for almost everything and it was only afterwards that it was discovered that he was trying to blow up Zombies. So feeling a bit guilty and knowing that no one liked them anyway the politicians thought it best to celebrate him with a jolly uplifting event with bonfires (everyone loves a bonfire) where folk could burn a Zombie on it (everyone loves Zombies). Then after several accidents where the Zombie escaped and ate small children it was decided to burn an effigy of a Zombie instead, which folk like to call Guy after that gorilla that can bend folks.




I will now run off back into the digital blackness of cyberspace to sulk and point at things like seagulls. . . .they get everywhere  

An upbeat tale for Halloween . . . . .

Once upon a time in the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska there was a strange little old lady called Cropella Clipclop who without fail every Halloween would head off as darkness fell to go trick or treating.  Well in most parts of the world this would seem rather normal but not in the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska. You see the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska was run by a single and incredibly wealth family called the Hozzam-Blushfolds who as we all know are the owners of the famous Blushfold International Folding Company. 

Well we all need things to have folds in them or have things that need folding from Christmas cards to car components and as you might expect this has made the Hozzam-Blushfolds rich beyond the dreams of the average man.  However they were not a cheery bunch and banned Halloween many many many years ago and nobody dared to go Trick or Treating. . . . . . . With one exception, a strange little old lady called Cropella Clipclop who every year without fail would go to every house in the kingdom and shout . . . Trick or Treat. . .  No one knew how she managed to get to every home, but she did and everyone would give her a small treat.

It was all very odd because although the Hozzam-Blushfolds had tried many times to stop her she always managed to go out and visit everyone and she always said to them all . . . . I’m ninety five you know. . . . Although some thought she must be older as she had visited some houses for over eighty years saying the same thing.  And she always finished the night at the Hozzam-Blushfolds huge mansion where they would reluctantly give her the small treat she expected.

You see another rather odd thing about  Cropella Clipclop was no one ever asked her to do a trick, no one knew why but they knew that it was something you just did not do. . . it was one of those little mysteries of life that folk except.  And it was even odder really, because her hat and wand were cheap ones she had got from Woolworths years ago, so she was hardly that scary.

Then one year she said . . . I’m ninety five you know. I have decided that this will be my last year going out trick or treating. . . . Well that was a shock to everyone, but they gave her a small treat as they had always done but were very sad. Then as always she arrived at the Hozzam-Blushfolds huge mansion last, and said . . I’m ninety five you know. I have decided that this will be my last year going out trick or treating . . . .  Well they were very pleased because it was Cropella Clipclop’s last ever visit, but the now very elderly Arch Duke Hozzam-Blushfold VIII sniggered and said. . .  OK . .  TRICK THEN . . . .  (OOoooooo well that was a big mistake).  Cropella Clipclop replying . . .  I thought you would never ask. . . .  Raising her plastic wand from Woolworth's and . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Well no one for sure knows what happened that night but in the morning the entire Hozzam-Blushfold family fled the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska never to be seen again and left a message to say that the good folk of BartaBiska could now go out every Halloween. They even made sure that each Halloween their now deserted huge mansion was turned into a theme park for all the people of the nation to have a big party and lots of fun, which they did.

As for Cropella Clipclop, true to her word she never went out trick or treating ever again although she did have lots of visitors every Halloween, until one year Cropella Clipclop and her large Black Cat called Broomstick vanished. No one knows where they went, although it is said a large black cat is seen smiling in the shadows sometimes on Halloween.

And so with that I wish you all a Happy Christmas . . . (sorry Halloween) . . . It’s the shops I’m confused.    

A day in the Life of King Street

I have been busy again today with one thing and another so as a cunning plan I have decided to post one of the more popular posts of recent times, in order to try and recover some interest in my humble blog. . . I mean I draw pictures and there is not an advert in sight here, this is a visitor friendly blog, unlike my house where I would probably shout at you and set the cats on you. Not that I'm a nasty chap but no one wants strangers turning up at your front door smiling and being nice, its just plain suspicious so best just to show them who is boss. Which here is probably the cats as it happens, they even attack me when I turn up unexpected.

Anyway back to the post, this was a popular post written in a haphazard way while I was struggling with writers block. I write much of my blog on the cuff so to speak (a saying that appears to be gibberish if you ask me) and writing is as far as I'm concerned the only way to get through writers block. I know it seems odd but it is not. As for writing popular posts well I try but I feel I may be slightly doomed although having said that it tends to be the slightly odd ones that end up popular so I get rather confused. Maybe folk are out to get me just because I set the cats on them and they have to run for their lives.  So here it is another repeated post

A Day in the Life of King Street

George had moved to King Street because of his obsession with all things connected with space and aliens, in fact it was this obsession that led to him painting his wife Mavis green. She did not object too much although she did say later that she would have preferred to have been warned in advance rather than wake up in the morning covered in green paint.  George himself said that he had never entirely understood Mavis and by painting her green she made a very good Martian, and he was working on a Martian Phrase book. Although Mavis was convinced she was speaking English and told George that everyone else understood her perfectly well.

