Unice Was Not Amused

13-04-2014 Sunday
(written on Monday)

It’s amazing how everybody survived this BBQ. That is … nobody has died so far, but I don’t know how everybody’s feeling at this very moment. Some nearly-guests were lucky because they left before they could be called guests, Unice ended up in hospital, and it’s likely that some of the guests had to go there today, too, to get their stomachs pumped. I’ll be needing therapy soon, because I’ve recently been exposed to so many weird parties that I think I’m losing it. Unice’s goldfish might not have survived his trip down the toilet, though it’s hardly likely the fish was alive before even ending up there in the first place. First rule of goldfish, don’t place them next to a hot barbecue. Other than these things, this barbecue was wicked!
Let’s start with some good news. Mr Bent was there and he had brought a lady friend! She’s called Xemene and she was really pretty and had this lovely dark skin and I really loved her accent. She wasn’t born here, but she came here some 20 odd years ago to study and she just never left, because she liked it here so much. Mr Bent met her at the hospital some time ago when he had had his heart attack. She was one of the nurses there. Mr Bent bumped into her the other day at the grocery store and he’s been ‘accidentally’ bumping into her ever since. Mr Bent got to meet Evelyn and I got to meet Mr Bent’s new lady friend. We were both very pleased with that.
Now for the Barbie-cue. Unice had given everybody a handmade personal invitation to her party, which was really neat. The small prints – that not many of us had seen – read that each person attending had to pay a fiver to cover for the expenses of the food and drinks. We totally understand that food is not free and that you’d like to share the costs, but isn’t there a better way than writing this down on the bottom of the back of the card in such a way that even I would need glasses to be able to read it? Unice opened the door and first thing she said was,’ Did you bring the money?’ Now, I’m socially awkward, but I guess that this is not a great way to make friends either. The lucky ones left after Unice’s welcome at the door. In the end there were about fifteen people present. Which would mean a lot of leftover food. Unice was not amused. 
Before yesterday I had absolutely no knowledge of barbecues whatsoever. Today I know exactly what not to do, which is some sort of improvement, isn’t it? For example, I now know (or know now) that lighting a barbecue using lighter fluid might not be the best of ideas. Unice could have lost her eyebrows and her wig. The only reason she didn’t burn her eyebrows was because she didn’t have any in the first place. Luckily her wig fell off of her head when she jumped back as the lighter fluid caught fire and sent a flame high up in the air. I thought it was a planned action and started clapping. Unice was not amused.
Unice had lots of different kinds of meet, and fish, and she had salads, and – especially for Evelyn – she had arranged animal-friendly meat. When Mum and Dad saw how Unice was handling the BBQ and the meet, first thing she said,’ You’d better have a salad kids, and some of that vegetarian food.’ Turned out the meet was really done on the outside, as in burnt, but nearly raw on the inside (don’t ask me how Unice did this, I think she used to be a magician). Some of the guests ate it nonetheless, because they didn’t want to offend Unice and they had paid good money for it. I guess they’re getting their stomachs pumped today. They will not be amused.
All the guests seemed to be enjoying themselves talking to each other, drinking beer and wine, while Unice was sweating like a dancing mule over the BBQ. She wouldn’t allow for anyone to help her. Every time someone offered to help Mr Bent said,’ Help her? It’s no use, love, she’s beyond repair.’ Which made everybody laugh. Unice was not amused.
At the end of the BBQ Unice wanted to get rid of the charcoal. Mr Bent told her to either wait till the morning or grab some oven mitts, but would Unice listen? (This is a rhetorical question; yesterday I learnt that you are not supposed to answer these). She grabbed both the handles of the barbecue and two minutes later we were on our way to the hospital to get Unice’s hands looked at. Unice left the hospital with bandages around both hands. She’ll probably be able to use them (the hands, not the bandages) in two weeks or so. I think you’ll understand why I was deadbeat when I got home after the hospital. I asked Unice if this was going to be an annual event. Unice was not amused.

See me tomorrow. 

Big Phish

I’m sorry you haven’t heard anything yet about last yesterday and the day before. I was deadbeat after the BBQ so I went straight to bed. As soon as I get back from school, I’ll tell you all about it. In the meantime here are some lyrics I wrote during Unice’s party. I was very inspired by the way the Goldfish looked at the salmon on the BBQ.


