Monday, 7 May 2012

Toastie Beastie

I invented this recipe as a quick meal to have for lunch. You don't need a toasted sandwich maker for this, or a fancy panini press (it may get messy if you do, due to the sauces used). You do it in the grill and oh it is lovely.

You will need:
Cheese (cheddar, red leicester, double gloucester or similar)
2 slices bread, for toasting
1 slice ham (not parma)
Tomato puree
Basil
Chilli sauce (tabasco, cholula etc)
Barbecue sauce

1. Preheat the grill until hot. Toast one side of the slices of bread to desired darkness. While the bread is toasting, slice enough cheese for just more than 2 slices and pull the ham apart into large pieces.
2. Once the bread is toasted on one side, turn over and spread some tomato puree on each. Sprinkle on a little basil. Cover with the cheese. Put under the grill for half a minute.
3. Add the ham equally across the two slices and some hot sauce. Return to the grill for another half a minute.
4. Add the rest of the cheese, and add some barbecue sauce. Return to the grill to toast fully.
5. Once toasted, put both slices onto a plate and lay one slice face down on the other. Press down lightly and serve with a side salad. Or crisps, you fat bastard.

Tuesday, 17 April 2012

Currently writing stuff

There's been a bit of a hiatus with a lack of free time to do stuff like writing stories and shit. Well, to be honest, I have had time for a shit.

Thursday, 5 April 2012

An Easter Story

This is a work of fiction and no offence is intended. If you do feel offended, then you need to lighten the fuck up.

AN EASTER STORY

I must have passed out. I don't know when, but I couldn't remember being moved from there to here.

It felt like they had lain me amongst fur pelts, to keep me warm. I could not move, and I was stricken with pain from head to toe. My eyes struggled to focus, but I could make out the ceiling of a cave, illuminated by burning candles or torches.

The torment was over. I had carried that heavy cross amidst all the jeers, bearing the beatings that the people gave me, and I made my way to Golgotha. And when I was there, they forced me down, though I did not resist, and I calmly looked on at the Roman soldier driving the nails through me, fixing me to the cross. Every hammer blow that rained down, I did not show him an ounce of fear, or show him how much I was in pain.

And whilst I was up there, it seemed like forever, as my life began to slowly drain away. I cried out for my lord, the one who gave me my purpose in life, and asked why I had been forsaken. My will itself had been broken - it felt as if God himself had forsaken me and I felt alone and naked. I felt ashamed. How could it all have come to this?

My vision had began to cloud and all reality appeared to distort. I could feel the remaining blood rush around my body. Soon, I could not make sense of what was happening around me. And at one point, it went altogether. I don't know when, I could not remember. And then I ended up here, laid out to recover. But where was I? And who moved me here?

My eyes began to regain their focus. But I could not move nor lift my head. Nor could I utter a decipherable sound. What actually came out may have been little more than a mere grunt. I was helpless.

I heard a voice nearby. A patter of feet closing in.

And then a head leered over my own. It wasn't human, but visibly intelligent. It had brown, leathery skin and examined me with its large yellow eyes.

"He's alive." rasped the being.

I felt a hand touch and probe my body, which served to augment every ache as it did.

"The medicine appears to be working. I shall give you what little more we have."

The being skulked away and returned a moment later, with a cup made from a horn. It thrust the cup to my lips.

"Drink. You must drink." it implored.

I was powerless to refuse. After all, this being appeared to be tending to me, so I began to sip gently.

The liquid tasted like nothing ever I had tasted before. There was a sweetness to it, a milkiness too and an unknown element which invigorated me. From a glimpse, I could see that the liquid was a light brown colour. It was delicious. I drank some more and right away I felt my strength beginning to return, and then, all of the medicinal liquid in the horn had gone.

What was this medicine given to me? It was no herb or spice I had tasted. It was not even myrrh.

