Uncle Joe and the faithful glow

Now today we aren't bothering with the intro - you should be able to write them yourselves by now if you've been concentrating at all. Sioned does something, REJ does something, someone from the village does something, and then something happens. Today Stalin happens. So without delay - it's R - E - J!. And Stalin.

REJ:- Hello Stalin! -

JS:- Watcher!... 'choo! -

REJ:- Dostoevesky! -

JS:- Spassiba. It must be the kittens - *hanky!* - I was in the wardrobe by the way -

REJ:- Yes, yes! - we're skipping all that....er....what were you doing in the wardrobe? -

JS:- It's personal if you don't mind -

REJ:- No!...don't mind at all!....um....what do you mean 'personal'?! -

JS:- You know...personal -

REJ:- Have to help me -

JS:- *mime!* -

REJ:- Three words - yes! - first word...sounds like...

JS:- *mime!* -

REJ:- search!...dig!....delve!....sounds like delve!....second word...sounds like...

JS:- *mime!* -

REJ:- bangry!....dangry!....sounds like dangry!.....third word....sounds like...

JS:- *cluck! cluck! peck!* -

REJ:- Delve dangry chickens!....no?....hens!...Delve dangry hens!...

JS:- *excited!* -

REJ:- Twelve angry men! You were watching 'Twelve angry men'! You always liked trials! -

JS:- You got it! - and that didn't look forced at all, Richard. Very subtly done as always. And not a whiff of plagiarism -

REJ:- Just another word for flattery old bean! -

JS:- I understand perfectly! -

REJ:- I think you have to say you went over the allotted time...

JS:- But I seem to have gone over the allotted time, Richard -

REJ:- Well stop beating yourself so hard Stalin, there's not many that could pull off 'twelve angry men' in under two minutes. Not in my wardrobe anyway -

JS:- That's not what Glyn-the-milk told -

REJ:- Let's not fall out, Stalin!....Now I understand you attended the Georgian orthodox seminary -

JS:- You do know a wiki lot, Richard. Yes that's correct. And it was at the seminary that I first learned the power of faith, or the 'glow' as I call it -

REJ:- the glow? -

JS:- Yes the glow - you know the glow - you see it in the moon-faced baptists and the lovers in gorky park - the glow! -

REJ:- I'm not quite following you -

JS:- Don't worry I've got us both covered -

REJ:- And they said you didn't care! -

JS:- If one person says you don't care that's a divorce. If a million people say you don't care that's a statistic. hahaha! I haven't lost it! -

REJ:- The stuffing suits you! -

JS:- Diolch. Yes I learnt that facts are not important. I was always slightly eccentric, perhaps unusual even...people said I was a psychopath -

REJ:- How cruel! -

JS:- People are, Richard, people are. But that was not important either. A psychopath is only one in a million - very lonely - and can't do much at all without the glow. How many did I kill by the wiki way? -

REJ:- Oh millions Joe, millions! - you did really well! -

JS:- Wrong, Richard, sadly wrong. It was only a handful really. Same goes for my Austrian friend. He had the glow too, that boy. I had one testicle more though -

REJ:- Well hold onto that -

JS:- I do! - I think I win overall anyway, if you count my boys he killed - the rules are not clear from the youtube discussions -

REJ:- It is a bit hazy -

JS:- It is....but I wanted to say that the trick is to get others to join in. That was my main point. And the trick is the glow! faith! silly ideas! that is what the seminary taught me. It's amazing what people will believe. There are limits of course -

REJ:- Of course! -

JS:- I doubt for instance you could get people to mutilate their own children's genitals say - just by using the glow -

REJ:- Unthinkable! -

JS:- Yes. People are not that silly. But they are silly enough to get to travel thousands of miles to kill people they haven't met before! - even if it's snowing! -

REJ:- Well, perhaps the formaldehyde -

JS:- No, really! - hear me out! I'm not joking! Just some tunes - singsongs - a bit of dressing up...say things confidently - wrong with confidence! - people like confidence, strong leadership - that sort of thing - we all miss our daddies! -

REJ:- I doubt just that would work -

JS:- Doubt away! I did it! you should hear what I they did! It's hilarious! No need for your google-eyes! I shall tell you now, and you can check it later if you are of a suspicious nature. You realise we can't go on together with suspicious minds. Of course you do! I forget who I'm talking to! - but seriously, Richard -

REJ:- Serious is what I do! -

JS:- They won't see it Richard! That's what I'm trying to say! Have fun instead. I met this peasant down the pub - Lysenko or something - and I told him I didn't like Darwin -

