Touchy feely

I’m not a touchy feely type of person. Of course I have the ability to touch objects, and because I can touch objects I can feel them. I’m not a robot. I just like my personal space. I don’t own space. Too big, and if I did own space there would be nowhere to store it.

Apocalypse how?

From: jeremy@afterlife.net
To: gail@afterlife.net
Subject: Current plans

Hi Gail,
Further to last week’s meeting, thought you guys and gals in human resources would appreciate having a glimpse of the provisional timetable for ‘The End’. Can you have a look over it and let me know any potential problems? Don’t want 6,000 years of planning to be wasted because of some logistical hiccup.

Day 1
10:00 Meteorite strikes Peru.
11:00 Tidal waves and earthquakes destroy 2/3rds of world.
12:00 Release four horsemen to wreak havoc.
13:00 Seven-headed beast emerges from ocean.
13:30 Earth cleared, chairs stacked away.
16:00 Afterlife registration desk opens.
18:00 Introductory talk and welcome.
19:00 Bar opens.
20:00 Disco and karaoke.
23:30 Lights out.

Day 2
07:00 Morning jog.
08:00 Breakfast.
09:30 Group photo.
10:00 Judgement (surnames A-G)
12:00 Buffet lunch.
13:00 Judgement (surnames H-P)
14:45 Tea/Coffee break.
15:00 Judgement (surnames Q-Z)
17:00 Depart to final destination.

Best wishes,
Jeremy (Strategic planner)

……………………………………………………………………

From: gail@afterlife.net
To: jeremy@afterlife.net
Subject: Crowd control

Dear Jeremy,
Sorry about the delayed response, been off with a touch of flu. Thanks for the ‘heads up’ on the plans. I’m assuming the times are GMT. It is all very exciting, I can’t wait. Can you put me, Di, Spiller and Viv down for a karaoke song or two?

As far as I can tell, the big issue is recruiting the stewards for the registration and judgment process. Suggest we put out an advert this month – will beat the graduate recruitment rush! Will devise a recruitment strategy ASAP. Been twiddling my thumbs a bit recently, will be nice to work on something big again. Thinking the seven-headed beast’s ocean entrance could be a big selling point, perhaps an Ursula Andress style poster. How about the tag line: “Final year student? The End is in sight.”? A bit cheesy I know, but students love that kind of thing.

Finding actors to play the roles of the Horsemen shouldn’t be a problem. Don’t think we need to bother with Equity members. Not really my department, but was wondering if we need to make any special welfare provisions for the horses, i.e. vets, water and sugar lumps?

Have you thought about security issues? There could be a few disappointed and angry people that need to be controlled post judgment. For this, I’d recommend throughout proceedings having a high angel presence in full regalia (including those cute little light up hats they wear). Then hold a few legions as backup for dealing with any troublemakers or atheists.
love and kisses,
Gail (Human resources)

……………………………………………………………………

From: jeremy@afterlife.net
To: gail@afterlife.net
Subject: Horses and H-bombs

Hi Gail,
Thanks for that, hope you’re feeling much better. I don’t think the horse issue will be an issue. In the past for big events we’ve used donkeys, and there hasn’t been a problem. Can you liaise with Security about what’s needed for crowd control? Would do it myself but the astronomers are being inept and have lost sight of the meteorite. How it’s possible to lose an object the size of Birmingham is beyond me. Bit of a panic over here. Timing is critical and we can’t afford a tech-rehearsal. Might have to resort to the slightly less dramatic backup plan of using H-bombs strapped to the Red Arrows.

Of course, soon as he heard about this, Satan was knocking on my office door again. According to him, the Red Devil parachute display team would be far superior. Don’t think he realizes how heavy thermo-nuclear bombs are though. The guy is a real pain, not only has he lost my stapler but now he keeps sending me emails with invites to join his fantasy football World Cup league. Got more important things to do and he knows it. Thankfully, not long before he gets crushed though.
Best wishes,
Jeremy

FUN-damental physics (1)

Why does water boil at a lower temperature when up a mountain?
First let’s cover what occurs during boiling. When water (H2O) is heated up, the hot energy supplied breaks the chemically homophobic bonds. The released oxygen puffs up into the atmosphere in the form of steam. The liberated liberal hydrogen is teeny weeny and escapes unnoticed without being spotted or seen. Water being one of the shyest of elements finds performing in public difficult. The eyes of scrutiny inhibit the boiling process, leading to the axiom of fact: “A watched pot never boils.” However, in isolation water sheds her inhibitions (and hydrogen). Tall mountains are isolated as well as isosceles triangles. On the snowed capped peak away from prying eyes, and hence lower pressure, the water can perform the boil dance.

