Dead zombies

Good evening. Tonight a report has just come in, as another vital sector is hit by the recession. Dead zombies have been fired tenned on a large scale: employers hope that many (limbs) may be lost through "natural" wastage.

And now – the weather. Most parts of the country are still subject to weather but cut-backs have meant that parts of Wales and the Isle of Man are no longer receiving weather. *

Stir fried chicken are reported to be invading Hong Kong – here is a diagram of John Major's brain ----> · (to scale).

* Dear Sir,
I hope you are well & having weather...

Allusions

    { SATIS FECUNDITATIS
LIZ { PARUM CLARITATIS
    { NIMIUM SANITATIS

"It's an allusion [allegedly]"

Is this a question I see before me?

Oh no! Not another one!

No – here comes another one...

"Dead zombies don't hold tea parties," as the astronaut said to the takerunder.

Dead zombies are redundant. Q.E.D.

Carparking

It is a little know grassy knoll but nonetheless significant fact that 21 February is National Car Parking day. This event, ever since its establishment over 30 seconds ago, has become something of a national institution. Up and down the country events will be held, co-ordinated by the major sponsor of the day, NCP, and a record turn-out is expected. Participators have a host of features to enjoy – there will be workshops on the best techniques for car-parking, including a debate chaired by the Minister for Carparks and Disused Docklands, Sir Timothy Sprognall, dealing with the perennial problem: which is better, reverse or forward parking? There will also be special cinemas set up in various carparks, showing excerpts from many recent films involving scenes in carparks. British director Alan Park-er will be explaining why it is in fact impossible to make a thriller without a murder in a carpark, preferably an underground one.

An exhibition will also be on show, concerning "famous carparks of history" going right back to biblical chariot parks. The event promises to be a popular one, and members of the public are advised to arrive early, to be sure of finding a parking-place.

Front to back

The Book is back (or is it front? But the front is the back --> The book is back to tnorf). This time it's public (but soon to be made private).

M utually        )   No
A ssured         )-  thank
D econstruction  )   you

{A circular badge with an unhappy face in the centre, and the words "DECONSTRUCTION & CONCOMITANT INSANITY? NO THANKS" round the edge.}

Warp 459

Suddenly the Mona Lisa frowned in the manner of a person being unexpectedly disembowelled with a pair of tweezers. The image ruptured, and reformed into the most horrific-smelling venomous beast of burden that any of the Enterprise's crew (of seven) had ever seen.

It was the Leader of the Shrimps.

It oozed gungingly round in its bucket to face Kirk. "We come in peace," it slimed, "shoot to kill."

"That's my line," exclaimed Kirk, who now resembled a shoebox full of pot noodle and gargoyle sick. "Fire torpedoes, Mr Lunu!"

"Firing now, sir," replied the Lieutenant. The Right-tenant said nothing (probably because he was Russian and didn't understand a word anyone said).

"Well, you wouldn't be firing them four millennia ago, would you?" said Morse, appearing not altogether unbizarrely from the ship's Portawarp. "Lewis?"

"Warp factor 17, Mr Snott," ordered Kirk.

"Och, if I give her any more she'll blow Captain," replied the haggis-eating bagpipes.

"Warp factor 459." And she blew.

"Damn," said Kirk. "I did it again."

(to be continued?)

Shrimp Trek

The scanner opened, revealing an inky void screaming for its mummy. Framed in the centre was a massive tooth-shaped metallic four-poster-bed-like thing that might have been called a ship if it hadn't looked as if it was going to squelch revoltingly around the universe very soon.

"My God," said Kirk, who wasn't, and mutated into a herringbone-patterned sofa-cover. "It's the Shrimps."

"Incoming frequency, sir," said Uuuhur-urhub-uhru for no very good reason, except it was "true".

"Hail the Shrimps, Lieutenant," said Kirk, recording his version of various religious and pseudopolitical love squawks for posterity's posterior.

A picture appeared on the scanner. It was the Mona Lisa.

"That is a popsicle, Captain," said Mr Pock, studying his instruments.

"No, it's not – it's a painting by da Vinci. And please put those violins away, Mr Pock. And the harpsichord."

Putrid offal sandwiches

In Tomorrow's "Storybook", Albert decimates the population of Middlesex and uses their mortal remains to make interesting and imaginative paperweights.

Also – we'll be giving helpful hints on putrid offal sandwiches (here's one I prepared much, much earlier...)

There will also be a competition for the best collection of used tea-bags and the most bizarre decapitation. All heads must be claimed after the programme, as we cannot accept responsibility for returning them.

His brain was resting in hospital last night after a 36-hour ordeal with the shrimps.

Albert the monster

There was a long green monster
A monster thick was he
He had an aunty Gertrude
And he took her out for tea

She tasted... green.....

The monster's name was Albert
He had a bowler hat
He kept it in a filbert
To hide it from his cat

The cat was... mean.....

The cat was sometimes oddish
The cat was sometimes mad
It liked to smell old codfish
Especially if bad

They smelt... obscene.....

Albert liked railway stations
And eating people's knitting
He didn't like orations
Or much excessive spitting

He was quite... clean.....

For a monster – though he dabbled
In mudsprings in a land which
Had dung-heaps where he paddled
With a putrid offal sandwich

Green – and obscene!

Ping the Jabberwock

No. 24 SENSE --> {Diagram of a wibbly island containing a house, a tree, and two fish}

"Hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, thou Beamish Stout!
Calloo Calay!" he chortled in his gout.
[sorry: – goat]

The Ichthyosaurus

This poor beast found a doleful end
(It makes me weep to tell it)
One day it overheard its name
And then it pined and died of shame
Because it could not spell it.

There was a fishy lizardy thing
And sometimes it went: – Ping!
'Tis of this fishy lizardy I sing.
Ping!

Enorbous

Hello, persons.

I'm going to tell you about the Enorbous Orm.

It's groon, you see.

Made of fudge and treacly bits, bicycle chains, and old things with no name any longer.

{Increasingly illegible}

Full fathom furlongs of foom.

And as my writing degenerates into complete illegibility {illegible scribble}

Phaistos disq

THE PHAISTOS DAFT

Until now have certain answers for whichno explanation has been given by the authors though they have advanced very much to the point that are able to in space.
    We will start with the NYLON or PYLON, used in the construction of the Egyptian who forms part of the fishpulp in the blood of the airship.

1ST IMAGE – THE NYLON
    Design for the construction of an infra-red superluminal cargo vessel detection array found eighty-nine times on the side of the disq and four thousand six hundred and thirty-eight times on the other disq.
    By using the above in the "correct" manner, we can construct the framework.

2ND IMAGE – THE DISQ WITH SEVEN FEET
    This was very useful, as it was useful for the honey-collecting slave for fastening pieces of the pulp to his face, in order that better the Egyptian would fly to the planet Anar.

3RD IMAGE – TRUSTED INTENSIFIER
    Because they had to gather considerable quantities, they ran and were specially trained to gather dog's blood, which they made into honey and poured into their shoes. Yet this is the figure of a man of the palace because he is large of statue.

4TH IMAGE – TWICE AND IN A CHARACTERISTIC WAY
    Entirely different from the others, so it therefore resembles the number 8 (infinity). In part G we notice the 8-foliate turnip, indicating that
    a) Daedalus was insane
    b) we are insane
    c) the right quantity is the one gathered from two plants.

29TH IMAGE – Representation of an armadillo
    Meaningless, probably.

TOTAL WORQ OF THE TASQ
Overt materials: Fish, dog, nettles, no brain
Non-overt materials: Egg, sawdust, cowpat, air
Persons: We, the authors of this book
Number 8: The infinite
Number 6: Be seeing you!

Daft glyptodon thrips

{A woodlouse} Wilfred the woodlouse is ...
    DAFT.

And today's word is ...
    GLYPTODON
(which means --> an armadillo as big as a cow)

I would like to propose a vote of thanks to Jojoba and his performing nostrils, the Cambridge Camper Vans, Heinz, the Great Crested Grebe, the Archdeacon of Dung, alias Cucumber Colin, sherry-bather extraordinaire and all their little wordies without which all of this would have been numb, idle and dregs.

Tomorrow's word is THRIPS (which means a very small insect)
    --> {A very small insect}

"Alloverishness: a general sense of indisposition over the whole body."