REJ:- Who does?! -

JS:- And I said I was going to stop proper biology being taught in schools. Kill the teachers - that sort of thing...anyway - I said give ush... gis ush...a...gish ush a Russian biology instead...you peasant!...like when I told the bomb boffins they couldn't use Einstein's equations! lol! they said they had to so I said I had to shoot them! it still cracks me up! -

REJ:- And did he? -

JS:- God yes! - ooops! I forgot I wasn't meant to be religious! I just took silly ideas on faith and banned critical thinking. Not religious at all! -

REJ:- Not remotely! -

JS:- There is a difference you see - between a theocracy and a faithocracy.....and a glowocracy -

REJ:- er...yes! -

JS:- Oh I'm glad you're clever enough to see it! I did worry I might be mistakenly remembered as an unbeliever! I believed the most ridiculous shit ever! That would be hilarious if -

REJ:- Rest easy Joe! You are remembered for running the glowfaithocracy you did. No worries there. People aren't that stupid -

JS:- But I thought they were! - you must understand...after what I got them to do...you must see how I might think -

REJ:- No, we've grown up a lot since then - you'd just be laughed at these days -

JS:- Really? - you mean it wouldn't work now? - Let me guess!...it was the camera things! I knew it! I knew they'd spoil all the killing! You could never get the folks back home, the nice ones, to agree to all of it if they had to see it themselves! - Oh, I'd have to censor the news if I wanted to do it all again today -

REJ:- I'm afraid the media is all free now Joe, governments are not allowed to censor the news anymore - only in times of war...er...etc...um... -

JS:- Shame! I had such fun when people were kept stupid! The acorn forests in Siberia! lol! The miracle harvests! I'm sorry...I've wet myself!...millions starved!...and all those dead evolutionists!....the fittest!...fittest my arse! I shot the lot!...I mean my boys did - because of the glow. I hardly had to do anything! -

REJ:- Indeed. Well as you appear to be nuts, and not fit to run a bath, and more pertinently, as Sioned is coming up the stairs...I must ask you to glow away. Because you are a ffwrch.

Poem for the muse

The flint is struck, the fuse is lit
They cannot know the why of it
Nor how by Blake's immortal hands
Twas set, no reason understands

The fiery God can shine no light
As deep as love nor e'er so bright
As shadows fall by reason's dial
In darkness we are drunk awhile

Now words drop careless golden sands
Of dreams escaping sieve-like hands
But none til death can ever rest
Save honouring life's noblest quest.

Paradise Lost, Monopoly dice regained

Bore da once eto. I think it was Goethe who said:-

'Whatever you can do,
or dream you can - begin it!
Boldness has magic but -
for base-jumping a parachute helps innit.'

I'm sure it scanned better in German. A funny thing happened to me earlier today - when I was hunting under the bed for the monopoly dice. I had just rolled what might have been a 5 and a 2, or a 6 and a 3, and I was either going to land on Park Lane or Mayfair. Sioned - the little dog - had a hotel on Mayfair, but only 4 houses on Park Lane. The difference in rental income was significant enough to merit a full sub-gwely hand-groping and she wasn't about to fall for my 'Super Tax' compromise offer. Sharp with the arian that one. Anyway - and you won't believe this! - no, not Dick Van Dyke, Laurie, that would be absurd - he's far too busy. Ever since he bought that production company the roles have been flooding in. No Vans anywhere near my bed I can tell you. And no, not concrete econopoet Milton Keynes either. It was in fact saucer-eyed opium eater and Porlockophobe Samuel Taylor Coleridge! Under my bed. Yes.




*****drivel in progress*****

Alas I am interrupted by the man from Porlock and must return another day...I shall do Stalin next instead...

Poem for the day

Morcambe and Wise and Laurel and Hardy
Only two were geniuses
Slept in a bed together forever
And nobody thought of their peniuses

Adolf Eichmann, Dame Julie of Andrews, and The Promised Land

Now as Sioned lay easy under the apple bough, stoned first - in contrast to the muslim way - I saw my window to notputthosebloodyshelvesupagain and rather wikipants the silly made-up country that of Israel. I-wouldn't-start-from-here-Israel has enjoyed a short but exciting history, and is blessed by God to be situated atop vast natural resources of American wealth. But how did this happy tale begin in the beginning? Well the first three letters are ABC doh-ray-me and A is for Adolf. Adolf Eichmann! Croeso i LLanfihangel-y-Creuddun! -

AE:- Fuhrer in Himmel! Ze line you are vanting ist 'Lets start at the very beginning, a zehr gut place to start'. Sipsidumnkopf! -

