James Square

If you go down to James Square on the first Wednesday of July, you will find the annual James party.

All of the James's meet up in the square at 6:15 (In the pm, we're not milkmen), We collect into blunders of Jamii (the collective noun and plural for James in the wild) and generally James about in the street

A bonfire is built upon which an effigy of James Caan is set alight.
 
James Bond films are projected onto a large screen at the end of the street for any of the Jamii that may be interested and James Brown CD's are played through loudspeakers.

We try not to be an insular group, we have always welcomed anyone who goes by Jim or Jimmy and in the late nineties an agreement was made to allow all of the Jamies in too.

We are looking to expand our membership further and some of the more liberal of us have been campaigning hard to extend it to similar girls names such as Jane, but unfortunately there are still a lot of the "old boys" - the retired butlers and such, some of whom still won't speak to the Jamies and are completely against any kind of change.

We have also tried to allow for foreign variations to be allowed in, the Jakup's, the Jacum's, the Jaime's and the Xaime's, but we still have a problem with some of the racist Jamii claiming the square is full.

I am unsure how we all manage to fit in, all the millions of Jamii and we manage to fit into a relatively small residential street, but the racists are wrong, there is plenty of room in James square on the 1st Wednesday of every July and if you are called James, or something like James, or even if you just know a James, you should come too.

The 7 Worst Things to do with a 2B Pencil

The title here is self-explanatory so I won't go on a long, rambling introductory paragraph, suffice to say, this is just my personal opinion and I appreciate that everyone else will have their own take on the top 7 (or bottom 7) worst things to do with a 2B pencil.

1. Throw it at someone who has done nothing wrong
I would never be so ridiculous as to suggest that you should never throw a 2B pencil at anyone- if you see Dapper Laughs or Boris Johnson for example, you should definitely throw a pencil at them- but throwing it at some woman buying grapes at the supermarket checkout or an elderly man waiting for the bus is really out of order. Don't do that, OK?

2. Sharpen it right down the eraser upon first buying it
That it quite wasteful

3. Use it to perform a tracheotomy on a person who does not need a tracheotomy

You should only ever perform a tracheotomy on a person who needs a tracheotomy, and really a 2B pencil is probably not suitable if they do need one (I wouldn't know, my knowledge of tracheotomy techniques is very limited. For all I know, you really should perform a tracheotomy on someone who doesn't need one using a 2B pencil. Please continue to do so if that is the case)

4. Use it to stir some cake mixture because you can't be bothered to go over to the cutlery drawer

Are you trying to give everyone who eats your cake lead poisoning?!

5. Carve a lewd message into the side using a compass
This might sound like fun but it actually isn't and could upset anyone who reads the message, and it may mean that the compass isn't available to somebody who needs it

6. Put it up the nostril of a wax work Jesus
This would be mean and disrespectful. However funny it may seem, it is not very nice to  put a 2B pencil up a wax Jesus' nostril.

7. Use it to write a rubbish blog post
The final entry in our list of worst things to do with a 2B pencil is to write a rubbish blog post. Luckily, despite this being my only blog, I have managed never to fall foul of this one, mostly because by its very nature, a blog post will not really be written down using a writing implement, that would just be a diary post or piece of writing. Oh well. Bye

Epidemic of Evil: A Creepy Tale in the Style of Garth Marenghi

Margaret worked in the accounting department of a medium sized distribution company in a small town just outside Lincoln. Upon finishing photocopying the days invoices, she entered the filing room on the 2nd floor.

Upon entering she came face to face with Pam from Human Resources, recognisable only by her name badge for she had been disembowelled, guts spilled out all over the floor. Guts. Guts. Guts. Guts. Guts. Guts. And her head.

Margaret was disappointed about the new shift patterns too, but that struck her as something of an overreaction.

Margaret rushed over to check for a pulse, but it was too late, Pam was stone cold dead and she was not coming back. Just to clarify, she won't become reanimated or be returning in zombie form at some point in the story, the role of her already dead corpse has come to an end.