{Someone sticking their tongue out with their fingers in their ears.} {They have a leg, complete with foot and shoe, growing out of their right wrist.}

Nightmare meltdown

Sajmĉjo's Nightmare Meltdown:

1. "Please, this has been an aspect of it all" by Fred Flintstone and the Mucus
2. "Cowpats and other Diarrhoea" by the Flaming Flamingoes
3. "Casserole of Floor" by Johnny Sickbag and the American Ways
4. "Knife me in my misery" by Marvin Og and a bucket of rather smelly goat
5. "Neighbours Phlegm Song" by Cilla Black, Terry Wogan, Bruce Forsyth et al
6. "Gas Mark Nine Point Eight Recurring" by The Slime
7. "Upside Semolina Grubble" by Grotbaggle the Terribly Deranged
8. "Exploding Shoes" by "G" and "L" in the Minefield
9. "Go On – Have Another Slice of Brainweed" by Mr Toothpaste's Loony Bin
10. "Flop Twenty Backwards in Korean" by me

Alternative hell

An alternative flop 20

1. Julio Iglesias sings anything
2. "The Queen of the Knight"   Mrs Miller
3. "There's no one quite like Liz"   Grandma
4. "Everybody needs good neighbours"   Serbo-Croat friendship soc.
5. "Evil Woman"   M. Thatcher
6. "Song of the Great Hydraulic Dam Project"   People's Collective Song Union
7. "Why"   The Who
8. "Who?"   Wot
9. "The deconstructive break-dance rap"   Paul "de man" with de golden gun
10. "Blunderbuss"   Trash in the can
11. "Bonsai trees are killers"   West Midland CID Squad
12. "I've lost my memory"   The Who
13. "Carry on breakdancing"   New chips off the block
14. "Ashley Denton's party mix"   Borodin Trio
15. "We're gonna go for it"   New kids on the dole
16. "Nikita"   Khruschev & the Politburo
17. "Favourite fruit"   Banananaso & the Weebles
18. Nicaraguan national anthem   Rod Hull & Emu
19. "Hooked on hymns"   T. Hird & friends
20. "Europa – the remix (¼ lb)"   J L Pen

Ideal hell

Flop Twenty of an Ideal Hell

1. Eldorado Megamix with Hugh Scully and Bernard Manning
2. Barbara Windsor sings Abba
3. "We're Climbing up the Sunshine Mountain"   John Major
4. "The Dung Song"   St Winifred's School Choir
5. "Decomposition"   De Composer
6. "Ecology is Interesting"   Waldo Gribble
7. "Drunk Beetles"   Sarah Greene & Prince Charles
8. "Ave Maria"   Norman Tebbit
9. "Giraffe"   Skirting Boards
10. "We're Dead"   Thomas de Quincey & Elvis
11. "Oblong Rap"   Sarah Brightman & Melvyn Bragg
12. Michael Jackson sings George Formby
13. Michael Douglas sings Green Formica
14. "Apple"   Darre Fork and the Spongebags
15. "Long and Intermittent"   Steeleye Span
16. "Ears"   Smelly Spam
17. "Ginger Bobble Hat"   Terry Wogan
18. "Things from Wigan"   Terry Towel
19. "Burbbble Brubbble Bleeeh"   Steven Ant
20. "Lingering Odours"   Freddy Starr & Elaine Paige

Slush

LATER THAT SAME DAY:

{A huge weight, marked "10,000 TONS", has fallen on the snowman. His hat -- and its flower -- lie nearby, disconsolate.}

Real fairy cake

{Holly leaves and Christmas trees}

Snow is lying on the ground
And in the air the sleighbells sound
The frosty-patterned window-pane
It's British Summer Time again
(No it's not, it's Christmas...)

Yes, Christmas, and all children wait
For hoofbeats on the roof
But this year's stockings won't be filled
There's been a mighty goof
Yes, this year there's no peace on earth
No food and gifts abundant
For Father Christmas has been sacked
And his gnomes are all redundant.

Santa Claus is on the dole
He's UB40
His reindeer have been sold for glue
You might as well be naughty
Santa Claus is on the dole
Fini, kaputt, it's curtains
The magic sleigh's been repossessed
The suit's gone back to Burton's.

His elfin help has gone away
Oh, how will he survive?
The grotto rent's three months behind
And his giro's not arrived
He's too old to be reemployed
He's lost his little earner
The igloo heating's been cut off
He'll die of hypothermia...

Santa Claus is on the dole
He's getting thinner
Real fairy cake and Rudolf steak
Will be his Christmas dinner
Santa Claus is on the dole
And things don't look too handsome
His company is being probed
By TV's Esther Rantzen.

Ho, ho, ho.

{A snowman, with a flower in his hat, amid the falling snow.}

Seasonal stodge

SIMON'S SEASONAL STODGE

3 Christmas puddings (large)
½ tbsp roast turkey
1 carrot or onion
58 tsp salt
10 pts milk
6 rancid kippers
    sage
    bread sauce
3 gallons of liquid stuffing

(1) Put all ingredients (save the puds and turkey and salt and kippers) in a bowl or vat and mix at Gas Mark 17 until thoroughly exacerbated.

(2) Tear the kippers up and drop them out of the window onto the head or other bodily ailment of a passing vegetable.

(3) Eat the salt. (Best if downed in one.)

(4) Throw the turkey and Christmas pudding away, and serve. Have guillotine ready, as your dinner guests may despise you.

Poor old uncle Jacques

Ode(?) for Liz

It's hard being a deconstructionist in Oxford
Dogmas don't fit right with the dons
And people laugh when I write up
        my pieces of incomprehensible gibber.

Poor old uncle Jacques
He spent 18 years in the wilderness [good rhyme]
When he tried to convert people
to his ideas.

(I can't remember the song well enough – more later perhaps.)

    Santa's grotto
    Is on the first floor.
            [Found poem: Debenhams]

The calm before the storm

{The next four pages bear only a stain of spilled tea.}

Carpet boom

CHAPTER 4

Arthur reflected that the carpet tasted rather unpleasant. But did his choking, half-vomiting response constitute a reflection of the nature of the carpet, always supposing that it had one?

When firstly the Moppocrump spoke,
It came out like a sneeze (and awoke),
Seven rhubarbs ignited
And got so excited
They utterly misheard the joke.

                    (Boom, boom.)

< < BOOM > >

                    Moob.

oobm

Serenity peg

{Flow chart, starting at the bottom: "A Bit Limited", leading to "WHERE?", which is also led to by "Good question". A large chunky arrow leads on to a square box from whose left side four arrows point to a cloud of "UNIVERSES", being held up by five upward-floating arrows. From the top of the box a bendy arrow emerges, forking left to a "YES" pentagon caught in an infinite loop, and right to a "NO" triangle" from which the option exists to go further right to "SOMETIMES". Below the chart is a blob labelled "INK", and next to it the letters of the word "CIRCLE" are arranged in a ring with arrows between them pointing inwards to a very small circle.}

Thought Kiwi drink under belated
Said Cardinal Newman translated
Penguin and a leg
Serenity Peg
Who cares if it don't egg with limpet.

Pickled onion

"The world is my onion, fellow," said she
            And hoped her knee
                        Would agree.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHH!!!

Pardon.

A seldom not pickled in gin
Being not was enormously thin
Peculiar, delighted
And mildly benighted
It had to not stop to begin.

Attila's kind of day

My kind of day
ATTILA THE HUN

(Picture)

{A fish surrounded by inverted exclamation marks, one of which is shaded in.}

Mornings are my favourite time of day – the best occasion for depredations, I always find. I have five cups (made of human skulls) of goats' milk (or maybe vice versa) and then it's off for some good plundering, pillaging etc. Naturally the barbarian hordes and I have a lunch-break and watch Neighbours. We then covet their possessions and finally remove them from them forcibly. But life's not all "slay, slay, slay". There are lots of mouths to feed in my household: 843, in fact, so there's a fair bit of shopping needed. Luckily we've discovered an excellent chain of shopping centres (whose prices are a steal) conveniently widely spread and well stocked – I believe it's called the "Roman Empire" – catchy title.

Circumlocution

My favourite periphrasis

The Modern Greek for a forum is τόπος όπου συζητουνται δημόσια θέματα --> for Liz's benefit, this means (if I can put it so crudely) "a place where popular topics are discussed".

GCSE in surrealism

Oxford, Cambridge and Nether Hartridge Airport Local Examination Board

GCSE Examination in Surrealism – with an option on deconstruction.

Candidates are advised


                              that they may
                              not do this
exam in the bath. {upside down:} Upside-down scripts are stupid.

Time allowed: 4.5 kilometres.

Candidates should answer five lemons (or milk as preferred).
Answers should be affixed to the pope, and eaten with 2 tbsps oats.

1. Who may be termed the "father" of deconstruction? Why couldn't he have used a contraceptive? Where does he live?

25. This is a trick question.

456. {Jagged line graph} <-- What is this?

Blunderbuss or grape?

And now, a tribute to the word "grape".

No: sources close to the prime minister (his inside jacket pocket) have implicated the word "grape" in the Winston Churchill affair. Accusations have flared that a large consignment of grapes were due to be despatched to Andorra, which could have been used to manufacture grapeshot.

Instead, praise should be accorded to the word "blunderbuss", which has such peaceful connotations and is not connected with matters martial at all.

All aboard the milkfloat

Grass is my globule
Sliver is my face
Tablespoons of auntiness
Spongy is my trace.

Origins of polygons
Diachronic sick
Honey, five and piglets
Behind the walking stick.

But when at last they entered out
And grazed the seldom sun
The world collapsed in screaming shout
(And that was much less fun).

