Tuesday, 30 September 2008


I have been nominated for a prestigious and well-regarded award.


I want to win so badly it makes me want to cry.
I am going to ruthlessly bribe and coerce my way to the top.
I am going to bribe the judges with a saucy card with a photo of an area of my leg which I have shaved on it.
I am going to make a delicious feast of marinaded goat in moroccan spices.
I am going to win.
I have to win.
Winning is my destiny.
If I lose I will be crushed.
I have never been to an awards ceremony.
I will win.
What happens if I don't win?
I think I might get fired if I don't win.
I am going to check with my boss.

My boss says I can't go.

Monday, 22 September 2008

I just can't do my life any more

I don't mean that I am going to commit suicide; I just need to change everything in my life.
I feel constantly miserable. Everything is terrible. Don't force me to do it anymore.

Sunday, 21 September 2008

The Police

A police man is looking at me.
He is wearing a reinforced hat.
He knows my secret.
I have a lobster thermidor down my pants.
The lobster is moist.
The police man is licking his lips.

Thursday, 18 September 2008


I am lying in my bed and the fan is on making loads of noise and keeping me awake. The fan is making me cold but I don't want to turn it off because if I get out from underneath the covers then I will be vulnerable.

I am thinking about putting on a conference in an international convention centre. I will have delegates at my conference. There will be speakers giving talks on a wide range of topics. The first topic will be "Five pound notes: A guide to Etiquette." The talk will last 30 mins with 5 mins for q and a afterwards.

Everything will be smooth and quick at the conference. People will describe it as unmissable. There will be a talk about The Different Wind Models That Can Be Achieved By Opening Two Windows In The Same Room To Aid In The Dissapation Of Cigarette Smoke. There will be a talk on Muscular arms.

I will give a talk. It will be a clever talk. The talk is going to be daring and brilliant. It is going to be groundbreaking and will totally undermine all of the recieved wisdom. I don't know what it's on yet.

My conference will be in sweden and there will be a dress code. I will give people as much free ice as they want. The slogan for the guys who give out the free ice will be "After all, we are in Sweden"

There will be a man outside with a gun who looks seriously terrifying. I will remove all of the bins around the conference and tape up the post boxes. I will forget to empty one of the post boxes. The post will be trapped forever.

I love my successful conference.

Saturday, 13 September 2008

Everything around me and in me is falling to pieces

I am staring at the space between my hands on my desk. I am feeling pretty low.

My boss is in his room. The computer is on. The phone is either ringing or connected. I am either speaking or breathing. I have a pain in my head and between each of my knuckles.

I feel isolated. There are people around me; I feel penned in by the people. They are my team. We do things together. They do funny voices and make jokes. Every time one of them makes a joke I do not laugh. In fact I do not laugh ever.

I go home and on the way home I by some chipped potatoes. I have gravy on my chipped potatoes. The gravy is rich and thick and tastes beefy. It is a glutinous beefy slop. It is a thick brown beefy paste. It is a beef slime. It is the tastiest, beefiest residue I know. It is full of dead beef. It is full of offal and bones and marrow. It is maybe made of kidney stew.

I finish my meal and sit on my sofa carefully. I listen to a song and do some naked dancing.

This is the song I dance to.


The gravy has driven me into a frenzy.

Wednesday, 10 September 2008


Oh my god I am back at work my face hurts and I am scared I am back at work I can see my boss and my team I wish I was in a brown room not out in the open I think there are african fighting bees on my penis it hurts it feels like my legs are going to explode and my eyes are crying I am back at work there is some coffee I am back at work.

Friday, 5 September 2008

My Holiday Diary

Day One
Didn't go anywhere.

Day Two
I am lost.

Day Three
Got attacked by a lizard. It came in through the window and then left. It took something but I don't know what.
Cut my foot on a piece of metal.

Day Four
Tried to access work e-mail.
Contracted an electronic virus.
Unplugged computer from wall, ripped socket out of the wall.
Fell backwards into a bin.
Had a rollmop.

Day Five - Seven
Sat down.

Day Eight
Got up.
Looked out of the window at the shutters.
Tried to open the shutters for some fresh air.
Dust from the shutters got into my nose.
Was sneezing for two minutes.
Tried to find my asthma inhaler.
I had forgotten my asthma inhaler.
Sucked on a pencil hoping for a placebo effect.
Had a mild asthma attack.

Day Nine
Too scared to move.
A man tried to breach the room/prison.

