Tuesday, 21 February 2017

My Mate Works At A Nuclear Reactor

My mate works at a Nuclear Reactor and I don't know what that means so I thought I'd ask some questions to (nu)clear it up...

Thursday, 19 January 2017

The Kyrgios Case of Benjamin Butt'ole (the Office Worker)

8:32am: Benjamin Butt'ole walks into the office with earphones on and bag over shoulder. Sits down at desk, takes his tracksuit pants off, unzips his bag at his feet and goes through his selection of pens for the day.

8:40am: Has a drink from his sports drink container. Spills a bit on his shirt. Yells to Doris in the kitchen to throw him a towel.

8:41am: Benjamin's Manager requests to speak to him in his office.

Monday, 26 September 2016

On The Outside



if you didn't click on the link above for the story don't worry, you haven't missed out, there's still time to read it - simple click here.

Tuesday, 30 August 2016

He whom never existed

For as long as he could remember, he didn't exist.

Never had.

He was Roger Skwishskoft. Or, at least, that's who he assumed he was had he existed.

Wednesday, 15 June 2016

Exclusive! One Direction Interview? (transcript only)

Like being given a run-down on the gender and genitalia of Taiwanese hookers available for your service, it is important to listen to and understand the specifics given of potential interviewees when running a well-known, albeit made-up, current affairs television program.

Otherwise you could be left with what is known in the industry as a potential 'stiff' on live TV - not to be confused with an Adult Movie set, where this is a good thing - like what happened here. The following exclusive interview with English-Irish pop boy band 'One Direction' was not as it seemed.

Here's how:

Transcript of interview with what was hoped to be 'One Direction'

Interviewer: [looking down at clipboard]
Hello, tonight I have a very special interview with English-Irish pop boy band sensation One Direction... 

Friday, 27 May 2016

Climbing mountains

A time ago, a bit before the time I travelled back in time (or after, with relevance to my place in time, or yours, at the time), and a little after the time I tried my hand at being a Superhero, I set myself a goal to scale a mountain.

Not just any mountain, mind you.

Mount Pichachuchutrayn

Friday, 20 May 2016

Workplace Safety in Construction (and SHIT).

"Good afternoon CEO, 2IC, Chairperson, VC, UCE, Uso, Ladies & Gentlemen, Trans genders, dish-lickers and SFA's.

It is my good honour to have the stage at this privileged time of the proceedings, preceding the 'Accountancy Update' and following the lunch break. Prime time, baby!

Why they have such a dry and "taxing"... (* stepping away from the podium to do the world-wide symbol for inverted commas or I'm-a-wanker-look-at-me-this-was-funny-one-time-in-history-and-i'm-doing-it-now-expecting-mass-applause type actions *) ...topic like Accounting after the lunch break one will never know. Zzzzzzzz, am I right?!?

Friday, 25 March 2016

An Easter (cotton)Tale

I approached the door to the house through the path from the front gate that was unhinged. It was quite the unnecessarily long sentence to do so but we got there in the end. The yard was overgrown with weeds, yet barren of grass with the earth littered with holes.

I rapped on his door with a consciously friendly beat. It worked. He opened the door with a wobbly smile and we exchanged pleasantries (ie. pleased to meet you; nice tie; I like the holes in your yard; and so on).

Monday, 14 March 2016

The Morning After

A blinding light pierces through the worn curtains that are my creased eyelids. Through the green fog floating about my brain I take my time to surmise that it must be 'tomorrow' at 'some time' in the 'day'.

The Sun's rays that have cruelly taken the opportunity to enter the room as it noticed the usual defence mechanisms have not been drawn across the windows form needle-like objects as it continually inserts itself into the back of my brain through my eyeballs. Though that sentence may seem long, confusing and painful to read, it is not due to the writer's inept writing skills (though they don't hurt) but a clever metaphor (or whatever it's called) for what it was describing.