So all aboard the milkfloat
We'll gibble down the lane
Arriving after Tuesday
And nibbling bits of brain.

You may declare us bonkers,
Quite rightly, but you're wrong,
For spongy is my haddock-whim
(And eighteen metres long).

The final stanza's name was Fred,
She liked it very much
He stapled it with beetroot seed
And used it in a hutch.

Yes, grass was my grob-yule,
Christmas is my yak,
Ladle me with noodly plobs
And get a whole load back.

The answer is as clear as air,
In Tokyo or Tangerine
And when you ask the reason why,
Touché! That's all it's been...

Utter metaphysic

Routine, or lobster spleen?
Save indigestion
Whether tis older or more like rice pudding
Gibbons dross or utter metaphysic
So to outface, I know not at what table
And cream of eiderdown them
Arise, and beep, or else litiginous bend them
The thousand gravel clocks or ere we weep
And slowly grind them.

{Mirror writing:}
dam gnivar – slee dam llA

Higgledly piggledly ping
My number has married a string
No lemon or tenses
I'm out of my senses
Higgledy piggledy ping.

Delighted          Oh no!
Benighted          Said Poe
He sort of         And the raven
ignited.                       Exploded.

The glue is cast

I sometimes think that little loaves of bread
Are grated mink or painted green instead
That every purplish blot upon a face
Reflects some railway station sort of place.

And all the fish we used to know and greet
And grill in butter when we used to meet
Are risen again in many fiendish forms
Potato cakes, and things for mowing lawns.

All such days and all such sad devices
We used for turning clocks and skimming mices
Must now and then be checked for sundry bugs
For steering wheels and mind distorting drugs.

For now the past is longer than the present
The glue is cast, the freaks are full of pheasant
And many a shining hope we once endured
Like dust into the vinegar is poured.

And we at last, O we, we happy few
We words and tupperware, so nearly new
O we have heard, and who had heard us here
Sing thrice nice rice, and maybe half a beer!

Greek Ermintrude, sad basket, proper name
Eureka, lamp post, snippet, crawl of fame
Inured, restored, gelatinous creation
Old bus, angora, some debilitation.

Goatry pitch

GOATRY PITCH

Nobody know
Tiddly pom
How much my toes
Tiddly pom
How orange my nose
Tiddly pom
Are growing.

Nobody cares
Piddly fim
What compost wears
Piddly fim
What polar bears
Piddly fim
Are throwing.

{A wiggly horizontal line bisects an equilateral triangle. Above it hangs a small circle, with another below and to the right. A vertical arrow points down between them through the wiggly line.}

Never again

La Belle ÉpoQue

    ¿Que?

Under Erasure
Under Attack
Attack at dawn
Dawn to dusk
And back again

Never again

Never say never again (again).

    (Sorry.)

Joyeux party

And when you see the Abomination of Desolation set up where it ought not to be then you will know –
        it's
                Noel's House Party

Lovely.

    Joyeux Party
    Joyeux Noël
    Pumpkin Poo
    Aled Jones
    Cavorting Cowpats
    Beadle's Aberk
    Oom Pa Pa
    Grunge Mincely
    Paris in the Boing

Aardvarkiana fulminata

Next week – raked greens and how to append them.

But first, the garden. How does it grow? Here's our wobbling correspondent, Bill Gardenrollerwithrottingmossonit. Bill...

(syrup of horse)

"Good evening and welcome to another packed edition of Aardvark monthly, in which we investigate aardvarkiana. But first – Wilfred the wombat. Or not." The Legio XIV Fulminata advanced on the city.

Snar snarrr biddle de koow

Later this evening, we will be talking to Johnny Ball, who has been a non-Indo-European language for eight months now but was able to recall this interview.

Q. How does it feel, as I'm sure everyone's dying to ask, to be a non-Indo-European language?

[Everyone dies, offstage]

JB. Gno'bbsk aaah tiktik. Greee dddzaby zaby. Great.

Q. So – are there any problems?

JB. Well, it gets pretty boring at weekends, but Tuesdays are good.

Q. Why is that?

JB. I've always liked them. I imagine them small and blue, with lots of feet and hands. And even at weekends, I tell myself "This is more fun than paintball or being Bernard Matthews." I used to play monopoly.

Q. So – goodbye and thank you.

JB. Snar snarrr biddle de koow.

Random people

Tonight on "Wasting Time" we asked a randomly selected group of people "What first drew you to become a randomly selected group of people?" Brian (not his real name) told us: "Well, of course, being a randomly selected group of people, we had never met! But one day I picked up the telephone directory, opened the phone and called Shirley (not his real name). I asked him whether he would like to become part of a randomly selected group of people, and he said 'Piss off.' I reminded him that he would be a genuine representative of a minority group if he wore women's clothes. He said 'When do we start?'"

Not sleeves

Perhaps the most authentic recording is that of Scubi with the Plovdiv piano players, accompanied by the Tomsk Tractor Drivers (on the pianoes – now sadly crushed). Their moving rendition (of the pianists) is well recorded, and the only complaint is the ungenerous lay-out of the recordings: for a piece 72' (more on weekdays) long, 3 CD's are used. This in itself would be bad value, but combined with the 2 "free" tractors and 5 hectares of rainforest, and retailing at $20001, this really is just a collector's item.

Lastly there is the radical version of Vladimir Vladikovsky with the Radical Symphony Auditor and the Ankara amateur accountants. This is certainly the most competitive recording, though is spoiled somewhat by the inexplicable garotting of the entire cast and crew only five minutes after the beginning. This has minimal impact on the interpretation, which is distributed on two CD's and a grapefruit (or a lemon in France).

The first choice thus remains the pioneering recording of the Orlando amateur party-goers, with its inspired coupling of the piece with Bluov's Concerto for vacuum cleaner da gamba and goat.

Sleeve notes

Show-wadi(wadi). Collected works for oboe and string vest.

Several versions of this ambitious and lengthy work have been brought out recently. The work was originally commissioned by the BBC for the signature tune for Come Dancing, but was drastically expanded to form a War Requiem, doubling as a fridge-freezer on weekends. Its first performance came on a Sunday night, unfortunately, and the disappointed audience reacted badly to gannets on sticks rather than a Requiem. Further revision of the work was undertaken until it emerged in its final form – a good four stone lighter and "fighting fit".

The most satisfactory version of this piece is that recorded by the LSO under Dorati, though it was recorded in 1956, four years before the final revision, and regrettably on a Sunday (q.v.). Hence this version can only be recommended to freaky ice-cream lovers. But it's still better than the music.

No one is sane

                 I
                 N
                 C
                GO
          SPAM  AH
      G   NICEHERENT
      A   IN COHBRNT
incohERENTF GARBLE
      B  BF   U ENT
 G   GLRABBLE B  T
 INCOHERENT   B
 B        R   IN COHERENT
 B  G     A   S    U
 E  A     S   H    M
 RUBBISHYFISHSTALKSU
    R     H        S
    E
    L

{A scroll, on which is written "MIND THE MIND".}

{Drawing of a stick person} <-- Gnomic Aorist
(or was he/she/it/them/quid).

IN A HOUSE LIKE 39 WILLIAM STREET
NO ONE IS SANE
{The O of NO contains a smiley face, the O of ONE contains a frowney face, and a tiny figure jumps a vast distance from the top of the S of SANE into a splash at the foot of the page.}

Smelly on wheels

The Garotid Artery {Arrow in archery target}

"ARTERIES AND ARTICHOKES – A VEGETARIAN COOKBOOK FOR CANNIBALS"
{author's name heavily crossed out} (nice mess)
by Paul D. Arthurwan.

{A large spotty frog crouches in the corner of the page, thinking the word MEGATHERIUM. The frog is labelled [Green].}

Stinkig
Smelly
Fetora
Odoreux

Good evening.
Here is the word SMELLY.

{It's written on the side of a trolley, from which an arrow points right, suggesting movement.}

{Now the word itself has wheels, and is hurtling down a hill towards a deep pit containing "R. Maxwell (dead)" and a substance that emits the words PONG, NIFF, WHIFF, POO and STINKY.}

Pong --> pong --> stinky --> stinkier --> stinkiest. Thank you.

Gnu gnows?

GNOME

{A gnome fishing. A large and viciously-toothed fish leaps from the water.}

Gnomore

{The fish has its jaws clamped around the gnome's head.}

Gnu gnows?

{An antlered beast with a glowing light bulb above its head.}

{Speech bubble:} INTERSTICES

Gno one gnows how gnus grows,
Gnohow.

Gnood bye.

Loose sprocket

TO BE KÓNTINUDE YANG CHOBS.

The parallel universe in which the above makes sense has a much impoverished kulchur.

The parallel universe in which the above makes sense and the Prime Minister of Albania is a loose sprocket with a robust nose may, in some time of space, have centrifugally imploded.

Nostradamus: No me gusta las naranjas.

¿Te gusta el tiempo?

