Dear diary

The other morning I woke up and saw that it was sunny outside so I thought summer had arrived but then I did a sneeze which made me feel all cold so mummy told me to put a jumper on.  I went out into the garden to play on my big blue slide but there was a pigeon on it and I had to wait until he flew away.  I once heard daddy say that pigeons are like flying rats and I don’t like rats because I heard they eat children and live in the sewers with all the poo.  I hope there isn’t any poo on my slide because mummy would shout at me if my trousers got dirty and I sometimes do a cry when she shouts.

When it was time for lunch mummy asked me if I wanted the alphabet or the dinosaur spaghetti shapes and straight away I chose the dinosaurs.  I like dinosaurs because they are big and strong and can go to bed whenever they want to.  Afterwards I did a big windy-pop that smelled like pickled onions and lemonade.  Mummy asked if it was me who did it and I said that it was and then she asked if I was sorry and I said that I was and then she told me not to do it again so I didn’t.

I went outside on my bike and rode around in a circle really fast.  I started to get really dizzy and then I fell off and hurt my knee so mummy came out and kissed it better and put a plaster on it.  I went on my bike again but this time went round the other way and I got dizzy again and fell over and hurt my other knee.  Mummy came out and shouted at me and wouldn’t kiss it better but she put a plaster on it and said it will get better by itself.  I hope my unkissed knee does get better because if it fell off it would be really hard for the doctors to put it back on again.

If I was a dinosaur I would be a four-legged dinosaur because they can’t fall over and hurt their knees although I don’t think they can ride bikes either.

So then, nuclear powers – who wants one?  I had a meeting with a nuclear engineer man the other day, and he was a very interesting chap.  He was telling me all about radioactivity and why you need to wear gloves when picking up lumps of uranium.  I had always assumed that uranium would have little finger holes like those ten-pin bowling balls do, but he said they didn’t.  Just before he went home, he gave me a free pen and I really like it ‘cos when I press the presser down, the radiation symbol on the side lights up. It reminded me a bit of the Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles and I was a massive fan of them guys back in the day. Well, apart from Raphael that is – he was just a grouch. I liked Donatello’s stick, but Michaelangelo was the best of the lot. I asked the nuclear engineer man if he wanted to go halves on a pizza, but the miserable sod said no. Obviously, his favourite turtle was Raphael.

Right, nuclear power. It sounds BRILL and I have to confess that I’m not a big fan of coal these days.  Coal power stations, coal fires, and coalition governments – all of them sound great at first, but after a while they start to get on your tits. I did read that if you crushed a big bit of coal really hard, you could make a diamond. I decided to give this a try, and fished around in my shed for a pair of gloves. I did find them eventually but then I remembered I didn’t have any coal, which put a bit of a downer on things. It reminded me of that time when I went to go and get a lottery ticket, but I somehow lost my £1 coin on the way to the shop. Funds were low at Lib Dem HQ at the time, so we had to go without heating for a week.

Not to be disheartened by my coal-crushing failure, I decided to practice the technique on some eggs. Someone once told me that eggs are really strong, so it was an ideal opportunity to test this theory out. Mind you, I remember when I decided to test out another theory, whereby sitting on an egg would make it hatch into a cute baby chicken – I made a right mess of the chaise longue. Anyway, egg crushing. I somehow lost my gloves, so I had to use an old sock instead. Of course, then I couldn’t remember where I left the eggs.

So, all in all, coal is a load of old crap.

Of course, being such a clever eco-bod means that I’ve been able to thrive in the face of such adversity.  Using the recycled remains of my neighbour’s blown-down fence, I built a nice little windmill at the bottom of my garden. I’ve also got several gallons of reclaimed rainwater stored in some Tupperware containers and provided I can find some readily-harvested wheat, I should be able to make half a loaf of bread by the end of the year.  In terms of making good use of this freakish weather, the sky is quite literally the limit.

Dear Frigid Twiglet
All my friends are having fun with their iPhones and Androids, yet I have to make do with papyrus scrolls and bits of chalk. Is there any way I can join in with this smartphone-based fun, whilst still maintaining my eco-friendly credentials?

There certainly is! Remember, eco-friendliness is as much a mental state of being as it is about saving the planet from the parasitic nature of mankind. Close your eyes and picture just what ‘Android’ is all about. It represents machinery, petrol, technology, and people who liked to dress up as Darth Vader whilst they burn car tyres down by the river.

Close your eyes again and think about ‘Apple’. Apple is, essentially, nature in a nutshell.  I tested this myself once by leaving an apple outside in the garden. As it slowly withered away, a bird flew down to peck at it. A few moments later, a lurking cat pounced on the bird and killed it. Then a dog came and chased the cat away. The very next day that same dog crapped in my garden, so I tied it up and left it to rot just like I did with the apple.