Why do you get drunk quicker at higher altitudes?
You don’t! The light headed feeling associated with alcohol is replicated by the dual combination of lower pressure and being further away from gravity.

Why is the sky blue?
When colour was first invented in 1944 a compromise with physical law was negotiated – namely colour conservation. It’s very democratic as all colours have to be equally represented. When switched on, the sun is an extremely bright orange object. To achieve colour conservation it therefore has to be surrounded by a pale blue object which we called the sky. The sky also has the added benefit of stopping the earth’s atmosphere from escaping or collapsing in on us.

Is there any truth in Chicken Licken’s rumours?
Prof. Licken is a respected scientist who has made a significant contribution to human knowledge. However on this occasion he made an embarrassing error by mistaking high voltage power cables for cracks in the sky. I’d like to reassure the public that the sky is still working at 100% capacity.

What are rainbows made of?
The clue is in the name. Rainbows are made from rain. Rain comes from water. Water comes from rivers. Rivers flow down from mountains. And at the top of the mountain is a big kettle boiling away with drunken students dancing around singing Travis.

Why does it always rain on me?
Yes.

Bird Flu over the cuckoo's nest

Madness strikes the DH1 3-- postcode region as bird flu lands in the UK. Veterinary tests performed by vets have confirmed that a dead heron found on land at Ustinov College was infected by the deadly HBU7QT2 viral strain. The well traveled psychopathogen was first discovered in China as Avian Influenza, this later mutated to Bird Influenza in Thailand before metamorphosing into the significantly smaller Bird Flu in Turkey. From that point it has flapped its way across Europe, and it was only a matter of time before it nested in the UK. Bio-scientists predict a pandemic epidemic amongst humans if the virus becomes abbreviated to Flu. And so for the last few months Britain has been laying eggs each time a dead bird or duck was discovered. According to the RSPB, who have been observing with their beady eyes, these deaths have been due to “electricity cables, air guns, transparent windows, cats, aerial dog fights, fowl play and natural causes.”

However, at a rushed and crushed emergency press conference, DEFRA’s unofficial (and soon to be unemployed) spokesman Roger Urquhart said: “Fears were unfounded until we found the dead heron. It is now right to join with me in a controlled panic.” And panic we did. Within hours, South Road and surrounding Durhill were a busy bee hive of activity. Van Mildert College led the way by accelerating existing plans to have a mass duck cull on the lake. Guns were deemed to be too inefficient and loud, and therefore a giant yellow digger was used to pulverise the lake life. Slaughter of the postgraduate students who first discovered the heron was deemed illegal under law. Instead the door code of Elvet Riverside’s postgrad study centre was changed to 07734, to prevent unwanted undergrad-postgrad mixing.

Britain’s spirit in the face of adversity was in evidence as blame was quickly and arbitrarily established. A mob of disgruntled citizens accompanied by placards soon surrounded the emergency HQ erected on the Science site. In the words of protestor Anna Falactic: “I’m in shock. The RSPB are meant to protect us from the birds, right? Well the other day I spotted a blue tit in my garden, obviously the birds have escaped from the RSPB’s custody. I haven’t trusted the organisation since my car radio got nicked at Snettisham nature reserve.” The full brunt of the crowd’s naïve anger and a breezeblock were unleashed on a passing geology lecturer who bore a striking resemblance to Bill Oddie. The breezeblock soon removed the resemblance and teeth of the professor.

To quell the unrest, a public meeting was given by a watery eyed and hoarse voiced Roger Urquhart: “The doubly airborne virus can be avoided by not catching it. As Alfred Hitchcock still hasn’t returned my call, I’ve asked the RSPB to suggest ways to control and ultimately recapture all birds. An important step in this process is to reduce the birds’ superpower of flight which gives them the upper hand/wing over us mere mortals.” A number of options to keep birds from taking off were presented via PowerPoint including: a network of nets, floating scarecrows and a temporary increase in the local gravity field. From the back of the room a heckle was raised: “You’re not going to fiddle with my little g, thank you very much. If you ask me (and you haven’t) the best solution is self-destructing tigers with an insatiable appetite for birds.” This idea was deemed silly.