Q-ogonek

The Dne

{mirror writing} ™2991 DAM GNIVAR ©

{An upside-down roadsign that says GIVE WHY. Speech bubbles around it say PTONG, PTING and PTERANODON.}

And finally on BBC2 this yawning, the gratuitous word "bladder". Thank you.

FX: Universe ignites.

QUIT {box, ticked}

d'ausgeherumbeaufαποφλέγματig

γαρβαγε

Q-OGONEK has returneδ! {a huge back-to-front cedilla attached to a capital Q}

{scribbly lines}

Oh dear
        I've gone insane
                When did it happen
        Some time from now

Niffly
Snibbledy hobbledy

Doing the doo

GRAMS: Sig. (3rd time)

NARRATOR: And now, before the credit sequence, let us continue the plot, which (you will recall, dear listener) involved Arthur, Theodora and the Pope (stapled to the ceiling).

FX: Pope stapled to ceiling (if not available, use Pope stapled to cat).

ARTHUR: So, Popey, back the death penalty, would you?

THEODORA: Try and have 2 P's in your name, would you?

ARTHUR: He thought he saw an argument—

LEWIS CARROLL: Ah, that gives me an idea!

POPE: And from all of us here in this celebrity tank of custard-gunge, in nomine Christi, Amen and Good knight!

FX: Radio explodes; people screaming in their beds as they are devoured by flames in the final holocaust.

FX: An entire eternity of nothing, followed by silence and the latenight weather forecast.

GRAMS: Betty Boo, Doing the Doo.

ANNOUNCER (too much reverb): Good knife!

GRAMS: Sig. (792nd time)

This is Radio 6

NARRATOR (backwards): Gogrilla Mincefriend, a strange being from the Pyrotechnic of Manhatter, is now thought by certain leading experts in psycho-chromatography to be the world's least yellow and most disturbingly disarming instantly reversible black paisley sofa bed.

FX: Narrator demolished by bulldozer.

GRAMS: Sig. Roobarb & Custard (backwards).

ANNOUNCER: This is Radio 6. This is Radio 5. This is Radio 4. This is Radio 3. This is Radio 2. This is Radio 1. This is Radio...

FX: Announcer drowned out in smoke and flames; he blasts off to the moon.

NARRATOR: Bit stuck on after signature tune, using echo (FX), flange (FX) and reverb (FX), including a delightful potato trifle made, eaten and sent in by Mrs Q. J. Kerrison of Nos Irrek J.Q., Sunnyville, California. She can be contacted at this number:

CART: (jingly) 010-349-8625-765892

FX: Cat stapled to roof.

And so the cosmos began

FX: Shoe peeled off wall.

NARRATOR: And so the cosmos began.

GRAMS: Sig. Roobarb & Custard.

NARRATOR: Many people have speculated that if we knew exactly why the word "tarambibobulania" exists and what it is here for, we would know a whole lot more about the nature of life, the wildebeest and fish 'n' chip shops. Others claim that life never existed anyway and that all organic biology is merely a figment of its own, deranged, imagination. In this awkward dilemma, the best solution seems to be...

FX: Narrator explodes.

GRAMS: Last Post.
rapidly mixed through to
Scott Joplin, Entertainer.
Fade.

FX: Sudden burst of applause.
Gorilla noises.
Omelette dropped.

GRAMS: Pink Panther.

Toothpost

"Orstrilian"

{Assorted scribbles}

floaty toothpost

goaty poothghost

ghosty doldrums

etc.

{A word pokes its head out of the ground, and thinks "MM?". It is about to be stepped on by an enormous shoe.}

Mattock blubber

Enough of this fruitcake-iana.

Take 5 upturned rhododendrons, add 15 words (with or without punctuation), 6 gear changes, and 250g Wales blubber. Divide it by four geese. Add liquid wombat and stirfried lampshade. Garotte quietly until mildly pink; leave in shade until gibbering nicely (or wielding a mattock). Then put in arena and execute lightly with Christians (wild animals optional).

Eric the Warhammer adds, "This is one of my favourites. For best results do this one on a Friday (or in a microwave). A little Castrol GTX always helps – or Australian whine."

shurely "Orstraliun".

– Waffle.

Wooble

()----> storeys or stories?!

()----> millennium!

Sometimes I think I'm the only one who can smell decently round here. ()---->

Sometimes I just think.

<----() Sometimes I don't.

()----> My word's got no knows.

"Wooble." {upside-down} Gibber

I think too, sometimes. "Woobble."

Meaningless myth

Creation Myth VI

God only did it
To make a name for himself.
Then he discovered
That he was being simplistic;
By that time
It was too late.

Goodnight, and meaningless.

Custard fungus

P.S. One more for the menu:

Grandma's Special Fungal Growths in Broad Bean and Whisky Sauce with Gunge, Grapenuts and Unwaxed Dental Floss. With chips and stimulated custard. Serve intravenously.

Unwashed Dental Floss, maybe? <----()

That would be disgusting!

42 Vico Road, Dublin

[a brimstone-redolent whiff of propaganda? surely not]

But lo! Fortunatamento! The indigenous, (op)pressed minority at 5, Oak Crescent, Littlehampton, Mr. R. B. Treadle (diminished) of 17, The Beeches, Aberystwyth (forthwith) telephoned his twin-town and uncle Mr. Benjamin Tiberius Chang of 42 Vico Road, Dublin (just like the population of 5 Oak Crescent, Littlehampton), and explained, in Greek: "Help! It's a bit Chile round here! Can I come and live in your country bin with my 1.2 billion non-communicants?"

"Sorry, mate," responded Chang, giving a funny receiver-shake. "But 7,999,999 colleagues, fellow travellers and hairy morris-dancers are just staying for the millenium ()---->, it's so convenient."

Chang realised that his brothers, unlike Treadle's, were of luminous goat-gravel numerousness, and cleaned his shoes.

Treadle was a truly wise man and buggered off to be a Buddhist monk.

Moral: Only the Jolly Green Giant has enough toes.

5 Oak Crescent, Littlehampton

The language spoken by most people in the world is Chinese. The trouble is that they all live in one place: all 1.2 billion of them recently moved to 5 Oak Crescent, Littlehampton, where they live comfortably with their wives and 0.3 (billion) children. The community of Littlehampton has welcomed the move, tho' plans for an extension to the home were recently turned down by the council.

"They were very well set out proposals, but they did involve annexinig all of Western Europe for the extension."

So in the meantime the house is somewhat crowded, and has 523 stories. ()---->

NEXT WEEK: All the English speakers converge on Canton to set up a Chinese take-away.

Honest Frint's

P.S. "Disembowelled leprous cockroach with recognisable chunks of chewy throat and mongoose-cabbage, all melted together and injected into your bloodstream with a disused biro, and teabags" was not included, on the grounds that some readers/diners might find it offensive.

at...

Honest Frint's Cruddy Eating-Shed

(only if you're drinking
    a. Bacardi
    b. bath-water
    c. soap)

Goodnight.

d) Aubergine ovaltine
e) f)
g) h

Sunday crunch

SPECIAL FOR SUNDAY

Worms in Margarine
Tongue Full of Nails
Melon with Carcass of Bison
Wart and Thistle Soup

---

Roast Skunk and Bristling Loo
Steaming Flodge in Spiky Tortoise
Tortured Bovine Vomit
Crispy Platter of Muscles and Grass
Ripped Stomach in Phlegm

---

Lumpy Stodgecake
Blue Vegetables Baked in Liver
Your Own Thigh... In A Pie
Foul Uvulas with Gangrene
Mandarin Oranges in Skin and Frogs

---

Liquidised Chef In His Own Veins

Yesterday's regurge

    Yesterday's Regurge

Starkers:

    Silicon Porridge with Medicine
    Fruit Juice and Forehead in Luke-Warm Washing-Up Water
    Chip Pan Smashed on your Elbow
    Filthy Tractor Tyres in Mince

Puke:

    Dish of the Day (14 August 1932, when the Chef made it)
    Stained Utensils dipped in pig's entrails for no reason
    Antlers with Armpits
    Fire Extinguisher Fluid and Tipp-Ex Full of Horse Dung and Rubbish
    Strangely Unpleasant Cocktail of Rabbit's Fur and Video Tape
    Googly Wumple combed slightly into a Horrible Fricassée of Yak Grit
    Toothpaste and Gravel Painted into your Eyes by our delightful herring-do Grumbo the Moist

Greek Sick:

    Moussaka with protruding limbs soaked too long in retsina and ketchup
    Taramosalata with an interesting smell of fish-bones and garotting
    Ouzo with stuffed gibbon and something
    Goatburger made entirely out of recycled coat-hangers, coated in a disturbingly crunchy spread of sprouts and spider-mulch

Deserters:

    Liquidised Carrots and Shaving Cream
    Cherry Waste, drooled over by a brainless quadruped
    Unwashed Bed Full of Astonishing Numbers of Eels and other Surprises
    Pie with Bucket
    Knees on Toast, plus Cabbage and Saliva
    Sickly Gratings of Rhinoceros Tusk in Water

And Finally:

    Flambéed Chef in an Onion Batter

Tomorrow's rotty

    TOMORROW'S ROTTY

Splatters:

    Festering Woodlice Braised in Mould
    Bubbling Cowpats Garnished with Rust, Snot and Feathers
    Courgettes Allowed to Disintegrate for a Month in a Hoover Bag
    Emulsion and Varnish
    Cod Liver Oil mixed with Blood and Sweat, dropped from a height onto a gallon of instant mashed potato

Composts:

    Singed Newspapers Flushed into the Sewer and Belched At by a Dozen Rats
    Gunge of Flab
    Seaweed, Splodge and Shoe Polish pukily draped over the contents of the Chef's Lavatory's U-Bend
    Rotting Teatowels and Yoghurt pumped full of Hair and Teabags
    Pieces of Table Hacked Up and Blended into a Soothing Implosion
    Human Face Full of Wasps, in a Flan

Brain Courses:

    Thick Slices of Scab and Nostril Scrapings Ladled with Honey and Pong
    Shattered Omelette with Teeth
    A Whole Barrowload of Cauliflower Trodden In by Elephants, with Mercury Gobs
    Tripe and Shampoo, mixed, sneezed at, and thrown out of the window, scraped out of the manhole and poured over your head
    Casserole of Curtains and Chef's Anatomy

Desert:

    Arable Land in Snow-White Puddle
    Bonfire Ash Heaped Artistically and coated in sticky dribble and wrists
    Rubble with Doormat and Squashed Cat
    Cheesecake Which Explodes
    Mirrored Pudding with Pigeon Droppings
    Terrible Trifle made of Udders and Stones

Toady's menu

    TOADY'S MENU

Snarters:

    Inflatable soup with Dog Foam
    Bath poop
    Fribblet of soggy
    Grunge slime in haddock crump

Horse D'Œuvres:

    Stench
    Moss
    Viperous Assassin Toenail Fluff

Mange Courses:

    Soil-dough, oil-babble, cog drippings and mullet of smell, all hideously dumped in a disgusting red pus
    Carpet tiles, Peas and Eyeballs in Glue and Tar
    Pâté of Liquidised Ear, served cold in an oozingly stodgy bucket of Eggshell Plop
    Salmonella Sandwiches in Dung and Moose Brain
    Oak and Ceiling Pie delicately sprayed into the Decaying Body of a Steam-Rollered Okapi

All "served" with a fake selection of rotting vegetables, melon and goat.

Desserty Splurge:

    Fat in Cream
    Vomit Cake
    Raspberry Bang
    Gas of Sick with Tendons
    Stinking Washing in Lemony Mush
    Excrement Explosion
    Blob

Or a choice of weasels from around the world, with Hovis crackers and Spam.

Coffee, Tea, Jelly, Pustules, Scalp.

    Set Price £652.34
    Groups of 5 £9.80m

Smelly dribble

On a roll of 6, the Bulgars become active.

Post ĵeto de 6, la bulgaroj aktiviĝas.

THIS IS A JOURNEY INTO AN OSTRICH
A JOURNEY WHICH ALONG THE WAY
WILL BRING US LOTS OF INTESTINAL MUCUS
SEMI-DIGESTED FOOD
SICK, PUS, BLOOD AND DISEASE
HORRIBLE PUMPING ORGANS OF THE THORAX
AND LOTS OF SMELLY DRIBBLE

Inflatable soup...

Hairy scribble

Arthur burst through the doors of the saloon. "If anyone here says 'philosopheme', I'll plug him so full of lead they can use him as a pencil!"

сκρίββλε δε ώββλε;
        (Homer, Od. 3.243)

{The top half of a head, with strands of hair spraying out in all directions like fireworks} яженщик

The Horrid Hairy Hemisphere
or Round Redundancy

The train will be delayed for four months due to unexpected season.

Spuggly

There once was a dusty old tome
In which words did not feel at home
From it was no gleaning
A relevant meaning
Apart from the word "pascolome".

Big trouble in little Liz
Bitter rune(/sign).

The Good, the Rad and the Spuggly
The Mauve, the Mad and the Terminally Dead.
Vacuum Cleaner II
Basic Latin
The Silence of the Spams
Once Upon a Time in the Goat
Go for a Walk with Me
Indecision
The L.C.D. Display Digital Grapefruit

Irrelevanto

There was a young girl of the Hague
Who was so incredibly vague
She always deconstructed
Until her death obstructed
Yet still she deconstructed as she decayed.

A strange oldish fellow of Mars
Wrote odd morbid verses for hours
He spoke Esperanto
How irrelevanto
From normalcy it him debars.

{Graph of "British economy" (to -1) against "Esperanto plot" (to 2004): it's a sine wave, with a sudden halfway blip – beyond which it plunges into the axis.}

Perhaps it is ending

10 ways to tell the universe is ending

(1) The recession ends
(2) Pigs fly
(3) You understand deconstructionist texts
(4) Everyone speaks Esperanto
(5) P de M confesses all
(6) Americans acquire civilization
(7) Thatcher apologises
(8) Elks turn into goats (and vice versa)
(9) You find sitcoms funny
(10) The temperature rises a lot (or sinks. Or stays the same)

Oh dear, perhaps it is ending. That means good news for British industry – no more German competition. No more competition at all. No more industry, in fact. Oh well.

{Graph showing "British economy" plunging as "Liz's insanity" rises.} Need we say more?

Doily flan

"ANYONE WHO CAN'T SPELL 'DOYLI' OUGHT TO BE LOCKED UP AND THROWN AWAY" – Rev. K. Q. Däuley.

doily flan

Just got up.

There once was a smelly old elk
Who resembled my stepniece's whelk,
When he climbed in a hole,
He resembled a vole,
And in no way resembled a gnu.

If all the seas were fish, the fish would be bloody confused.

Oh dear – is it still there?
Yes, it is, it is!
No, it's gone – dear dear E. Konom, dear, dear E. Konomy. We loved it so.

If the universe is about to end

Ten Things Not to Do if the Universe is About to End

1. Go for a curry.

2. Telephone John Major to say "God's going to make a bigger mess of this country than you can!"

3. Decide to read the complete works of Hegel.

4. Read the complete works of Hegel.

5. Write the complete works of Hegel.

6. Meditate for too long on the difference between reading and writing.

7. Attempt to make your peace with Christ, Allah, Buddha, Vishnu, Apollo, Dionysos and James T. Kirk. They'll only get jealous.

8. Panic.

9. Not panic.

10. Paint your posterior green, put a paper doilly (?) on your head and get on the train for Worthing trying to sell sausages out of a large bucket. RAVING MAD

N.B. No's 5, 7 and 9 are inadvisable at any time.

No's 1 and 10 should not be attempted in a normal home.*

* Please contact St Aloysius Home for Normals, 5, and counting, thank you.

Trekemata

Enough of these τρεκηματα. Who is this chap Shakespeare anyway?

A fool once armed with a blunderbuss
Started a great big fuss
He aimed the gun at his head
But being in bed
Instead he was run over by a bus.

Sonnet 130.2

Sonnet 130.2 (or (?) "Shakespeare in the Original Klingon"

"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun
Blood is more green than her antenna's green
If moons be four, why then her heads are one
If hairs be wires, black wires grow from her spleen.
I have seen noses stationed, left and right
But no such noses see I on her knees
And in an asteroid belt is more delight
Then when her several digits start to tease.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That micro-waves are much more audible.
I grant I never saw a goddess grow
But her expansions are implausible
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any that do go round breathing air!"

The Scottie Play

Stop that funky gibber!

AND NOW:

The Compleat έργα of William Shatner.

    Much Ado About Klingons.

    Twelfth Stardate.

    Richard IX Part 8.

    Romeo and Jean-Luc.

    Two Gentlemen of the Engine Room

    The Scottie Play

{The Enterprise whooshes across the page}

    The Electro-Magnetic Turbulence

    The Merchant of Vulcan

Curlicue

Fig. 1. "Karl Marx's wife was a woman." (unattrib.)

{A large equilateral triangle with a flower (1) growing from its right side. The triangle contains an inverted curlicue (2), and out on the left side one staple shape floats in a larger one with rounded ends (3). Below the bottom left corner is a mouse (4). The triangle is supported by a small ball (5), which is supported by another small ball (6), which is in turn supported by a third (7). The triangle also has a bottom right corner (8) and an apex (10). There is no (9).}

1. Amazon basin
2. Washing: spin cycle
3. Thermonuclear war
4. Purely ornamental
5. Ireland
6. The key of G.
7. An ex-gibbon
8. Molasses and how to acquire them
9. Graphic equalizer
10. Top

O, ye use being!

If all the world were custard
And all the seas were gin
We'd coat the floor with mustard
Till the saints go marching in.

If all the land were numbers
And the treacle cottage pie
Though liquorice our slumbers
Tis time to say goodbye.

O, ye use being!

I? Ye? Obese gnu.

And they call it

{wibbly blob with a face} = {large tree} × 50 {pineapple, with two dashed lines emanating from it to corner the tree}

Suggestions?