Then, I felt a jolt of memory return relating to how I ended here. My lifeless body moving. Taken down from the cross. I swear I could hear the voice of Joseph of Arimathea talking of hiding me, to keep my body safe from the Romans.

But where was I now? I tried to call out, but this was useless. I rested once more.

As I stirred, I could feel less pains and aches in my body. I could move my arms and legs slightly, yet I was still weak. Perhaps I could speak too.

"Hello? Is there anyone there?" I called out.

The being pattered back over to me.

"Ah. He has improved greatly. Welcome, human."
"Who are you and where am I?" I slurred.
"I am Squaup. You are underground, where no human has ever been for many years. We brought you here to get better and defeat the terror that plagues this place."
"I don't understand. What terror?"
"We listen. We spy on the human world and know its secrets. We know who you are, Nazarene. Only you can defeat him. He troubles your world, as does he ours."
"What? I cannot defeat anyone like this. I can barely move. My body is broken."
"Ah. But you accepted the medicine. And the medicine heals you. Look at your hands."

As it suggested to me, I brought my hands to my face. The wounds, where the nails were, had completely healed. No scars. It was as if nothing had happened.

And the whip marks across my arms had vanished. There was no evidence that they were even there.

In my life, people had attributed miracles to me. Seemingly impossible deeds beyond the capabilities of any man. A medicine that healed wounds in this way was indeed, miraculous. They said that I could heal the sick with my touch, turn water into wine, purge evil spirits from people and even feed over five thousand men with little more than a few fish and a few loaves of bread. Mere rumours, fantasy, a product of the hardships I endured with my people to elevate me above the status of men. Turned into weapons to make the Romans, and their corrupt allies in Jerusalem tremble in fear.

But this medicine was something else. And I wanted more. I wanted to taste more of this medicine.

"Do you have more of this medicine?" I asked Squaup.
"Alas, no. I have given you all that we have managed to scavenge. They say there is more, more of this medicine deeper in the underworld. More than the mere fragments I have given to you."

I felt an urge to seek out more of this medicine. As more strength returned to me, I began to attempt to rise to my feet.

I struggled and steadily I rose, shakily, like a newborn deer. I staggered and looked down at my carer. It stood no more than two feet high, less than half of my own height.

"And you carried me here?", I asked.
"I had help. There are more of us here. We used to live right across the underworld, before the terror came. Hundreds of thousands of us. Our numbers are vastly reduced, but we worked together to bring you here. The human who brought you left you in a cave, we opened the secret entrance and took you down. And then let you rest to make you better."
"This terror, does it have a name?"
"He does. And you know him. A vicious, wicked, ancient, serpentine thing he is. You know him as Satan. And once this world is his, he will rise and take your world too. I know it. He is utterly unstoppable. You will be our warrior. You are our only hope."
"Satan is here? Then I have to face him. If Satan is here, incarnate, then I will fight him. But I need more of this medicine."
"Do not underestimate him. But search for the medicine. Grow in power. Only then will you be strong enough to face Satan."

Squaup had handed me a gourd full of water, a torch and a crude pole. I walked steadily through their settlement, past the others of Squaup's kind. They looked upon me, like my own people did, as a symbol of hope in dark and desperate times. Only this time, the tyranny was not exacted by humans, but by something far more powerful and far more ancient.

At the entrance to the lower depths of the Underworld, the two guards, with their leather armour and barbed spears, parted for me to leave the colony. Whilst they said nothing, they bowed their heads in respect. Clearly word of my name had travelled far.

Before me lay miles of winding tunnels, the lair of Satan himself. But I craved more of this medicine, and knew that I needed more of this before I faced him. My lips slavered with hunger for it. That was, if I knew what exactly I was looking for.

I walked forward through cold, dark, damp, meandering and uneven tunnels, until I entered a chamber.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something that appeared to not belong here. I turned to look at what this indeed, was. I could see seven, eight egg-shaped objects on the floor of the cave.