The local residents and unlocal students left the meeting safe in the knowledge that the governing authorities have lots of ideas. On the way out, essential supplies and Vitamin C tablets were distributed to prevent mass public infectation. A shortage of bio-gas masks led to the unprecedented decision to prioritise distribution to asthma suffers and the super-morbidly obese, who with their deep breathing have double the risk of airborne infection. Next in line were women as they tend to talk more than men. Next were men, and finally children because of their reduced lung capacity and shorter height. Apart from saliva, the question on everybody’s lips is “How long until this is over?”

Putting U in the future (Part 2)

Futurology is good science because you can make money doing it, and you can be wrong when you’re rich. This reporter (me) has been given the opportunity of watching one of the world’s leading futurology experts and TV’s ‘Changing Runes’ presenter do his thing. For 3 years, Langley Moor based Voltrolox (aka Nigel Fletcher) has been running his CORGI registered clinic Mumbo Jumbo. Celebrities like Paris Hilton, Cheryl from Girls Aloud and the drummer from The Police have not visited him. This ‘fly on the wall’ reporter has been noting down notes about what he has seen, heard and smelt.


09:00 Voltrolox begins the day by preparing star charts for his clients. A good star chart needs at least three different coloured felt tip pens, a ruler and looks complicated. Star alignment is a crucial diagnostic tool for the futurologist as it is very helpful.

09:03 Parallel to the astrological action, V attempts to top up his psychic vitamin levels with a bowl of Cornflakes and a yellow banana. Going to the fridge, V discovers to his horrorfication that Tracy Higson, his receptionist, has neglected to restock the semi-skimmed milk. Tracy used to work at the vet’s next door until a mix up with a castration appointment got her the chop. V and Tracy have a love/hate relationship: they both hate each other and it shows.

09:11 After 22 minutes of ranting about that “flat chested and hairy working class imbecile”, V calms down enough to go across the road to Somerfield for more milk. Forgetting to take his saver card just compounds his annoyance into a spherical ball of negative energy.

09:19 Back at the clinic, the kettle beginning to boil, V’s angry ball has begun to cool down and unboil. Not for long though, as a sweaty and breathless Tracy bursts through the door with a 1pt bottle of milk, muttering to herself something about zebra crossings and the Highway Code. V’s angry ball is back.

09:22 The nasty atmosphere is popped by the first phone call of the day. At the other end of the line is an agitated Chu Forsyth from Brandon. He has lost his car keys, and needs V’s help to locate them in time for an important job interview. Banana in hand, V swings into action like a demented monkey and grabs the phone off Tracy. In the past, futurologists would never give a reading over the phone line as a psychic connection couldn’t be made. Since the introduction of fibre optic cables and i-Ching matrices at the exchange, the psychic chi now flows down the phone line unhindered by the chat.







When locating hidden objects V uses a combination of Psychometry and common sense. After a 3 second chi exposure, with 125% accuracy V pinpoints Chu’s raincoat pocket as the keys location. Chu becomes the first happy customer of the day.

10:30 When V was blackmailed to take on Tracy by the local Jobcentre Plus, part of the arrangement was that she had to undertake a National Vocational Qualification (NVQ) in Future Management. At the end of the month, an external assessor will externally assess Tracy’s underpinning knowledge, understanding and work-based performance to make sure she can demonstrate competence in the workplace. Tracy is worried about this as she is incompetent. And so the next hour of the day is dedicated to Tracy’s training in chi location and psychometry techniques. Objects that have a strong emotional attachment are the easiest to locate and/or find. Thus V removes Tracy’s asthma inhaler from her handbag and hides it somewhere on the high street. It is in Tracy’s interest to search quickly, but not too quickly as running around could have tragic consequences.

