The Time Detectives! (Part 4)

Simon and Garfunkel were the luckiest pop-folk crossover band in the world, for they owned a time travelling Volkswagen Kombi. Every night they would begin their set at a café in The Village and then, once everyone was asleep, they would jump into the kombi, set a course for the past (or future) and become…

THE TIME DETECTIVES!

At that, Joni started pedalling furiously, and with a soft ‘plop!’ of displaced air the tiger disappeared from the coliseum, much to the delight of the roaring crowd.

As soon as it had disappeared, it reappeared in the forum, right next to Simon and Garfunkel’s time-travelling Kombi, which had not been moved by the Romans because none of them could drive a manual. Immediately upon arrival all three soft-rockers jumped out of Joni’s tiger. Simon immediately went to work, searching the area for clues. While he looked at the ground around the chair where Julius Caesar had been sitting, Garfunkel snooped around at the seats of the senators. For her part, Joni reached inside the tiger, pulled out her trusty old guitar and played a swinging upbeat version of “Big Yellow Taxi”, which helped the swinging folk duo concentrate no end. After a bit, Garfunkel rejoined Simon by the Kombi.

“Right,” proclaimed the diminutive Simon, “as far as I can see, there’s only one clue.”
He scraped his finger along the ground and held it up for Garfunkel and Joni Mitchell to see. “Sand!” Joni cried, “but how…?”

“That’s not all,” Garfunkel told her with a wink and a grin, “the dust in front of every senator’s seat up there has been disturbed in a very regular pattern.”

“What pattern?” frowned Simon, the sleuthier of the two.
“Ah!” Garfunkel beamed, “the dust is all disturbed where every senator’s right foot was. It’s as if…as if…” he trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say.

Simon, however, was able to pick it up. “It’s as if they were all tapping their feet at the same time!”
Simon whirled to face Garfunkel and Joni Mitchell. “Now, who do we know who could make an entire forum full of senators all tap their feet in time…”

“And is associated in some way with sand!” Garfunkel finished for him.
There was a short pause while they all had a jolly good think. Then, almost in unison, all three of the folk/pop crossover songsmiths looked at each other and cried:

“The Beach Boys!”

Noarlunga Astrology

Recently, a report that was made up by me came out to general acclaim in astrological circles, the gist of which was that if you were born in the Noarlunga area of Adelaide, SA, you were more likely to have been influenced by the gravitational pull of local buses than you were by the planets. The reasons for this are quite complicated and I choose not to go into them now because I don't feel like making them up. Suffice it to say that this report has revolutionised the astrological industry as we know it, and so i'd like to announce my new-look zodiac for 2008, based on the new completely correct theories.

722 - Noarlunga Centre to Adelaide, via States Rd (Mar 21 - April 19)
This year will be a year much like any other, except that at some point you will be mauled by a koala. It's likely that this will be a koala which is far angrier than the ordinary kind because it's been repeatedly poked with a broom. Sucks to be you.

720 - Marion to Adelaide Via Sir Donald Bradman Drive (Apr 20 - May 20)
Don't go outside on your birthday. I don't want to cause undue alarm, so that's all i'll say on the matter. The months leading up to your birthday should be alright, and telling you about the months after seems a bit cruel what with you likely to spend them in hospital and all. Whoops.

725 - Noarlunga Centre to Adelaide via Flaxmill Rd (May 21 - June 21)
I don't care what anyone says, those Rick Parfitt-style white jeans look absolutely ridiculous. Burn them. Twice if necessary, or you'll be picked off by a sniper with a .50 cal. Twat.

721 - Noarlunga Centre to Adelaide via South Rd (June 22 - July 22)
Fark. I'm not even going to tell you this one, but it involves a pole-jobbing.

734 - Noarlunga Centre to Marion via O'Sullivan's Beach (July 23 - August 22)
Buy lots of lottery tickets this year. You won't win or anything, but the constant crushing of your hopes and dreans should prove amusing to your family and 'friends'.

710 - Noarlunga Centre to Adelaide (after 6pm) (August 23 - September 22)
Your partner is having an affair: every single person born within these dates is being cheated on. I know it might seem a little far-fetched, but the buses have so ordained it. Don't argue with Dieselus or you shall bring forth his choking wrath! Wrath!!!!!

733 - Noarlunga Centre to Marion via Happy Valley (September 23 - October 22)
Say goodbye to the toes on your left foot. They will be severed at 3:14pm on Monday the 21st of January. I'm sorry I can't give you more details than that.

745 - Noarlunga Circle Line (anti-clockwise) (October 23 - November 21)
Under no circumstances should you consider flying to Melbourne to watch the Grand Prix. Nothing's actually going to happen, but i'm going and I don't want the entire trip ruined by sitting on a plane with a whole heap of people who have had their noses rotted away. On second thoughts, I probably should have mentioned the noses first thing off the bat. In any event, the nose 'thing' should happen early Februaryish. Buy tissues.

702 - Noarlunga Centre to Adelaide via States Road (after 6pm) (November 22 - December 21)
You will have a fairly boring year all up, but eat more fruit to stave off scurvy.

743 - Noarlunga Centre to Hackham West (December 22 - January 19)
Avoid making any decisions whatsoever. You're already reading this drivel as if it's true or something, so you're off to a cracking start. And tuck your shirt in.

747 - Noarlunga Circle Line (Clockwise) (January 20 - February 18)
You're going to have a nasty incident with a piece of runaway farm machinery. It could be a combine harvester or it might be a monkey-spanker, the mystic veils are murky. It's probably not livestock, however.

713 - Noarlunga Centre to Adelaide (Weekends and Public Holidays) (February 19 - March 20)
You will change jobs 3 times this year, and careers twice. None of this will be of your own volition. Turkey.