On closer examination, the eggs were a brown colour and appeared to have been laid by a beast which could only be larger than me. Could this have been the eggs of Satan? Lifting one of the eggs up, and tapping it, the egg appeared to be hollow. It did not feel like the shell of an egg I recognised and it felt as if it was melting by the warmth of my hands alone. After replacing the egg, I noticed that my hands were tainted with the brown shell. It felt a little sticky.

Immediately, I could smell the medicine in my hands and so, licked them clean. More.

I took the egg again in my hands and lightly crushed it. The egg caved in, fragmenting into shards, which I began to consume quickly. As I ate the egg, I felt stronger, more powerful. Yet, the craving for more of this substance did not abate. As I consumed more of the eggs, the craving for more consumed me also. Soon, all of the eggs were completely gone.

But, I wanted more. I felt great. I leapt to my feet and looked around for more eggs. As I had eaten the lot, I carried on, sprinting through these labyrinthine caves, with incredible speed, to search for more of these wonderful, amazing eggs. Every chamber I found had more of these completely edible, gorgeous eggs. When the torch burnt out, it didn't matter because I was so powerful I could now totally see in the dark. I even picked up a rock and pulverised it between my hands I was so strong.

The urge to eat more almost made me forget who I was. A while ago, I was close to death, now I felt absolutely fantastic. But my hunger could not be defeated, I was insatiable.

Deeper and deeper I went. For one, I didn't want Satan stopping me in my quest to eat more of these sweet, magical eggs. Eggs I would pick up and crush and push into my mouth, not even chewing properly so I could gorge on some more. My face was plastered with brown, sweet stickiness, which I licked.

A while later, after eating about fifty eggs, I reached a very large, torchlit chamber and I could swear that I saw a figure infront of me. A man. I felt as if I knew him.

Gritted teeth, reptilian eyes, scaly green skin and an aura of a totally bad attitude.

"Who dares enter my lair? Declare yourself." hissed this creature at me.

"Grrrrrrr!" I replied. I could say naught else.

"You-you've eaten all of my eggs! For this, I shall kill you slowly. You seem familiar."

"I am Jesus of Nazareth. Are you Satan? Were these your eggs? I want more of them."

"Jesus. Yes, I remember you. I see my eggs have turned you completely chocoholic. It has almost completely gripped you. I shall tell all those pitiful humans how low you became. You'll be an embarrassment. And then they will forget you."

"Let's get this over with, Satan."

"Very well, Nazarene.

Satan unsheathed a sword that glistened gold in the torchlight of the chamber.

"I see you failed to bring a weapon. I will make this quick."

I felt an urge to charge him, until I realised I actually was, crying out as I ran full pelt towards Satan. We crashed. Satan fell to the floor, as did I, but he kept a hold of his sword.

I rose to my feet, fists clenched. Before me lay a brown boulder, which I lifted and hawked at him, which he deftly dodged.

"You think you can really take me on, Jesus? I have lived many of your years, I have experience beyond compare, beyond the knowledge of even your wisest men. You may think you have the power of the chocolate eggs, but you really are pitiful."

The rage tried to consume and control me, trying to goad me, egg me on into throwing myself into him once more. I stared at him and grunted. But I began to regain some composure. Some discipline. Focus. Control.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, trying to gauge each other's thoughts. I realised that only intelligence and discipline would win this fight, I thought, and kept this thought in my head, running over and over.

I ran at him, and he stood ready to cut me down. As we met, I dodged his thrust and hammered down on his hand, knocking the sword from his grip. With alarming alacrity, that fist rose to smash into his jaw, and his answer was to lash out and slash my chest with his fearsome claws.

We paused for a quick moment, poised to strike, looking for a weakness. Instantly, I could feel those gaping slash marks across my chest heal up.

"Your move, Jesus." goaded Satan, provocatively.

I did not react. And then, Satan leapt at me, where I reached forward and grabbed his throat with my right hand, and pummelled him with my left repeatedly. I throttled him with both hands with my immense strength as he choked and slowly descended to the floor of the cave, totally unable to breathe. Yet, I could not break his neck.

