Wednesday, 15 February 2012


Whingeing ill-thinker, Sir Terence 'not quite yet!' Pratchett, wants to die. But unfortunately at a time of his choosing, not ours. Still, at least he's lasted long enough to have to take out his desperate 'best-selling living English' wet-pants boast from his blurbs. When he's dead there'll be slightly more than Harry Botter to be beaten by. Croeso i Lanfihangel-y-Creuddun, Sir Terence 'not quite yet! Pratchett! -

STP:- Where am I? -

REJ:- Switzerland! -

STP:- Oooh goody! -

REJ:- Just my little joke!, no, you're in Llanfihangel-y-creuddun -

STP:- Where am I? -

REJ:- Hmmmm...never mind -

STP:- Yes, that's what I want -

REJ:- Won't be long. But perhaps don't take anyone with you. Nawrte, you'd best be coherent for a bit. As close as you can manage -

STP:- If one of your cats was writheing in agony -

REJ:- Why is it writheing in agony? -

STP:- I don't know, maybe it got run over -

REJ:- But I've taught my cats the Green Cross Code -

STP:- Well maybe it was distracted, chasing a mouse -

REJ:- Ooooh! they do do that yes! And the mouse is certainly in for some agony -

STP:- Yes, well cats are more important than mice. Now I'd like to talk a bit about the religious arguments against euthanasia -

REJ:- Why? -

STP:- Well, they're easy to beat -

REJ:- Consider them beaten -

STP:- But they're my best moves -

REJ:- Wel, just pretend we've played them, and you've forgotten -

STP:- Where am I? -

REJ:- I'll do it for you in a minute -

STP:- Not quite yet! -

REJ:- Your sincerity shines through every pore. Quacks pop 'em off daily as it is. You must have never met a drunk doctor -

STP:- There's no such thing! Besides, that would be against the law, and so not happen. Look at my official shitstistics - that's what we should go on. You see, you just have to write things down neatly, and neat things will have happened, and even neater things will happen in the future, as long as you get the wording right -

REJ:- You're very persuasive -

STP:- That's because I'm a risen ape! Now imagine I'm writheing in agony -

REJ:- Mmmmmm.....Hang on a mo, why are you writheing in agony? -

STP:- I'm in one of Mother Teresa's hospitals -

REJ:- Wel, what if you weren't? -

STP:- Just pretend I am. Otherwise it all falls apart -

REJ:- Oooh, like a human -

STP:- Ok, I'm not writheing in agony then. But I'm bored, very bored -

REJ:- Try reading a book. I mean a good one -

STP:- I haven't got eyes -

REJ:- An audio book then -

STP:- I haven't got ears -

REJ:- Wel, try making up physics -

STP:- Look! I just want to die, but you won't let me -

REJ:- Be your guest, it's your body. We're not in France -

STP:- No I mean I want someone else to do it for me -

REJ:- Why? -

STP:- It makes it easier of course. Besides, I might forget -

REJ:- You want to make it easier -

STP:- Where am I? -

REJ:- You want to make it easier -

STP:- Where am I? -

REJ:- You want to make it easier -

STP:- Where am I? Oh, here. Yes, easier. I want to make it easier for me. The easiest thing in the world to do. I want to make it easier. Because I'm dull as fuck and therefore not fit to do it myself or even decide -

REJ:- No one gives a fuck what you do to yourself, not that you have one iota of integrity, since we can still hear you bleating. It's who else you make it easier for -

STP:- Well how rude. What if I were writheing in agony? Did I say I might be? I can't remember -

REJ:- ffs. Someone put him out of my misery -

STP:- Yes! No! I mean not quite yet! Wait until I'm brain-dead -

REJ:- Wel, you asked for it, so that makes it your fault...*pillow!* -

STP:- No!, stop!, I want to see the alps! I want to smell the eidelweiss! I want to -

REJ:- Look, you want to die, sort of, I want you dead, the answer must be somewhere. Perhaps in this very room...

STP:- It is sometimes very hard to kill someone -

REJ:- Don't count on it -

STP:- But if only I could make it easier - perhaps with some sort of automatic weapon, some sort of blunt instrument -

REJ:- You mean, a law? -

STP:- Yes! A law! I want that to be my legacy. The right to an automatic weapon of death. There would be no mis-killings, because I would have humans in charge of it. There would be checks and balances, highly trained pin-point accuracy psychiatry, that sort of thing. Anyone who has received a terminal prognosis -

REJ:- Like a birth certificate -

STP:- Yes! Like a birth certificate - anyone who has received a terminal prognosis would be granted the ultimate freedom, to have something made easier, that they wouldn't have done if it wasn't, as might be guessed by the fact that they haven't. Yes. -

REJ:- Have you ever sent a text you later regretted? -

STP:- This is a bit more serious than texting. More like a letter -

REJ:- Have you ever been talked into a haircut you didn't like? -

STP:- This is a bit more serious than a haircut. More like a tattoo -

REJ:- Have you ever bought anything you didn't want, without knowing why? -

STP:- Look you're just being silly now -

REJ:- Do you think there might be silly people? Somewhere -

STP:- I doubt it. Besides this would be more like a will -

REJ:- Have you ever wanted to influence a will? -

STP:- Certainly not! -

REJ:- How about unconsciously? -

STP:- Uncertainly not! -

REJ:- If we stop thinking about you for a moment - which would be nice - do you think there might be people of negotiable morality? Somewhere? Anywhere at all? -

STP:- Not when it comes to death. Besides there would be a questionnaire to be filled in afterwards, via a medium -

REJ:- Ok, you win. I've lost the will to go on. Will you kill me please? I'm begging in agony -

STP:- No! I'll just watch! haha! I'm not doing time for anyone! Writhe away! In agony! I only care about me, you see.

1 comment:

  1. Ooh it's one of those moral ones. Can't we have a multiple choice 'What's next in the sequence?' patterns flipped about the fourth dimension and divided by Pythagorean mirrors? Better at those.

    Now remember to read the question very carefully because it might be a trick one and lead to an embarrassing incident.

    I've had the finest navigators on it. Remember it's two good bearings at least to find current position. How did those Polynesians cross oceans before the invention of the sextant? I told them not to put the ship's compass too near to the engine house. Is it plus or minus deviation...I always forget?

    No man's more an island that when she's all at sea with his own mortality. And the galley girl's buttocks take on the most appetising aroma to a stomach that's long since digested the last of the ship's biscuits. To be or not to be? That is the trick question. It seems this attachment to life must be enforced. We successfully patched up the mast last port but the skippers are wont to wearing out. But to be sure, once they can be indefinitely mended with barnacles and a good dose of rum there'll still be no jumping ship. No, everyone must be fully committed for the duration of the voyage even if it's an infinite one of infinite suffering. We'll have no off-message moaning on my watch.

    When a man is given a gun and obeys orders to blow the brains out of someone because they're in a foreign uniform or they're in the same uniform but have refused to obey orders he deserves a hero's welcome. When a man tells another man, "The vessel with the pestle is the brew which is true, drink up if you've had enough", he should be locked up as a common criminal.

    Life must have meaning, projected.