Big Phish

Calling calling calling
But your calling is in vain
You’re too big for your bowl
And it’s driving you insane
Water’s getting thicker
There’s no one to hear you cry
Cause little fish are forgotten
When there’s bigger fish to fry

There’s bigger fish to fry tonight

Pouring pouring pouring
How you’d love to see the rain
Wishing you were out there
Having nothing to complain
Staring at your castle
Silly thoughts just pass you by
If you were a salmon
You’d be the bigger fish to fry

There’s bigger fish to fry tonight

Crying crying crying
How you’re dying for some love
Prayers to the Lord
The Big Phish up above
Flushing of the toilet
You didn’t know that fish could fly
The bowl you left is empty
Now you’ve bigger fish to fry

There’s bigger fish to fry tonight


See me this afternoon.


Sometimes I have no idea where my head it. I had set my alarm clock this morning and got ready to go to school, posted the above went downstairs and that’s when Mum looked at me and said,’ Why are dressed for school?’ It’s HOLIDAY!  On the upside, as I was up and ready she took me shopping. A couple of new shirts, some new shoes and the best bit … I’m down one size! I only I would grow in length a little.


Hopping Mad

11-04-2014 Friday

This morning, holiday started for me. Easter holiday, that is. Most of us pupils don’t even know what we’re celebrating at Easter. We don’t even care, just as long as we’re freed from school. This probably means that in a decade or something we’ll not have Easter holiday anymore. Nobody my age then will remember and nobody will be celebrating much of anything (except for the OAPs). It will be a thing of the past and we’ll be 35 years old and go like,’ Say, do you remember that some 20 odd years ago, when we were in secondary school, we’d have two weeks off?’ and there’d be a big silence and somebody’d be like,’ Yeah, you’re right. What was that all about, then?’
What is it all about? Most of us actually believe it has something to do with the Easter Bunny. Are they serious! We get two weeks off of school, because of a hopping mad bunny hopping around gaily with a basket full of eggs!? Where did he get those eggs in the first place!? That’s what I would like to know. Santa’s got his elves; does the Easter Bunny have his own chicken coops, where rainbow coloured chickens eat rainbow coloured seeds to produce rainbow coloured eggs? They just let that big bad Bunny take away their possible offspring and hide it from them?
Come to think of it. Maybe we have misinterpreted the whole thing. Maybe the Easter Bunny is not hiding eggs for us to find. Maybe he’s hiding the eggs so that the chickens will never find them. It’s just a big bad bully Bunny coming back each and every year to steal those eggs. And we go out and find those eggs, but instead of returning them to their rightful owners – the chickens that lay the rainbow coloured eggs – we eat them! I’d like this theory to be investigated. If anything turns out to be true, I would like to have full credit and I’d like this dreadful feast to be abolished right away.
Anyways, today was Dad’s birthday, but he was not celebrating. He was thinking about inviting the family over to Unice’s barbecue tomorrow evening, but Mum talked him out of it. I bought him a book about getting older and dealing with it (the title has slipped my memory and Dad has hidden the book in a good place – he’s got issues) and I bought him a pair of reading glasses (which he has probably hidden in the same place as the book). Dad is still denying the fact that he is getting older and that his eyes are getting worse. He can’t read the small prints anymore, but refuses to admit it. Each time he has to read small prints he asks Mum to read it to him as he’s got something stuck in his eye. How often can a man get something stuck in his eye? And is it always the same thing that gets stuck there? I guess I will find out when I’m his age. See me tomorrow. 

I Wish I Knew A Good Title For This

10-04-2014  Thursday wishing it was Friday

Today was parents’ evening at school; guess who wasn’t invited to come. That’s why it’s called parent’s evening. They tell you that it’s not nice to gossip and talk behind people’s backs and what do they do!? Inderdeedy, they talk about you behind your back. My parents are quite lucky to have a kid like me. I hardly ever get into trouble, my marks are good (though I must admit that I am not a straight A student), and teachers hardly even notice I’m there. That is why normally my parents come home after a parents’ night, pad me on the back and say something like,’ Carry on, son.’ Sometimes my Dad gives me one of his quotes,’ Live long and prosper.’ And he makes this weird sign with his hands.
Things didn’t go like that today. When they came home Mum was holding a piece of paper in her hand. It looked rather familiar and I think I even recognized said piece of paper. There would be no pad on the back this time and no Star Wars quotes, well, maybe a stern,’ I am your father’, but that would be it. That piece of paper was my writing to the headmaster. You know, the letter on chewing gum and chewing gum trees. To my opinion it was a true work of art; I had spent over an hour writing that letter and I am sure that there weren’t many mistakes in there. Many a pupil would have been jealous of this and if it had been a test I would have surely gotten full points on this one. I guess our headmaster thought differently. Haters gonna hate.