11:30 With an empty reception desk, it is V’s job to welcome his first scheduled client, Lorna Laplace. The mildly attractive 19 year old thinks she has found Mr Right, but wants to check out the future before getting too committed. Couples matched using futurology are 42% more likely to stay together after 5 months. If you’re 42 times as likely to stay together, that's got to have good stuff in it. V offers a colour aura match service to check for any partner colour clashes which can result in arguments, impotency and mental spasmatations.

To view aura (mental sweat) there are two choices: an expensive pair of gamma-ray glasses, or thoughtography. In the latter technique, the patient concentrates megatastically hard before having their photo taken by a modified digital camera (V prefers to use the Canon EOS 350D). Lorna emanates a subtle hue of peach melba and smells much better than Tracy does. Her Mr Right (Darren Fudge) couldn’t make the consultation due to a fork lift truck driving exam. Instead, he sent in a lock of his hair that was cut whilst he was watching “Who wants to be a millionaire?” Dissolving the hair in warm water, the solution is placed into an electronic aurometer (Dulux 8900-LX). As the answer “lilac bud” pops up on screen, Lorna’s lips begin to quiver. 12 seconds later she is crying. Sadly Darren is not for her, she text-dumps him immediately.

12:30 As a crestfallen Lorna leaves, she passes a triumphant Tracy taking a few well earned puffs at the reception desk. The inhaler was ironically hidden under a plastic charity guide-dog outside the butchers. The phone rings and is answered by Tracy: “Good morning. Mumbo Jumbo’s – we put U in the future. How can I help you? … Who’s calling please? … No, I can’t tell you. Goodbye!” The clinic averages two prank calls a day, probably from students.

13:00 Lunch time - not much happens in the clinic when no one is there.

14:05 Tracy is (metaphorically) running late again. When V returns from watering his mother’s dead plants, he is annoyed to find his next client, Graeme Tweedale, waiting on the doorstep. Graeme is a nervous little man with no sense of humour or fashion. Paranoia has gripped him ever since he suspected he had it. This week, he wants to know when he will die. Fortunately for futurologists, the government has already answered this. At the age of 15, every child has a tuberculosis (TB) vaccination to prevent Britain turning into a third world country. During the procedure, sub-atomic particles of DNA are secretly removed for radioactive half-life measurement. From this and the child’s IQ, an estimate of life span is calculated. It is no coincidence that shortly after the ‘vaccination’ each child is issued with a National Insurance number. Ignoring the letters used as camouflage, the middle 6 numbers represent the person’s life expectancy in days.

15:00 Graeme leaves the clinic to enjoy his remaining 127.5 days. Over a tea time debrief, Tracy’s punctuality and milk problems are dealt head on by V’s intercity train approach. Lots of words were said, they still hate each other, but Tracy will now be punctual or else. V goes home satisfied. He has helped lots of people, made two women cry without touching them and, most importantly, earned himself £240. Not a bad day’s work.


Disclaimer – Futurology is a tool and interpretations may vary. Your future could be harmful to your health. Mumbo Jumbo Futurology and durham21 accept no responsibility for any loss, injury or bad marriages that may result.

Putting U in the future (Part 1)

Predicting the past is easy, predicting the future isn’t. In the past the future was always predicted by grandparents, college cleaners and anorexic witches. (The latter being the worst kind as their skeletal body gives them negative buoyancy, thus rendering them impossible to detect.) Now a new breed of soothsayers have emerged, and they’re armed with science. Futurology and the futurologists behind it are sweeping the world with their technological brooms.

For many of us it is easy to fall into the Casio trap of believing that time is linear. Therefore we must start our journey by shaking hands with the triangle of time, see Figure 1. The futurologist divorces the yellow zones and embraces the sunny blue zone with its supernatural and superluminal powers. The three points of this cool blue (but extremely hot) triangle are weapons for the futurologist to wield. The geometry leads to the formula of mongrelation:


Science + Superstition = Superfact


1. Consequence
The modern day Merlin hugs Consequence in the knowledge that one thing causes another thing to happen. A lot of history is a direct result of things happening. In the futurologist’s book if it was good enough for the past, it certainly is suitable for the future.

2. Common sense
At breakfast the whiz kid wizard caresses the underused and often abused Common Sense. The vitamin ‘common sense’ used to be available in tablet form, but now mass distribution is handled by the Kellogg’s cereal factory. A 100g serving of Cornflakes with semi-skimmed milk contains 15% of the RDA of common sense, and 35% of vitamin B12 (a known psychic power enhancer), see Figure 2. By using these vitamins he can discern what could and should happen.


