The woeful heart of giving us muck by Anon

Unsuitable people by Ali Moony

How to write a book in 20 minutes and lose your money

Sofia Malice

How to eat less the paper way.Eat the Guardian as the gut links to the brain

Warning

This may cause a fantasy usually about cereal.If it is about a serial killer report. to your manager or run away from your head onto the M3 and keep going till it expires

Be subtle.Give more than a duck.

By the BBC team of drakes.

How to seem to be a genius

Find 200 thick people and lecture them on Pascal’s Triangle and the Ark

By Log Table Junior

Escape from Boris .by Carry On like me

Why read books when you could read palms?

By. Pendle Hill

Once we were seven but now we are three

Four of us taken away

I do arithmetic when I’m inclined

The angle still matters today

Now I have dreams I’m alone on a peak

My sister is standing near by

I see all the landscape,it looks green yet bleak.

They are gone but I don’t know why.

When we had a father we seemed to know joy

He took us up Rivington Pike.

He taught me to ride on my brother s old bike

That’s how I see him tonight

He sang and he whistled,he used to draw

Yet he died while we slept in the night

Good bye dear brother goodbye

Good by my mother good bye

Good bye little sister, we all miss you

We can never again kiss you

How you shinen up in sky.

While Mary sat in the kitchen on a large pine chair looking at Hotter’s latest shoe catalogue,Annie was creeping up the garden path in a pair of turquoise suede elegantly heeled shoes matching her teal tencel culottes and blouse.Round her neck was a large lump of amber on a gold chain handy for beating off muggers or lustful men and women
Despite the heat she was in full splendour with golden beige tinted moisturiser from Langone of Lyons on her lovely complexion,pink eyeshadow from Yves St Current and dark brown boot polish as her mascara had run out and she’d not been out for a while to buy more
Annie ran the last few yards and darted like an eel into Mary’s 1970’s orange kitchen.
What on earth are you doing,dear? Mary asked her.Those shoes look unsuitable for leading anyone up the garden path.Mind you,I do like them
Oh,I’ll explain,Annie said huskily.
I told that psychotherapist across the road I was living with you.
What exactly do you mean by living,Mary asked anxiously.
Well,he said yesterday that anyone who lives alone must be lacking in some way.Except for him of course as he had full analysis with Alfred Zion.
You mean Wilfred Bion,Mary told her.
Zion,Bion,what’s the difference?
It shows your lack of education,Mary told her.Not that education nowadays makes much difference when almost anyone can get a 2.2
.After all would you pay £90,000 for a fourth class degree in Aeronautical Engineering?
And Zion is in the Bible
That’s not quite what I would have done, said Annie.A degree in flirtation and pleasing men would be more up my street.And cooking of course although I once did have an interest in Hebrew and Aramaic.
It’s not a way to progress in a neo-liberal economy,although reading the Hebrew Bible is always interesting.Personally I prefer that to the New Vex-a man.The stories,the love songs,the action.Mary’s round eyes gleamed with intellectual life and a bit of languorous lust
How about God? Annie asked her.
He seems to have changed as he related to his people.But he was a friend despite being an abstract concept.Though one could hardly call him a concept as he is inconceivable.
Mary’s voice faltered as she was stunned by her own articulacy and wondered what she might say next that could offend millions around the globe with modern technology beinf so widespread
You should write a book,Annie said kindly.
I think I am ill-equipped to write about God.And ,also ,I am saddened to see how his own people have been treated.I can’t dwell on it over much as I already feel weak and weepy.
Why what have you been doing,asked Annie.
I have been sorting out clothes to give to the hospice shop. I’ve got a big bag
full already and 2 bags of newspapers and rubbish of various kinds which somehow creeps into my bedroom… tissues,cotton wool, old hairbrushes.I am hoping to get it nice and neat before my sister comes to see me in August.And no doubt she will not be happy even then.She’d like me to buy a small new flat with a lovely bathroom and kitchen. But I don’t want to leave my neighbours behind.If I won the lottery I could get the neighbours to move as well.Love thy neighbour etc
And now I realise I have far too many pans despite burning several.But it’s a big decision for a woman who was famed for entertaining friends with scorching Beef Vindaloo and lemon mousse that ;ooled like yellow rubber.Giving that up is a big wrench.
Why can’t you carry on, asked Annie.
Carrying on is precisely why I can’t do it.Now I am a widow the wives of my former colleagues and my own women friends are afraid I will steal their husbands.
Emile miaowed in ecstasy as any talk about the love lives of his family were always intriguing.He was hiding as usual behind the stone flour bin.
Don’t you see,said Annie.If we pretend we are living together then you can mingle with men without suspicion.
This is beginning to sound like a spy story,Mary told her.And do not drag me into a character part in the play based on your romantic love for that psychoanalyst.
He looks ugly and boring to me.
Oh,that’s just a projection,Annie told her.You are defending yourself against acknowledging how much you long to lie in his arms and let him smother you in kisses.
Well,said Mary,I see you have been reading Freud for beginners again.
Or is it Freud for Dummies?
Mary recalled how nice her dummy used to taste when it was dipped into a jar of malt and codliver oil.Maybe that is the answer,she thought.
I’m going to Mothercare,she called as she ran out of the house in her green trainers and denim trouser suit.See you later.
Annie sat in the kitchen wondering how soon she could see the psychoanalyst again without being accused of sexual harassment.Even old age has not deterred her from seeking a replacement for dear old Stan.A few tears ran down her cheek and Emile jumped out and sat on her knee.

Ht

I fell into self pity by mistake

Now I must get out ànd find à lake

Why do we evil knowing good?

Are we àny better than old wood!

Take me to the waterlily pond

There we see that Heaven is beyond

when I was born you were already here

You taught me how to speak my brother dear

Bereaved I have remembered those old joys

When we ran wild all day and were restored

X

I cannot love my neighbour nor his ways

He is so pugnacious I can’t pray

I cannot comtemplate nor look for God

I’ll help my. .neighbour only in a Flood

Yet I cannot. judge another’s soul

. The art of living is inside the gale

I may have wisdom but it is debased

Like a hair line fracture wrecks a face

L

Do not be be devoured by others ñeeds

Be yourself though they call you a weed

Do not be the object of their greed

Do not rush, discover your own speed

Why you should never take a bath ,….,handbags

are enough for most of us

Don’t steal your own bike.Is it even possible ?

Self deception is common as a defence but don’t pretend you are not on a cliff unless you are keen to pay no more tax ever.

Do not eat your neighbours dogs.Export them to China.

Who owns the fence ?

We long for static equilibrium

when we live like daisies in the sun

But we move like wasps in prickly dawn

The Thistles fight but cannot scream nor mourn

• 

• 

• 

• 

Have you lost your balance when alone?

Have you landed on your funny bone?

Equilibrium”s good for many things

In the mind it be makes us want to sing