From the Rome Times, Yesterday.

ROME: Authorities today called for calm in the Italian capital as rioting followed the news that Australian police had apprehended the Pope in Noarlunga, south of Adelaide, SA, and were holding him on charges of Causing A Public Nuisance.

Signor Capitane del Giovanni Bertorelli of the Italian Foreign Ministry told the crowd that the Pope had not been arrested, but an impostor claiming to be the Pope had.

"We-a heard that-a his holiness had-a been ayrrested in-a Adelayde but-a it turned out-a to be a hoax-a," he told the deeply religious crowd that had just laid waste to the entire Vatican.

While reports are still sketchy it appears that a man dressed as the Pope was attempting the make a home movie of himself defecating in the woods in his local area. While the reasons behind his behaviour are not known, local man Mr G Slim has been called in to identify the man.

Investigations are continuing.

Return Of The Jedi: The Lost Scripts

Death Star, Endor Orbit

Luke Skywalker: Your overconfidence is your weakness.
Emperor Palpatine: Your faith in your friends is yours!
LS: Yeah? Well at least i'm not all horrid and wrinkly.
EP: Maybe not, but you whine like a 747.
LS: Ooh ooh, i'm so hurt. Wrinkly face! Wrinkly face!
EP: Am not!
LS: Are too!
R2D2: Bee-whoop?
Both: Shutup!
EP: Am not!
LS: Are too!
R2D2: Bee-whoop?
Both: Shut up!
Fade...

Later...
EP: Wabbit season!
LS: Duck season!
EP: Wabbit season!
LS: Duck season!
EP: Wabbit season!
LS: Wabbit season!
EP: Duck season! Vader, strike me down!
Lightsaber strike
Darth Vader: Um....
EP (reaching up and pinching out small flame on cowl): Let's try that again.

The Time Detectives! Part 3

Simon and Garfunkel were the luckiest pop-folk crossover band in the world, for they owned a time travelling Vokswagen Kombi. Every night they would begin their set at a café in The Village and then, once everyone was asleep, they would jump into the kombi, set a course for the past (or future) and become…

THE TIME DETECTIVES!

“That’s right,’ said the tiger, “now hold on!”
To Simon’s amazement and the crowd’s bloodthirsty delight, the tiger them swallowed the diminutive folk songsmith whole. Inside the tiger Simon found himself careening down a pitch-black slipperydip until he landed on a pile of mattresses and someone switched the lights on. When Simon looked around he saw that he was in a largish room that didn’t look at all like a tiger’s stomach ought to. In one corner, pedalling furiously upon an exercise bike with wires trailing of it sat Joni Mitchell, friend of both Simon and Garfunkel and regular performer at village gigs.

“Where are we?” Simon asked, looking around in amazement.
“Hello!” replied Joni Mitchell brightly, “this is my time-travelling tiger!”
“Wow! How does it all fit in?”
“More on that later. First, I’ve got to eat Garfunkel. You’d better get out of the way.”
As Joni Mitchell’s hands danced across the control panel in front of her, Simon scrambled hurriedly off of the mattresses. He did so not a moment too soon, as right away a rather bemused Garfunkel came rushing down the chute.

“Hi, Joni!” he cried, “I was wondering when you’d show up.”
Simon was dumbfounded. “You set all this up?” he asked in wonder.
“Sure,” Garfunkel replied, “when I got a moment after gladiator class, I put a note addressed to Joni inside an amphora.”

“Yes,” continued Joni, “and imagine my surprise when I was doing a gig in Rome in 1967 and stumbled across it during a tour of the Coliseum.  Immediately I began work on this time machine to rescue you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’ve got to get out of here.”

Joni began to program the coordinates for a safe return to the swinging sixties.
“Wait!” Simon said, “we can’t leave without the kombi! And,” he added, “There’s still the matter of who killed Julius Caesar to solve!”

The Time Detectives! Part 2

Simon and Garfunkel were the luckiest pop-folk crossover band in the world, for they owned a time travelling Vokswagen Kombi. Every night they would begin their set at a café in The Village and then, once everyone was asleep, they would jump into the kombi, set a course for the past (or future) and become…

THE TIME DETECTIVES!

Part 2: Soft-rockin' In The Free World.

"Hang on, daddy-o!" cried Simon, "but we only just got here! Everyone saw us."
Garfunkel added, "When was Big Julie knocked off?"
Mark Antony looked thoughtful. "About half an hour ago," he told them.
"Well," beamed Simon, ever the peacemaker, "it can't have been us then, can it."
But Mark Antony shook his head. "What with your bellbottoms, extravagantly long hair and light-harmonic vocal stylings, you can only be from the late 1960s. And that means that you must have a time machine, so you very well could have done it! Take them away!"

Before the best-selling folk duo could say 'pretty-pretty-peggy-o' they were whisked away to the dungeons of the colliseum, where they were forced to train as gladiators. While Garfunkel's superior reach enabled him to give a good account of himself with a trident, Simon was forced to rely on his net-throwing skills and a small dagger. The long-haired trendsetters trained for several weeks. Once, while they were in the Gladiator referctory, Simon lost his nerve.

"I don't see how we're ever going to get out of here," he said before he was pushed out of his seat by a large burly man from Andalusia.

Garfunkel wished he had had more time to buck his spirits up by telling him about the plan he had set in motion, but he had been unable to before they were hustled out before the waiting crowds, to duel for the amusement of the crowds.

As they went together so well even the Romans could see that they were an effective double act, so they paired them up together to fight the biggest, meanest lion either of them had ever seen. Garfunkel immediately rushed in with his trusty trident, but he was batted away with one large paw. The lion pounced on Simon, pinning him to the ground. "Please don't hurt me, Mr Lion!" he wailed.

