That’s It! Over! Cancelled! It’s all OFF!

Owing to the ridiculous ridiculousness of my internet connection ‘speed’ this evening, I hereby declare Valentine’s OVER.

It has taken me three hours and twenty minutes to comment and reply, and I still haven’t finished yet. It’s white pages galore around these parts this evening – my ‘speed’ wasn’t this slow when I was on the old dial-up system, you’d at least expect the superfast broadband to actually live up to it’s name every day, as opposed to when it feels like. Sigh.

I mean to say… I even tried using one of those sites that tests the broadband speed, and it took at least twenty minutes to get onto the site. Then (it uses a display like a car speedometer) the pointer hardly moved. I didn’t really need a graphic to tell me that my connection speed is slow. Don’t know why I bothered with that site in the first place. Mutter. Grumble. Gripe.

Maybe the internet provider thinks I’m out on some hot date or something this evening, and didn’t need my broadband speed to be as quick as it usually is. Obviously, they didn’t read my post the other day where I was staying in and watching a DVD. Or maybe, they thought I actually was staying in and watching a DVD and thought I didn’t need my broadband speed this evening. Sigh. Again.

Whatever the reason, I have done what I usually do. I’ve ran out of time. I need to add a post of some sort, and with it being Hallo – Valentine’s Day – I have put the two together. (No time and no post, that is!)

My Inner Grump has come to the front. Declared Valentine’s over for this year. He’s now ran out into the grinds at the back of Aqua Mansion and is doing some rather strange jig by the fountain that is out there. That’s enough to frighten away all of the other monsters that usually congregate at this time of night. My Inner Grump has taken my Inner Zombie with him as well, and together, they are doing what looks like the Hokey Cokey together. I never actually knew that two people could do that together, but they are managing it. There’s left arms going in and out, and in my Inner Zombie’s case they are being shaken all about… all over the place in fact. At least they’re happy.

Which, really is what Valentine’s should be about. Happiness.

And fast internet connections.

Happy Halloween. I mean Valentine’s!

I always get the two mixed up. Well, there’s so much red around it is quite easy to see the similarities, isn’t it?
One of these special occasions fills me with sheer horror, and the other feels so comfortable, natural and relaxed I think it should be a more than a once a year thing. However, I’ve always been a big fan of Halloween, and even with all of the monsters associated with it, I don’t find it half as scary as Valentine’s Day.

My Inner Romantic is turning over in his grave.

It was unfortunate that he was shot through his heart by a misguided arrow fired by Cupid himself. Cupid wasn’t actually aiming for my Inner Romantic, in all fairness to him, but his aim was certainly off that day. The arrow ricocheted off the steel reinforced armour  a would-be suitor of mine was wearing, and pierced the heart of the most loved-up part of my Inner Being. Illusions shattered, my Inner Romantic turned his back on affairs of the heart and started grumbling profusely. Over time, moaning and groaning became his number one passion. And, now he is a natural at it.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. My Inner Romantic knew that things were changing a couple of days before the arrow changed his life forever. He knew that the world around had changed. Gone were the days of skipping through the daisies across a field in a flowery white dress. Gone were the birds suddenly appearing when a certain someone was around. And gone were the butterflies in the stomach, clammy hands and nervous laughter. He just wasn’t himself anymore. Everything he loved to live for had gone. Well, they were still there, but different. They were more real. More harsh. His perfect dream had become a living nightmare.

I don’t think that my Inner Romantic expected how quickly the change came over him. One moment, he was his less than happy self, and in the next he wasn’t. He was different. Changed and charged. Grumpy. Cold and moaning. He’d focussed on the wrong thing at the wrong time, and that was that. Cupid’s arrow put an end to one way of thinking, and instantly created another, more sinister model.

The day my Inner Romantic was shot through the heart was the day that my Inner Zombie was born.

Cold hearted with a strange sense of humour, he stirs deep within me every now and then. He remembers the butterfly feeling, but this time he can show me them. He can remove a hand to point out just how un-clammy it is nowadays. And if there is a love bird around, it shouldn’t stay around for long, in case it suddenly finds itself being eaten.

Every now and again, however, he seems to feel the pangs for his previous life. He’ll look at a red rose, or sing a particularly heartfelt love song, or watch couples running off into the golden sunset, and his gruff exterior will soften. He will then need to lie down to re-set for a few weeks, and then he’ll be back as rancid as before.

He’s not unhappy, my Inner Romantic. You can’t actually tell whether he is anything apart from extremely grumpy, but I think he misses his old ways. I think he misses his old days, the ones where he lived full of love, seeing the world through rose coloured glasses. The days before his heart was broken by Cupid’s arrow…

The Pointless Zombie Post

My Inner Zombie is stirring. Groaning. Muttering and mumbling. It’s pointing long, ravaged, pointy fingers at me as though it has something important it wants to say. Or me to say. It’s hard to tell with Inner Zombies what they actually DO want. It’s also hard to tell if they are male or female, so the generic ‘it’ must be used. In a kind way. You don’t want to annoy an Inner Zombie. Although how you would know that you’ve annoyed an Inner Zombie is a challenge in itself. Perhaps it’s due to all of the groaning, muttering and mumbling they tend to do… but they do that when they are happy as well, so it’s hard. We’ll leave it at that.

Only, we can’t. My Inner Zombie has something very important to point out… it’s still pointing, you see. Oh, now it isn’t. I think its finger has fallen off.