I released him and he spluttered and writhed. Before he could stand, I raised from my knees and hurried to take his golden sword.

And as Satan wearily staggered slowly upright, I hacked his head clean from his body.

The head rolled away, as the body collapsed, spewing copious amounts of black blood everywhere. I then realised that Satan, such an old enemy, of even God himself, lay dead at my feet.

I took Satan's head and took this back to the colony, and presented both the severed head and his golden sword to their Chieftain. And everyone there thanked me for slaying the terror which plagued them.

I returned to my bed for some rest and slept some more. And it was Squaup who awoke me.

"Jesus. Wake up, Jesus.", a voice calmly spoke.

"What, who? Hello Squaup."

"You must return to your own people. Your work here is done."

While I slept, the craving had subsided, but I still felt strong. They led me to the entrance of the cave, where an enormous boulder seperated the secret underworld from Judaea.

I had but one question for Squaup.

"How will the people recognise me? My wounds are healed. They would think I am an impostor. They would surely not believe me."
"The healing power of the chocolate can be controlled. As well as healing your wounds, it allows a degree of metamorphosis. This is how Satan was able to walk amongst the world of men. Imagine how you looked before you came here. Focus on it."

I closed my eyes and pictured and remembered how I was upon the cross. Every wound, every mark upon me. Each time the whips came down. Each time the nails were driven through me. And even as a Roman spear pierced my side. I imagined the pain, though I did not feel it. On opening my eyes, I saw the many, many wounds that littered my body, making me a grotesque form of a man.

Squaup said his goodbyes and wept as he left, replacing the stones that hid this underworld from the prying eyes of man. Never would I see him again, and I was thankful for his help in saving me from certain death.

With all my strength, I pushed the boulder and it rolled away, effortlessly. I was in the world of Man again.

First, I went to find my beloved, Mary, and told her I had returned, and to get people together. As I walked the land, I told other people too, and for whoever believed them to come here to discuss a plan of revolution.

And my disciples, I burst in on their lunch, and they were terrified.

Of all the people I had gathered unto me, I would tell them of my journey and my newly gained powers. I felt these powers and invincibility would be enough to free my people at last. I would also tell them of my victory against Satan himself.

As I began to speak, I began to feel lighter. People gasped.

I heard a voice in my head. It was Satan. How could Satan be speaking to me?

"This is my sweet revenge."

My feet left the floor entirely as I levitated. The thousands of people watching on, looked in astonishment.

"He is risen!" they cried out.

Indecipherable cries of me being dragged up to Heaven filled the air, as I began to rise even further. I begged the people for help, to drag me down, but they merely looked on in awe. They did nothing to help me.

I was now several feet above the ground and accelerating.

"Can anyone help me?" I cried out, "Someone get a stick, a pole or something! Help me?"

"They won't help you." replied the voice, "You destroy my body, you set back my plan for conquest of the Earth, and you expect me to just accept it? What, you thought a simple decapitation would be the end of me? I am but here in mere non-corporeal form, but I will be back. The question is, what about you?"

"With God by my side, you can't possibly win." I muttered.

"Don't mock me with threats of God. As you have no possible way of winning, let me enlighten you on a few things. You are special, do not get me wrong, you have the gift of hearing what others cannot. Some call this the gift of prophecy. And you will be remembered as a prophet. What you have is what people of our level of knowledge call a genetic mutation. But it will be a long time before anyone down there understands what that means."

I looked down. I was beginning to get very high now. I could see ant-sized people looking back at me, watching me rise up. I could no longer tell who was Judaean or who was Roman any more. They all looked ever the more featureless.

"We, that is the being you call God, and my good self, are able to exploit this so-called gift. Through communication, we can command people like you to our will. And this gift has allowed both of us to control many other worlds. There is but one small problem, now, which complicates matters."