Most of the time it’s Mum who does the talking, this time Dad addressed me (unfortunately without ‘sir’). Dad said,’ Son, do you recognize this?’ and I hate these questions. They know perfectly well that it was my work of art and that I would be a complete retard if I didn’t recognize it; it’s got my handwriting, my signature and my name on it! So, what else could I say then,’ Nope, never seen it before in my life.’

Dad,    ‘ Are you sure? Take a good look at it.’

Me,      ‘ Lemme see, well, now that you mention it, this signature here at the bottom  does look a little familiar. I guess, yeah, yep. You know what, Dad, I have definitely seen it before.’

Dad,    ‘ Could you explain this?’

Me,      ‘ Well, you see, Dad, no.’

Dad,    ‘ Son, the headmaster was not very happy about it.’

This is where I started to look a little sad.

Dad,    ‘ We had a long talk and I think in the end it was perfectly clear that we totally support your action and that we would like the school to seriously consider this idea and see what they could do to realize it.’

Okay, so I didn’t really see that one coming.

Dad,    ‘ Keep calm and carry on. You’re making Mum and Dad proud.’

Another one I didn’t see coming, especially from Dad. Naturally I went to my room immediately to start thinking about my next letter, see if I could make them even prouder. By the way, I was also quite proud of my parents the way they stood up for me and all.
Last thing I’m going to say and then I’m off to bed. I’m really looking forward to the barbecue and I do so hope more people are coming. I’ll ask Mr Bent if he’s coming, too. Though I really kind of doubt it. He is not really fond of Unice (biggest understatement ever). Nobody is, but we’re going to have fun in spite of Unice. We’ve got lots of friendly neighbours who have already had it with her but can’t say ‘no’ to a good old-fashioned barbecue. Especially when it’s free. She’d better have some animal friendly meat, too, because I’m bringing Evelyn and she only eats non-animal meat. Dad said we could always have a ‘unicecorn on the cob’, but nobody laughed. This is when I thought of Ron Lewis who once said,’ Notice nobody else is laughing, dad?’

That’s it, see me tomorrow.

Drunk But Not Driving

09-04-2014 Wednesday

Boy oh boy, are we in for a treat this weekend. Not only is it Dad’s birthday this Friday, but there’s another great event waiting. Actually it’s an accident waiting to happen, but let’s call it an event. By the by, Dad’s not celebrating. He says he’s seen enough of the family for now and he does not want the agony again. The agony might well be even greater this time as Mum’s brother is in a divorce and they’re fighting over everything. Grandma is drunk most of the time because she can’t really deal with it when she’s sober. If you’d ask me, she’s not handling it pretty well either when she’s drunk.
The other night Grandma called us up at 2 in the morning. I had some troubles sleeping so I rushed to the phone trying to make as little sound as possible hoping to wake up nobody. I nearly broke my neck coming down the stairs in the dark  and stepping into one of Cheddar’s bones. It’s like stepping on a Lego. Man, how I tried my best not to scream. Dad had to work in the morning and he really needs his sleep. When I got to the phone, Mum had beaten me to it. Turned out she was having some troubles sleeping, too. 

Grandma,        ’ Hello, lovely daughter of mine. How is little poopsywoopsy doing?’

Mum,              ’ Mum, you’re drunk. Why are you calling us at this time?’

Grandma,        ’ Can’t a mother call her daughter anymore?’

Mum,              ’ Not at a time like this, mother.’

Grandma,        ‘ So, I guess you’ll not be coming over for tea, then, are you?’

Mum,              ’ It’s two o’clock in the morning! The world’s asleep. Go to bed!’

Grandma,        ’ Ah, that’s why the sun was turned off. I already thought it was strange. Quite strange, don’t you think? The sun not being there. At first I thought it was just another one of them eclipses of some sort. Then after a couple of hours I started to worry, didn’t you start to worry?’

