God and coronavirus.

I couldn't sleep last night, too much on my mind, why Sarah will not talk to me anymore,viruses and the like..

I went downstairs in the dark to the kitchen to find some alcohol.

Before I could switch a light on a voice rang out: "Leave us in the dark my son" It said.
"Who are you". I asked, equally in the dark.
"GOD" was the reply.
I said: "Well sit yourself down, have a cup of sake and explain why you are doing this to mankind, after all we are your chosen lot, made in your own image and stuff like that".
"Au conrtaire" said God (did I mention he was a polyglot?)  "I am doing this to protect my chosen lot and the planet from you fools."

As he left the house I turned on the light.

Jasmine in crisis.

The streets are empty save
the occasional passer by
we nod in recognition of
something unspeakable but

The jasmine is flowering

The urban foxes, imploring eyed
are starving now
foodwaste a thing of the past
the streets are clean

The jasmine is flowering.

Knife crime at an all time low
and muggers cower in
their self isolated loathing
mugged themselves by the virus

The jasmine is flowering.

Each day I venture outside
remove my mask
lean in, smell the scent
and think of you

The jasmine is flowering.

Stockholm Syndrome.

As a result of weeks of self imprisonment I have developed full blown Stockholm Syndrome.
I am undergoing treatments including anti-selfamotory drugs and aversion therapy.

There is also an issue of side affects including self-loathing and low self esteem for which I am receiving two hours of compliments a day.

wish me luck.

Virus

Surrounded by mankind
intent on mass suicide
out of a self loathing and
fear of being alone
the virus thrives.

At peace with oneself
solitude is easy

the virus dies then
eaten up by loneliness.

Rumours of secret Govt plans to intentionally infect the unemployed with Coronavirus. Fact check.

From our medical correspondent. Nurse Luz Morales.

Rumours have been circulating of a plan by the Tory government to intentionally infect the unemployed in return for double benefits as they self isolate until free of Covid 19 in order that there is a stockpile of people ready to fill the job vacancies created by the virus.

A Whitehall mole informs me that he couldn't possibly comment on this but rather cryptically pointed out that  Coronavirus is certain to become the country's biggest job creator since Hitler annexed the Sudetenland.

When I pointed out that there was a distinct certainty that some of these people would die, he informed me:

"That is a downside to the plan but each deceased participant in the scheme will receive a photocopied letter from Boris Churchill informing them that it was their finest hour".



Editors note: This may be satire, please check with your local MP.

Sociopathic dermatology, borders and American literature.

A guest blog by Rusty McGlint.

I aint one for writing much on account of Lula Mae getting pregnant at 15 and me having to quit school to find a job in order to buy the diapers and such like and build us a tar paper shack out back of the trailer park.

I gotta write about this though:

Lula Mae has always been troubled, some would say trouble, and it had been getting worse. Holden down at the Liquor Parlour reckoned that she had a borderline personality disorder whatever that is but I told him she was cranky on account of her skin problems that she has had since she was a child.

Old Doc Steinbeck had been treating her skin problems for years to no good affect. He prescribed ointments and creams, unctions and emolients (both of the viscous and non-viscous variety) to no avail. He was flummoxed.

He referred her to an emotional dermatologist over in Boise so I gassed up the truck and took her for a ride.

Doctor Alcotts office was in a highrise so I dropped Lula Mae off there and headed down to the gun store.

When I got back to the doc's office Lula Mae was waiting and we were ushered in by his assistant Miss Faulkner.

Lula Mae seemed to have taken a shine to the doc on account of them having similar names and I hoped for the best....

However.

The minute we sat down the doc looked at Lula Mae and told her that after all her tests she was convinced that the skin complaints were the physical manifestation of her inner evil and as long as she was a man hating sociopath she would continue to have her skin problems.

Lula Mae laughed, then leaned over, picked up a silver paper knife from the doc's desk and stabbed her in the eye.

Now Doc Alcott didn't think too long about losing an eye as the paper knife went on to split her eye socket and pierce her brain. She was dead before her head hit the desk.