It was rather ironic then that several weeks later George received a text message from Mavis to tell him she had been abducted by humans who were planning to do terrible experiments on her.  In reality she had run off with Mr Clark the librarian to Spain because the stress of being a Martian had become to much and as she told Mr Clark, George was completely mad.

Several houses along King Street at No24 lived Harold Beckman famous as the first British man in space, who spent several weeks on the International Space Station until the accident where he uttered those famed words HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM. . . . AGAIN?  Since then Harold always kept a small can of oil about his person and insisted that his door hinges were oiled once a week.  As he told the postman on many occasions as he oiled the hinges of his front door . . . NOBODY WANTS A SQUEAKY DOOR ON THE AIR LOCK. . .  He often referred to the front porch as the air lock. It was his four days trapped in the airlock of the International Space Station that had brought this way of thinking about, and his early retirement was finally thought for the best after he started to wrap his head in Kitchen foil and was found oiling the wrong end of the cat.

After Mavis was abducted (ran off) George spent many hours discussing this with Harold who said the Aliens were everywhere sabotaging all the critical doors around the world so that one day when they invaded folk would find they were immobilized by jammed doors making mankind useless and unable to defend themselves.

Their friendship however came to an abrupt halt when a young assistant at Boots the Chemist handed over some photographs he had developed for Mr Harold Beckman of them (George and Harold) both dressed as Penguins in a state of arousal. It was a great scoop for the local press but not so good for Harold, George or the assistant at Boots the Chemist who was sacked for breach of confidentiality.  Harold kept his front door locked after that and George ran off to Spain to escape from sniggering neighbours, where he found Mavis working in a tapas bar. She told George that her mind had been wiped by men in white coats so she had forgotten about him. They got back together after a bit and are now often seen scampering along the Spanish beaches wearing Penguin suits and giggling.

The Tower, the Wizards and the Peasant Girl . . starring a Master Voldemort as special guest

My page views have dropped like a stone falling off a tall tower in the last couple of days and that has given me an idea so here goes. I don’t know where it will all end but Tally Ho lets start writing

A tale of Wizards and why one of them got very grumpy.

Well as we all know the most prestigious Wizard school in all the kingdom is the Charmspells Academy for Young Wizards, not that other one that folk go on about. But to get into Charmspells each of the young wizards has to pass a test, if they fail they are  sent off to that other rather more well know Wizard school. Each year a different person is chosen to set that years test by the ancient Speaking Stones of Wisdom in the Fabled Forest of Eternal Whispers. A place where even wizards eventually go mad from all the eternal whispering.  Each year the  Speaking Stones of Wisdom would announce the name of a grand wizard or legendary witch or warlock to set the challenge for the young hopefuls.

But then one year the Speaking Stones of Wisdom  said Vanilla Pickcall . . . . . Well no one knew who Vanilla Pickcall was and the kingdom was searched high and low until a young peasant girl was found working as a servant in the Tower of Diversity beyond the Hills of Echo. It was very confusing but the ancient Speaking Stones of Wisdom had spoken and so it was that young Vanilla was given the task of setting the test.

She set the test at the top of the Tower of Diversity which against one of its walls was the Forest of Eternal Whispers, against the second wall was The Sea of Mysteries, against the third was the Quick Sands of Illusion and against its forth was a long lawn and the path to the tower. The task the young wizards had to perform was to throw a pebble from the top of the tower, collect it and return to the top of the tower in only 10 minutes. The Young wizards were all allowed to climb the tower to study it first before they had to return one at a time to perform the task.

Well young wizards can be rather precocious and the worst of these was a young wizard called Master Voldemort and he turned his pebble into a frog then back into a pebble and then made it hover high above his head. He and his friends thought the test was foolish and simple and paid no attention at the top of the tower and called Vanilla the young servant a fool. Only a Miss Watson and a Master Black appeared to study the top of the tower worried that it all looked too simple.

After the young wizards once again reached the base of the tower each in turn was allowed to return to the top of the tower but once there the sky was black and it was impossible to tell which side was which. You see Vanilla had asked the grand wizard who owned the tower to turn the sky black which meant only those who had looked with care at the tower and listened to the noises of the forest, the sea and the quick sands would know the safest place to throw their pebble.  And so it was that Miss Watson and a Master Black who had studied to the surrounding noises knew where to throw their pebbles to be able to recover them quickly, returning to the top of the tower, and so passing the test.

One by one the other young wizards failed as they threw their pebbles into the quick sand, the sea or the forest meaning they were unable to find them.  Finally young Master Voldemort took his turn and attempted to use all the magic he knew to see through the blackness but it was to no avail. As time was running out, in anger he threw his pebble into the dark void. As he listened he heard it bounce on the path of the lawn safely below and he rushed to collect it, but arrived two seconds too late back at the top and so was told he could not go to the prestigious  Charmspells Academy for Young Wizards and would have to go to the other one. He was furious to be beaten by a young servant girl and charged into the Forest of Eternal Whispers to complain to the Speaking Stones of Wisdom themselves, who he blamed for this. But he got lost for several weeks and when he finally returned was not the same ever again, because as we know the Forest of Eternal Whispers will turn even the hardiest of wizards completely mad.