Day Ten
Did some exercises.
Looked at the place in the wall where the plug socket used to be.
Put my face in the place where the plug socket used to be.
Felt dangerous.

Day Eleven
Had some raisins.
Tried to invent a new language.
Made up a word "Polt"
"Polt" means "Oh Dear"
Some of the words in my new language can mean up to three of our words.
Made up a word "tunge".
"Tunge" means "Little Man With"

Day Twelve
Poured salt onto my tongue.

Thursday, 4 September 2008

Vacation Situation

I have been counting the number of tiles in my bathroom. The tiles are very small maybe 1 cm x 1 cm or equivalent. There are hundreds of them. Back home, I don't have loads of tiles in my bathroom just six big ones. One on the floor. One on the ceiling, one on each wall.

I am not accustomed to my surroundings. I keep bumping my foot on the side of a table. The table is made out of a sharp metal. I keep bleeding over the floor.

I am not allowed to throw tissue paper down the toilet. It blocks up the system. There are many many tissues in the waste paper bin that are covered in blood from my foot. I feel as thought the tissues are going to spill out all over the place at any minute.

I am looking at the corners of my room. There is a cockroach in one of them. I spend one minute standing on my bed, holding a slipper in my hand in case it moves. It doesn't move.

The cockroach is a rich chocolate colour. It looks like a shining medjool date. The cockroach is glistening. It is a foreign cockroach. It can survive a nuclear blast and having it's head cut off. I look at my slipper.

The cockroach is gone.

I read in a magazine once that for every one cockroach you see there are at least five million hiding just out of eye sight. They know where you are looking and just keep out of your field of vision. If I could turn round quick enough I would be able to see a shifting brown mass of cockroaches behind me, falling off the furniture into a crunchy mess on the marble floor. I think the only way to combat this is with CCTV. I don't have any CCTV.

I spend an hour smashing up the mirror in the bathroom carefully into two evenly sized pieces. I take two forks and some sellotape as well as two little plates. I fix the mirrors onto the plates. I attach the forks on each side of my head so that they stick out past my ears. I attach the mirror/plates to the forks.

I've got wing mirrors now. I'm a foreign, cockroach detecting mancar.

I don't see any more cockroaches all day - even in my wing mirrors.

When I go to sleep I take off my underwear and a cockroach falls out. I think it was the cockroach from before. It was trying to make it with my penis.

Wednesday, 3 September 2008

Holiday. Holiday. Holiday

I have definitely learnt how to rest. I am so god damn rested. I have thought of nothing for nearly two weeks now. I am afraid of the face in the wood on the wall. The face looks like an old man with a beard. It looks like he is an angry man.

Someone knocks on my door. I have never spoken to anyone before.

I forget about it.

Someone else knocks on my door. It might be the same person. Who would knock twice.

I do not answer the knock.

But what if it is a nude lady? I think that there is a small chance that it is a nude lady at my door. She could be lost and maybe a sandstorm stripped all of her clothes off. 

No way is it a nude lady at my door. The knock sounds quite manly. 

Maybe it is a gruff man. I don't speak any of the local language but I can't think of anything I could have done to upset anyone enough for them to knock on my door, to knock on my door twice. 

I quickly adjust my hair and make my way to the door. I try to open the door. I almost open the door. The door is pretty much stuck now. I can hear someone outside saying things. It sounds like this 'hhuug yug slinkism goodfread kollinc'.

I am never coming on holiday again. This has been the worst two weeks of my life. I have done nothing for two weeks and now an angry man is trying to communicate with me in another language.

I quickly try and fall asleep while I am standing by the door. I can't do it. The man keeps talking for twenty minutes. 

I don't know why but I think this would somehow be a good time to masturbate.

Is it good to masturbate in a foreign country while a man is trying to get into your house and you have half opened your door and are scared and he is speaking a foreign language to you while you masturbate?

Tuesday, 2 September 2008

Will this holiday never end?

What do people do on holidays.

I received a message from my boss on my phone it says.

"You made a huge mistake at work. You didn't tell me. I'm not going to fire you but when you come back I'm going to make you feel dreadful. I'm not going to tell you what the mistake was because when you come back I'm going to ask you about it and you are going to tell me about another mistake you made that's worse and then you'll be in even worse trouble. You will tell me about all of the mistakes you have ever made and I'm going to write them up in my triplicate book and I'm going to distribute them to the office and then everyone will know how terrible you are at everything. Fuck you. I hate you. You are shit. I am the shitter. FUCK YOU"