That’s a bit of a flaw with Zombies. Bits of them fling here, there and everywhere when you least expect it. It’s now doing something else…

With its other hand, it has unscrewed a lightbulb from a socket, and has stuck its finger into the place where the bulb was. It has reached over to the light switch (for something so ‘delicate’ – for want of a better word – they have a very good reach!) and has switched it on. After allowing the electricity to curse through its body for a few seconds, it has switched it off again.

Smoke escaping from countless holes all over the Zombie’s body, it still looks at me. It acts out the electricity cursing through its body again, not a pleasant sight, and points to the light fitting and the switch.

“What are you…?” I ask within my mind (I’m talking to my Inner Zombie here, don’t forget!) and it dawns on me… WATT. It’s trying to ask a question.

“Watt what?” I ask.

It has attached its pointing finger again, and is pointing.

“Watt point”… I gather. “What point. What point of what?”

There goes the finger again, however, it is still holding it’s hand as though it is still pointing. It is now gesturing to where the finger was.

“No point?” I say at first. “Pointless!” I see the Zombie smile.

“What’s pointless?” I ask. Talk about pulling teeth – and no, Zombie, that isn’t an invitation. I ask again, “What’s pointless?”

The Zombie taps on my computer screen.

I don’t believe it. My Inner Zombie only wanted to tell me that this is a pointless post. And that was pretty much covered in the title of the post anyway.

I never have this kind of trouble with my Inner Superhero…

Wicked Weekend!

  What wonders will be within view
O’er this weekend for a selected few?
   With magic and mayhem on the cards

Maybe tricks and treats afterwards?
      Pumpkin faces sneeringly bright
   Guiding forces through the night

Ghostly noises, sights unseen,
It’s the weekend before Halloween…
    Ghouls appear and sirens sing

      Witches chatter and spells they bring
         Werewolves howl and Vampyrs bite
   Nightmares charge with all their might

   Cauldrons stir and wizards watch
Skeletons click and play hopscotch
Spiders weave their biggest webs

                           For Halloween…
The night of the living and the dead…

Have a fabulous Halloween Weekend!

Ministers without a purpose

house of commonsI am not at all politically minded.

I don’t like politics of any kind, not the governmental kind, the office kind, or the little one-on-one kind. To me, it’s all manipulation, co-operation, beg, steal or borrow, or you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.

I constantly have an itchy back, and manage to scratch my own very well indeed, thank you very much. I have a stiff neck to show for it every now and then, but at least it is something. I wouldn’t even have the itch if I got somebody else to do it for me.

I occasionally, very occasionally, enjoy watching the debates in the House of Commons. Not for the debate itself, but for the ripples of comical ahs, mms, rumbles, coughs, sharp intakes of breath, flappings of papers and repeated cries of “Order! Order!”. Betty Boothroyd’s orders were by far the best, in my humble opinion.

This isn’t a post to slate politics, politicians, governments, offices, or people who argue, by any means. I’m sure they all have their place in the world, and Universally speaking everything has it’s place at the exact correct moment. Things get sorted. Eventually.

No, this is a post about Ministerial Positions that don’t exist. Positions, that, if I was interested in politics, and found myself leading this great country of ours, would introduce. My inner Leader of the Opposition has just announced that I have dropped the aitch in that last sentence… and I tactfully advised that the word ‘ours’ doesn’t have an aitch to start with, and in the word that does, ‘hours’, the aitch is silent anyway.

Almost half of my inner characters, aspects and personalities loved that reply, and in the distance I can hear my inner Speaker calling “Order! Order!” Unfortunately, I have more than one inner Speaker, and they are now all joining in. All of these orders are deafening, however, they manage to calm the other voices down again. Eventually.

I have decided to announce to the nation the creation of five brand new ministerial positions, although the ministers themselves may have to sit on the row of seats directly behind the front row, that is broadcast on news channels around the world on a frequent basis. I can’t see it mattering that much anyway.

After my post yesterday, regarding the ampersand being removed from the alphabet, I think that it is too much responsibility for the British Library, or the Department of Alphabetical Studies, or those Dictionary People, or whoever, who decide that letters can be added and removed from alphabets on a whim. The letter Z for instance, has been the subject of a rumour that it too was due to be removed. My inner Zombie has just looked on horrified. Well, I think he has anyway. If he is a he, that is.

So, my first post is the Minister of Letters, Letters and Numbers. A dull title, I know, but this minister must have responsibility for numbers as well as letters, in as much that they ensure the postal services actually deliver the correct mail to the correct house number. And that the letter Z remains in the alphabet.

Position number two, is the Minister for Imagination. Imagination Control. Freedom of Imagination. Imagination Taxing. Imagination Expansion. That kind of thing. Not to exactly tell people what to think, you understand.

The third new ministerial position, and possibly the most important one of all, is the Minister for Ministers. A completely classified position that only a select committee know what the role entails. The select committee is also classified, but they go by the codename Zedanda (Z&A), and meet in Meeting Room Three.

The fourth ministerial position to be created is the Minister for Air and Hair. Their main responsibility will be pollution and effects on the natural environment and bad hair days.

The fifth, and final, new ministerial position is the Minister for Monsters. Well, with all the gatherings they are having nowadays they need to have their own minister at long last.

My inner Zombie has just muttered menacingly about the Minister for Monsters position. I think it may be standing. It’s hard to tell.

So, there we have it. An imaginary post to keep my imaginary Minister for Imagination happy. A room to keep the Minister for Letters, as well as the Minister of Ministers, equally happy. The Monsters seem happy. And we have great hair. With or without the aitch it’s great!

Like I said, I’m not politically minded. All things considered, maybe that’s not a bad thing. Oh, and look, the word count is 777. You could almost say ZZZ…!