"You lie. God does not need to control worlds. God created all, everything, even you. I have no reason to believe any of this."

"You were nothing but a tool for his control of Earth. And now you have set back my plan, and over time his domination will be ever more the stronger. Why, a whole new religion will probably come out of this and spread across the planet. You may ask, why are you ascending?"

"Why?"

"You ate enough of the magic chocolate eggs to become virtually immortal. We, that is God and myself, are ancient alien beings with a wealth of incredibly advanced technology at our disposal. That is to you, something far beyond your capabilities with iron tools. Those eggs contained tiny machines that act as a restorative, repairing damage, increasing abilities, making one almost impossible to kill. You happened to overdose on them, you became addicted. And you became more powerful than even God. This is why I have to take you away from the planet. You could ruin everything."

"What do you mean?"

"I must be honest with you. There is enough of a power struggle between myself and God. You would be a... third party. And with you as a captive audience right now, I want you to listen to my plan. God and me are mundane beings, albeit with much power at our disposal. And God has deceived men as much as I have. With this power you have, you could join me and we could rule the Universe as partners."

"I'll never join you, Satan."

"Then you shall carry on upward. Bit cold up here isn't it? Air is getting to be a bit thin too. If you look down below, Judaea looks like a very small country now. To the left is Europe and the Roman Empire's dominion. To the right is Asia. And below is Africa."

"Satan? May I ask a question? I must ask now before I am unable to speak.", I wheezed.

"Go ahead."

"Is God not creator of the world?"

"Alas, he is not. This is part of the deception. In essence, while we know so much about the Universe, our own scientists are still analysing from whence it originally came. This is what I'm trying to tell you. God is a liar - If you make the people believe that their destiny relies on your very whim as he had done, they will fight for you. They will die for you. They will even destroy all that they love in sheer devotion to you. They will submit themselves entirely. This is how we make them do exactly what we want. The religions we create across the Universe are nothing more than our form of control. The question I want to ask is, are you with me or against me? I would suggest you decide quickly, as there is precious little air left."

"I will not side with you. Or God. And some day the truth will come out about the pair of you."

"I do not believe it is possible for you. We are soon about to enter space. Soon, your body will freeze rigid. You will still remain alive and conscious for the whole duration of what will happen from here on in. To give you an idea of time, the Universe is a very, very old indeed. We are not talking thousands of years. We are not talking millions. Or billions. Much, much older. And you will be alive for all of it, unable to do anything about it at all. Unless you side with me. There is no ultimate being, no omnipotent force, no intelligent designer who knows of our discussions here, there is no one else who can save you. The God as you know him does not exist."

I was totally unable to move or speak. And the freezing began. The pain was total, infinitely worse than crucifixion.

"The only thing you can hope for is if the humans reject religion. The religion we sell stifles development, hinders the advancement of science, keeps people back until all their natural resources are consumed and confines them to doom, failing to advance enough to escape this. You have to hope that they honour the ability to question all that they know, to better themselves in every way, and become a civilisation that will one day reach out into space. This is the only way they will possibly find you. But, of course, this is unlikely to happen. We can make people reject the truth even if it is all around them, even if it is so unbelievably obvious."

And then, Satan's voice fell silent, as I drifted through black space. For years I drifted in absolute silence. It must have been, it was so long that I lost track of time.

Eventually a large planet or moon came into view and I was heading swiftly towards it. As I landed on a distant lunar surface, I lay still for many centuries. Then the voice returned.

"Just to give you a glimmer of hope, someone called an astronomer has gazed on this moon. You are orbiting the planet Jupiter, and this moon is called Ganymede. Let's hope that science prevails and people can find the real Jesus. Or will religion prevent them from finding you? I mean, from your worshippers' point of view, you were taken up to Heaven to sit with God for all eternity. So, they're not actively looking for you, and for those that are, they're looking in entirely the wrong places. I wish you could cry, if you weren't a frozen body. It would bring me so much joy."

