Category: Nonsense

A Peculiar Christmas Present

Here we are again, Christmas fucking Eve.  One of a number of days in the  year which I absolutely detest.  Christmas fills me with two specific feelings.  The first is the desire to vomit.  And the second is the desire to vomit.  As I have previously moaned about it I shall not continue on.  Instead what I wish to do is to share some good news.

Two days ago I received a piece of amazing news in the shape of an email which you can read below.

Good day my good friend,

Let me start by introducing myself. I am Mr Desmond Ibram, an accounts officer with
Bank of Africa here in Burkina Faso West Africa.

I am writing you this letter based on the latest development at my bank which I
will like to bring to your personal edification. ($9million) transfer claim in
to your bank account.

Pleaded, do reply for more detail on how we are going to proceed if you are
interested. And also you can contact me via me email: mr.ibramdesmond@gmail.com
Thanks
Mr Desmond Ibram.
            +22675447235      

I was gobsmacked.  The first thing which surprised me was the fact that I have a good friend in Burkina Faso.  Having never been to Africa in my life, it comes as somewhat a surprise that I seemed to have made such a personable impression on someone.  The second thing which shocked me was the fact that I have a bank account with the Bank Of Africa.  Residing in Poland, it may surprise people to hear that in the seven years  I have lived here I am yet to see a single branch of the Bank Of Africa.  The third surprise is that my good friend Desmond ‘wrote me a letter’ which somehow arrived in the form of an email.  The fourth shock was the fact that someone wanted to transfer $9 million dollars into a bank account which I don’t have.  The fifth and final surprise wasthe fact that it appears that the Bank Of Africa do not have personal emails for their staff.  An accounts officer who contacts people via their gmail account is clearly a banker of solid integrity and quite obviously worthy of my trust.

It’s still hard to believe my luck.  I had absolutely no clue what I should do with such a vast amount of money.  The first idea related to Vegas and hookers, however the very thought sent a panic down my spine.  The idea of visiting a country which doesn’t speak my language made me feel physically ill.  I needed another plan.  What on earth should I do with $9 million dollars?  Surely with that much money I should be able to make a difference.  I could buy food for the starving.  I could donate it all to charity.  I could give it to scientific research.  The more I thought about it the more differences I realised I could make.  However one thing struck me with the force which only Yoda can use.

Rarely in my life have complete and utter strangers showed me such kindness.  Even now thinking about what Desmond Ibram did for me brings a tear to my eye.  There was only one thing I could do.

Good day Desmond old buddy old pal,

Let me start by thanking you for everything you have done for me.  I appreciate the fact that you are willing to transfer money into an account I don’t have with the Bank of Africa.  That in itself shows a great deal of trust on your part, and for that alone I will always be indebted to you.

I am sure you will be delighted to note that my personal edification was absolutely massive when I read your letter which arrived in the form of an email.  I was so edified I could hardly believe it.  Shortly after I read your email, my wife gave birth to our daughter.  We were so overcome with emotion and a burning desire to demonstrate our gratitude towards you that we have named her Desmond.

Forthwith we have decided that such a figure is too much for us to accept personally in good grace.  Instead we have decided to create the Desmond Ibram Fund, and we would like to offer you the post of President of the charity.  On the 1st of January a full-page advert will appear in the following newspapers:the Botswana Guardian, the  Post in Cameroon, Salongo in the Congo, the Ethiopian Herald, the Ghanaian Times, the Standard in Kenya, Mololi in Lesotho, This Day in Nigeria, Wal Fadjri in Senegal, Uhuru in Tanzania and the Zimbabwean in Zimbabwe.  Each advert will announce the formation of your charity with you at the head, containing your telephone number and your email address inviting people from all over Africa to contact you with grant applications.  The concept of the Desmond Ibram fund is to help people improve the lives of others and increase the quality of life all over Africa.  I have faith that an honest man with a decent job will make proper use of the money I am giving you and help make the world a better place.

I hope you have a very Merry Christmas.

Sir Bob Geldof

I can hardly express in words how fantastic it feels to know that I have done something so wondrous which is truly in the spirit of Christmas.  The fact that I, a struggling writer has had the opportunity to give such a monumental gift to people who need it feels fantastic.  It’s like live aid without the shitty song.  Just the feeling good bit for doing very little.  The very best thing is that the karma points alone mean that I am definitely going to heaven.  And believe me, I am gonna shake things up when I get there.

P.S.  If anyone out there feels like contacting my good mate Desmond to congratulate him, or thank him, or even a suggestion as to what he should do with himself please feel free to contact him.  As a trusted friend of his I am certain he would be delighted to hear from you.

Letting The Cat Out Of The Oven

We the English speakers of the world have an unprecedented love for playing with our language.  The reasons why are somewhat unclear, yet we delight in in-jokes and perhaps even enjoy confusing visitors from foreign shores.  The most puzzling fact is that in general, we like to promote our respective nations as liberal places of acceptance and kindness yet linguistically we like to make peculiar comments about cats.