Nature is cruel, but man is a bitch.

Has anyone else noticed how hippos are like old people?  They’re constantly smiling, don’t seem to have many teeth, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they were prone to pissing themselves after getting lost in the supermarket.

Frazzle R, Bolton

I once put my microwave on for three hours, the highest setting I can put the timer to, just to see what would happen.  Five minutes before the end there was a power cut along my road, so I never found out.

John W, Lancs

A candle is the ideal ornament for fooling guests into thinking that you’ve got a pet rabbit, provided that it is brown, shaped like a rabbit, and surrounded by half-eaten carrot ends.

Bob L, Woolton

Alcoholics: Remember that you go to the bar for a drink, and the urinal when you need a piss, rather than the other way round.

Jack D, US

Last week whilst cutting my toenails, I suddenly thought of the song It’s the End of the World as We Know It by REM.  Five minutes later, next door’s cat was hit by a car.  Has anyone else suffered a near-miss premonition of Armageddon like that?

Frank, London

I recently learnt that DVD stands for Digital Versatile Disc.  That’s all well and good, but if you snap one in half you are left with sharp pieces of plastic lying around.  There’s a fine line between versatile and dangerous, and these guys crossed that line years ago.

Bob, Devon

Talking of near-misses, a bee flew right into my face whilst I was relaxing in the garden the other day.  Thank heavens I wasn’t a pilot trying to land a passenger-laden Boeing 767 airliner at the time.

Pilot, Airbus

All those months of head scratching, typing, formatting, the endless rounds of editing and begging people to help me with the proof reading… I’m sick of the sight of the damned thing.  But it’s finished!  WOWZERS.

And I’ll be starting a new one soon…

This particular story is centred around a teenage boy called Jake, and it’s all about the teenage insecurities that are bouncing around his head as he battles from one day to the next.  There’s drama, there’s jealousy, there’s shouting, there’s tragedy, there’s… well, you’ll just have to see for yourself.

I’d like to thank OCD Reader, Weichu, and Louise Savage for their gracious help during the editing stages.  Their delicate beady eyes spotted what my tired puffy ones could not.

Kindlers can download it directly from Amazon US and Amazon UK, whilst owners of Nooks and the like can download the epub/PDF/Sony version from Smashwords

If you’re willing to write a short review of the book on somewhere like Amazon, Facebook, Goodreads, or your blog then you can grab yourself a free copy from Smashwords using this code - JU97J

Jealousy, lust, and teenage insecurities are the lifeblood of any large school.

Loneliness can strike without warning, spreading through the cramped corridors like an epidemic.

Out on the playground, rivalries are formed from the pettiest of incidents.

Some people look at Jake in awe, others look at him with hatred.

Jake is just an ordinary boy who wants to be liked.

Jake wants to know why the girls never seem to notice him.

Jake is… well, he’s Jake.

Talking of carrots, this particular one is a marvellous bit of kit.  Organic veg might be a bit wonky and smelly but the extras tend to make up for that. This one came with a free dead spider in the box and once I pulled the legs off, I was able to use them as a beard. And we all know how the chicks dig a man with a beard, amirite?  The carrot itself has a nice natural brightness to it, one that gives off the impression that I’ve just come back from a sunny holiday somewhere.  And chicks love going on holiday, yeah?

A while back I was asked to test a parsnip.  It was great for camouflaging myself during games of hide and seek, but most people said that it made me look anaemic.  To be honest, our games of hide and seek tend to get rather boring after a while; if you watch a family of snails going out for a picnic, you’ll see that they leave nasty trails behind them and we tend to do the same thing.  We actually have quite a lot in common with snails: an abject fear of salt, for example.

So it’s top marks for organic stuff from me.  Stay tuned for next week’s article where I discuss the pros and cons of Brussels sprouts.

Self-promotion time! Kindle owners can download my thriller novel Underneath for free from Amazon over the next couple of days. Amazon US or Amazon UK

epub and PDF versions are available in a romance-killing ZIP file here

It took me hours to flush the remains of his fibular down the toilet.

Pisces, Taurus, Gemini

The outlook is bright, especially if you live in Finland where the sun never sets.  Actually, them Finns are an odd bunch, always so white, pasty, and yucky looking, yet after a mere three hours in the oven they look just like chicken!  Marvellous, eh?  Anyway, if you fancy a change from the usual holidays to Spain, Greece, and Mogadishu, pop over to one of them Nordic places.  You’re in for a delicious treat, I guarantee it.

Cancer, Leo, Scorpio

The local cinema has lowered its ticket prices for midweek showings, so anyone with a day off should pop along for a bargain.  Personally, I’ve always found the cinema to be quite stressful, especially during the summer.  Everyone always seems to be walking around in flip flops, and the sight of all those vulnerable, juicy little toes can make me feel rather peckish after a while.  By the way, my favourite film is What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?