And so my body lay. Who could guess what happens next? Does Earth continue with religion and never find me? Or does it reject it altogether? Maybe the underground people can help. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, I can call out to humanity.

It was the chocolate eggs which gave me strength. Maybe, this is what this time of year should signify - a delicious, chocolate egg for humans to eat together, united and strong. If they could not find the magic chocolate, maybe they could make their own and sell it, maybe, and this is how they could remember me.

Please come and find me. I'm on Ganymede. And when we do, we'll fight God and Satan together.

But if you can't, remember me. Buy a chocolate egg for someone. And if you receive one, eat it all.

THE END

Friday, 30 March 2012

Little Miss New

This is Little Miss New. But she wasn't always called Little Miss New, she used to be called something else.

Why wasn't she always Little Miss New? That's an interesting question.

Little Miss New has a story to tell, and this is her story.

-----

A long time ago, in a plain, ordinary town called Normalville, Mr. Nice lived in Nice Cottage, a beautiful and well-looked after house on Normalville's outskirts.

Normalville isn't known for anything out of the ordinary, and its people go about their everyday lives without any shock or scandal at all. Yes, bad things happen, but never anything too bad. It is quite the same for anything good too!

-----

Here is Mr. Nice. Now if you look at Little Miss New on the first page and look again at Mr. Nice, you might notice that they look almost the same.

You might ask whether Mr. Nice is related to Little Miss New.

For example, you might ask whether Little Miss New is Mr. Nice's sister.

Or you might ask whether they are cousins.

I'll tell you later.

-----

Mr. Nice was, as you might expect, a nice man. He was polite to everyone, helped out his family, friends and neighbours and was generally thought of as being nice.

And like everyone else in Normalville, he never did anything at all to stand out.

Here he is baking cupcakes one day to sell at the Town Fair. But nothing out of the ordinary here.

But some of you are asking, where is Little Miss New?

-----

One day, in Nice Cottage, Little Miss New went to her mirror. She stopped to admire herself. She was in her full attire, with her hat and dress, and full lipstick and makeup.

"I do look beautiful today." she said, as she adjusted her hat.

And suddenly, there was a knock at the door.


As quick as a flash, Little Miss New removed her hat, dress and makeup and grabbed Mr. Nice's clothes.

On went the trousers, the shoes and plain white shirt, and then she went off down the stairs.

-----

The door opened. It was the postman.

"Parcel for you, Mr. Nice!" said the postman.

"Thank you. I've been waiting for this." replied Mr. Nice.

But the postman noticed something different about Mr. Nice.

He asked "Mr. Nice? I couldn't help but notice, but you have something red all over your lips. Is that lipstick?"

"Lipstick? Oh no..."

-----

Mr. Nice thought quickly for an excuse.

"It must be the cherry pie I had earlier. I am sorry." said Mr. Nice.

The postman had a worried look on his face.

"Cherry pie for breakfast? That's not normal at all, Mr. Nice. Well, I would love to stop and chat, but I must simply deliver the rest of my round! Goodbye, Mr. Nice!"

Mr. Nice breathed a sigh of relief.

-----

Well, you might be asking questions yourself about Mr. Nice. Why was Mr. Nice wearing lipstick?

Did you know that Mr. Nice and Little Miss New are exactly the same person? Mr. Nice is Little Miss New, and Little Miss New is Mr. Nice.

But nobody in Normalville knew Mr. Nice's secret.

-----

Mr. Nice thought about what had happened earlier. If he told other people that Mr. Nice was wearing lipstick when he delivered his parcel, there would be concerns. There may be shock! There may be even panic! People would think this sort of thing isn't normal at all!

Mr. Nice spent a while thinking about what to do. He couldn't keep this secret forever as someone was bound to find it out.

He came to a decision. He would be brave and tell them his secret.

-----

Tomorrow was the Town Fair, and everyone from Normalville would be there. There would be games, food, drink and a big speech by the Mayor of Normalville.