Then a voice from within the lion said, "Don't worry, i'm here to rescue you."
Simon looked very confused. "Wait a minute," he declared, "that sounds like Joni Mitchell!"

The Time Detectives (An Exciting New Adventure Serial For Boys)

Simon and Garfunkel were the luckiest pop-folk crossover band in the world, for they owned a time travelling Vokswagen Kombi. Every night they would begin their set at a café in The Village and then, once everyone was asleep, they would jump into the kombi, set a course for the past (or future) and become…

THE TIME DETECTIVES!

Part One: A Funny Thing Happened On the Way To The Forum.

One evening after a particularly haunting rendition of ‘Bleeker Street’, Simon and Garfunkel decided to visit ancient Rome. They jumped into their trusty Kombi, Garfunkel dialled in the year Zero, then popped the clutch, and hung ten down the time stream to Imperial Rome.

The psychedelic time-kombi burst into the forum in a blast of mellow vibes. Behind the wheel Garfunkel piloted it to a halt while Simon had a look around.

“Hey man, they all look really heavy,” Simon said.
Garfunkel peered out through the love beads that surrounded the windscreen. “All those senators?” he asked, “Yes, they do.”

After its unexpected arrival the kombi had been expertly surrounded by pilum-wielding Praetorian Guards.
“I wonder what’s wrong?” muttered a very puzzled Simon.
Garfunkel, as well as being the tallest and curliest-of-hair, had always been the more adventurous of the two. “There’s only one way to find out,” he declared, “Let’s ask them!”

Garfunkel leapt out of the Kombi and immediately sought out the most important looking person he could find.
“My name is Marc Antony,” the big Roman declared, “and you’re under arrest for the murder of Julius Caesar!”

Why I Have Never Seen "Miss Saigon".

1. Things that rhyme with 'Vietnam':
        Diet Spam
        Diver Dan
        Green Eggs and Ham
       
2. Things that rhyme with 'Saigon':
        Ride-on
        Hi Mom
        Qui-Gonn

I don't see how this could possibly make for a good musical.

Just A Thought

How much do you think Englebert Humperdinck must hate skywriters? I mean, it really wouldn't matter how rich and famous he became, they'd never be able to finish writing his name in the sky before the first letters blew away.

Success! One down, two to go.

This was emailed to me today:

Dear Damien,

Thank you for your email and for taking the time to contact me.  My answers are below

1. What is the ALP's policy regarding the separation of Church and State?

The question of whether there is a separation between church and state in Australia is not a question of belief, but rather one of fact. Section 116 of the Constitution provides:

Commonwealth not to legislate in respect of religion
The Commonwealth shall not make any law for establishing any religion, or for imposing any religious observance, or for prohibiting the free exercise of any religion, and no religious test shall be required as a qualification for any office or public trust under the Commonwealth.

2. Do religious beliefs influence any part of ALP policy?

During recent years Labor has been strengthening its relationships across the church community.  Kevin Rudd has met extensively with church leaders both in past years as well as since becoming Leader of the Australian Labor Party.

Mr Rudd brings to his leadership a strong Christian faith and a deep commitment to public service. He is passionately committed to Australia's future and sees the church community playing an important role in the future of the nation.  Labor understands the critically important role played by Australian churches in building and strengthening communities and providing a strong values foundation forAustralian society.

Church organisations and church congregations play an extraordinarily important role in the provision of education, health care, aged care facilities, housing and many other services often to the most needy people in society.  Labor understands also the important contribution that churches make to public debates not only on values issues but also on broader policy debates relating to

international conflict and war, poverty, industrial relations, education and many other matters. Labor welcomes the contributions of churches and Christian organisations in these debates.

Kevin Rudd and many senior Labor shadow ministers meet regularly with church leaders from a wide range of backgrounds. Mr Rudd would seek to continue this practice in office.  On a personal level, Mr Rudd understands the important role in society played by church leaders, in particular those in local leadership roles such as ministers, pastors and priests, and would seek to support them

in this role.

3. What is the ALP's policy regarding the teaching of evolution in schools?

Labor will establish a National Curriculum Board to ensure a rigorous, consistent and quality curriculum for all Australian students – from kindergarten to year 12 in the four key, core disciplines of English, history, maths and science.

Any addition to the science curriculum would be determined by a National
Curriculum Board which would consult with teachers, experts and parents and be based on the best available evidence.

Choices about the religious views that children learn are matters for parents.

4. What is the ALP's policy on state funding of religious institutions (educational or otherwise)?

Labor has a policy of not discriminating against any group or organisation based on their religious beliefs.  This includes when it comes to state funding.

In particular with regard to education no funding will be cut to any school. Labor believes there needs to be a greater investment in our schools. Under a Rudd Labor Government school funding will be based on the following key

principles:

1.      We believe a greater investment should be made at all levels of education, including schools and schooling;
2.      We will fund schools on the basis of need and fairness;
3.      We will not cut funding to any school; and
4.      We will not disturb the current Average Government School Recurrent Costs (AGSRC) indexation arrangements for schools' funding.

Thank you once again for contacting me with your query.

Yours sincerely,

Amanda Rishworth
Labor for Kingston

The History Of Stuff, cont.

Saturday

While many people now take Saturday for granted, it was unknown in the western world (although alluded to briefly in the Aztec calendar) until the Ecumenical Council of Nicea in 378. It was decided that as scripture referred to seven days, the seventh (which had previously only existed in scripture) should be invented in order to make it all look a bit speccy and not as if they were all just making shit up.

It was decided that this should be a day of rest too, but unlike the already-established Sunday, the new day should be a day of not complete rest but one where you could also do the shopping (although the banks would be closed) and go to the footy. As such, they named it 'Sat On Day', to represent the 'sitting' rest as opposed to 'lying down' rest that the Council anticipated. Over the intervening 17 centuries (adjusted for daylight savings) it has become known as the 'Saturday' that we all know and love.