Mum,              ’ Mother, it’s the middle of the night. Some of us have to get up early in the morning. Good night, mother.’

That’s when Mum hung up and said,’ That’s it! If she does this one more time, we’re changing our number and not telling her.’

So, Dad’s not celebrating his birthday this Friday (mind you, he is expecting a present), but we are in for some other sort of treat. Maybe even better than a birthday. This evening Cheddar started barking out of the blue. Then the doorbell rang and guess who was at the door … Unice! (See, dogs do sense evil.) Much like a Jehova’s witness she put her foot ‘tween the door and the post before Dad was able to close it. She’s quite strong for a woman her age. Dad said she’s that strong because she’s had years of practise pushing her way into great many homes without an invitation.
Unice had made personalised invitations to a barbecue party she’s having this Sunday. She invited everybody down the street and only two have cancelled so far. She said it would be the best party this street has ever known and she went on and on about who was coming and how great it was going to be. Mum and Dad were trying their best to keep a straight face. Dad’s really good at this (or I’m just bad at seeing his signs), but Mum can never keep her lips under control. First they start twitching, then it turns into some sort of electric boogie and in the end they’ll be doing the Charleston. Unice didn’t pay attention to it, she just assumed she was being really funny, I guess. She left with a big smile on her face saying,’ So, I’ll see you Sunday, then.’ And no, it wasn’t even a question. I guess if we’re going to go, I’ve got something to look forward to. See me tomorrow.

A Man Of No Importance

08-04-2014 Tuesday (but it feels like Monday)

Last night I had a dream and you were in it and I was in it, too. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people were in it. All of us had gathered by a well by a castle by a village on a plain just to listen to one man speak. He was no God, he was no messiah, neither was he Jesus nor Mohammed, he was not even of great importance, he could have been anybody. He was anybody. At least from where we were standing.
You and I were at the back. We could hardly see him. We could barely hear him speak. His voice coming from afar, his words just a shadow. Standing on a scaffold, but far away. Though his words were inaudible we knew that what he was saying was of great importance. We could feel it; everybody could. This man of no importance.
In great awe everyone was staring into the distance where he stood. Addressing the masses in his everyday clothes with his everyday voice and his everyday words. His message was simply put, yet all knew that he was talking about complicated matters. Repeating the same massage over and over again in each and every language in more than one way and even if you did not speak the language, you’d still want to listen to him, his voice, his words, his message.
I grabbed you by the hand: tight, tighter, tightest. I pulled you through the masses to see if we could make it to the front. Making our way through. Hundreds of people we passed, but the more we walked the further away the speaker appeared to be. His voice started to fade yet I could have sworn we were closing in. And as we walked on his voice had totally disappeared. The silence was deafening.
Soon people started talking. Their voices grew louder, but they weren’t talking to each other. Maybe they were, but they just weren’t really saying anything and they weren’t listening, either. It would have been impossible for them to hear each other or understand each other, as it appeared they were talking in different languages, about different subjects. One subject more boring than another. We could hear it all, but understand nothing. There was no turning back now; we had no idea where back was.
Tired, exhausted, sad, lonely amongst all those people we sat down in the grass. Thinking where we went wrong. What had we done wrong? All we wanted to do is to get nearer, to hear every word, to grasp the meaning, to see, to feel. Yet the further we travelled the darker it grew. In the cold grass we sat in silence, going over our situation. Time passed, people started to fade away. Their talking stopped. We pondered all the possibilities and though we did not understand what we had done wrong, we came to terms with our being there. We accepted where we were and that we were. We accepted that what was, what had been and what was going to be. We accepted. That, we did.
There we were by a well by a castle by a village on a plain because we wanted to listen to one man speak. Nobody was there, nobody but us. Not a breeze, not a cloud, not a soul, not a sound. Yet, his words ever so clear to us now. ‘This,’ his voice echoed,’ this is what life is all about.’ Last night, I had this dream. And you were in it. And I was in it, too. See me tomorrow.