REJ:- We'll see about that my duck-stepping friend! For in my pants-drawer...here!...I have nun-other than Dame Julie of Andrews! - for some reason I haven't thought of yet, curiously transhrunken to the form and size of a fliederhausmaus -

DJA:- Da-Da! - *flap! flap! flap!* -

REJ:- Oooh! that entrance worked better than even I had dared hope! -

AE:- Vot ist this?! Ein flippen-flappen batten mit die tiny hausmaus-bappen?! Herr Richard! - Ich haben ein zehr gut sense of humours...aber this ist ein new one on me. You play ze little joke mit me ya? - Der Fuhrer vas always ze playing of ze little jokes -

REJ:- No joke, SS-Obersturmbannführer! Dame Julie of Andrews has been hiding in my pants-drawer for just this kind of musical lyrical adjudicational eventuality. And to keep the moths down -

AE:- Aha! - So there vas a reason!!!. Sie will find wir getten on much better mit ze cooperation. Ve have ways of making you -

DJA:- Eichmann! Put that potato-peeler down at once! -

AE:- Pardon Nanny Poppins? -

DJA:- Sorry - Put zat potato-peeler down schnell! -

AE:- Ach! - just ein tinybischen lampenshaden -

DJA:- Nein!.

AE:- *sulk!* -

DJA:- Gut SS-Obersturmbannführer! *pat!* - Now perhaps this spoon full of sugar will help...you were right! - *sings!* - 'Let's start at the very beginnnnninnnng! - a zehr gut place to staaaaaart!' -

AE:- Victory is mine!!! - take that TommyJones-Welshlander! *sings!* - 'Kein Velt Vars aber drei Velt cups! - doo dah...doo dah! - Kein Velt Vars aber drei Velt cups...'-

REJ:- 1954. We qualified. Nawrte Adolf! Du hast won dim ond the battle, nicht yr ryfel. And so I ask, gyda a gladsome mind, just beth sy wedi happened yn 1937?

AE:- Ach ya! 1937! Ich had a dream. That ein day ze Judenmensch vould reach ze Promised Land! Ze Judenmensch problem -

REJ:- Vot Vas ze Judenmensch problem? -

AE:- Ein joke, yes nein? -

REJ:- Kein Judenmensch here so du will hast to say me -

AE:- Die Judenmensch passen die exams at school und make me look ein thicky. Und die Judenmensch macht gut at ze mechanics und make me look ein thicky again. Und ven I had zat next job arbeiting at ze mining company Ich failed number drei! - aber not because Ich war ein thicky - Nein! - Es was die Judenmensch! -

REJ:- Bastards! - and they do have big noses -

AE:- Ya! Ya! - Ve did ze French gut too ya? -

REJ:- For a while...nawrte! - Ble did you get the promised land idea from? -

AE:- Es ist in der magic book! 'Moses Kampf'. Aber Ich jazzed it up ein bit. Plan A was Ich putten all ze Judenmensch in Palestine. So Ich flew out there und said how it vas ein zehr gut idea. Aber the British said it vas silly. Nein! they said. Es ist ein silly idea. Und du bist being ein thicky again -

REJ:- Und what was plan B? -

AE:- Plan B was to send them all to the promised land also -

REJ:- Well there's lovely! They must have been so grateful -

AE:- Du would think so. Aber they hanged me. Spielberg owes me a million too. Ich always gettens kein credit for mein szuper ideas -

REJ:- If only your dream had come true! The Judenmensch living happily all together in sunny Palestine! -

AE:- Ya, ya...Ich had even written down how zay could take ze lebensraum und killen ze neighbours at 10:1 - like when ve occupied ze countries on ze Fuhrer's Velt tour -

REJ:- Oh but you could never have got them to do that! -

AE:- Nein. This time I really vas being ein thicky. Zay have no sense of irony.

Poem for the day

Like Alph, the scared river ran away flows surely to the sea, so kittens cannot peel carrots with their mazy motions. Some things were meant to be. Yet some things weren't - other things for the most part. That is the question. Now! we have had a complaint! From a certain Frewtkayke from the land of piped yet unbepanted males. It reads - with my assistance - 'Dear Richard Emmanuel Jones. Your last poem was for me a bit short. Contemplating nothingness is for me a wasted journey. I am an accounting lecturer of and contemplating nothiness is not what I do. Please could you write a longer one - perhaps with words as well as gap...' ...something about ponies...that sort of thing...Well indeed yes! it was more erring on the side of concision. And so here is that gap expanded to fruition...

Rest! and closed unconscious eyed unstream
The fork-ed river down the pebbled dream
The weft and weave, the gravel-knitted bream
Of shimmering rock eternal hides the gleam.