Saturday was banned in the Italy of Bennitto Mussolini, and replaced with Iron Man Day.

Staff Memo

To: All Temple Staff
From: Jedi Council
Re: Possible Sith Infiltration
Date: 25/10/29 years before Battle Of Yavin

Due to the recent events on Naboo it has come to the attention of the Jedi Council that our old enemy the Sith have returned. Whie Qui-Gonn and Obi-Wan have dealt with one of them the other remains at large. To aid in the detection of this individual, the Jedi Council have consulted the Sith Holocrons and have proposed the following checklist for Sith-spotting:

1. Cackling
2. An unpleasant odour
3. Yellow eyes
4. Big robes
5. Difficulty breathing for some reason (possibly the odour)
6. Sneaking around
7. Not using the Force very nicely
8. Red lightsaber

The last one is probably your best bet at this stage, although we realise that by the time you've actually seen the colour of the blade you'll either be dead or you'll have solved the problem for us.

That is all.

P.s. could the Padawans please quit it with the stupid Jar-Jar impersonations? It's driving us bantaka-poodoo up here. Sheesh.

Around The Courts

NOARLUNGA - Magistrate R Farchly today presided over the litigation case of C Doobie v Mercantile Alliance. In the case, C Doobie was suing his insurer, Mercantile Alliance, for the sum of 6 million dollars after Mercantile Alliance had failed to compensate him for the loss of his business in a recent, extremely localised earthquake.

Mr Doobie's business, the Captain Doobie Etch-A-Sketch Art Gallery, was claimed by him to contain many works of art of 'priceless value and artistic merit' which were completely lost in the event.

Mercantile Alliance corporate lawyers alleged that they had not paid Mr Doobie's claim as he was never registered as a customer with them, had never made a premium payment, and was completely unknown to them in any sense of the word.

Mr Doobie's star witness, distinguished Kerplunkistani art critic Sheik G Slim, failed to arrive in court. Mercantile Alliance moved to dismiss.

The case continues tomorrow.

True Or False:

1. Geese are the only birds that can fly backwards.
2. The world record for stuffing fun-sized Mars Bars up someone else's nose is 27.
3. The Ancient Greeks invented gunpowder by rubbing a rabbit with a glass rod.
4. NASA accidentally left a stapler on the moon in 1971.
5. Fish are legal tender in Samoa.
6. Hair continues to grow while you are asleep.
7. All artillery pieces in the British Army still have the capacity to fire cannonballs.
8. All GPS devices are slightly incorrect as they fail to take into account continental drift.
9. The Chrysler Corporation once designed a car to run on sea water.
10. There were 25 confirmed sightings of Wombles in suburban London last year.

Answers:
(1:T, 2:T, 3:F, 4:maybe, 5:T, 6:don't know, 7:duh, 8:yes, 9:T, 10:F)

Gettin' political

Recently, I recieved a veritable flood of mail from the major political parties outlining their policies for the upcoming Federal Election. However, none of them failed to state the information I most wanted to know. So, I sent each of them an idiosyncratic variation on the following letter:

* * *

[Candidate's name],

Thank you for your recent letter regarding the policies of the [candidate's party]. However, I wonder if you (or an aide) could take the time to answer a few further questions regarding [party] policy which were not mentioned in the document I was sent?

1. What is the [party] policy regarding the seperation of Church and State?
2. Do religious beliefs influence any part of [party] policy?
3. What is the [party] policy regarding the teaching of evolution in schools?
4. What is the [party] policy on state funding of religious institutions (educational or otherwise)?

These are matters which are most important to me. Please note that your reply (or lack thereof) may be posted on my website www.captaindoobie.blogspot.com in an effort to enlighten the public about your policies in these regards. Please note that emails asking the same questions have been sent to all major parties standing in the constituency of Kingston, SA. All parties will be treated equally upon publication.

Thank you for your time,

D C White

* * *

Let's see what happens now! Any results will be posted here in due course.

New Novel Idea

A-capella Archipelago A-go-go: Follows the lives and loves of an itinerant singing troupe as they seek their fortunes in the Bismark Archipelago in 1914. There's Piter, the leader, whose rugged good looks cause friction between the soprano Maria and the tenor Gretchen. The bass, Helmuth, is a moody Prussian whose Schlager scars hide a terrible secret.

Despite this the troupe lead an idyllic existence in the South Pacific. However, when war breaks out the Eidelweiss Singers are forced to confront their pasts, become involved with diamond smugglers and steal a floatplane.

An Open Letter To The Manufacturers Of Life Savers

Dear Mr Nestle (if that is your real name),

This morning I purchased a roll of life savers, and was aghast to discover that instead of being randomly inserted, each flavour was arranged in a sub-grouping.

This, sir, is nothing but plain old-fashioned communism, and it will not stand. Not while I draw breath. Please randomise the order of your confectionery immediately, or the repercussions shall be unpleasant.

Yours,

Mr D C White, esq.

Story #7

The sea, magestic and eternal, remained unchanged while ironically, Cliff wavered. It wasn't the first time he'd played to a packed stadium at Bumthwistle-on-Kent, and if he had anything to say about it, it wouldn't be the last.

Cliff Richard sat and stared out the window at the gently rolling sea as he tried to decide which song to open with. Through the dressing room door he could hear the screams of the crowd. It didn't help. The support act 'Blodwyn Pig' had done it's thing and departed, and now the crowd were baying for Cliff. From what he could make out,  about half of the crowd were chanting for 'Devil Woman', while the other half seemed quite passionate about 'Wired For Sound'. Decisions decisions.