As Versatile As I Blog

Another day, another nomination. Well, actually two. Then again, it’s just one. It’s a nomination for the same award but by two different people. I am so thrilled. Lydia Devadson (http://lydiadevadason.wordpress.com/) nominated me for the Versatile Blogger award as well as Christine (http://tinfinityandbeyond.wordpress.com/). A big ‘thank you’ to these ladies. Check out their blogs and follow them everywhere. They’ll inspire you, that’s a promise.
For some reason these nominations require more writings. This one asks of me to write seven random things about myself. So, just to make sure it was really random, I threw my life into a top hat and drew seven ‘random’ events out of it. Here they are in no particular order (even the order is random, how amazing is that … I’m thinking of changing the name of the blog into The Amazing Arthur).

Random Event Nr 1: The Cat
A historic event in the life of Arthur was the day that we didn’t get a cat. I came downstairs from my room and Mum and Dad were sitting at the dinner table. They looked at me and Dad said in a very severe voice,’ Arthur, sit down, Mum and I have something to tell you.’ So, I sat down, looked at them (I tried my best to mimic their facial expressions, but in vain) and asked them what it was they wanted to tell me,’ Arthur, Mum and I have decided not to get a cat.’ I didn’t even know they were thinking of getting one, so I said,’ That’s great Dad, I’m really glad we had this talk.’

Random Event Nr 2: John Cleese
It’s always nice to meet famous people, isn’t it? You could ask them for their autograph or maybe to take a picture with you. I think I’ve never heard anybody say something like,’ I met John Cleese the other day and I asked him his views on fighting poverty in Africa by sending food instead of building schools’. It’s always the same questions,’ Can I have your autograph?’ and ‘Could you sign this for me?’ Some time ago John Cleese had the opportunity to meet me in person because I sent him an invitation to my ‘meet and greet’. He didn’t show up.

Random Event Nr 3: The News
When I was five years old I got stuck in a lift while Mum and Dad were still outside. I could hear them screaming as I went up. I had pushed the ‘doors close’ button right after I had rushed in and then I pushed all the floors and I got stuck between third and fourth floor. It took two hours to free me, because the repairman was stuck in traffic. Outside Mum was going crazy. It never made the news.

Random Event Nr 4: Naked and Famous
Parents let small kids run around naked on the beach. I have no idea why it is that they do that. I found out the hard way that at a certain age people expect you to keep your swimming trunks on at all times. I believe I was six or seven years old and I came running out of the water towards Mum and Dad completely naked as my trunks were torn (it was my bad for not listening to Mum when she said I should have worn my new trunks and thrown away the old ones). For some reason people started averting their eyes and screaming things like,’ Put on your pants, weirdo!’ At what age does running around naked stop being cute? Definitely before you’ve turned 6.

Random Event Nr 5: Girls Don’t Like That
One day the family and I were at a very crowded restaurant. Well, you could hardly call it a restaurant (I’m not going to tell you the name, but it’s famous all over the world). I had to go to the toilet and I noticed a long queue in front of the ladies’ room. While I was doing my thing (in the men’s room) a woman walked in, unashamed, went into one of the stalls and started doing a nr 2 (we could all smell it). The next day I tried this at school: I walked into the ladies’ room and did a nr 2 and boy did the girls notice. Mum and Dad had to come to school to explain my ‘odd’ behaviour to the headmaster. Some things in life I just don’t understand.

Random Event Nr 6: The Doctor
Why is it that, when you go to a doctor as a kid, first thing they want you to do is strip yourself from all your clothes? They don’t even ask why you’re there, they just tell you to get behind the curtain and take off your clothes. It could make some people feel cheap. Anyways, when Mum took me to the doctor for no particular reason (just a small fever and some red spots over my body), I came prepared. I had stuffed my undies with two pairs of socks. It scared the shit out of Mum. The doctor nearly wanted to call the hospital. Note to self: the more educated people are, the less they can take a joke.

Random Event Nr 7:
This event does not come out of my top hat and is not very random. It’s also quite recent. Started blogging has really changed my life. Three months of blogging has taught me more about people than 10 years of British Education. There’s a world out there where anything is possible. I think Internet was what the bible meant with the land of milk and honey. Virtual milk and honey, but milk and honey nonetheless. There are some great people out there in the world who nominate you for awards, write about interesting things you don’t read in school books, who guide you, help you, advise you, and what have you. It feels like as if I’ve gained a family. I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my heart and from my dog’s bottom.

Here’s a list of people I nominate for this award, because they are totally wicked! 7 Random events, seven not so random people. Enjoy their blogs, I know I do.

