A Routine Case

The woman who would later reveal her name to be Dorothy looked up at me through the windscreen like a pouty puppy looking up through a car windscreen. I adjusted my trilby and spat my long-extinguished cigarette out onto the tarmac.

“Hey, ain’t that a bit dangerous?” she said, looking around her like an inquisitive yoghurt. The air moved around her like a confused bumblebee at an Olympic opening ceremony.

“It’s flameless.” I replied, my voice hinting at the burning sensation that this woman was creating within me. Her beautiful brown eye and her beautiful green eye reached into my body like a rubber-gloved surgeon performing a colon inspection, piercing me as if the surgeon had forgotten to put their keys down beforehand.

Something about her was familiar.

“Something about you is familiar.” I said.

Our eyes met for a second. Then she disappeared out of my life in a cloud of tyre smoke, never to be seen again for the next four minutes. I shook my head and went to find a mop to clear up the puddle of petrol on the forecourt.

“What an odd woman.” I said out loud, to no-one in particular.

*Originally posted here*


Bitter? Me? What gave you that idea?

I’ve known a lot of girls,
In the days since I was born.
Some were real and made of flesh,
And some were merely porn.

I’ve given laughter to many girls,
I’ve even made some cry.
One of them even slit her wrists,
Because I made her want to die.

But these are just a sample,
Out of all the girls I’ve met,
For most girls that I’ve spoken to,
I’d much rather forget.

The girls who laughed at my geeky ways,
Who sniggered, sneered and scoffed.
You turned me down, well that’s your loss,
But I hope your tits fall off.

Yes I hope your tits fall off.


Toe problems

I stubbed my toe earlier today. Everyone accused me of hobbling round and making a big meal of it, but it’s bright purple now. I’m afraid that it’s going to turn black and drop off.

I took a photo of it with my new camera with the intention of putting it up here, but it’s just too gruesome to look at. Not only does my toe look like a plum, but my nails are dirty and I haven’t shaved my toe knuckles for… well, forever.

And besides, I would only have been putting it up so that I had an on-topic way to let you all know about my new camera, which I’ve done anyway. It’s a modest 3 megapixel Pentax, but it’s a step up from my clunky old 2 megapixel HP which was grainy and feature-sparse. This one’s loaded with tricks, and fits into the pocket of Pete.

*Originally posted here*

About Me

A letter

For this theme, I decided that I would dig out my old love letter archive and find something reasonably suitable to be extracted and posted.

However, when I looked in my super secret private folder where I keep them, they all seemed to be gone, except for one. I expect that Karen has discovered them, and thrown them all away. Except for this one.

> Dear Peter,
> I know I agreed to meet you at 8:00 but I totally forgot that I go to my Grandparents house on Thursdays, every single week!!! Sorry again but I didn’t really like the thought of you waiting for hours outside your house like a total lemon.
> I’ll speak to you tomorrow.
> Love Emma

Then again, perhaps I’m mistaken. Perhaps that’s the full extent of my love letters collection.

Ho hum.

*Originally posted here*



Yesterday I saw an advert in a music shop that had been put there by a guy looking for a bassist and guitarist to join his indie band. It looked cute, so I made a note of his number.

Today, I phoned him back, and very quickly decided that his band was not for me.

Reason 1: I asked him about how much feedback he’d had already from his advert, and he said that he had had a few replies but most people couldn’t commit enough. So I asked him what sort of commitment he was looking for. It was soon clear that we were not a good match in this respect. I think his words were “Obviously I wouldn’t expect you to give up your job straight away.” I work full time, and it would take a lot for me to consider giving my job up for music. I told him this. He’s got his heart set on world domination, and I can’t compete with that. I make music for fun, not for a living.

Reason 2: He was reluctant to define exactly what he meant by indie. I kept probing him, as I knew it was important. He eventually said Coldplay. Ugh.

I’ve given him my contact details so he can send me their demo, but without knowing the guy I don’t think that I could join his band, because I don’t want to waste his time by hanging around for ten minutes and then leaving.

We’ll see.