Cliff sat and stared at the sea for a long moment more, then his mind sharpened. The decision was made, come what may. He pulled on his white jacket, ran a hand through his hair for luck, and walked out onto the stage.

Star Wars: The Lost Scripts (cont.)

Death Star Bridge, almost at Yavin

Chief Bast: Sir, we've analysed their attack and there is a weakness. Should we evacuate?
Grand Moff Tarkin: Evacuate? In our moment of triumph? I think you overestimate their chances.
CB: Yes. Yes of course. Silly, really. Don't know what came over me.
GMT: Good. Now get back to work.
CB: Yes, of course, of course. (checks watch) Woah, is that the time? Well, must dash.
GMT: Where are you going?
CB: Um...dentist appointment...didn't I tell you? Only i've got this damn molar...
GMT: This dentist wouldn't be anywhere near the escape pods, would it?
CB: No! I mean, of course not. Really! Anyhoo, i'll just be off...
GMT: Stay where you are. Find a place to sit and make yourself useful.
(pause)
GMT: Somewhere other than the seat closest to the door.
CB: Sorry.
GMT: Now, where were we? Oh yes, you may fire when rea...WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!?
CB: Cake in the lunchroom? It's my birthday.
GMT: Oh, right. Fine. Bring me back a piece.

Story #6

Alberton Ward had the kind of face one would normally expect to see attached to a recently smacked arse. He was not a nice man, being particularly cruel to children and the elderly, which he felt bookended the process of life nicely.

Alberton lived by himself in a walk-up flat in the inner city. Every day as he walked home from the bus stop, he passed a children's playground, scowling as he did so. Alberton never noticed at first, but next to the footpath, there began to grow a small green shoot. Every day this sloot grew taller and taller, until it was the height of a man. Strangely, though Alberton began to notice it as it got larger, no-one else ever did, and it continued to grow unmolested.

One day, Alberton alighted the bus and saw that the shoot, which had been budding for about a week, had burst forth into a large flower, the petals of which held all the colours of the rainbow. As he saw the flower, Alberton stopped. Something inside him broke, and he knelt down on the footpath in front of the flower and wept. As he wept, a crowd gathered, humbled at the sight of a man openly weeping for no aparrent reason. Alberton looked up and saw them and cried, "Can't you see it? Can't you see the colours?" but none of them knew what he was talking about, as there was no flower there for them to see, and there never had been.

Story #5

If only she had remembered the Polynesian lessons, none of this would have happened. However, Penelope reminded herself, there was certainly no sense in crying over spilt milk. She simply couldn't speak Polynesian, and that was that. Of course, if she had been able to speak Polynesian she probably wouldn't have just been thrown into the crater of a volcano on a remote south-sea island, or at least she didn't think that she would have.

Focus, she told herself. Why think about this rubbish in the last few seconds of your life? The wind rushed past her as her elliptical tragectory steepened. Wasn't your life supposed to flash before your eyes or something? Penelope was really rather grateful that it didn't, to be honest. There were several things she'd rather not see again, frankly, at least not in the last few seconds that seperated her from the waiting, seething mass of lava below.

Bother, she thought, dying certainly isn't all it's cracked up t

Random Doobings

*apologies for the lack of posting recently, but I was struck by lightning, and etc.*

Captain Doobie and Goodtime Slim had just settled themselves down at the outdoor cafe to enjoy the afternoon sunshinje when their revelry was interrupted by the manager.

"Hey!" he called, "you can't sit there!"
Goodtime Slim eyed the man cooly. "And why not, pray?" he asked.
"Because it's for patrons only, that's why."
Captain Doobie gave the matter his usual amount of thought, that is to say: none.
"What's a patron?" he asked Goodtime Slim.
"It's someone who patronises," he was told.
"Oh, well, in that case, what a clever little cafe it is indeed, isn't it? Eh? Isn't it? Ooh, I could just gobble it up, I really could." Captain Doobie leveled his gaze at the manager, "now piss off."

Story #4

As disasters went, it was not a success. Thor looked at the playing board mournfully while Wotan tittered.
"That's your move, it it then?" Hermes asked through a rather large grin.
Thor scowled. "Shut up!" he declared, "This is a stupid game anyway. Why can't we play something like 'belt the bastard over the head with a hammer' like i'm good at?"

"Because we're having an evening of culture, that's why," Fate told him in between sips of wine, "I'll admit that it does lack a certain something..."

"...like a point..."
"...but it's what all of the other gods are doing these days."
There was silence for a while, then Hermes spoke. "By 'other gods', I assume you mean Yahweh?"
"Yes," Fate grimaced, "and he's got almost the whole board to himself."
"That's because he split himself into 3 just to have someone to play against!" Hermes protested.
A thoughtful Thor hefted his hammer in A Meaningful Way. "Right," he declared, and left the room to an awkward silence. Then Minerva entered with a tray of home-baked cookies which she proffered around.

"Fate," she asked, "would you like one?"
"Ooh, don't tempt me."

SniffIMPERTINENCE

FRANKFURT: The surprise unveiling of this year's Frankfurt Motor Show was the new Opel Corsa Caravan. The Caravan is based on the standard Opel Corsa body but is an estate wagon rather than a sedan or a 5-door hatch.

When asked about the reasoning behind building such a ludicrously small wagon Bernt Vogelphart, Opel Marketing Manager said, "We got the idea from some company or other we aparrently own in Australia. Their market research (which admittedly came to us written on a beer coaster) seemed to say that consumers wanted ridiculously small and totally useless wagons. But frankly they all wrestle crocodiles and eat dingoes down there, so if they want a wagon with the carrying capacity of an eggcup that's good enough for us."

Reporters then asked Herr Vogelphart if this also meant that Opel would begin manufacture of rear-wheel-drive passenger vehicles, as 'car'-makers aparrently do Down Under. After picking himself up off the floor and wiping the tears from his eyes Herr Vogelphart said, "Be a bit serious, please. This isn't the middle ages, you know."