Don Charisma http://DonCharisma.org

Simon Moesgaard http://www.reflectd.co

The Girl Who Speaks To Herself http://thegirlwhospeakstoherself.wordpress.com

The Gluestick Mum http://gluestickmum.wordpress.com

Stephanie http://thequotegal.wordpress.com

Nat Andrea http://anoctopusdrinkstea.wordpress.com/

Ujuh http://pathsonwater.wordpress.com/

And Last but not Least,

Ron Lewis http://ronlewisinsurance.wordpress.com

See me tomorrow


I Know A Guy

06-04-2014 Sunday

I bet it was the last time Mum and Dad took Grandma to the cinema, but more about that later. Friday I wrote a lovely little letter for the people in charge at school and to make it really official I send it by snail mail. Soon chewing gum will be a problem of the past and school will have me to thank for it. Well, partly, I just came up with the good idea, they’ll be the ones who have to execute it. As long as they can name at least one Gum Tree after me, that would be enough credit for me. If this becomes a hot item in England, they could erect a statue of me. I’d be happy to pose for it.
Friday evening Mum and Dad took Grandma and me to the Odeon at Leicester Square. This was more or less to make up for the fact that I was not going to go to the school party. Mind you, I was allowed to go, but I didn’t feel like going. Evenlyn wasn’t going to go either; she had family plans. We’re not really party animals and who wants to be at school in the evening when you’re already there most of the week!? It’s not like a party is going to change anything to the fact that it’s still school.
Leicester Square is great. It’s got an M&M store, and lots of restaurants and hip places, and it’s just crowded. In the middle of the square there’s some sort of small park with a statue in the middle. It’s completely surrounded by fountains. Dad said they had just given this square a face-lift and that he liked the square better before. It’s too new to his taste. He also doesn’t like the new gate, it does not fit in with the rest of the scenery. Grandma claimed that Dad was lying and that the place had always looked like this. This was when Dad started to doubt whether they should have brought Grandma.
We went to see Noah, but unfortunately we never got to see it till the end. Somewhere halfway through the film Grandma started throwing popcorn at the screen. Grandma is not extremely religious and she hasn’t been to church for some time now, but she has read the bible more than once and she did not agree with the way this film displayed such a religious story. She stormed out of the theatre asking for the manager, because she wanted to file an official complaint about this. Mum was very embarrassed about the whole situation. Grandma refused to go back into the theatre to watch such filth (she spat on the floor when she said that).
Dad apologised a million times to the manager and the girl behind the counter. I just sat there and enjoyed the show. It was better than the film, I’ll tell you that. We should do this more often, these family outings are quite bonding. On our way back Grandma was going on and on about the film and the bible, Dad was getting more and more fed up with her and Mum was trying her best to tell Grandma to stop. I was enjoying the last of the popcorn on the backseat. A family outing with Grandma beats any film, I can tell you that.
I hardly ever go the cinema and even though we had to leave halfway through the film, I still think it was one of the best nights at the cinema ever. It beat the rest of my boring weekend. I spent all my time on a stupid project on the environment and how global warming effects our planet. We had to come up with a thesis and support for it. I watched An Inconvenient Truth, but somehow I doubted the truth-factor of this film. Somebody is making money with this film and that always makes me kind of suspicious.
After two days of child labour the project is finally finished which gave me some time to write down this. Tomorrow another week of school starts. I’ll probably be bored to tears with stories from teachers and what Friday’s school party was like and what I missed and I’m not going to tell them what Grandma did, that’s just between you and me and my family. See me tomorrow.

We’Re Not Breaking Out

I’ve been nominated for another award. This time I was nominated for another award, this time by Lydia –  http://lydiadevadason.wordpress.com/. It’s called the versatile blogger award and I have no idea yet what I am supposed to, but I’ll look into it a.s.a.p. and get round to writing what needs to be written. All these nominations involve heavy writing; I guess that’s what being a blogger is all about: Writing. Thank you very much dear Lydia, I’ll see to it that it’s done before the end of the week.