Stay! and breathe imagine ponder o'er the hills
The winter fights the air the summer kills
The sky-split light, the furrow-frowned in stills
Of flickering film eternal play the wills.

Wake! and stare down nature yonder open eyed
The glare of hope, the thoughts asunder spied
The life eternal crossed the moat belied
Of castles sky-built all who never died.

And what! of golden-soaring sparkle strike the fuse
My northern light, my ever shining muse.

Poem for the day

Dog show at Nantmel:- The hairless Hitch and the walnut witch

International death-camp empressario and prune-faced-walnut-witch, 'Our Mam' Teresa-nun of Abercalcutta, claims to have proof-facial that dinosaurs had scrotums. Hairless alcopopinjay ad-lib-rehearsing name-dropper and bridge-ox cancer-bookworm, Christopher Hitchjones counter-claims (just to be awkward) that his friend Richard Dawkins says the striking similarity is merely an example of convergent evolution. What better way to settle the question that has confounded my finest minds since the dawn of eating those mushrooms, than to let the two conflicting ideas compete, in canine form, at the Nantmel dog show 2010 annual festive and gala picnic outing-day. event.

REJ:- Now, Hitchjones, you are going to be a Saint Brandy-Bernard, and Teresa-nun, you are going to be a Shar-Pei from 'ble mae bobl melyn yn byw' - as the song goes. From when songs were allowed to be racist. Although they're still yellow even if you don't say it... -

HH:- Richard!...,ladies,...gentlemen,...comrades....brothers, sisters...-

REJ:- What is it Hitchjones? I can't say f-f-f...I can't make it clearer than that! Diawl yffern! -

HH:- Richard, am I to understand that you intend to actually transfiguremorphify us into dogs, rather than have us metaphorically represented by canineular quadruwolfs? -

REJ:- Shut up and eat this dog-wafer. You too Teresa-nun, and chins-up please, Meinir Philips will be judging -

TN:- Loneliness is the most terrible poverty -

REJ:- Yes, yes - we've all hugged Diana...*strokes necks*....Swallow! - good boy!...good girl!...that's it!...dyna ni!...Nawrte boysss! - although you're now dogs, minus-millionaire almost-has-been inventuallist dream-weaver Phil the Rimmer has stolen from the office stationery cupboard these two Rosettatechno-dog-collars, what will translate that which what you are woofing. Otherwise it might be silly. Nawrte...gadewch i ni see if it works...

*hoof!*

HH:- I am an American Jew. woof.

*hoof*

TN:- My mission was to increase suffering. woof.

REJ:- hmmm....02748673921....Rimmer!...RIMMER!...are you sure...yes - the LEDs are pretty....yes - fresh batteries from Sioned....no - I haven't got 4 million...you spent the last 4 million on....yes - you remember now don't you?...yes...that's it...- and did the clockwork goat-ticklers...yes...the market...yes...more LEDs....yes that does sound a bit harsh....probably jealousy....I know....well he's probably a bit nervous after that loan you got from Northern Rock....yes....not your fault....not all your fault...look! Rimmer! I've got to go as Hitchjones dog is pestering the beagles for a fag....yes...you too....they kick in after about 3 weeks I'm told....no...no, not a good idea....no, you keep taking them....he's not a ghostnazi...no, he's a very nice doctor...poisoning your water?....no, that isn't nice but....*Clunk!* I'll buy another one -

HH:- Exquisite!...like Albanian raisins! - yet...peppery...the high notes play an olfactory contralto to the -

REJ:- Good, good, I see you're getting to know each other...Hitchjones dog! don't do that Joyce Grenfell -

HH:- Bet you wish you could - woof.

REJ:- No thankyou diolch...perhaps my own, but not yours. Nawrte! Mae'r sioe yn beginning! -

*chhhhhhhhhh!....testing...testing...un dau un dau....is it on? - Bore da! a chroeso i'r Nantmel dog show 2010 annual festive and gala picnic outing-day! event! Rydyn ni'n very pleased to have with us Mayor Donefuckall....blablablabla.....the first event is! - the egg and spoon race! Please take your positions - *

TN:- Shitbags! wtf?! egg and spoon race?!! ffs! that's all my training fucked! - woof.

HH:- I am Jefferson's biographer...in a small way...I think it was Mr Clemens who said of boasting - woof.

REJ:- You'll miss the start! You'll miss the start! Get these doggles on Hitchjones dog...and Teresa-nun dog - don't do that Joyce Grenfell. Not that I was looking...