Representatives from Opel's Australian dealership network "Holden" could not be reached for comment, or more importantly were reached but as soon as we said we were from Frankfurt they started giggling and impersonating Sergeant Schultz out of "Hogan's Heroes".

Story #3

It exploded (not much at first, only a trifle) then it exploded a bit more, until finally it went properly explody and people nearby got all caked in it.

Captain Doobie was not apologetic. "Well, I did warn you all," he told the assembled crowd.
"Yes, you did," replied Goodtime Slim rather testily, "but when you said 'er, the mix might get a little excited', we didn't think you meant that it would completely blow up."

In lieu of answering Captain Doobie moodily poked the remaining mixture with the wooden spoon.
"And another thing," continued Goodtime Slim, "exactly how do you manage to blow up play dough?"

Story #2

For all his exhortations of assistance, when it came to the crunch Private Bandicoot-fflipping proved remarkably reticent to 'muck in' with the live ammunition test. So the Brigadier did the only sensible thing: he sent a man around.

When the man arrived at the Bandicoot-fflipping residence he was surprised to see the good Private wedged firmly under the bonnet of what seemed to be an ordinary Vauxhall Viva. Upon discussion with him however the Brigadier's man soon discovered that it was no ordinary Viva, for Private Bandicoot-fflipping had, in his spare time, developed the world's first practical antigravity hovercraft engine.

The problem was that he had wished to surprise everyone with it at the test that morning, but a motivator had shorted out and it could now hover but not move. The Brigadier's man, no slouch at engineering himself, came up with a solution.

And so it was that Private Bandicoot-fflipping was able to take part in the test in his battlefield Viva, ably towed by the Brigadier's man on a bicycle. This worked so well that Private Bandicoot-fflipping was able to sell the patents to the Royal Ministry of Defense and retire to a cottage in the country, while around the world the business of warfare continued, although now it involved considerably more cyclists.

Story #1

The view from the outside of the submarine was difficult, as was breathing. Normally either of these problems would have been too much for young Tommy Piper and his loyal dog Smut, but on this occasion they were spurred on by a love of freedom, decency and above all, the British Empire.

Young Tommy attached the last of the homemade limpet mines to the u-boat's hull and swam back to his small fishing ketch. He swam fast, knowing that if he were caught still in the water when the petrol/glycol mix ignited, his frail body would be simply crushed by the force-wave into so much small-orphan-flavoured paste. He surfaced and heaved himself into the ketch, fending off a furious licking from Smut. He threw himself onto the floor of the boat just as he felt more than heard the 20 or so magnetic mines explode, triggering sympathetic explosions that Tommy knew would rip a massive hole along the port side of the armoured wolf of the sea. Presently, Smut began to bark and Tommy peeped over the side. There, surfacing, was the crippled craft. Instantly, Tommy grabbed his helioscope and flashed a morse code message back to Constable Simpkins, who was waiting upon the shore. He recieved no answer, but the quiet drone of aircraft engines told him the his message had got through. Tommy pulled the sail about in triumph and headed for shore. As he stuck in the shallows of the cove near his remote Cornish fishing village, the Bristol Blenheims of RAF Coastal Patrol struck the drifting carcass of the u-boat with stunning accuracy, sundering it amidships and sending it and it's hurriedly-evacuating crew to Davy Jones' Locker.

"I say," said Constable Simpkins, standing on the shore with Tommy and Smut, "jolly good fireworks, eh what?"
They all laughed heartily and went to Mrs MacGregor's for tea. In the fullness of time, Tommy was awarded a D.S.O., his orphan status was officially wiped from the Crown records, the Germans stayed dead and we won the war. Again.

Several Unavoidable Stiplulations

I thought it might be fun to write a very short story using each of the previous opening lines, so that'll occupy the next few weeks. Watch this space!

Possible Opening Lines For The New Novel

1. The view from the outside of the submarine was difficult, as was breathing.
2. For all his exhortations of assistance, when it came to the crunch Private Bandicoot-fflipping proved remarkably reticent to 'muck in' with the live ammunition test.

3. It exploded (not much at first, only a trifle) then it exploded a bit more, until finally it went properly explody and people nearby got all caked in it.

4. As disasters went, it was not a success.
5. If only she had remembered the Polynesian lessons, none of this would have happened.
6. Alberton Ward had the kind of face one would normally expect to see attached to a recently smacked arse.
7. The sea, magestic and eternal, remained unchanged while ironically, Cliff wavered.
8. The most unfortunate thing was that he didn't even *own* an iPod, let alone one which contained information of a lewd or licencious nature.

9. It had happened again, only differently to the first time, and in exactly the same way.
10. "I didn't feel the need to expose myself to you, the nuns or to general public ridicule, thank you very much," remarked the Texan in his typically languid manner.

Random Doobings

Captain Doobie returned to The Cloisters truimphant in his jogging gear. Goodtime Slim, recently awoken, looked up blearily from next-door's copy of the Sunday Mail.

"How'd you go?" Goodtime Slim yawned.
"Ha!" barked Captain Doobie, "My best time ever!"
"That wouldn't be hard, seeing as how you've never been in the City-to-Bay before."
"Yes I have! What about last year?"
Goodtime Slim regarded Captain Doobie archly. "I didn't think that counted."
"Pish posh. Whyever not?"
"Because you had only just stepped over the start line when you were kidnapped by rogue Venezuelan freedom-fighters who thought you were the cameraman in the 1967 assaination of Che Guevara."

"They let me go once they discovered their mistake."
"Three weeks later, after intervention by the Federal Government and an SAS airborne rescue operation."
"Granhted, but I still crossed the finish line and returned my scanny thing. You have to take these things seriously, you know."