No 4. Reginald Magdalen's continuum

Introducing ...

    three slightly distorted entities saying nothing ...

and they call it

    "39, WILLIAM STREET"

Oh no!

    Saluton!

        Saluton!

    S
      A
        L
          U
            T
              O
                N

Probably weather

Did you bath your fish?

Oh, that's where my pen went.

"π² = π × π". Discuss.

TODAY'S WEATHER:

ABSOLUTELY BLOODY DISGUSTING. DON'T GO OUT.

AND THE OUTLOOK FOR THE REST OF ETERNITY:

COLD, PROBABLY.

What's the problem?

There is a problem with short anagrams. The problem is, or rather one of the problems, for there are many, a sizeable proportion of which are continually clogging up the civil, commercial and criminal courts in all areas of human "civilisation", and especially, where possible, the more corrupt ones, this.

The previous sentence makes sense. That is not the problem.

Suggestions, please, for what the problem might be...

∫ ( {fish} x (y - {stick man}) ) / √ yashmak dx

The problem is what stands between the sentence (above, or any), in which the problem is provisionally located by virtue of the iterability without which it (if it can be so called, or if "it" can be so called, etc.) would not admit of any situation, position, positing, siting, citing, etc., and itself (if any).

Obey gnu, I see

Hail text (ping!),

This book would like to recommend itself (insofar as its linguistic inhumanity admits of internal motivations [which isn't very, Ed.]) to your attention (who?) as having more, and frillier, words in it than the Roman Empire, with the exception of Uncle Bulgaria ("I am not a number, I am a country in Eastern Europe"), who can remember. Be seeing you!

OBEY GNU, I SEE.

EUEESY BOING.

YOUNG SEEBE.

Fish warning

As I strolled down Longwall Street,
A wildebeest I chanced to meet,
With fourteen heads and ears encoded,
And then (alas!) the beast imploded.

If you want a laugh
    And a half
Give your fish a bath
But don't say I didn't warn you.

Breaking the mould

Dear Sir (or madam)

            I (or you) think it's about time (or manner or place) for this book (or... book) to move in a new direction, to become more spontaneous, to break the mould (sic – oops, sorry) of British beef. And that's why I'm writing to you in this epistolary form (rather than a vat of lemon juice).

I should like, however, to recommend to you some books, though aware that others too have been drawn to your attention:

- The Wombles and the decline of the Roman Empire – the untold story. 158pp + illustrations and pop-up features.

- Hamish McWomble reflects on his part in demolishing Rome and upon then gathering up the rubble which others left behind.

- The lives and loves of a cabinet [that's it?!]

A wandering moose

There was once a self-conscious discourse
Which ended up being served as a main course
But it took its revenge
In blood by Stonehenge
Though the case was solved by Inspector Morse.

More moose – less gnat!

There once was a limerick so abstruse
That everyone it did so confuse
It took them by surprise
But at the final reprise
It was understood by a wandering moose.

Oaf who

There once was a lemon-green oaf who
Was also a nice white sliced loaf who
Said "Four curried fleas
And a whole load of cheese!"
And filled up his wellies with tofu.

There was also a loud ambiguity
Who ate laundry with assiduity
'Twas a British Rail sandwich
That got out of hand which
Reduced it to mauve superfluity.

Closed for deconstruction

Arthur realised that the house was surrounded – how could he escape? Then he remembered the system of underground passages beneath his house, so he proceeded downstairs at once. But the way was barred by a sign (sic) saying "Passages closed for deconstruction – deferrals possible indefinitely, with the possibility of infinite regress. Please take diversion via vicious circle, as indicated." "Damn," he thought, unable to exploit the ambiguity.

    moose + moose = more mooses

    moose + hat = less hat

    moose + less = left-handed

    left + hand = more

"I am not a language. I am a free yak."

            Discuss.

Yesterday's tomorrow

A word on time zones:

In some parts of the world, today has been tomorrow, and yesterday is today, whilst in others today will have been yesterday's tomorrow, tomorrow had a yesterday which is now going to have once been called today, and in still others yesterday was tomorrow and today's the day you worried about tomorrow, and yesterday there would sometimes have been throughout caused by, for and not excluding the fundamental future past of the tomorrow. Is that clear now?

{Speech bubble:} TOMORROW NEVER COMES

{Speech bubble:} BUGGERED IF I KNOW

The beginning of the end of the end of the beginning of the end.

Is a trace.

{Speech bubble:} What?

This will not (therefore) have been today. Thank you.

Imploding bastard

When he arrived, the house seemed strangely familiar. "Băstard!" Arthur thought. "He's stolen my garden!" The regular cops must have had a tip-off – there were fifteen or twenty cars, scores of uniformed and plain clothes men, marksmen, armoured vehicles, insurance salesmen, professional golfers.

"Make way, I'm a doctor," said Arthur, shooting a pathway through the crowd. He burst into the house – and realised he was up against a psychotic. "Băstard! He's stolen my living-room!" From outside the bungling uniforms apostrophized over a loud-hailer, "Throw down your weapons – and come out with your hands up!"

    What?
    Not plot?
    Squat
    Parrot.

{Negative space, boxed in}

"What's it all about?" thought Arthur. And imploded.

[Simon: "Nothing but four upturned theodolites"]

(?) theologies!

Both guns blazing

Arthur dashed across the driveway, both guns blazing – at least 25 hoods dropped under the heavy fire. Next he entered the house, battering down the door, shot the man who had come to see what all the fuss was about, and rushed upstairs. He knew the mass-murderer was up here somewhere.

Out of nowhere he heard a noise behind him. In a flash he had turned round and hurled his combat knife. It was the mass-murderer's wife. "Try the bathroom," he thought. And lo – there, as he approached it, he thought he caught a glimpse of a bulky savage man, armed to the teeth. "That must be him," he thought.

He entered the bathroom, and there was the vicious man himself. But a rude shock awaited him – he was looking into the mirror. "What a cruel trick," he thought, "that camouflage paint really doesn't do me justice. I'll have to go for something more stylish next time."

A slight doubt remained in his mind – "am I the mass-murderer: surely not?" He barely noticed the dead bodies and wreckage as he left the house. "Perhaps I was given a false tip-off," he mused. He looked at the number of the house – 1257, 35^th street (East, sunnyside up). "Of course," he realised, "I got the wrong street – it's 33rd street where he lives." And he set off at once.

Ananasogram

VIRGINA BOTTOMLEY is an anagram of

I'M AN EVIL TORY BIGOT

BUT

TERRY WOGAN is an anagram of

TRY WAN OGRE

THIS IS NOT AN ANAGRAM

is an anagram of

ANANASO TINTS RHAMIG

(so what?)

------------------------
CHERWELL <--
    --> HELLCREW
------------------------

MEL SMITH AND GRIFF RHYS JONES <--
    --> DRESSING IS A LEMON MYTH JRHFF

Flattening by imitation

After the end of the World – Abba

Make Porridge – In the Moon

{imitating the above handwriting} After the Moon, the other Moon.

After Porridge, Reginald Magdalen's Porridge.

People with hard writing to imitate should be put through a mangle.

{imitating in turn} People with mangled writing should hardly be imitated.

{upside down} It's supposed {mirror writing} to be easier upside down

But then, is life?

Brain scones

Two news items both of great import
Appear not to have been connected
The cessation of a successful export
And departure of a journalist well respected
Yet the link between the two is clear
And it will shock your very soul
For it is the case – very much so, I fear
[DES?] They are both connected with coal

"Puns – What to do in an Emergency"

"100 Recipes with Safety Pins"

"The Morecambe and Wise Book of Stale Scones"

"The Best of the Argos Catalogue"

Geoffrey's Brain – a map of 136%

{Pie chart. Anticlockwise from top: a shaded sector labelled "UNCONSCIOUS (counterintuitive)"; BINARISM 10%; JOKE ARCHIVE 11%; a sector marked with an upside-down chair and the words "seat of reason, logic &c 2%"; POOR TASTE 8%; ROUTINES 9%; a small unmarked sector; a tiny sector labelled "UNCERTAINTY (trace)"; CERTAINTY 37%, containing a small circle marked "induction/deduction but not necessarily in that order"; MEGALOMANIA 41%; MAGNANIMITY 20%; a sector full of springs, screws, washers and a small explosion, i.e. "THE ALREADY DECONSTRUCTED BIT".}

{This bit is original, except that it isn't.}

Brain cheese

LIZ'S BRAIN (not to scale)

{Pie chart, at least a fifth of which is "WORDS". Small sectors are labelled "GIBBER", "female intuition", "more words" and (a tiny sliver) "memory". At the other side of the chart is a chunk of "Norwegian Goatsmilk Cheese".}

More books

"The great moose–elk debate" – H. Arty Beast

"Wombles of the Serengeti"

"A zombie kidnapped my yak"

"The pop-up guide to toasters"

"Freddy the hamster ate my toast"

"The Observer's Guide to Books"

"Books – their use and abuse"

"1000 places to eat in ancient Rome"

"Beginner's guide to word arranging"

Estos vidanta vin!