I wanted to write all sorts of things about my day, but I found it quite difficult to get my attempts of getting some decent sounds out of my guitar not worthy of a blog yet. I did however write some lyrics that I had people will read.  As I am fairly new to the music business – as in only this year – I’ve found it very hard to come up with some good topics to write about. I have to use a lot of imagination as I don’t go outside a  lot and I don’t lead an exciting life full of great happenings worth mentioning in songs. So, I have to really think very hard and most often think of hypothetical situations like below: what would happen if … 


We’re Not Breaking Out

We’re not breaking out, sir
This hole is for air
Yes, the spoons are for digging
We could use a new pair
Could you give us a hand, sir
We’re not breaking out
We could use some fresh air
So there’s no need to shout

There’s no need to shout, sir
There’s no need to shout
You’ve made yourself clear, sir
There’s not need to shout

We’re not breaking out, sir
Though we’ve come a long way
There’s light at the end
And we don’t want to stay
In this cesspool you have, sir
There are killers about
There are rapists and sinners
But there’s no need to shout

There’s no need to shout, sir
There’s no need to shout
You’ve made yourself clear, sir
There’s no need to shout

The sun is shining in our eyes
We haven’t said our goodbyes
And I don’t think we’ll see you again
No, we’ll never see you again

We’re not breaking out, sir
People are trying to break in
If you’d just turn a blind eye
Have some wine, have some gin
You can have all you like, sir
As we’re on our way out
There’s a thick wall between us
So it’s useless to shout

There’s no need to shout, sir
There’s no need to shout
You’ve made yourself clear, sir
There’s no need to shout

That’s it. It’s 1 a.m. in the morning (I have classmates who seriously say it like this). See me tomorrow.

Take A Letter Maria

03-04-2014 Thursday

Dear People In Charge of this here School,

I would like to inform you of some terrible goings-on at your facility. Maybe you have noticed it yourselves already, but, as I was not sure about this, I decided to write you. I am not talking about all the break-ups that have been going on of late. Break-ups are just back in fashion again and – as there are no longer any Valentine’s Day Couples left – the rage has probably passed. This is a more of a serious problem I am talking about and it’s one of a more or less permanent nature.
Chewing gum, dear sirs, that’s what I am talking about. Gum: the detestable rubbery substance that is ruining your furniture, pupil’s hair/clothes and everybody’s health. The sticky stuff is all over the place and not only me peers’ mouths. It is hidden under tables and chairs, it is stuck in little holes, half of the schoolyard is covered in it and it does not look like you are doing anything to get rid of it. If you are, you’re not doing a good job.
It was only yesterday that I, Arthur Didymus (but you can call me ‘sir’) wanted to pull up a chair and instead of feeling the smooth surface of a seat I got hold of somebody else’s freshly pressed chewing gum stuck under it. My fingers were covered in spit, gum and germs, but was I allowed to go and wash my hands? No siree. I had to sit through the lesson and wait till lunch break before I could disinfect my hands. Of course, by then it was already too late. Germs had taken over my body completely. Pray to God that I do not get mono.
As you are probably too busy doing all kinds of important stuff that people in charge do, there is a good chance you will not have had time to deal with ‘minor’ problems like these and problem will not have time soon. Therefore I have come up with a brilliant idea to help you fight this unholy demon. I am giving you this idea for free this time, as I feel we are in this together and together we must make a fist. I assume you are with me on this, as I do not think you are in favour of letting your school go to waste.
First thing we need to do is getting rid of all the chewing gum stuck under chairs tables and what have you. I figure that this is something that you can arrange. Hire some cleaning company and make sure they clean every nook. Then we have to prevent pupils from sticking more gum in places they shouldn’t stick it. Forbidding pupils to chew gum, in my view, will not help. As you may have noticed it has been forbidden to chew gum forever and still the stuff is everywhere. So, what you need is to a Gum Tree. A Gum Tree? Yes, A Gum Tree.
You could turn it into some sort of school project. ‘Plant’ Gum Trees with the pupils. Honour some of the kids by naming trees to the pupils who get to stick the first piece of gum on it. You could even create an entire Chewing Gum Scenery on one of the outer walls of this school of yours. Chewing Gum Clouds, Chewing Gum Sun, Chewing Gum trees and what have you. No more chewing gum in classes, no more chewing gum under chairs, tables or on clothes. Just … picture it. This could well be the first and only chewing-gum-free school in the whole of Britain, maybe even the world. I hope to hear from you soon.

Kind regards,

Sir A. Didymus