3. Patterns
Removing the cereal remnants from his teeth with his tongue, Dr Destiny is ready to snog Pattern and Symmetry in order to predict the future. However, reader, be as wary as a crippled cat crossing a busy road, the act of kissing carries the danger of being bitten (or in Tipsy cat’s case, the danger of becoming a pussy pancake). A practical real-world example is now unzipped.



Worked example – Days
Since Britain joined the European Union in 1914, it has been a uber-fact that ‘Tuesday’ has consistently followed ‘Monday’. With this uber-knowledge of a pattern and extrapolating forward the futurologist can say with an accuracy of 5.6 that there will be a Tuesday in sixty eight days time. Here comes the pre-warned tongue bite though. CHOMP. This type of pattern extrapolating only works for large or massive objects like days. Smaller and/or tinier objects have an inherent uncertainty, perhaps due to a lack of self confidence. Physicists and lesser scientists call this phenomenon “uncertainty”. So taking something tiny like semiquaver notes on a musical score we cannot predict what note comes next. In the opening bar of Rachmaninov’s “Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 18” the note G follows B three times in quick succession. It would seem a recurring cyclic pattern has formed, and so in the sixty eighth bar we would expect a G to follow the B. However the prediction is as wrong as incorrect is; uncertainty has crept in and farted.

This uncertainty can be taken to the extreme in the case of sub-atomic particles like DNA for example. The exact position of a particle gets blurry, and this blur can overlap with other blurred objects. So if you ever get close to me there’s a small probability of my DNA getting inside you. CHOMP. If there is a probability, no matter how low, it will happen. Bigger is better then? In most cases yes, having a large object avoids uncertainty. One notable failure is the weather. With its gigantanormous size one would expect a predictability greater than 15.93. The experimental value of -3.27 is a rainy day for forecasters both with and without umbrellas. The reason: the so called “butterfly effect”. Chaotic, anarchic and downright naughty butterflies take great pleasure in moving and swapping clouds about willy-nilly when the weathermen aren’t looking. Therefore the only predictable feature of the weather forecast is that new BBC weather girls won’t last a month before getting pregnant. And that has nothing to do with my uncertainty!

Now that the bed has been warmed with scientific thought, superstition beckons in a high-pitched and provocative voice: “Is that you?” The answer is as it always has been, and will be for the foreseeable and not so seeable future: “Yes, it’s me.” What’s next then?

Option A - The unknown future. Don’t know yet what will happen, I’m sure something will though, it always does. Things have a tendency to happen, whether we like it or not.

Option B – Read Part 2 which is a practical guide to combining science with superstition. Discover how to find a suitable partner, and learn the answer to the eternal question: “When will I die?” Can you afford to miss out on your destiny?

Who are THEY? (2nd edit)

What will THEY think of next? A phrase I’m sure most of us have used when presented with a blindingly obvious solution to one of life’s problems. In this exclusive interview we talk to Dillon Gregory an inventor and ex-member of the highly secretive Collective. The Collective first came to light with the invention of the drawbridge in 569 AD. Origins, numbers, resources, and location of the Collective have always been a hot and heated topic of debate. What is certain though is the shadowy Collective’s impact on history. Where would the civilised world be without: Velcro, biros, sliced bread, sudoku, colour and nitrogen - to name but seven?

Two months before his retirement, Dillon Gregory was quite literally fired from the Collective’s secret base hidden somewhere unknown to us but not to him. What the world knows about Dillon has been written down, what is not known is about to be revealed. The following interview with Dillon Gregory was conducted on 18th December 2005 at, in and about an undisclosed location.



Thanks for taking the time to talk about your experience working for the Collective. I realise you can’t or are unwilling to discuss any operational details, but I was hoping you could talk about some personal experiences you’ve had. You are a distinguished inventor, what drives you?
For me I invent to ease the world’s suffering. I guess that makes me sound like a prospective beauty queen, but its true. I hate to see people in pain or just wasting their precious lives performing time consuming tasks that could be eradicated with a well placed invention or two.