And there, Mr. Nice would reveal his secret.

-----

Mr. Nice usually entered the annual cake competition at the fair. Only, this time, he would enter this year's competition as Little Miss Nice.

As this was to be such a special occasion, he created the most beautiful, wonderful, delicious cake, and it was the best he had ever made!

After finishing the last of the icing, he went straight to bed to get plenty of sleep for the big day.

-----

Mr. Nice got up, got dressed, put on makeup and became Little Miss New.

She checked herself in the mirror again, making she was as beautiful as she always was.

She had breakfast, and just as she finished her last mouthful, the doorbell rang again!

But this time, she didn't change her clothes. She went to answer the door as Little Miss New.

-----

It was the postman again.

"Just a parcel for y-... This is for Mr. Nice, madam. Would you make sure he gets it?" said the postman.

"I'll make sure Mr. Nice gets it!" grinned Little Miss New.

The postman didn't seem to recognise her at all, not one bit.

-----

Later that morning, Little Miss New left her house to take her cake to the Town Fair.

As she walked through town, she noticed that no one recognised her at all. Some of them asked whether she had just moved into town. And some of them said how delicious her cake looked!

She met the vicar of the town church, who was a friend of Mr. Nice's and he said that Little Miss New's cake reminded him of something that Mr. Nice would have baked.

But even he didn't spot anything different!

Little Miss New carried on, smiling. She felt like a completely new person!

-----

Little Miss New entered her cake into the competition and browsed the stalls at the fair.

Mrs Purl was there as usual, with her knitted dolls for sale.

And so was Mrs Lollipop, from the newsagents, with her 'Guess how many sweets are in the jar?' competition.

And Mr. Sausage the butcher served lovely, hot food from his barbecue!

-----

As the day went on, she did hear whispers amongst people, asking where Mr. Nice was. It was quite far from normal for him not to be here. He was there every year. And he hadn't even entered a cake into the cake competition!

Suddenly, a loud voice came from the Mayor's megaphone. It was time to do the annual tombola, so everyone began walking towards the stage, where the Mayor stood ready.

The Mayor said "I'd like to select a volunteer. And that volunteer just happens to be a rather remarkable person who has absolutely excelled at this year's cake competition. Would Little Miss New come to the stage, please?"

Little Miss New blushed, as the crowd applauded!

-----

As she stepped up to the stage, she turned and looked to the people of Normalville.

"Just before I do the tombola, I have something to say to you all."

The crowd hushed to a silence.

"You may not recognise me, and you may think I'm new to town. But the thing is, I know so many of you so very well and I hope you can forgive me for what I am about to do." she announced.

And just then, she removed her hat, and everyone there recognised Mr. Nice immediately, and gasped!

-----

The Mayor rushed to her just at once.

"Mr. Nice? Well, this... well. Oh dear."

The people of Normalville looked horrified. They had never seen anything like this before, not in a place like Normalville!

And then the Mayor said, "My friends. You may think we people of Normalville are certainly more normal than everybody else. People would think that a man who wants to dress, and live, as a woman is definitely not normal at all. What if I were to say that there are men and women who feel like they're in the wrong body all around the world? Surely if Mr. Nice feels more normal when he is Little Miss New, then this is the way things should be. After all, we like it when things are normal, so I think we should not be alarmed, and we should welcome Little Miss New as one of us!"

-----

And at once, the people of Normalville applauded them both.

And the important message is this. Just because you're different from everybody else, doesn't mean you're not normal. We can't have normality if we can't accept people who are different from us. If everyone was the same... well, that definitely wouldn't be normal, would it?

And the winner of the tombola? One happy postman!

Tuesday, 20 March 2012

Another Mr. Men idea.

I'll be putting together a full story soon. I've got another Mr. Men idea to add to the list.