"Fair enough. What was your time?"
"17 minutes."
"17 minutes? To run 12 kays? Impossible!"
"Not," replied Captain Doobie with a sly wink, "If you take a taxi."

I Actually Had This Conversation Once.

Today the chaps here at work asked me to order in the usual lot of Christmas cards, for the marketing department to send to all of our customers in celebration of the holiday season. This reminded me of a conversation I had with the marketing section on this very topic a few years back.

Marketing: DC, about these christmas cards you've ordered....
Me: Myess?
Mktg: They've got the nativity on them. And 'Merry Christmas' inside.
Me: Well, yes. They're christmas cards.
Mktg: But what about all of our customers in the middle east?
Me: What about them?
Mktg: They might be offended if we send them a card with 'Merry Christmas' on it.
Me: Then don't send them one.
Mktg: We have to! They're going out to everyone!
Me: Well, i'm a muslim, and i'm not offended by them.
short pause
Mktg: You're a muslim?
Me: Yup.
Mktg: You don't look like a muslim.
Me: I converted earlier this year.
Mktg: Why would anyone choose to become a muslim?
Me: Because my girlfriend looks better with a bag over her head.

The conversation went downhill soon after. To this day, I think the marketing woman still believes me to be a muslim. I'd do something about it, but I really don't care.

Article Included On Legal Advice

D C White would like to advise small children and the retarded that punching pandas in the nutsac is not at all funny or clever.

I apologise for any inconvenience this may have caused.

Theatre Projects That Became Far Better After Subsequent Rewrites

Come Back To The Five and Dime Jackie Gleason, Jackie Gleason.
A Tupperware Menagerie.
You're a Good Man, Secret Squirrel.
The Runcible.
Dogs.

Adelaide Now Home To Communists

It is a disgrace that in this country there appear to be elected (democratically, I might add!) members of parliament who think it acceptable to entertain high-ranking members of a communist nation.

So-called "Alexander Downer" thinks nothing of opening the doors of our fair city to these bamboo-gutzing, freeloading prophets of Maoism.

Well i'll not be held responsible. Let this blog be a beacon of sanity and hope. The minute these goosestepping, seig-hailing nuclear-armed symbols of the struggle between capital and labour are firmly ensconsed in their new hutch I shall be parachuting straight in there with a backpack full of meat pies, hats with corks on and copies of loyalty oaths for them both to sign, otherwise they'll both be punched in their stupid panda nutsacs. Even the girl one.

Random Doobings

The Torana drifted around the corner of the side street, tyres squealing, hotly pursued by the big marine humvee that seemed welded to it's rear bumper. The rear window of the Torrie smashed as several of the Humvee's shots came a bit too close for comfort.

Goodtime Slim wrenched the wheel around and mashed the accellerator harder. "She cannae tek mooch more o'this!" he cried in a mock scottish accent, "ur she'll blow!"

Captain Doobie, hunkered down in the passenger footwell amidst a myriad of empty bottles and chip packets, looked at Goodtime Slim. He took a deep breath.

"Look," he said, "there's nothing else for it. We're going to have to go to my father for help."
"Oh," replied Goodtime Slim, "fair enough."
"You don't understand. He's got the most disgusting habit on earth."
Goodtime Slim's face crinkled up in revulsion. "What, you mean he picks herpes scabs off of dogs' arses and eats them?"
There was a short pause.
"Alright," replied Captain Doobie, "he has the second most disgusting habit on earth."

I'm In The Money Now.

Brilliant new story idea: "Draculon, Lord of the 25th Century!"

In the 1890s, Dracula succeeds in taking over London, then England, then the world with his legions of fiendish undead. This unholy state of affairs remains in place until the year 2450, when Earth is attacked by invaders from another planet! Only the earth resistance (an uneasy alliance between the remnant forces of Draculon and human freedom-fighters led by Chad Van Helsing) can save them by breaking into the ruins of the Vatican and uncovering a millenia-old vatican conspiracy.

I can't quite figure out how to work in a preparatory school for wizards, but I will before too long. Then, all bases are covered. Ka-ching!

Possible New Book Ideas

They Shall Know Our Viscosity. A revealing look at oil drillers and the women who dare to love them.

Captain Doobie Plays It Safe. This prequel to the Doobie/Slim oveure pits a pre-Goodtime Slim Captain Doobie against his nemesis, Hooter Johnson, for control of the monkey bars.

So You're Running The Country. Practical advice for the inexperienced dictator.

Saharan Gold. Three deserters in WW2 North Africa, a German, and Australian and an Italian, each have 1/3 of a map showing the way to King Solomon's Treasure. But can they co-operate for long enough to beat the British Army's Office of Artifacts and it's sadistic Captain Peregrine Thorne?

Now Hear This

All readers be aware that this is a parody site. For all of you who have contacted me over the last few days, please understand this, because I am only going to say this once more. Read my lips: I do not have a device for the improved cleaning of tricycles.

I wish that I did, I really do. For all of you who have contacted me wishing to know purchase details, I can only point you towards the joint CSIRO/MIT study.

Rejection letter

Dear Mr White,

Thank you for your plot outline for a Star Trek: The Next Generation novel. The panel felt that yours was certainly a new approach to characterisation in the Star Trek franchise. However, we were forced to concede that whilst entertaining it did break several of the strictures on our submission website. As such we would ask you to review the story and resubmit at a later date.

While we cannot provide specific feedback on submissions I would like to add that several members of the panel were strongly concerned at your use of the term "fisting".

Yours,

Chalbert Hottentot,
Stigmata Publishing Inc, Inc.