*Chhhhhhhhh! first prize for the egg and spoon race is this lovely tea-towel donated by...-*

TN:- Fuck! I'd look sexy in that!...I sense a 'miracle' coming on...woof.

*Chhhhhhhh!...Tri...dau...un....mynd!*

HH:- That should be 'ewch' surely...plural imperative....*trip!*...ooof!...bitch!...woof.

*And the winner is...Teresa-nun dog! Da iawn Teresa-nun dog!....Hitchjones dog - you are the loser!*

HH:- Yet I burned a beautiful light...woof.

*Next event is called 'stun the mule'. As the name suggests - competidogs must attempt to drink enough to stun a mule and there will be a special bonus prize for forgetting Trotsky. The prize - donated by Messrs Dubya shrub and Rictus grinblair is this delightful dead democratic Iraqi freed person-corpse....*

HH:- Strap me down and waterboard me! - woof.

TN:- You war-mongrel! You apologist for the invasion! - woof.

HH:- I'm not sure I could put it better myself...*pause*.....*glint-in-eye*....but you certainly couldn't. - woof.

*And the winner is...etc*

*Y gem nesaf is called 'hide the anaesthetic'. Competicurs must walk up and down the line of wailing pitiful agonised tortured dying peoples - donated by a Mr A. pathy - without cracking and giving them pain-relief. Because suffering brings them closer to God. And ban relatives visiting...and...oh that's enough to earn the prize - which is this 'I am super' badge...from the Pope...*

TN:- Oooh! I'd gladly kill thousands in as agonising a way as possible to win an 'I am super' badge from the Pope! - woof.

*and the winner...*

- Hang on...what's the score...ok....1 more to Hitch and then we're set up for a sudden-death decider...to see if dinosaurs had scrotums -

*The jeu prochain est called 'Quote someone cleverer than yourself'...*


REJ:- Well, Well boys bach! didn't they do well? etc. So it's the sudden-death decider! Paws on buzzers please! - Oh! Good God Iesu Mawr no!...stop that!...you two stop that now!....somebody get a bucket of water!....Oh I can barely watch!....bad doggies!... etc etc. Fin.

Poem for the day

Russian spam-bots ate my cheese! Mrs. Price-Hughes-the-butcher's has an eye for the sausage and a song in her heart. Unfortunately her heart-bone's connected to her mouth-bone in a way only a mammal-dicer could undertand. It sends the Zulus scarpering I can tell you. 'Paid a chanu until you see the whites of their eyes!' the villagers say to no effect. But it makes them feel better and that is what it's all about isn't it? Don't you? Indeed.

Today's poemical cat-dropped twitching blue-tit is a gem from the crown of one Dilwyn ap Gwilym. Dilwyn likes dandelions. Let me see if I can do his voice:-

'Could I' -

..I'll just tighten up my post-it pants...one of my more promising inventions I thought - every time I...well never mind -

Could I in silver-dotage soft sprite dream
Along the air aloft! alive! and broomless
Sweep upon the breeze or from a child's sweet
Wonder lips delight away! and up! To gaze
as hawk or kite the blanket patchwork green
and shine mist-tingled glisten bowed by droplets
Homing from the waves alight! upon my bed afar
Now coffee-ploughed and fresh love rained
So blessed with sleep tomorrow rise again?

No, Dilwyn my bach, I don't expect you could.

Dr. Venternstein and the gay tomatoes

Last night I dreamt I went to Mandelson again. Eyes of Caligula, mouth of Monroe, hairbrush of Heseltine, brain of Bush, sincerity of Blair....we have all dreamed of creating the perfect politician. But could our dreams ever become reality in reality? And could those dreams that had become reality in reality ever become nightmares? Or just go wrong a bit? Could politics ever stray from the path of righteousness to take a more sinister turn? Could people with beards, perhaps called names like Cook, or Kelly, ever find themselves unexpectedly dead for only innocent accidental reasons? - due to some sort of genetically engineered pogonophobic super-virus unrelated to adventures in Iraq? I don't think so, because I'm not a fruitcake in a labcoat...but my next guest is! - Dr. Craig Venternstein! -

CV:- Hello!

REJ:- Hello.

CV:- Hello?

REJ:- Hello. - Formalities over! - Now, Dr. Venternstein, you enfamously didn't finish sequencing the human genome months before that Collins fellow didn't finish it either. Did you bother in the end or did you say 'stick' rather than 'twist' at 90%? -

CV:- We agreed on 'stick' Richard, - do you know how boring it is? just millions and millions of the same thing jumbled up here and there - half of it nonsense...I doubt there's anything important in that 10% -

REJ:- Not worth looking really -

CV:- No, probably not.