And you’ve made more than two inventions. What has been your proudest and/or biggest achievement?
Colour. Yes it has to be colour. It was my baby in the RAF’s Advanced Projects group. In those days I ate, drank and slept colour. Obviously it hadn’t been realised then, but it was an idea in the back of my mind. Although my superiors’ grey cells didn’t quite understand the concept they were desperate for any breakthrough weapon against Adolf. They were very supportive, both financially and emotionally - I was very emotional back then, hard to believe now I guess. [awkward pause as Dillon cleans his glasses.] The prototype was tested in Normandy during 1944, it was a fantastic success.

Your remarkable achievement was almost totally ignored though.
Yes, everybody was preoccupied by the threat of or actually being occupied, hardly anyone noticed colour. We first introduced it into bomb shells to enhance the destructive properties. Gerry was the only one to notice, I only wish I could have seen the German’s faces, they must have wet themselves. They fled pretty soon after the first tests. After the war we mass produced colour everywhere - it was a morale boost to combat the drudgery of food rationing.

You’ve just mentioned food rationing, am I right in thinking this was what led to your most famous invention?
After the war everybody was complaining. Complaints and whinges were everywhere, and not just confined to urban areas they were in the country too. There was the whole spectrum from “Where’s my leg gone?” to “I’m hungry, can I have more bread?” In those days we couldn’t regesticulate a new leg like we can now, but what we could do was solve in a positive light the second question.

I’m hungry, can I have more bread?
That’s the one. People wanted more bread for their ration points. So I just suggested that the existing loaves were to be cut in half and sold as two loaves for the price of one. Buy one get one free. This scheme was a fantastic psychological success but the masses were still hungry. So again I asked for the bread halves to be halved making quarters. They gobbled it up, for awhile. Can you see where I’m going with this?

I think so. What you’re saying is you kept cutting the bread into smaller and smaller fractions to combat the hunger problem.
Exactly. However at a certain point it was realised that the fractional bread loaves were just the right thickness for sandwiches – I had by accident invented sliced bread. This was now 1948 and we sold the manufacturing rights to the newly formed UN for a large amount of money and respect.

And Beijing?
Ah, this is a good one. Apparently sliced bread has only been licensed until summer 2008. After that any supplier selling sliced bread will be breaking international trading laws. If the UN choose to enforce it, and I have it on good authority that they will, it could cause an uproar at the Olympic Games – the Chinese really like their thinly sliced bread which they call rice.

So we could be arrested for eating sliced bread?
No, its like alcohol and fireworks, its the sellers responsibility. The ban won’t affect cutting the bread yourself, just the selling of pre-sliced bread, rolls and maybe baguettes.

You’ve talked about achievements, what about any setbacks or embarrassments?
Three incidents come to mind. Firstly, the invention of the opinalating vacuum – a commercial disaster. Secondly, being fired from that great big cannon last year. And thirdly, the nitrogen incident. I still can’t believe I wasted 79% of the sky. I’m known for my shriftyness you know, I’m a very shrifty fellow.

In some of what you’ve said I’ve noticed a touch of xenophobia?
Really? Let’s break down the semantics then: Xenophobia is an irrational fear of strangers. Now I think we can all agree strangers are strange (the clues in the name). And that’s why I don’t like them, because they’re strange. There may also be some patriotic pride in me too. I have fond memories of the time the Collective beat the Yanks with our stapler.
At the end of the 19th century the world of stationary was dominated by two complementary technologies, the peg and drawing pin; both British I should point out. Then along comes Edison with his bendy wire contraption that he called a paper clip. He exhibited it at the 1908 World Fair in London and it caused a bit of a stinker in the inventing world. For 72 years the Collective had egg on its face, but then I came up with the notion of a staple. It only has two bends compared with Edison’s three, and a stapled document remains attached permanently. The yanks had kittens over it. The best retaliation they could come up with was these yellow sticky pads. Ha.

Post it notes?
Yes, or something like that.

OK, times nearly up so one last question. Have you got any advice for budding young inventors?
Never stop.

Good advice. Let’s leave it at that.

