Apathy UK

How are you? O, you know, knee deep in something or other. And how is the wife? What wife? I think she’s dead. Glad to hear it. And the kids? Buried. How wonderful. Do come in. I’ll sit down shall I? Actually, no. I’d much prefer it if you didn’t. Right ho - umbrella stand it is then. You’re obesely overweight. You do understand? Of course. My weight is legendary. Stuff of myths. So I hear. You are entirely large. Port? No, I flew in. How about a drink then? Alright. Sherry? Sherry is fine. No. Sherry is my maid. Sherry, the port please. I liked your piece in the Times by the way. Slightly below the belt I’d like to think. I should say. I was pelted with jam when I left the House on Monday. Truly you are a miscreant. An utter bastard but then again…. ….I’m worse. O, entirely. But I never actively attempt to publicise the fact. Of course not. You don’t have to. Yes. You do it very well for me.

He took it for granted That once she was planted Her bush would grow. She wove her hands Across his foreign lands And felt his storm blow. Fnarrrrh. Praise be to the bubbly verbal laxative That I know as champagne And let’s salute the soother of the beast That I watch you dance to So much more together than apart And with them I plan tonight To steal away your heart. (If that’s okay?) Just one more ditty and I shall be away To smoke a cigarette amongst the hay And forgetfully drop the match there And return shortly with far less hair. Met this man in a bar Said he’d arrived from afar And the reason he was blind Was far too much moonshine. He wore a peaked cowboy’s hat And it was on the pooltable that he sat And told the world his name was Jack While his left buttock potted the black. After the second jug of flat beer He sang to all those who could hear Quite truly the saddest ever song Composed about the game of Mahjong. As we all wiped a...

So, minding one's own beeswax, I was affronted in the town by a goat herder from the Eastern steppes of Mongolia. On closer inspection, she was a very attractive goat herder and she was gesturing at some papers she carried in her hand. She smiled. As I waited for the cars to pass between us I supposed she was lost and needed directions on her map. I smiled back and darted across the road. She was mostly wearing red wool. She had a sherper hat pulled down over the top of her noggin with two thick plaits of black hair either side of her dark skinned visage. Gosh, she was awfully yummy and she smiled and I smiled and I already knew she was no lost goat herder but some well intentioned lass who would now attempt to eke out of me my bank details. It was for Greenpeace. Her: Would you like to help to save the planet? Me: Not really. I'm not that concerned for it. I think that Gaia will prevail. Really? Who's Gaia? O, you know, the Earth Spirit as coined by Loveloc...

Listen up you maggot fuckers! I came here to clean house and by motherfucking Jimminy that is what I will do! In case you were wondering, ladies, my accent is from the deep south of Texas. You got that, you ass sniffers, I am a Texan and accordingly, as is my god given fuck you all right, I am a one tough old mean sonuvabitch! Can I get a hell yeah?! Oh, most certainly my dear chap. Hello there and how the devil are you? No, you pig nipple fuck bucket! I said, can I get a Hell Yeah!? Oh, I do apologise most profusely. I think it is you deep and thick southern drawl, which incidentally reminds me of the noise a heifer makes when overly constipated, that threw me rather alarmingly off track. So sorry, old bean. What did you say, you puddle of rat spunk?! Are you making to irritate me some, boy? I would not recommend that as a very motherfucking wise plan of action. You got that! My gosh! Why certainly, my little red-neck periwinkle blossom. I am reading you quite clearly. ...

Simple statements of no more than eight words. Clear concise and elegant descriptions that engage you. Statements that tell you much but don't last... fuck it ...long. Okay then, we shall have to use nine words. Eight just did not give us enough room at.... oh fuck it ...all. So, ten words it is going to have to be. Ten is a nice stable number that accommodates us perfectly.

I have the distinct feeling that things are not as they appear. O rather, that things are not as they appear to us. Things are just things after all, and would exist quite happily whether or not we were there to perceive them. I have never bought into the whole ,"If a tree falls in a forest with noone to hear it, does it make a noise?" speculation. The answer to that is utterly obvious. Of course it makes a noise. Matter has contacted matter at a impetuous rate and the accordant energy that is released is partially dispersed as sound waves. The very fact that some of us ask that question with a straight face and an honestly quizzical furrowing of the brow is clearly an example of how we, us and our perception can often do we, us and ourselves a dis-service. If you ever catch yourself thinking "That cannot happen because it just is not possible" then I suggest you check yourself immediately. Just because it appears impossible to us because our limited knowledge de...