REJ:- You got most of it done -

CV:- Yes, most of one person.

REJ:- Well, 'job done' then! -

CV:- Near enough. It is 2 billion base pairs long, Richard....or is it 3? - I can never remember - Igor does all the counting stuff -

REJ:- Really? Wow! - that's almost half as long as a locust's! -

CV:- Well locusts are very tricky...it's not a silly system at all. Yes, the human genome is so long that it would take a person 2 centuries just to read it. Or is it 3? -

REJ:- And you say you've read 90% of it? -

CV:- Correct.

REJ:- Yes....er....hmmmm....er....hmmmm....- This chair is rather uncomfortable! - for my back!...you see...yes! - I'd better pop myself down on the sofa over there...by the mirror. It's a lovely mirror isn't it? -

CV:- Yes, delightful -

REJ:- Would you like a closer look - the detail in the frame...

CV:- I'm sure it's fascinating -

REJ:- It really is worth getting up and taking a peek at...for the frame....and the way it is hung...er..from a very interesting nail -

CV:- I'll take your word for it, Richard -

REJ:- Well if you like I could bring it over -

CV:- There's really no need -

REJ:- No! - no need at all!...it's just...the -

CV:- The frame yes. Perhaps on the way out. Now, we weren't here to talk about mirrors were we Richard?! - we were here, and indeed still even may be, to reflect upon the wonders of genetical engineerings and my bank account -

REJ:- Indeed we were isn't it don't you yes lovely tidy. And Glyn-the-milk has some very strong views on this matter I can tell you. Since I know him. And he told me. I'll be seeing him later as it happens....once I've checked the sentencing tariffs - he says milk from a cloned cow got into the SPAR on West Street last week, and somethingmustbedone! -

CV:- That is terrible news Richard! We don't want exactly the same milk on our supermarket shelves! I'm afraid, once more, this proves science can be used for evil as well as good, and there is always grave danger inherent in meddling with powers beyond stupid people's comprehension. Although technically the milk would only be similar...not exactly the same. -

REJ:- Well similar is bad enough surely? -

CV:- It does sound irresponsible, yes. -

REJ:- Nawrte, there's someone else I know who has strong opinions too...she's small, she's round, she'll do it for a pound...yes! it's Sioned! Sioned said - when we were still talking that is - that you should stop being a twpsyn and do something useful for once. She said - and I'm trying to keep a straight face! - she said why can't he make something that eats Carbon Dioxide and poos Methane thus simultaneously giving us limitless energy and solving global warming and bla-di-bla...crops that feed the world...biological immortality....bla...bla...something else - I missed the rest of it as Shane Williams scored one of his wonder-tries and I had to do my celebration dance. Would you like to see it? - it goes like this:-

*dance!*

'Ole!, Ole! - Our Shane's gone all the way! - now sing the song, the rumour's wrong, great players can't be gay!'

*collapse!*

CV:- Gervais must be so proud. Yes Richard, I've come across people like your Sioned before -

REJ:- Not going to say it.

CV:- In the geneticist fraternity, this is known as 'double-X' thinking. Pure fantasy. The danger is such femi-flights-of-fancy are picked up by the media and blown out of all proportion. I just wish they would concentrate on the serious side for once. Like my work on luminous penises. -

REJ:- Luminous penises? -

CV:- Yes, transgenic todgers. By taking the appropriate genetic material from the jellyfish glowius globulous and inserting them into human embryos with a turkey baster - or whatever Igor does with the dungeon-ladies - I have been able to create the solution to lightbulbless nocturnal urination. Great for hitchhiking too. -

REJ:- Well duw! duw!, that never made it into the 'Rhayader and District Advertiser'. As you say, it's always amputee limb regrowth or cures for cancer and Alzheimers and never the serious stuff like ear-mice.

CV:- All those medical breakthroughs you keep hearing about are just scaremongering to sell newspapers, Richard. Don't be taken in! - Now about the gay tomatoes -

REJ:- Yes! the gay tomatoes....please explain! -

CV:- I was inspired by the late great mathematician, Alan Turingtest. Alan was very good at sums when he was alive - not so much now, - so good in fact that he could even do sums in German. -

REJ:- Goodness Iesu-mawr me! that is clever -

CV:- Indeed it was. But Alan Turingtest had a dark and sinister secret too...that only he and some very special friends knew...he was...a GAYER! -

REJ:- *Gasp!* -

CV:- I know. However, the disgusting pervert was extremely fortunate to be living in a time of hugely tolerant liberal attitudes and was spared the noose he deserved - providing he agreed to win the war and be turned into a woman. Like he was really.