Capricorn, Aquarius, Libra

Bored?  Then why not plant a tree?  It gets you out in the open air, and if you’re lucky a cute little sparrow might make a nest in it.  Back home, the more nervous members of my tribe stand under trees so that they get covered in bird poo, in an attempt to make themselves seem less appealing when food starts to run out.  It actually worked for a while, until a hipster counter-culture community sprang up and started eating all the ugly ones first.

Virgo, Sagittarius, Aries

Are you the active type?  Now that the weather is edging closer to spring, it’s the ideal time to dust down those trainers and get fit again.  Whether you’re looking for a string of human gut for your tennis racquet, or pumping up that pygmy bladder, this is the perfect opportunity to get a head start on everyone else.

Dear Nurse Ratched

It’s been snowing recently and my husband refuses to get out there and clear the driveway, no matter how many times I ask him.  What should I do?

If you’re the type who likes getting their hands dirty, I’d recommend tying him to a chair and force feeding him some of the yellow snow that you always see outside Battersea Dog’s Home.  Failing that, get yourself on Ebay and bid on one of those landmines that the jihadists are always trying to sell.  Pop it into hubby’s coat pocket, and the next time he has to hold onto the fence to stop himself from slipping over on the ice, he’ll be blown to smithereens!  If that doesn’t work, you should kill yourself.

Dear Nurse Ratched

A boy at my school has bad breath, and he keeps talking to me.  I don’t want him talking to me, ‘cos of his smelly breath.  What should I do?

You need to teach this little scrote a lesson, that’s what.  I suggest buying some mints, and that you shove them in his gob when he is least expecting it.  Use a hammer if needs be, and make sure he reimburses you as there’s no need for you to be out of pocket when seeking justice.  Alternatively, you could stick a photo of him on an envelope, slide a lump of dog shit inside it and then send it to him by post.  Keep doing this until he gets the message, or moves house.  If that doesn’t work, you should kill yourself.

Dear diary

Christmas was quite stressful for me this year, as I wasn’t sure if Santa knew how much of a good boy I’ve been. Back in the summer, I accidentally fell on a snail whilst practicing the Moonwalk in the garden. I was so upset that I crieded three times afterwards, and helped mummy with the shopping all week afterwards. I even had a go at making my own sandwiches at lunch, but I cut my finger and got blood all over the kitchen floor. I only did one cry that time, and mummy even let me have one of my favourite dinosaur plasters to help make it all better.

On Christmas Eve I brushed my teeth twice, and then sung Kumbayah to my teddies before going sleep sleeps. Santa usually puts my stocking at the bottom of the bed, so when I woke up and it wasn’t there I did another cry until mummy came in and showed me that it had fallen on the floor during the night. We then went downstairs to open the big presents, and I was so excited that I put my dressing gown on inside out! As the presents were handed out, mummy let me have one of the chocolate decorations after I promised that I wouldn’t be sick like I was the year before when I tried to eat the mistletoe.

I think Father Christmas might need to get some new helpers, as one of my presents was a strange blue candle that made a buzzing noise as if there was a giant bee trapped inside it. I asked mummy why it was called a Rampant Rabbit, and her face went bright red like happens when she gets cross if I don’t tidy my room and she said that it must have been given to me by mistake.

My other presents were much nicer, and I got Bugs Bunny slippers, some crayons that smell like chewing gum, and a Harry Potter wand that breaks if you bend it too far.

My farts smell better than yours.

Hi, fans.  This week has been a bit of an odd one for me.  When I opened my front door this morning, I was rather shocked to see that the world wasn’t on fire.  I mean, it’s been at least three days since a journalist last asked my opinion on something, so naturally I assumed that something bad was happening.  As it happens, the last time I experienced such a lull of interest was when Princess Diana’s spleen was being smeared halfway across a highway in Paris.

Actually, that reminds me: I’m sick and tired of seeing her sons living the high life at our expense.  I’d love nothing more than to be able arrange for some scum-sucking parasites to chase my own mother down a French road in the middle of the night, if it meant I got to live in a big palace for the rest of my life.  However, that’s not an option available to us ordinary, hard-working folk who don’t have the luxury of relying on our past glories to make a few quid every now and then.

The other day I stepped out into my back garden, and accidentally trod on a snail.  Although he was technically trespassing, I actually felt sorry for the little blighter and I’ve decided to write a song in his memory.  This is what I’ve got so far:

I treaded on a snail

He made a noisy squish

We could have been buddies

He went nicely with my tuna salad dish

It’s still early days, but you can feel the emotional trauma coming off it in waves already.  I’m yet to commit to a name for it, as it’s all about getting the right balance between artistic integrity and the whole ‘Ooooh, me guts were squished on the floor and now I’m dead’ vibe.

I reckon I might settle with calling it Diana.