Something smashed in the hallway and footsteps could be heard approaching, the killer presumably returning. Margaret turned the key to lock the door and looked around to find something with which to block it. Then she found it, a filing cabinet. But as she struggled to pull it over, a fist smashed through the window of the door, before reaching through and attempting to turn the key in the lock.

Margaret ran across the room towards the window and pulled the handle to open it, but unfortunately the window would only open a few inches, these restrictors put in place to prevent her and her colleagues from killing themselves could end up being the very reason for Margaret’s untimely demise.

Just then, Margaret heard a scream coming from the street below, when she looked down, what she saw shocked her to her very core, a scene of indescribable carnage, that I will now attempt to describe, dead bodies appeared to litter the streets and burning cars were craashed into the sides of builings opposite, as she watched she could see what looked like 2 men with knives stabbing into the body of who she assumed was the source of the scream.

This wasn't a single murderer terrorising a small town just outside Lincoln, this was an epidemic of evil!

Lizardwings

“Look, what was that? I just saw something. It was weird it just flew past us, It didn't look like anything I've ever seen before. Did you see it?”

“It was probably a bird, we don't get exotic animals around here, unless maybe it was something escaped from the zoo d'you reckon?”

“Zoo? There's no zoo around here, it would have to fly for quite a while to get here. Anyway, it wasn't a bird, I know what a bird looks like. Oh there it is again, it just landed on that rock.”

“Ahh yea, I see it, that is odd looking, have you got those binoculars?... It looks a bit lizard-like from here. Lizards don't usually fly do they?”

“Really? Let's have a look. Oh yea, it does, it looks a little bit like that Skink my brother had, but no, they definitely don't fly, I would have remembered that. It looks like it does have wings on it's back though, see?”

“Damn, on it's back? Like extra to it's legs? How is that even possible? How can an animal evolve an extra set of limbs? We could have discovered a whole new species here!”

“We should try and get closer, have you got a camera or anything? This could be the biggest discovery of our lifetime.”

“I think we frightened it, where did it go? Maybe it just jumped down behind the rock, let's have a look.”

“No, it's definitely gone. That was cool though, shame we didn't get any pictures, but that was amazing.”

“God Almighty. Look over there? There's loads of them and they're flying this way and crap! Look at the size of that one!”

“Shit!”

Murder Dog!

What happened last night? My memory seems to be failing me of late, I sometimes wake up in the morning and large chunks of the previous day are a complete mystery to me. It seems to be happening more and more often recently.

I stand in the kitchen and help myself to some water, it won't bring back my memories, but a nice cold drink always makes me feel better at the start of a day.

A loud scream breaks my train of thought, it appears to be coming from outside, it sounds a lot like Liz. I've been sharing a house with Liz and Mark for about 3 years now, I've always got on well with Liz, we often sit and watch TV together, but only really when Marks not around, I can't seem to get along with Mark, I used to try, but I don't get the feeling he likes me very much, I always just leave the room when he arrives now, it just makes things easier.

I run to the window and see Liz kneeling on the grass in front of the house next to a large shape, I think it's the shape of a man, a man lying on the ground perfectly still, a pool of blood appears to originate from what looks like a large bite mark on his neck, it looks like... is that Mark?

A crowd starts to form outside, a woman I recognise as living in the house next door talks imperceptibly into a mobile phone while pacing up and down the garden, she then presses the screen of her phone and kneels down to put her arms around Liz.

Sirens can now be heard in the distance, the sound of which gets louder as the vehicles come closer, the source of the first siren arrives in front of the house and a policeman quickly starts directing bystanders away from the scene.

I sit watching, mesmerised as more vehicles arrive, I watch as Liz is led into the house and continue watching as a cover is placed over the body of Mark and tape appears around the garden.