REJ:- It's values like that we were fighting for! -

CV:- God bless the Queen! Back then though, transfeminisation technology was in it's infancy. The methods by which his liberation was attempted went sadly wrong, and he topped himself when only part-hooterised...

REJ:- Siomedig iawn! - She would have been so happy...

CV:- Undoubtedly. And so began my epic quest to seek a more genetical cure for the gaiety affliction. But first I had to understand. I had to understand just what would make tomatoes gay. As you couldn't be bothered to finish that OU Genetics SK589 course you started, and don't feel like looking up how it's done, I decided to do it Mendelian fashion - sort of more 'O' level like where you're at. -

REJ:- I'm straight back in 1987! - Arthur Williams Biology saying 'Canaliculi' and the girls at the back saying 'yesucanuli' - happy days! -

CV:- Whatever. - Yes, Mendelian fashion. I started selecting for tomatoes that were slightly nicer-looking, and kept their plant-pots tidier...grew sturdier listening to the Pet shop boys - that sort of thing -

REJ:- And did it work? -

CV:- Not quite! I only succeeded in making stereotypical gay tomatoes. And half-gay tomatoes. And I have my suspicions about some of the normal-looking ones too. It turns out to be more complicated than I had first thought. It's very hard to catch them at it too - my hypothesis that there would be pan-greenhouse toga-orgies on poppers 24-7 has not turned out to be true. That's only on fridays. They do smell nice though...mmmm!...lovely peachy curvy juicy-ripe...

REJ:- I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Some of my best friends know tomatoes, but there is a limit. I will not have tomatoes forced down my throat! Good day!

Poem for the day

Santa-bearded hocus-pocus close-up homosexuellist magician, James Randy, says on his electro-not-arachno-website that he will give me a million dollarpounds if I demonstrate the para-magic to his scientific satisfaction. Unfortunately, Yiddish spoon-bending would seem to be paramagica non grata, but I haven't let this put me off - think of the scratchcards! - and indeed I have enhatched a plot so cunning, that even Richard Curtis would be impressed. What I have done, you see isn't it, is post a letter-bomb to Uri Geller. Urrrii will then use his magic powerrrrrs to stare at the letter-bomb - as if constipated - and perhaps doing something embarassing with his hands, and then, having paramagically determined it's contents, put it to one side to be opened later by the cleaner. Once the newyddion gets to Randy he'll be straight over with the lolly, although something tells me he won't be staying at Mrs Pugh's Bed a Brecwast. Not in her house. I really hope Uri can do it!....only now I come to think of it, I've got that tenner in the biscuit tin...and there's probably some change down the back of the sofa...and under the car seat...hmmmm - the poem! I almost remembered. Today's poem is called 'ant'.

Ant

Last night I spied a wandering ant
a-pondering on Immanuel Kant
It sat beside a thoughtful flea
And talked epistemology
Or did I squash them with a broom?
- The flea he was a fan of Hume -
A spider abseiled silken-line
Then chipped in with some Wittgenstein
The mantis was a sulky creature
who spoilt the mood with quotes from Nietzsche
But still! - what fun it is to see
Arthropod philosophy.

Countdown to Charlton Heston

...Twenty-five plus six....divide by three...carry the one....times seventy-five...

*dada-dada-da-da-da-dah...doo!*

...take away the four...er...Diawl!

*'click!' - pause*

...add the seven....divide by...Aw dammit! - bloody stupid videogram recorder! Now Vorderman's all jiggling and I can't concentrate...

*'click!' - rewind*

*whir!*

*'click!' - play*

'Two big ones from your top row please Carol!' - hahaha! - if she played her cards right...Oooh! Sioned! you mustn't creep up on me like that! I was just -

SIONED:- Practising your sums...yes I know...and it's not the same without Richard Whiteley...

REJ:- It's not the same! -

SIONED:- And being naked helps cool your head so -

REJ:- So I'm better at the sums! Yes - we've been through all this...hang on a minute...I can't feel anything...aren't you going to sosban me?

SIONED:- Sosban yourself! Rwy'n mynd i gwely.

REJ:- Duw, duw! - are you alright love? - you look like you've sat on a thistle. Would you eisiau a cwpaned o te? -

SIONED:- There's no milk. Nos da!