"Superintelligent shades of the colour black."

"The A-Z of the 16th Dimension on Friday. Thank You"

"I think you ought to know I'm feeling very depressed."

= "Je crois de mon devoir de vous informer que je me sens extrêmement déprimé."

= "Mi devus informi vin, ke mi sentas deprimegon."

= "My deviant informative wine, that I don't dance in the spring" *

"Dance is a good translation of almost anything" (Danco estas bona traduko de preskaŭ ĉio.)

* = "Mia devojiĝinta informema vino, ke mi ne dancas printempe." † RIP

"Estos vidanta vin!"

Green pie

{Pie chart labelled (up the side) "Green Pie"}

3%   "1001 Ways to Trope a Goat"

3%   String and Wishful Thinking

4%   Metaphysics

9%   Chocolate

11%   Rapidity

12%   Cheese

22%   Beer

32%   Llama-brain

90%   Other

A fourth load of old books

"These Things Didn't Happen So I Won't Tell You About Them"

"I am Dead" by A. N. Author
"Am I" by A. N. Other
  – counts as one choice 50p

"The Colour Blue and How to Experience It"

"A practical Guide to Vomiting"

"The Subjective Idealist's Handbook of Lampposts and Other Lampposts"

"Stupidity and How to Acquire It"

"Beans"

"Counting Mice"

A third load of old books

"Taramosalata For Beginners."

"Beginners For Taramosalata."

"Why Moussaka Is So Hideously Unpleasant."

"Aristotle As Rewritten By Derrida."

"Derrida As She Is Spoke."

"John The Scissors Ate My Hamster."

"Ian Hislop Ate My Headline."

"The Real Reason Why Betamax VCRs Became Extinct."

"I've Got To Stop Eating This Radio Times."

"Proto-Indo-European Phrase Book."

"Gratuitous Marmalade."

"Free Squashed Rodent Inside."

"Gyles Brandreth Was My Hamster."

Another load of old books

"The Guinness Book of Omelettes."

"Badly Dubbed Filmtracks of the 30's."

"How to Cross Your Fingers Strangely."

"My Favourite Book of Sneeze Mess."

"Paul de Man's Usual Stuff™."

"Channel Four News – The Movie."

"Do It Yourself Paperweights for Yaks."

"Learn to Eat Pus For A Healthier Life."

"Terry Wogan – The Interesting Week."

"The Day I Ate A Kitchen Utensil Bag."

"You've Read This Already."

"What Is The Name of This Book?"

"Wie Heißt Dieses Buch?"

A load of old books

... some more books for your Christmas list:

– Aardvarks, tapirs, anteaters: which do you prefer? Facts and figures – the debate continues

– The Guinness book of great natural disasters (with lots of grisly pictures)

– Posture: an annotated guide

– Centralised communism: the only way forward (as seen in USSR and Eastern Europe)

– Bogrolls: an illustrated history

– Scatter cushions: their influence in the history of the West

– Chidcock A-Z street map

Guide to Paul de Man

The "Book" Guide to 10 things you never knew about Paul de Man (and never dared to ask – or you weren't interested)

(1) He was a German

(2) He wrote at least one article in favour of Nazism

(3) He was an attempted bigamist

(4) He went to live in the USA

(5) He was a deconstructionist

(6) Liz reads lots of his books

(7) He was the lead singer of Status Quo

(8) His favourite food was cornflakes

(9) He wrote lots of Words

(10) Um... He's dead.

Filling

Iam estis alko, kiu nomiĝis Blob. Li estis simpla plenigo de negativa spaco, kaj pro tio li aperis en la interspacia lingvo (ŝerco). Liz ĵus frapis sian frunton per la telefona registro. Neniu sciis kial, eĉ nek Blob. Kaj tiel finiĝis la spaco.

Phrase book 4

"My initials are M.H. and I am in the cabinet."
Trans: "Please place 3 tons of coal in my driveway."

"My initials are E.B-B. and I am a cabinet."
Trans: "Please place 3 tons of coal dust in my fridge."

"My initials are G.G. and I have a cabinet."
Trans: "Please place 3 tons of coal in my cabinet."

"My initials are S.C.B.D. and I eat cabinets in sandwiches, sometimes with coleslaw and gravel, but most often with grunged peas and offal."
Trans: "Please wake me when the Universe reaches critical mass and time flows the other way."

Phrase book 3

"Where's the University?"
Trans: "Please nuke me."

"Is it all right if I leave my bicycle chain in your bed?"
Trans: "Is it all right if I leave my bicycle chain in your bed?"

"Ah, this is your room is it?"
Trans: "You must hate it."

"What time is Hall?"
Trans: "I need a check-up."

"Nice rainy weather."
Trans: "Why doesn't it ever stop raining here?"

Phrase book 2

Graduate: "What a lot of letters!"
Trans: "The S.C.R. should be persuaded of the wisdom of only admitting persons whose names begin with Q to this college."

Graduate: "Excuse me!"
Trans: "Bog off, foetus."

Graduate: "Are you a fresher?"
Trans: There are several meanings. [!]

Graduate: "I used to live here."
Trans: "I'm too old to know anyone any more."

Graduate: "How interesting!"
Trans: "You hide it well/badly."

Phrase book 1

"The Fresher-Graduate / Graduate-Fresher Phrase Book"

1. When you Arrive – In the Lodge

Fresher: "Excuse me – where's?"
Trans: "Which way up is this map and why is it a map of King's Cambridge?"

Fresher: "Er – hello?"
Trans: "Please patronise me."

Fresher: "Are you lost?"
Trans: "When I grow up, I shall be very irritating."

Fresher: "I'm a Christian."
Trans: "This is a five-minute warning of thermonuclear attack..."

Supplementary bibliography

Supplementary Bibliography in 57.4 senses

(1) "Hanging Gates" William Barnes (this one's "genuine" folks)

(2) "How to make over 4 vulgar sounds with only a pot plant and Keith Chegwin"

(3) Toast – A Photographic Guide

(4) How to determine the Sex of a Brussels Sprout

(5) A Phonetic Guide to BASIC^©

(6) 14 Things You Didn't Know you Knew about Knowledge

(7) The Uses of New Historicism

(8) The 8^th Bumper Book of Esperanto Expletives 1903 (repr. 1916) <-- [too easy, Ed.]

(9) "The 'Milky Milky' diet" ("If you like yogurt, you'll love this!")

(10) The Linguaphone Lipreading Course – 5 cassettes only £29.99

(46) The Fresher-Graduate / Graduate-Fresher Phrase Book, with Sample Conversations (see facing page)

(11) Honorary Mention – bad value at 24p ndash; the sequel, "What I think I don't know about the life of Paul de Man" is less fairly priced at 18p.

{A postage stamp under a magnifying glass. On the reverse is written "What I think I know about the life of Paul de Man – Geoffrey".}

Implausible books

Geoffrey's top 10 implausible shortlisted books

(1) 10 days that somewhat disturbed the world – M. Read

(2) Deconstruction made simple – vols 1–37.2 with an introduction and gibber by J. Derrida

(3) Why I like lemons

(4) 27 things to do with out of date copies of the Radio Times

(5) Liz's guide to plain-talking

(6) How to run a country – J. Major

(7) How to invade Poland – A. Hitler

(8) How to be a bigamist – ?

(9) The operation and maintenance of the wheelbarrow

(10) The weather – why it must stop

Secret diary

Secret Diary of Geoffrey, Aged 136¼

On Mondays I get up at 9.00 so that I can hide in the library before the lunatics are fully raving. They get up late because they are lunatics. One of them is naturally mad, and the other one taught herself out of books. But I'm sane, and one day I shall rule the world ...

(To be continued)

Ignorance

Epigrammatic Ode to John Major

There was a man who was grey
Bur he didn't go away.
(Oh dear)

On Ignorance
I don't know who the Home Secretary is
And the worst bit is – I don't mind
It puts responsible people in a tizz,
But knowing about politics is a bind.
Because, you see, it's all rhetoric
And other rhetorics are more interesting
Geoffrey suspects I am rather thick
But he doesn't know who wrote "Little Gidding".

MOULD?
GREBY?
INCOMPREHENSIBLE?
NO!

        Plate glass snail.
                Prehensible tail.
                        Runcible fig.
                                Wig.

A radiation map

APPENDIX B: Geoffrey's World (It will be...)

{In the centre of the page are two islands (BIG ISLAND and LITTLE ISLAND), together labelled "NEW ZEALAND (Esperanto secret H.Q.)". From there "VIBES, LOGIC, etc" radiate outwards in the form of concentric circles, not quite reaching "Moon – where Simon is" in the corner.}

Because the H.Q. is secret, I won't show where New Zealand is.