But he did go on to make a bit of a name for himself before finally having his entire plans ruined by another young wizard who had also failed the same test many years later.  

           

The Final enthralling Part (part four) of Boris and the Spider Man . . . all is revealed

Boris was up early the following morning, he needed to be in the office. Since the announcements of the official closure due to government cutbacks things had already started getting packed up, and fast.  He usually walked or used the bus most days but today he felt he was being watched, he got a flash of an elderly guy on the bus, then in a shop window, and then two old chaps on a park bench. He shrugged it off, after all he is a spy and spies are paranoid and they were all old men, but he doubled back and took a taxi anyway. Once a spy always a spy.

 As he entered the department it was a shock, it was half empty and even as he looked around he saw his own desk being loaded up into a van. . . . ITS LIKE THE LAST DAY OF THE CLOSING DOWN SALE AT WOOLWORTHS he said to one of the men sifting everything . . . . SORRY SIR, YES SIR BUT ITS ORDERS FROM THE TOP was the reply. Boris was angry he needed to find out what was going on. He made a few phone calls, but was told he was old school, field agents were not needed anymore it was all desk jobs now, monitoring social media and reading email, Boris was a dinosaur and was being pensioned off. It was a big pension and he should not rock the boat or else.

As evening fell Boris headed to the Zoot Suit Jazz Club alone, he was confused and very angry. He and Irene were a good team and he could not understand how she could be working for someone else. As he entered the half light of the old jazz club he heard a voice saying WELL THANK YOU ZELDA AND THE ZODIACS THAT WAS A GREAT SONG. . . . . WE WILL HAVE A SORT BREAK AND THEN IT WILL BE TONIGHT’S SPECIAL GUESTS THE ZAMBEZI ZITHER QUARTET FOLLOWED BY OUR VERY OWN BLACK WIDOW AND THE SPIDER JAZZ BAND 

As Boris looked round the club he saw the old men he had seen in the morning, alarm bells rang in his head and in the gloom he checked his revolver. As he did so a voice behind said YOU DON’T NEED THAT BORIS . . . He turned, it was Irene  . . . . . . WHATS GOING ON he said I THOUGHT WE WERE A TEAM. . . . . WE ARE . . . LET THE GENERAL EXPLAIN she said smiling.

SORRY BORIS . . . YOU CRACKED THINGS QUICKER THAN WE THOUGHT, CAUGHT US ON THE HOP. . . .WE ARE INTELLIGENCE DEEP INTELLIGENCE; IRENE SAYS YOU ARE ONE OF THE BEST. WE HEARD ABOUT THE IMPENDING CLOSURE OF YOUR DEPARTMENT MONTHS AGO AND SHE SUGGESTED WE RECRUIT YOU, WE NEED SOME YOUNGER BLOOD HERE WE ARE NOW ALL VERY OLD FIELD AGENTS.  Another elderly man joined them, HOW DID YOU WORK OUT THE LINK WITH THE ZOOT SUIT JAZZ CLUB AND THE SPIDER SO QUICKLY. . . . Boris looked puzzled I DIDN'T IT WAS THE OLD GUY; THE STRANGE ONE, HE TOLD ME TO LISTEN TO THE LIVE SHOW ON JAZZ FM LAST NIGHT THAT IRENE DID WITH HER BAND. Irene now looked puzzled THAT’S NOT UNTIL NEXT WEEK BORIS.  The General also confused asked Boris what he knew about the old man. . . I DON’T KNOW MUCH, HE HAD AN OLD MATCHBOX AND A SPIDER said Boris AND HE DID SAY HE PLAYED PIANO IN A BAR IN BERLIN BACK IN THE DAYS OF THE COLD WAR. The two old men looked like they had seen a ghost  . . . . One then said ZACKARY . . AGENT Z . .  BUT HE’S DEAD, HE WAS SHOT IN OCTOBER 1963. THEY SAY HE HAD A STORY SO BIG IT WOULD BRING DOWN THE GOVERNMENTS OF SEVERAL COUNTIES; BUT RUMOUR HAS IT HE WAS SOLD OUT BY HIS OWN SIDE; A COMMAND FROM THE VERY TOP.  As the two old men looked at one another Irene took Boris to a table and they sat and chatted until Irene joined her band singing long into the night, Boris finally able to relax.

Later in the early hours Irene and Boris drive back to Boris’s home in a black Mercedes passing an old man, he watches them as they drive past; bending down and carefully sliding a small spider into an old matchbox. As he does so the owner of the Italian coffee shop opposite shouts across the road . . . ANOTHER JOB DONE . . . . The old man nods and turns into the park and through the undergrowth to his forest shack deep in the Patagonian rain forests.

THE END

Ooooooo some of you will have noticed that part one was W, part two X part three Y and part four Z from a previous A to Z challenge. . . . .well spotted