*slam*

REJ:- Wel, wel, boys bach - that wasn't a proper SLAM at all! - and she's gone to bed at chwech o'r gloch! Mysterious girl indeed - Peter Andre is a prophet no less. I'd best fetch my portable digital radio to drown out the sobbing...*click*...*click*....*click*....Iesu mawr! someone's nicked the batteries eto!- SIONED! - have you been pinching my batteries again? -

SIONED:- DON'T COME IN!!! -

REJ:- Hmmmm...Never mind. Now today's excitement - and you can almost hear the buzz - is wholly if not all down to our very special guest Charlton Heston RIP. Born Ben Cid Moses, Charlton Heston RIP is perhaps best known for his role alongside Martin Lutherking in America's civil rights movement, his support for President Johnson's Gun Control Act of 1968, his opposition to the Vietnam war, being a staunch supporter of the Democrat party and getting Alzheimer's and fucking it all up. - Charlton Heston RIP! - Croeso!, and diolch for making such a difficult journey. It must have been exhuming. Now - first I would like to ask you just exactly why you changed your name -

CH:- Well I died Richard - it was out of my hands really. I rather like the RIP anyway, it adds gravitas I think -

REJ:- It does! - let me just put this bucket by you...there! - *plop* - Oooh! gwych! I'd like to see the pysgodyn that could resist that one! - nawrte...when you went insane in 1998 and became president of the NRA did you have any idea just how successful your tendancy would be? -

CH:- No Richard, in all honesty I didn't. I thought it would just be a bit of a laugh really to begin with - the films had dried up - God hadn't written any new commandments, monkeys looked unlikely to take over planets, chariots went out of fashion - there just weren't the roles for me anymore.

REJ:- And yet people took you seriously! -

*plop*

CH:- They did! - and no-one was more surprised than me, I can tell you. It was a great gig - very few lines to learn - in fact I only needed to say 'constitution' and people did what I said! - it's just a piece of paper Richard! -

REJ:- hahaha! -

CH:- hahaha! - sometimes I think we should have had a more sensible system - you know - a monarch appointed by God or something -

REJ:- er...perhaps think again Charlton, that could be the rot talking -

*plop*...*plop*

CH:- It's cold, Richard....so cold....and dark!....dark and wet....the earth...

REJ:- Are you alright? - you don't look well...

CH:- Fine! perfectly fine, Richard. It's just I haven't been feeling myself lately -

REJ:- Well you've got to keep the pipes clean! - now Sioned was very excited to hear you'd be coming - that is until she went to bed - and she looked up the US justice dept official figures and found that last year Americans killed four of their own children per day. 'Show him that!' she said, doing that thing she does with her eyes -

CH:- What thing? -

REJ:- Sort of like this...*twitch* -

CH:- You mean this?...*twii - plop!* -

REJ:- Don't worry - you've still got the other one! -

CH:- I hope I don't sneeze...Yes! I think it's three or four 9-11s worth since...what was that date? -

REJ:- 9-11!

CH:- That's the one! - it's the Alzheimer's you see...that and the maggots -

*plop*

REJ:- bless you! -

CH:- Thanks! Yes, Sioned's right. But I can't take all the credit for that - it looks impressive on paper, but it's only twice the British rate pro rata. -

REJ:- You don't see that on the newyddion! - Latin -

CH:- No, you don't, Richard. Luckily the news is edited for us. I don't have the internet at my current address, but I did hear down the ether that you limeys pop off 80 kids a year. You must be fit that's all I can say - guns much easier -

REJ:- Guns don't kill people - bullets do! hahaha! -

CH:- hahaha! - but seriously, the main advantage with guns is you can do it quickly - before you change your mind. Sort of like texting - there's many texts people wouldn't send if they thought about it a bit longer...just a few seconds! -

REJ:- Got to strike while the iron's hot as it were! -

CH:- Yes...actually Richard, now I really don't feel well...not well at all....something's not right...

*plop...plop*

REJ:- What is it? - you're very pale...and fluid -

CH:- It was when we were laughing just then...something....it didn't seem funny anymore...I feel....restless....I....don't want to go...want to come back....do things differently....I....help me Richard!....help me!....please you've got to...hel...

*plopopopopopopopooooooopppppooooopppoooppppp!*

REJ:- SIONED! I'm going fishing!

Poem for the day

Champagne at Pontarfynach - (a request and to thank 'ee for cummings)

Allan and Phil and Hazel and me
Went down Pontarfynach (to picnic you see)

And Allan discovered a business plan
That freed and enlightened the common man

Phil invented a genius scheme
That gave the world the chance to dream

And Hazel shone brightly as one who knows
And panned for the gold in the mental flows

I drank champagne and sat on my arse
And came up with nothing but trivial farce

But whatever life brings (from a you or a me)
On that day we were kings crowned by 'Yr Hen allt' tree