A global map

MAP 2: the world

"Who is the home secretary?"
Kenneth Yakke

{small circle labelled "the rest"}

{British-Isles-shaped blob containing: at the top, "Scotland & Wales & sheep & Falklands & Whales; in the middle, "OXFORD (centre of world, life, universe)"; in the southeast, "LONDON – Cedric lives there"; and in the southwest peninsula, "DORSET (& GRAN (help!))"}

{Just to the west of Dorset is a tiny oval labelled "America"}

{Large irregular shape labelled "EUROPE incl. France & Paris – place where Helen lives & JACQUES (my hero)" with an arrow pointing to a stick figure next to a heart shot through with an arrow}

{A huge promontory off the middle of the south coast of Europe is labelled "ITALY nasty country but nice pictures"}

{Hiding in the bottom right-hand corner of the page is a small curve marked "Australia"}

A local map

APPENDIX: The world according to "Liz" a.k.a. she who must not be contradicted

MAP 1: local

{house} 39 William st – "where I live" (or is it 37 – anyway – one of the houses)

BIG ROAD (watch out for stationary vehicles)

PARKS – lots of green

{building} College "where I eat – sometimes"

{building with BLACKWELLS sign} Bookshop – where they give me lots of books and bits of paper with figures on

The lumbergrad song

    The egg will have died
    Said the chicken with sadness
    Long live the ego.

1, 2,   1, 2, 3, 4...

She's an English grad and she's insane
She works all night and she sleeps all day

She reads her texts, she deconstructs,
And knows not what facts tell,
She puts on women's clothing
And hangs around in Blackwells.

She buys thick books, she reads them through,
They make no sense at all,
And now she's got no money,
And has to eat in Hall.

[Anyone who turns into Geoffrey – raving simplistic!]

The telos of the arche

Abstract from H.M. report on Geoffrey's sanity.

"We didn't find it"

(or the sanity!)

This is not the end – it is not even the beginning of the end [no – it's a quarter of the way through the book], but it could perhaps be described as

"always already the telos of the arche."

(Hence?) you will be delighted to know, the trace of writing and the writing of the trace.¹

That is grammatological, Captain"
            Spock, spooked

"Woooooh! ooooooh!"
            Spook, spocked

¹"He started it."

Treaties made of pond

There is a pretty certain
Though common I am Bond
I'm very fond of cement
And treaties made of pond.

Though signed and sealed in Basildon
One day I can't remember
As last December weighs a ton
For fear I should dissemble.

All Hollands – raving dervish.

        See you in the place the tomatoes come from.

"The 'fridge?"
        No.
                THE VILLAGE.

Dead moob

["Politics is the moob" said the egg.]

["The egg is dead" said the chicken, who had just trodden on it.]

{ The moob is dead" said the moob. "Long live the chicken!"}

And they all went to Cambridge in a Walrus (like me!).

Song for Maastricht

There is a certain treaty
Of which I'm very fond
It is so very pretty
It cements a common bond

It was signed in lovely Holland
One day in last December
It definitely shouldn't be banned
It's the one to remember!

Those dratted folk of Denmark
Did it a great disservice
But with the strength of the great Deutschmark
They will be shot by a whirling dervish.

Though many really like it
There's some don't care for Maastricht,
To whom we say "you old git
You really need your arse kicked."

Gobblebarble spaghettry

["Blaaerhh"! "Milky milky"!]

                Lovely.

Goat to work on an egg.

Q. "What did the pumpkin say when it was asked to be the tailor at a monastery?"
A. "Pumpkins don't talk."

Q. "What did the New York traffic lights say when they were asked to be the spaghetti at a gobblebarble?"
A. "Pedestrians – Don't Walk."

Gramophone sonnetry

There was a young lady intent
On why limericks all rhyme in "Gwent"
Thus oddly inclined
She went out of her mind
That imprudent lady of Gwent.

Quoth that mad dame, "It's weird –
The others rhyme with 'beard'"
How sadly and wholly dement(ed).

"What's in a name?" Some funny wordy bits,
As phonemes, graphemes and their correlation
Some syllables, and sounds, in isolation
Which, were they placed, they'd have no referents.
(A slight disruption there, a nervous laugh
– 'Tis figured in the syntax's distraction
And in the faulty rhymes – now a quotation
"In a word, gramophone" (not "phonograph"
Unless we gramophone the gramophone
A possibility whose slight digression
May open up an infinite regression.)
Mayhap we'll leave the phonograph alone
And ask of the perfection Romeo owes
How much it needs the ponging of the rose?

Know the feeling

A medium sized potato

    OR

A potato sized Jeremy Beadle

Let now thy syntax depart in pieces

Mr Spock, him say "Sounds illogical, Captain, man"

Mr Kurtz, him dead Jim.

                Lovely.

We asked: "Is Reason – Ratatouille?"

[Ratatouille]: This has got NOTHING to do with ME.

"Know the feeling" said a passing (odorous) squid.

"Know the odour" said (a) feeling, passing.

"Blaaearhhh" it added, vomiting.

The sanity report

Extract from a report by HMI¹ on Sanity.

"Having undertaken a detailed study both of the contents (contexts? ed.) of this book, as well as the contents (or otherwise) of the cerebra of the individuals resident at 39 William st, we have come to the following conclusions:

(1) the person with the arachnine hand (and writing) is of a deconstructionist disposition... and could be dangerous. She calls herself Liz (frequently) and is often heard reciting the words of her gods De Ridah and De Man, She should be watched carefully (if only for the sake of amusement), but her gibber must at all costs be ignored.

(2) the person they call "Simon" also treads a path marching on insanity, mainly thanks to the influence of "Liz" and the handheld positronic ray buried in his cupboard. He is noted for his strictly regimented diet – spaghetti meaty chunks and cheese for lunch, Roast Beef for dinner. He too seems to have his own gods, but of a quite different kind – animist, almost – featuring goats, gnus, aardvarks and wombats. He too should be watched (unless there's something better on Channel 4)."

¹ "Hermeneutical Mafia Inc?" shurely not...

My life was a geranium

Tulip exit metempsychosis
Telephone biscuit quite a neurosis
Strain broccoli oldie
Appendix quite mouldy
And peasant absence in five doses.

"My life was a geranium" said the geranium. The psychoanalyst looked concerned. Arthur looked concerned. Prince Charles looked the intellectual of the family. The intellectual looked back. You remind me of something that rhymes with 'alveolus'," he said.

"King?" hazarded Prince Charles.

"String?" jeopardized the geranium.

"Don't mind if I do," said Dougal.

Untitled

Niagara cheeses.

        "Mity cheese!" – James Joyce

                Bruce Forsyth's wig

{"String" points to "A geranium", which points to "how". All three lead to a central scroll marked "UNTITLED", which in turn points to "really?". To the left side, an empty space points to "yes, yes", and thence also to "really?". A second empty space to the right is partially boxed.}

A sign which did not mean "No Parking"
Might then or might not have been marking
A bath-mat shaped radish
Of which you'd be gladdish
If flyswat balloon fish not barking.

A catalogue of Pavarotti

If in doubt – words.

After incomprehensibility, incomprehensibility (incomprehensibility etc. as far as the eye can't see).

Sentient, Stupid and Semolina – and >>PROUD<< of it!

"Life with Pavarotti"
        by Mrs Pavarotti

"My friend Luciano Pavarotti"
        Robert Ugi

"Luciano Pavarotti – never heard of him"
        Reg Wood

"Luciano Pavarotti – the fat Italian singer"
        Arthur Scargill

"Luciano Pavarotti – the successful guide to dieting"
        L. Pavarotti

"Luciano Pavarotti – his gerbils"
        A. N. Lunatic

"Luciano Pavarotti – his lunatic"
        Any gerbils?

Sebastian the Steamroller

"Sebastian the Steamroller"

Sebastian the Steamroller
Flattened people
He flattened the vicar
And the steeple
He flattened the choir who were singing vespers,
Bankers, nannies and all-in wrestlers
He flattened fifty hell's-angels too
When he was bored and had nothing to do.
And he flattened drunks and louts in lists
And sometimes New Historicists;
He flattened Monists, plumbers, Unitarians
Empiricists, fish and vegetarians
Birdwatchers, Trekkies and Anneka Rice
(Although he thought she was rather nice)
And bananas, biologists, bigots, Mancunians
And most of the members of several Trade Unions
He flattened the Women's Institute
And all of their knitting as well, to boot
He flattened the professor of Old Icelandic
And everyone else who could understand it
And almost all of the cast of "Willow"
But he couldn't squash Arnie the Armadillo.

Arnie faced him, guns a-blazing
As he finished off a bloke selling double-glazing
The fashion for flatness's days were over
When Arnie wasted Sebastian the Steamroller
Sebastian's luck ran out at last – er
When he squashed Arnie's bomb made of sticking plaster
And curry and string and several figs
Blancmange and words and orange twigs
And several songs Terry Wogan sang
Which was the bit that made it go BANG!
For Sebastian ran over Arnie's bomb
Which blew the whole (con)text to kingdom come.

Moral: never mix blancmange and curry.

Bernie the Bat

"Bernie the Bat"

Bernie the Bat
was as flat
as a mat
because he used a steamroller
for a hat.