More and more people arrive, some taking photographs, others appear to just be talking to the gathered crowd, Mark is starting to be moved when a new vehicle arrives, a slightly larger van, out of which climbs a woman who grabs a long metal pole with a hoop on one end, she walks around the garden and speaks briefly to a policeman before stepping under the tape and walking toward the door.

It takes me a moment to realise that the door she is heading towards is our front door, it has felt more like I have been watching TV than something out of the window and it is strange as I come to the realisation that this is happening right here to people that I know very well. I can hear Liz talking and crying in the kitchen, I should go and greet this new visitor, see if I can help.

The door opens before I get there as the lady lets herself in, I stand and watch her enter, she notices me immediately and without saying a word she raises her pole and starts pointing the looped end towards me.

Throwing Teacakes at the Moon

Throwing teacakes at the moon,
while I balance on a spoon,
The moon it throws the teacakes back,
They land on the ground with a crack.

Throwing teacakes at the sun,
The biscuit part is having fun,
The sun it makes the teacakes burn,
Will my throwing arm not learn?

Throwing teacakes at the stars,
It's foolish to think they'll get that far,
They float around in outer space,
Hitting astronauts in the face.

Throwing teacakes at the sea,
A tiny splash where they used to be,
They just sink down to the bottom,
To live with fish and the flotsam.

Throwing teacakes at the lake,
It doesn't like it, it throws a hake,
The hake it lands and splashes around,
Trying its best to swim on the ground.

Throwing teacakes to the future,
The way they go, it's against nature,
In the future they will collect them up,
To display them in a giant cup.

Throwing teacakes to the past,
They make the creatures die en masse,
Now I see why they're all gone,
It was the teacakes I shouldn't have thrown.

Throwing teacakes at the mountains,
They bounce back up just like a fountain,
Land near the hikers passing by,
Who put up they're hoods and wonder why.

Throwing teacakes at the trees,
The trees throw acorns back at me
The acorns hit me on the head,
They knock me down and now I'm dead.

Throwing teacakes at the moon,
It looked like fun but ended soon,
It led to throwing at other things,
It caused my death which kind of stings.

Indecision

I couldn't quite decide how to begin, perhaps I should start with a selection of every day decisions that I and presumably many other people struggle with on a daily basis, perhaps I should narrate the thoughts going through my mind as I struggle to make an almost impossible decision, before doing a hilarious pull back and reveal to the incredibly simple decision I am actually faced with, another option could be to build a case claiming that indecisiveness is actually a debilitating condition and attempting to collect for a made up charity to support the victims of indecisiveness across the world.

All great idea's but all ideas I came up with after the brilliant idea I had originally to pretend I couldn't decide how to begin, after which I was forced to come up with feasible ideas for how else it could be started, ironically meaning that I had failed in my attempt to start it indecisively by actually making a decision.

 

Though thinking about it now, all 3 of those ideas sound better than what I have written so far, maybe I will go back up and actually do one of them, I quite like the charity one...

I have quite a bit of difficulty making decisions, not big decisions, they're quite easy, I can book a holiday or buy a car on a whim (availability of funds being the only potential road block to either decision), because why think about it? If I need a car, why not just buy one? If we want to go on holiday, just book a holiday!

No the decisions that cause me real trouble are the ones that seem unimportant to most, things like "What do you want for tea?" "Do you want some of this cake or that cake?" "Do you want to watch this tv show or that tv show today?" The decisions just don't happen no matter how hard I try.

I do what I can to avoid making these sort of decisions, I will attempt to foist them off onto someone else:

"Oh you decide" 

Or pretend I don't believe there is a decision to be made or care what the outcome is:

"Oh, I don't mind" 

Or if the decision is offered from a distance, perhaps up the stairs of my house, I could make a noise that sounds something like an answer and hope that the recipient makes the choice or me:

"Oooeighoba".