Mr. Hero - Mr. Hero is the story of a soldier who suffers an unfortunate accident while on the field, losing his right leg and part of his right arm. Having being discharged from the army, the other Mr. Men help him adjust to everyday life and help him accept his disabilities.

Wednesday, 14 March 2012

Up The Magic Garden

Slightly autobiographical...

Hey, what shall we do today?
Let's go up the garden and play.

You don't need friends, there's plenty there,
Don't stop inside to stand and stare.

What is outside? Let's go and see.
Let's look under the magic tree.

Look, there is a spider here,
Come with me, nothing to fear,
Let's put you in a wooden box,
I'll leave you there for lots and lots.

Let's look now amongst the slabs,
You will see there's lots of ants,
To make sure they won't go far,
I'll put some ants into a jar.

A buzzing sound, I softly hear,
What can it be? I look and leer,
There's a wasp flying around,
It circles down to the ground.

I must be careful, wasps can sting,
They don't care; they'd sting anything,
I whack it with rolled up newspaper,
Just to stun it for my caper.

This next step is not for fools,
You will have to bring your tools,
A pair of tweezers will do you well,
And steady hands will surely tell.

The stunned wasp lies on the ground,
It does not know I am around,
I use the tweezers for these things,
I dismember all its wings.

A flightless wasp for me to keep,
In a box for a few weeks.

So many ants to play with too,
Let's see what body parts to lose.

Legs, if you can keep them still,
They walk as if they are ill,
If you take too many, just be wary,
It leaves them very stationary.

And if you try to take a head,
It simply makes that ant dead,
An antenna here that I have found,
Remove this, they'll walk round and round.

It starts to rain, it's time to stop,
Let's put away the jars and pots,
The spider box into the shed,
Forgotten now for weeks on end.

Remaining ants, I pour away,
Safe to live another day.
I take the flightless wasp inside,
It starts to stir while I spied.

In my room, I carry on,
The wasp walks around the box,
With tweezers, I grip and then,
I seperate the abdomen.

The wasp still lives, but only just,
Its fluids leak out like pus,
The abdomen, a strange thing,
It'll try to use its sting.

It tries to sting for two more weeks,
The wasp is dead, but this still lives,
It soon ends up in the bin,
But it was quite a curious thing.

The rain comes down in a thunderous spray,
I'll torture poor insects another day.

Monday, 12 March 2012

This ain't just about Mr. Men you know

Or indeed, kids books in general. Not as if I want to give the impression that I'm totally blasé about the whole thing, but on the whole, kids books do tend to be shorter than adult books. This does not make them easy to write, however, as you do have to tailor them for a particular audience. As is the case for parodies of kids books, as in kids books written in the style of kids books but for a more adult audience - re: 'Let's Shit'.

Parodies of this sort of thing are becoming to become more popular. You may be aware of 'Go The F**k To Sleep' which is a successful example of the genre.

I've given more adult books a go in the past, and I do have considerably high expectations of myself when I was. So high, in fact, that it battered my confidence to such a degree that I couldn't finish what I was writing. Even now, when I read back to what I've written before, I just think that I've scrambled together an awful piece of work, and I should use my time for more useful and productive ventures and the like.

I mainly enjoy writing Sci-Fi and Fantasy. It was only up to a few years ago, when writing a story about a being that can draw a portal to anywhere in the Universe that I realised that I should inject a bit of humour into the whole thing. But the main reason for focusing on Sci-Fi and Fantasy in general is that I like to create my own worlds and rules (though without becoming too unrealistic).

I started a blog two years ago with the intention of posting bite-sized portions of a Fantasy saga which I would update regularly. I didn't advertise it well, and again, the demon of low self confidence struck again with a killing blow that doomed the entire thing. Ideas for the story still run through my head, and I may just come back to this again, as there are some rather killer parts to this which I think to be fair should be exposed to the world.

Anyway, here is what I managed to accomplish, if you've got a bit of time to spare.

http://blatantfantasyrubbish.blogspot.com/