Wax

Science rules
A recent study by clever biologists has revealed the connection between two long standing scientific connundrums:

1. Where do candles go when they are burnt?
2. How do bees fly when its aerodynamically impossible?

Peter Scapley from Oxford smugly explains "The link is wax. Candles are made from wax and bees manufacture wax in their tiny hexagonal homes [hives]." The biology boffin recently discovered during a series of experiments that bees have found a way to harvest wax directly from the air. The wax is burnt off from candles and released into the atmosphere. "Even cavemen know insects are attracted to flames," Scapley continues, "it was my genius that realised the insects were in the process of wax collecting."

Flight of the bumble bee
Everybody knows that bees cannot fly in theory. Observational evidence of flight has always been put down to sheer luck or clever hoaxes. Now it seems, or so Scapley theorises, that because hot air rises and hot air comes from candles then a candle harvesting beast can harness this upward convection current. Everybody's a winner!

However Scapley has his opponents. George Funkhaust from Colchester Zoo expressed his strong opinion on East Anglia FM (104.8): "The guy is a loony. Bonkers. Bees make honey not wax. Honey is certainly not going help in any aerodynamic lubrication as its sticky, I should know. Honey is for toast not flight." The Oxford born Scapley countered in a follow up interview that: "George [Funkhaust] is a sad little man who spends his days shovelling elephant poo. Bees are totally different from the dumbos he looks after."

Crocodile attack

I’ve just eaten my wife. That’s not quite true as it was last week, and I didn’t eat her. A crocodile did. So why did I say that I ate her? Well I feel responsible for the crocodile. That’s not strictly true as I’m not responsible for the crocodile, its wild. You can see that in his eyes – very wild eyes.

They call it a safari, a trip of a lifetime. I call it a bloody mess, screams and crunching – very violent. The safari was meant to be a treat for my wife, not a treat for the croc. Bad croc. Down croc.

She was called Heather, my wife that is, not the croc. Never found out what he was called. Reptiles like their anonymity. When I say Heather was my wife, that’s a little white lie again, we had never met and our children are just a figment of my imagination.

Why did the crocodile attack? Solomon the tour guide said the croc was hungry. Why was the croc hungry? Solomon said that he hadn’t eaten. I presumed he meant the croc not himself as only an hour before I saw him eat a Kit Kat. The croc hadn’t eaten so he was hungry and therefore ate my fictitious wife to stop being hungry. Solomon said that this hunger-eating cycle is continual and keeps on going.

We shot the croc, I tried to stop it but the bullet was too fast for me to catch up. Bullets move very fast. When I said ‘we shot’, I really meant ‘I shot’ as Solomon didn’t exist either. It was just me, the croc and the random woman I’d kidnapped at gunpoint. Did I say ‘kidnapped’? I shouldn’t have, as that’s actually the truth. You understand right?

What’s next? The future I guess. Don’t know what will happen, I’m sure something will though, it always does. Things have a tendency to happen, whether you like it or not. Anyone know where the zoo exit is, I’m guessing it will be near the gift shop.

Donkey results

OK its result time for the Hide and Seek competition. Let's start with the rejected hiding places:

Tumble dryer - Unfortunately Donkey was too big to fit inside.











The Oven - Hiding inside a hot oven was deemed too dangerous.











And so now the seven acceptable hiding places:

1. Underneath the table. Donkey makes good use of the available chairs to conceal his legs.











2. On top of the fridge-freezer combo. At a height of 183 cm, he is well above eye level.











3. Expert use of a cupboard door converts the gap between the fridge and cupboard into a happy hiding place.










4. Behind the kitchen door - a classic that makes the hapless Seeker feel retarded.










5. A tight squeeze under the kitchen sink but Donkey is a pro.










6. Apart from position 5. only one other cupboard is large enough to squeeze his fat ass into.











7. Is he in the washing machine? Don't be silly, he's in the black bin bag. I reckon you didn't even notice the bag was there. What camoflage. A potentially dangerous manouver, however adequate air holes have been provided.

Donkey plays Hide and Seek

Below is a photo of Donkey from the Shrek films. He is inflatable, but currently uninflated. My question to you is:

If fully inflated Donkey was playing Hide and Seek in my kitchen, how many possible hiding places could he find? (Clue: the plug socket in the background of the photo is a useful size reference.)

Please post your answer to the question as a comment. The closest answer will win a top prize. Competition ends 7pm Thursday 18th August.