Stories, Rhymes and Brain fallout.

  King Dong. While I was meditating, I was getting flashbacks to my youth. At school, there used to be a boy called Andrew Wiggins; he was known amongst us boys as the boy you don’t want to stand next to in the shower; Andrew was blessed (or cursed) with having the most significant ‘Willy’ of us all, it wasn’t just a bit bigger than ours, it was huge, in fact it looked a bit like some of those deep sea monsters you see on sea life documentaries appearing from under a rock on the bottom of the ocean.  We used to crack jokes, asking him what he fed the thing; we were in complete puberty and were amazed at anything and everything bodily; a girl in our class, for example, had six toes on one foot. Everyone wanted to date her just because of that one fact.  Andrew Wiggins was also very muscular, good at sports, and a lovely lad; he wasn’t a bully; if you had him as a friend, you were pretty much safe from the boneheaded bullies that hung around. His speciality in sport was the...

  The New Guy. A new guy has taken up residence in our street these last few months. He’s also in the drinking game. He sits in the small square near the library. I pass him each day on my way to the newsagents. He drinks beer from cans and lines up the empties as if it’s some kind of competition, and he’s counting.  His clothes are clean but ruffled. His face is tanned; he could be a teacher or even a writer; each time I see him, he gets older.  Now and then, a woman sits beside him; she looks like the social worker type. Usually, she’s talking while he stares into the distance, drinking.  Once, I saw her give him a packed sandwich from the local bakery; when I returned, she was gone, and the sandwich lay untouched on the bench next to him, the following morning, birds were fighting over it.

  Our street. #1 Sitting on a bench across the street from where his local Bar used to be before its recent closure, the place where he used to be 'first in' and 'last out'. In the Bar, he felt at home. There he was somebody. He got to talk to people - at least before the alcohol kicked in. In the Bar, people would get worried about him if he didn't show up for a day or two. He was part of the colourful fauna of folk there, part of the family, and then it closed. The locals have long since found other places to sit, drink and argue about the world and what it all means. He remains on the bench across the street as if he still believes it will return, the time when he was part of something. Now he sits here and drinks from a can (more are in the bag). People pass him by, nobody stops to talk, and the Bar becomes a distant memory; one day, he won't be around and fade as if he hadn't existed.

  I write. Therefore, I write. Whatever the thoughts on this, at least I'm off the mark, doing this writing exercise, writing even though I have nothing to say. I need to put in the effort.   At least writing can be done working from home, something stand-up comedy could never be. I like writing but have never found anything that interests me so much I want to write about it. Even comedy, even the gigs, and especially the people who come to watch me. The people, I love them and love them a little less simultaneously. They are comedy's lifeblood and the vampire that sucks it out of you all rolled into one. When they are into what I do on stage, I feel like I'm surfing; words come easy, and jokes appear out of nowhere. When they aren't into my act, it's hell; every minute is like an hour, and the mind stutters and, in the worst case, stops functioning. The mind races and opens all the drawers, trying to find jokes and anecdotes of years gone by to help retrieve the si...

  Why I don't 'do' flags anymore. Once again, we will be judged by our social media profile. Are we on the 'right' side? Do we have the flag of the oppressed posted so everyone can see how compassionate we are? At the moment, the Palestinian flag is the 'go-to flag' to cover the cracks of hypocrisy we here in the West are so keen to hide.  Don't get me wrong, Palestinians need our support. The only hope for future peace in the region is a two-state solution, and one day, let us hope both sides will agree on it and get around the table to accomplish it. Meanwhile, thousands are dying, and protest is needed. But let us remember there are not just two sides involved in this conflict. For example, I have noticed that a lot of people who vehemently oppose Israel seem very quiet when it comes to Iran - and their involvement with Hamas, and also their treatment of women within Iran. We 'progressives' like to think we are always on the right side, but ar...

  Let it go. Saturday 21 October '23. I take the advice of my meditation teacher and let my mind go where it wants without thinking about it too much. This page is the result: me just rambling on a keyboard (not really a keyboard, is it? There are no keys on it), just letters, numbers and little things that I don't know anything about or what they do.  Let your head go where it wants, he told me. I have watched so many Netflix docus on serial killers that I could pull off the perfect murder if I had the guts. I can't even murder a spider. Most of the time, when I see a spider at home, I ignore it and hope it goes away unless my wife has seen it and wants me to get rid of it - sounding like she means it 'Maffia style' - but usually it ends up me sliding a piece of paper under an upturned Tupperware box where the bewildered spider is trapped, I chuck it out in the garden, and try and run back in before the spider overtakes me - it's warm inside, I do wonder what s...

  Tuesday 26th of September 2023 It’s not so much that I’m tired of people telling me what they think and how I should be, what really pisses me off is that I listen to them and try to change myself. I Think I’m spending too much time surfing all these ‘self-help’ podcasts, youtube tutorials, and memes. They aren’t self-help, they are people you don’t know telling you how you should be, what you should eat, how you should exercise, and especially what you are doing wrong. Why should you even listen to these people? They don’t know you, or your situation or your expectations, or your capabilities.   So I weigh a few pounds over my ‘so say’ ideal weight, so what? I’m not happy and friendly all day and every day? So what, I’m human that’s how we operate. I’ve come to the conclusion that we all should search deep within ourselves, get to know ourselves better, work out what we want and want to be and then find the tools to make it happen, and if it doesn’t make us happy? Re-think ...