Archive for December, 2013


Time of day was irrelevant. The allure, clearly too much. He couldn’t keep his hands off. Grubby, unwashed, nicotine stained fingers. The thought of them knocked me sick. And I was sure he didn’t wash his hands after the urinary act, or worse.
He was practically an addict, in more ways than one.

A magpie, diving for the shiny foil.
You could sense the impending lunge. A quick look around him, followed by an abrupt, purposeful throat clearing. Almost like his throat was collapsing under the constant strain of drags and tar.
Once he started, there was no stopping him. Grab after grab, more than is humanly possible. It was obscene. All you could do was sit, watch and listen.
I tried to blindside it at first and as weeks went by, I started to leave the room. On occasion, I actually ran out of the office, once I had casually walked by his desk.
The others thought I was overreacting. I wasn’t.
I wasn’t sure how they were dealing with it.
Offices can be a terrible place.

At first it started out as twice each day and that was too much. It soon became three and also obvious that I was avoiding the issue.
The others started to notice. Initially, they smiled and shook their heads as I left the room. Over time, they began to realise I had a point.
Some would join me I the kitchen to let the episode pass. Those that could stand to witness it, over and over, either laughed at me or had no idea what was going on.

I hated him.
Just for that, at first.
After a while, irrationally, I hated him for everything. Everything he did. Everything he was. Everything I imagined he did.
I pictured him alone, at home, sat in his underwear, covered in the filth of his obsession.
His pleasure became my disease.
He consumed my world.
How could anyone eat so many packets of crisps?

Words: 329

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beethoven klinger

‘Ludo,! You made a mess in your nappy again. Never mind, Mummy will clean you up. Soon you’ll use the toilet like a big boy. When Wolfy was your age, he already used the toilet. You’ll practice until you can do it like him, then Father will be happy.’

Ludo made a Churchillian expression.

‘daa daa’

His mother grimaced as she inhaled the fetid stench of his yellow mess. Hopefully this child will live, she thought.

‘One day, Ludo, you will create something perfect.’ She promised. ‘You will be the greatest.’

Ludo knew Father would shout. He toddled into his own world and looked at the trees while his mother drank. There were other children but he didn’t join them. They made funny noises. He knew he was not like them.


The old man’s eyes are locked on eternity as he settles his fat naked buttocks onto the porcelain throne and readies himself. Then it comes; not in parts, but whole and perfect as though cast as a single piece. He doesn’t hear the splosh – he is profoundly deaf, but he knows that he has, at last, completed his masterwork. There is no-one to share the moment. He thinks of his mother, his immortal beloved.

His work is so perfect that he discards the paper in his hand as he has discarded all earthly things.

Not even a glory wipe is called for. His output is so perfect that nothing could be added or taken away.

‘Not even you, Wolfgang, could have created this,’ he bellows. ‘I have made something unlike anything before. Centuries from now they will talk of my creation. I have produced the perfect expression of humanity.’

He rises to his feet and lifts his arms wide as though conducting an orchestra.

‘Oh Joy! Oh Joy! This kiss to the entire world! Can you sense the creator?’

“da da da da, da da da da , da da da da daaa dadaa”

Words: 326

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ESCA’s Geoponic Intelligence Low Earth Satellite (GILES) lifted off from the former RAF Bentwaters site aboard the Ransomes X rocket on December 8, 2013 at 3 o’clock, give or take. Separation took place at roughly quarter past, the twin Villiers mower engines splashing down safely in the Deben. Before the hour was up, telemetry from GILES was received by volunteers at the Bawdsey Radar museum.

“We’re over the moon to have finally met the December launch target set by my father,” said Ted Leadbetter, GILES mission controller at ESCA’s Propulsion Labs in Oulton Broad. “Dad’s initial aim, some 40 years ago, had been to rendezvous with Apollo 17. That groundbreaking plan, like so many others, was thwarted by the Local Government Act of 1972 and the enforced unification with West Suffolk.”

Tens of spectators watched as Gemma Sadler, 9-year-old winner of our county-wide colouring competition, repeatedly yanked the Ransomes pull cord to ignite the rocket. Her classmates – and, indeed, all East Suffolk schoolchildren – have been asked to watch the skies over the next few weeks for a hi-tech parachute. Said package will, as per the original ’70s ESCA design, contain an Agfamatic 126 full colour camera. Up to 24 images will be available on our website as soon as the film has been processed. Branches of Boots The Chemist from Beccles to Bungay have been put on alert.

By Thursday, GILES will cruise at an altitude of 258 miles and provide a comprehensive agricultural survey of our glorious non-metropolitan county. ESCA’s crack team of COBOL coders promises that the satellite will fly in from the North Sea and directly over East Suffolk several times a day. Then, as GILES approaches the border with West Suffolk, it has been programmed to rotate all sensory devices by 180 degrees. The team also guarantees that GILES will not come within 25 miles of Norfolk airspace.

Mr Leadbetter added: “Not for the first time in the space race is the East leading the West.”

Words: 330

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