The long and short is that Lula Mae was arrested for murder as she agreed that she had done it. She is in custody now awaiting trial.

I went home and tried out my new gun then went down to the Liquor Parlour to tell Holden that Lula Mae's personality disorder was no longer borderline.

Holden said I hope for your sake Trump gets that border wall up before they let her out.

I guess I drank too much rye that night on account of Holden never demonstrating a sense of humor before.

Failed By The State: The Struggle in the Shadow of Grenfell.

Email leaks reveals the real reason why these Grenfell refurbishment contractors are trying to seek immunity.

Life in Oxford Gardens.

It's good here. after two and a half years of b&b it is good here. Everything is close by and I am back where I want to be...Home. 

more later...

Living with a sociopath.

Rusty called from lizard Bend Idaho.

He said: ' Hey Tristan, how you doing? I've just discovered that Lula Mae is a sociopath, what do I do.

I said leave her to it Rusty.

And he said: 'But she is turning the kids against me".

I said, Rusty, in the long run she is turning the kids against herself, let her get on with it, you'll see your kids later when they see their mother for what she is.

'And then what/' Said Rusty.

And then she will pretend to have Alzheimers in order to avoid responsibility and try to garner some sympathy.

Rusty said thanks Tristan.

I said you are welcome Rusty.

Smells like Jeys fluid.

A guest blog by Jan Nieupjur.

Editors note: Jan is as mad as a box of frogs but we tolerate him in deference to his age and mental health issues ( a bit like the queen).



The smell of jeys fluid
brings to mind the pigman
resplendant in leather jerkin
(quintessential yeoman garb, favoured by crusaders I'm told)
teaching a ten year old me
to castrate piglets
as they lay in the haulm
in the shed beside the pond,
the pond
made mucky by Muscovy ducks, ugly birds
as, amid the squeals of porcine indignation,
the testicles, once freed by the snick of a scalpel
were condemned to
a bucket of said Jeys fluid
and then fed to the pigs no doubt
who didn't give a shit about
the ingredients of the gravy.



Were that now of course
the plump young testicles
would be placed gently in tubs of
garlic infused oil, in the farm shop,
then sold, erroniously described
as lambs bollocks
to the many middle eastern assylum seekers
who now till our land
until the Tories send them packing
to their deaths at the
hands of donald trump
on his present day crusade for the normalisation of insanity.

A crusader short of a jerkin
and less inteligent than a pigs testicle
a pigs testicle in a bucket of Jeys fluid.
.

RBKC. Confusing post Grenfell fire advice.

This is confusing advice from RBKC TMO (I thought that had been disbanded after Grenfell) in the event of a fire.

 

According to the signs on the walls within the block I live in I am advised to leave at once (above)

Below is a document I was handed in November of last year as part of an 'Accomodation pack'.  It tells me to stay put within my flat.  I assume that as this is the more recent instruction it is the one that RBKC wish me to abide by.

It seems that nothing has been learned from the Grenfell Tragedy.

Living is killing me.

A guest blog by Jan Nieupjur.

I think this might be ironic:

I was in the pub this evening along with the usual bar flies when I was approached by a stranger. A stranger with a beligerent glint in his eye.

He said: 'What do you do for a living'?

And I said that I guess you could say I die for a living and he said what do you mean and I said: 'I assume by 'living' you mean income and the only income I get is in the form of sickness benefits and I get the sickness benefits because I am dying and if I weren't dying I wouldn't get benefits so yes I'm earning a living from dying.

Oh. He said.

The prospects are not good I said. No chance of promotion and no woman is going to take a chance with a man without prospects certain to die on the job.

He said; 'You could write Country & Western songs about it, earn big bucks, buy some fancy clothes and a Porsche, get a girl no problem and your job wouldn't be killing you anymore. You never know, you might only be dying in order to earn a living.

You know I stopped and thought about that for a moment or two.

You mean living is killing me I said.

He said: ; There we go, your first song title'.