Perhaps the reason these are so difficult is because they have little to no bearing on the outcome of the proceedings, they're like the start of one of those adventure games, the ones with multiple endings, like the ones made by quantic dream - Heavy Rain and so on, at the start you get simple decisions to make, they give you a taste for how things work, but you will be directed onto the next part in the same way regardless of what you decide.

Or perhaps I'm worried that it will actually turn out to be the most important decision I ever make, that defines the progression of my life from that point onwards, if everything went wrong in the future, I would find myself looking back at my life and ruing the day I so casually went for that apple pie, if only I could have another chance, I would do it differently, I swear!

I don't know which one it is, you decide.

'Now Bend My Spoon': One Man's Tragic Mistake

It must have been about 1967, my newspaper was doing a piece on the Soviet Air force and I was sent along to a military air base near Moscow where I was to meet a Colonel who was going to go show me some of the new air craft and describe some of their new techniques as part of the section on the air force in the modern day. I had another appointment in the afternoon with a retired pilot who could give me some insight into flying during war time.

I was already very late when I arrived, mostly due to their rigorous security protocol, which I couldn't really criticise due to the nature of the place I was visiting. So it was that I found myself waiting outside an office, with only an hour to go before I was due to meet my next appointment.

I was pretty certain by this point that I would not make the appointment on time and just hoped that there would be a telephone I could use to call the office and let them know. Perhaps if we skipped the tour of the new air craft then I could probably make it within about an hour of when I was expected, that wouldn't be too bad, my photographer hadn't been allowed in anyway for security reasons and that was our main reason for wanting to see them today.

When the door to the office opened I was greeted by a short man with a huge smile, who took my hand and shook it firmly, putting me instantly at ease, my simmering annoyances falling away in an instant.

I followed him back into the small room, it had a small wooden desk, behind which he sat, offering me the 2nd chair facing him.

I sat and pulled out my notebook while looking round the room, it was undecorated and apart from the 3 pieces of furniture the only other feature other was a small barred window through which I could see the perimeter fence and some security personnel standing outside.

I looked up at the friendly face of the man sat opposite me.

“Thank you for coming in, do you like what you've seen so far?”

“Oh yes, and thank you for seeing me it's a great honour to...”

At this the man appeared to blush. “I take it you recognise me?”

Now was my turn to feel slightly embarrassed, this man had an air of familiarity about him, but I just could not place him

“Sorry, I err...”

“I'm Yuri G...”

I interrupt before he can finish, excited that I may have heard of him after all “Oh are you that magician guy? The one with the spoons?”

I reach down into my small bag, certain I have one with my lunch, where is it? where is it?.

“No! Absolutely not...”

“Here it is” I sit back upright brandishing a small silver spoon.

“I said no, I'm Yuri Gagarin. I'm a very famous astronaut. I was the first man in space!”

“I've never heard of you, Now bend my spoon!”

Building My Blanket Fort

During my 27 years on this earth, I have learnt many things: the correct pronunciation of the word 'hyperbole', how to make my own Reese's peanut butter cups, and that I will start composting with good intentions and then quickly fall out of the habit when I realise the compost bin is outside and inside is easier.

The other thing that I have learnt is how to build a blanket fort with no effort whatsoever.

Having basically lived in a small double bedroom for several years, when James and I moved into our own house, I had certain aspirations. I wanted fancy paintings on the walls (we have a Breaking Bad calendar), a garden full of flowers (Hahahahahaha thanks, rabbits) and the ability to walk around in my pants with no judgement (nailed that one, actually).

Realising that the first thing on that list takes taste, the second takes effort and the third is actually too easy to fulfil, I quickly added another thing: I wanted to build a blanket fort.

Having not long moved in, the house was sparsely furnished. The living room therefore had plenty of space for my fort. I quickly set to work. The plans were drawn in crayon (in my mind. The actual crayons may have still been packed away. Or they may not have existed. Probably that, really, I was in my mid-20s at the time)

I decided that the most structurally sound way to go was to use a washing maiden as a frame. I placed it on the carpet. Although it took all of my concentration not to bump the maiden into the chair or dining table, using a ready-made frame has the advantage of there being very little to do in terms of anything except placement and draping over a cover.

