Monthly Archives: September 2010

The prejudices you may meet when…

So, there I was walking to work,  after being booted from the bus (for trying to pay with an Irish Punt), when I met the “Pakistani Problem” playing cricket.

He said his name was Yousaf Aziz and that, apart from being a fast bowler, he semi owned a Fish & Chipper shop which sold mostly curry and rice.

Of course.

His cousin and his cousin’s father in-law and his brother’s wife’s brother also sort of semi owned the Fish & Chipper.

Actually, his cousin was, like Yousaf, also a fast bowler, but he was hesitant to discuss that issue, for fear, so he said, of being implicated in a possible betting scandal.

Of course.

I asked Yousaf why, in the name of the blessed Queen and all her airs and graces, did the Fish & Chipper sell mostly curry.

His response almost blew me out my John Lobbs, to say the least – Well, we give the people what they want, using the most accessable vehicle to attain our goals.

Of course.

But I can forgive him. After all, he never flew his plane into the World Trade Centre.

And he plays cricket.


I had a dream (Not Martin Luther King Junior’s sort, though)

Last night, I had a dream, and in my dream I was trapped in a maze of never-ending stairs and doors with no door knobs and landings that kept on going up and up and up.

On every landing I would find an emery board like some clue left behind by some part of my subjective subconsciousness and I would be compelled to take the set of stairs that it pointed towards, in the desperate hope of finding some sort of escape.

But each new set of stairs took me further and further from where I started from.

Every now & then, I would hear a laugh, a female laugh, except that it wasn’t and each time the laugh grew louder and louder. But I could never tell from whence it was coming.

At one door, I found a pair of old red nylon bloomers bunched up and shoved into the key hole and as I reached for them, they were sucked back through the hole, as if tugged by some demented pervert. I stooped down to look through the lock. My own eye looked back at me.

Eventually, I reached what seemed to be the top of the stair well – a door at the very end, but again, there was no door knob. I heard banging and shouting from the other side. I wanted to call out, but no words came. The door began to buckle and I could see light through the cracks. I stepped back.

As the door was about to burst, I awoke to an early dawn.

Leaving for work, I discovered that my apartment door was slightly ajar.

And my Eagles cd was missing.

Talk about an inception.