What I am referring to are idioms relating to cats, some are borderline cases of promoting animal abuse, others are just bizarre.  What is an indisputable fact is that idioms differ widely in different languages so in many cases when you use an idiom in conversation with someone from a different nation they may not understand, which leaves you with two choices.  Either you explain the right meaning or…

What’s the matter has the cat got your tongue?  Quite possibly the stupidest of all feline related idioms used when the speaker wishes to highlight the other person’s silence.  Now if the cat had actually got my tongue I would, in all honesty, be rolling around on the floor screaming as the cat hisses and rips tiny morsels of flesh from my tongue with its razor-like claws.

Well, that let the cat out of the bag!  In this case, we are highlighting the fact that someone has publicised a secret.  Now I don’t know if any of my readers have ever put a cat in a bag, however, if any of you have, you will have noted that the cat tends to panic, and makes quite a lot of noise.  So much noise that they are almost impossible to keep secret, especially when you are travelling on the number 12 bus to the river in the early afternoon.

There’s not enough room to swing a cat.  Often we use this in a mock-ironic manner.  As in most cases, there is actually enough room to swing a cat.  I can recall trying to explain to a Bulgarian friend that ‘swinging a cat’ is a traditional British room measurement.  Sometimes I wonder if it perhaps took off in Bulgarian real estate.

There are many ways to skin a cat.  Of course referring to the numerous methods of completing a task, not a fact of science.  It’s clearly disputable.  There are many utensils you can use however there surely aren’t a wide variety of methods.  I remember one student asking me ‘But Scott, why would you want to skin a cat?’  The only correct answer was that British shamans have to look at cats entrails and not chickens entrails to see the future.

I doubt this post will put the cat amongst the pigeons, nor should it as that is blatantly cruel, nor should it encourage people to fight like cat and dog, nor should it encourage curiosity, as we all know it was curiosity that killed the cat and not us putting it in a bag, swinging it or skinning it.

The Humble Cold

If you were a human you would be the little weasel like man at a party who begins every sentence with one time I…

If you were food you would be celery.  You are destined to remain unwanted and untouched on the buffet table of life.

If you were a music album, you would be pan pipe moods.  You are not a proper disease which is why your victims plight garners no sympathy.  Your hideousness is only truly appreciated in confined spaces.

If you were an actor you would be Kevin Bacon.  Your performance can be melodramatic, however you bring an intensity which is uniquely your own.

I ask only one thing of you, old friend.  Please vacate my body.  You are the mosquito of illnesses, a bearable irritant.  Your presence annoys me, for you are terrible company.  Surely there is someone more worthy of your presence than me?

(12/12 – I am sick again.  And have a busy week ahead.  I thought I would take the opportunity to remind you of the prayer I repeat at times like these.)

A Question Of Ethics

Imagine you are eight years old.  Your parents tell you that you have to clean up your bedroom.  It’s not that you don’t want to exactly, it’s just that you don’t have the manpower, the tools or the skills to do the job.  So you ask your friend who lives down the street to come and help you.  After all, he is a little richer, goes to a better school, has a bigger room and greater experience of domestic chores.  Before he arrives, another of his friends arrives.  A boy you don’t really know, nor like much by reputation.  Before you can say a word he is cleaning, and scrubbing and polishing.  Finally your friend from down the street arrives to help.  You take him to one side and tell them that his friend is making you feel quite uncomfortable.  You are worried that his friend isn’t very popular in your neighbourhood.  You tell him that the longer his friend stays with you, even though he might be well intended in trying to clean up, the more chance of your neighbours becoming angry, and your parents becoming angry and that the problem may escalate.  Your friend from down the street manages to persuade the boy to leave.  He goes quietly.  You see him to the door and as you go back to your room you see him in the street.  He is just standing there watching from afar.  When you return to your friend you find your friend from down the street cleaning like crazy.  He is throwing some things away which you want to keep but you know that in return for his help you have to accept that there is going to be collateral damage.  It may have felt like months, but actually hours go by and slowly you realise that the end is in sight.  You are now certain that you can finish this on your own.  You turn to your friend, you tell him ‘thank you very much for your help.  I will always appreciate what you have done.’.  He doesn’t move.  You gesture with a nod to try to show him what you mean.  He doesn’t move.  Your friend from down the street Anders Fogh Rasmussen just ignores you as if you don’t exist, and continues with the cleaning.

A New Dawn And A Change Of Venue

I have recently switched my old blog which was literaryfailure.tumblr.com to wordpress.  The decision was taken for several reasons which included pornbots, aesthetics and the sheer coolness of wordpress.  The new dawn won’t bring many changes.  The only noticeable one will be a distinct lack of lemon pictures for the time being.  Other than that it will just be me whining, moaning and using this blog as an excuse to not do what I think I should be doing.  I will leave you with a little Camus.

‘The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.’