The next step was to drape over a cover. I did this artfully. A huge amount of things can go wrong at this stage- the cover could be inside out, it could be damp or it could smell. A novice could encounter all three at once. Thankfully, with my plans in hand, I easily avoided all of these common pitfalls. I would certainly recommend having your own plan within easy reach throughout the building process if you ever decide to construct your own blanket fort. It will save tears and sanity.

Once the draping had finished there was one final step: getting inside the fort. My number one tip at this stage is to be comfortable. This was actually something that I overlooked at the planning stage and, during the de-briefing, I wondered whether I should have involved my aforementioned pants-only dream. Thankfully, it was a happy accident that I didn't include it, as I quickly realised that sitting on the floor in this way could have led to carpet burn. It's never worth risking an unnecessary injury when making a blanket fort.

My fort uniform of choice ended up being pyjamas and big furry slippers that my nan and granddad bought me for Christmas. The ensemble was both comfortable and robust enough to take excessive floor sitting without wearing through. The slippers also made for a great visual, as my fort was small, meaning my feet poked through. A great choice all round.

With the blanket fort completed, I spent a very happy 20 minutes or so sitting inside it until I got bored and wanted to watch TV again. James was there to greet me upon my emergence from the fort and he could not have been prouder. Seeing the finished product has not yet inspired him on to make his own, but I am hopeful that one day, James will also take on the blanket* fort challenge.

*Actually, I have only just now realised that I did not build a blanket fort. I used a duvet cover. My apologies for the misleading piece. Please disregard.

Jumpers vs. Hoodies: The eternal question

Throughout childhood, like most people I was not responsible for the acquirement of my own clothes, I could have a small influence in that like most children I could point out the sort of clothes I believed my friends might wear (a guess being the best indicator of this information as I rarely saw my school friends outside of the educational setting - an accidental effect of rarely venturing far from my house, which I would later attempt to emulate in my working life) but for the most part, the responsibility for keeping me in decent clothing fell to my mother.

Shortly after leaving school, I came upon the realisation that this was now entirely up to me, no conversation took place, there was no physical representation of a torch was passed to me from my progenitor, I simply took the paltry wages from my part time job, ventured into the local town centre and entered a clothes shop to complete my first independent clothing purchase.

My friends of the time were into skateboarding, so naturally I (mostly unsuccessfully except in the relative safety of Tony Hawks Pro Skater 3) attempted to do this too, as a result, the clothing of choice at the time was baggy jeans and hooded jumpers, so I would become part of the (mostly unfairly) vilified hooded youth culture.

A collection of 3 blue skate branded hoodies became well lived in until my late teenage / early adult years would endow me with slightly more colourful tastes.

My hoodies would become forgotten and presumably lost over the subsequent years and in the eternal question that has troubled clothing manufacturers and fashion philosophers for thousands of years, my allegiances switched and I sat firmly in the camp of the traditional woolly jumper, the hoods had never even been used, what the hell did I need one for?

I was happy and contented and probably wearing one of my woolly jumpers when my entire upper body clothing world view was shattered forever, it was shattered by a discovery that would change my life. That discovery was the zip, obviously not the zip as a whole, I had plenty of experience of zips, they often held together the top part of my trousers and held my coins securely in my wallet, but I discovered the zip up hoodie, I could wear something warm and significantly it could be put on and taken off without heaving to be pulled over my head.

Over the coming years, in a reversal of fortunes and a jumper based parody of what had taken place in the past, my collection of woolly jumpers would fall into disuse and my collection of zip up hoodies would grow.

I cannot help with the eternal question being posed as a whole, but for now at least, my tent is firmly pitched in the hoodie camp.

The good thing about a tent though is that it is  temporary structure that can be moved at any time.