Thursday, 25 April 2013


Why is it that the moment that it starts to get warm that I get ill?

It never fails. Every year as soon as the temperature rises out of tundraic proportions and into that of the tropics, my temperature goes up with it.

So predictable is this annual event that I received the weather forecast cut from the paper in the post. Fred had sent it along with a box of tissues and a get well soon card that was horrifically unsympathetic...especially since he had circled the rise in temperature in red.

The card he sent read:


I wanted to thank you in advance this year for the two week period that you will be too ill to get out of bed and cause me headaches for. It is around this time of year that I like to kick back in the office and catch up on my paperwork, safe in the knowledge that you will not be breaking into my apartment or shooting half the population of the city.

Harry will be stopping by with some supplies for you in the next few days so you don't even need to stir out of bed and run the risk of your shortened temperature causing an accidental misfiring of your weapons in public places.

Get Well Soon Slowly


The moment that my body can move without my head spinning, all his furniture is going to the charity shops.

Monday, 15 April 2013


When living around other human beings it is always hit and miss...and I don't just mean my aim.

The people that have moved in and out of the building I live in have ranged from being the most aggravatingly arrogant members of society to the most sycophantic. Yes, even more so than Fred can be.

I'm not really sure what it is that attracts these people to where I live. It could be that the rent is ridiculously cheap, that most ordinary people find where I live to be unacceptable to look at let alone live in or it could be that Mayor Major Tyler knows just how much my neighbours annoy me and is sending these people to live in the my building.

Though the third is possible, especially after the number of letters I have sent complaining of my predicament to the mayor, I think that it is more that the first and second are the major cause.

This leaves me in an awkward position as despite the irritating cattle that inhabit the general environment around, I like where I live. It's an excellent place for my business to flourish and repairs to the building after the number of gun fights and explosions that have taken place here over the last few decades are very affordable.

Fred is insistent that I should live in his building as all of his neighbours are delightful. I am not sure that living around a bunch of Stepford wives is any better than what I am surrounded by now, in fact it could be much worse. And I'm sure that Fred's motivation for having me move into his building has much more to do with him being able to keep a very close eye on everything I am doing than improving my relations with my neighbours.

Considering how much clucking mother hen Fred would do constantly if I moved in, I think the loud, outspoken and downright rude neighbours are a much better deal.