Chuck Norris Jokes

I'm reliably informed that the latest internet phenomenon sweeping the superhighway is that of the Chuck Norris Joke. As I see it the premise is simple: make a bold statement claiming that Chuck Norris can do something impossible. As such, here goes:

Chuck Norris was once defecated on by a roc.
Chuck Norris (a male with no female sexual organs) mensturates.
When Chuck Norris was a Daimyo in Tokugawa-era Japan he did not adhere to the Shogun's mandate of Sankin-Kotai. Despite this he was not ritually disembowelled and his lands were not confiscated by the Shogunate.

Chuck Norris has never caught the pocket of his slacks on the doorknob of a cabinet.
Chuck Norris always leaves the toilet seat down and checks that there is a full roll of toilet paper under the skirt of the doll on the windowsill. If there is not, he changes it.

Chuck Norris once watched one of his own movies.

Hey-ho the dairy-o.

"This new device will revolutionise the tricycle cleaning industry as we know it! Oh, you may scoff --"
"May I? Ta very much." *scoffscoffscoff*
"Are you quite finished?"
"Not yet." *scoff* "Righto, carry on."

Back In The Day

Sometimes, it's important not to underestimate people's capabilities. I remember back in '67 (December I think), when I was working for ASIO, I was approached by a chap who wanted to complain because he felt he was being watched. Normally it's pretty difficult for someone to get in touch with ASIO but the guy was in the Navy so he knew what strings to pull. Now I'd never heard of him and apart from personnel records he wasn't on our files at all. I didn't want to be rude though, so I thought i'd better talk to him and see if there was anything that I could do to help. Well, turns out things were worse than I thought because the chap (who was in some distress) not only felt that he was being followed, but felt that he was being followed by the Prime Minister himself.

I have to admit that I was dabbling in a bit of armchair psychology at the time, and I suppose more than anything it was a reaction to a book i'd been reading entitled "Facing Your Fears" that caused what happened next. I told him that the best thing for him was to confront the PM the next time he saw him. Collar him, ask him why he was following him, then give him a jolly good talking to. I'm not defending my advice now, but it seemed the best thing at the time, you understand.

After hearing that, the chap seemed visibly reassured, and left my office with a spring in his step and (as the saying goes) a song in his heart. The next day, of course, the shit hit the fan but as I said at the time: how was i supposed to know he commanded a submarine?

Invasion of the Multidimensional Discorporations

Fast Food Outlets in Arkham, Massachusetts:

McNyalartholeps
Hungry Shoggoths
Shibboleth's Patisserie
PoLFC (formerly Plateau of Leng Fried Chicken)
Barnacle Dagon
Shub-niggrauthway
Colour-Out-Of-Space Rooster
Nandos

From my new play

An excerpt from my work-in-progress, "The Curse Of The Aldershot Throckmortons".

Harold:                 But what about the old boy?
Elspeth:        Oh goodness, i'd nearly forgotten. Ponsonby, is Daddy dead?
Ponsonby:       No ma'am, merely asleep.
Harold:                 Does he always sleep with a book over his face?
Ponsonby:       Yes sir. He says he likes to wake up with great expectations.
Harold.                 He must have the dickens of a time getting to sleep.

Local Study Proves Cake Cancer Culprit

Noarlunga: Scientists have determined that fat ladies farting on cakes in supermarkets has been found to cause cancer in laboratory-controlled environments.

The reasearch, carried out by the SlimDoobie Institute For The Sciencey Finding Out Of Stuff, found that cakes that had been farted on by fat women caused 50% more cancerous growths in laboratory smurfs. Further, their report released today found that the incidence of cancer could rise to 85% if the cake/fart mixture was left to fester for several days before consumption.

Professor Doobie, spokesman for the Institute, said: "These findings are extremely telling, and hopefully will cause supermarkets to maintain greater security around their cake sales areas."

However the findings are not without controversy. Dr Pflung of the CSIRO has no great confidence in the report. "I find it spurious in the extreme," he told ABC Radio in a telephone interview this morning, "Not only does it look completely made up, but it has not been submitted to a journal for peer review."

Institute Administrator Mr G Slim has challenged the latter remark, saying a precis of the report was published in The Picture last month. "The scientific industrial/military complex simply does not want this information to be leaked out, lest it break their choke-hold over the cake industry," he claimed.

Star Wars: The Series (the scripts)

Tibbanna City, Dantooine.
Rokur Gepta: Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your uncle, Vance.
Vance Skywalker: He told me that your best friend killed him!
Rokur Gepta: No! Darth Vader was your uncle, Vance!
Vance Skywalker: NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sometimes Alternate Reality Sucks

From Roger's TV Review, 2007.

Star Wars: The Series.
With the cinema success of Star Wars and the runaway success of the subsequent made-for-TV 'Holiday Special', NBC executives made the decision in 1978 that instead of a cinema sequel, the Star Wars franchise would be made into a series of 26 1-hour episodes.

In an expected move several of the cast members chose not to continue their roles. Harrison Ford was replaced by the then up-and-coming Tom Selleck, while Alec Guinness was replaced by David Odgen Steirs (fresh from his stint on MASH). Several characters were missing, notable amongst them Chewbacca (the suit was too expensive to maintain) and R2-D2, who was replaced by Luke Skywalker's dog Mau-mau, rescued from Tatooine. The series had several differences to the film. The character of Darth Vader was gone, replaced with Rokur Getpa, Sorceror of Tund (Rutger Hauer) and Grand Admiral Dooku (Elizabeth Montgomery, who continues to win many online surveys ["The sexiest woman in outer space?"; Pharangulya; 2007])

The first season's success confirmed it in the CBS lineup, with a subsequent 3-season deal cut. The second season was most notable for it's guest stars, with many a-list actors appearing such as Dustin Hoffman (The Curse Of Thonboka), Henry Winkler (Rumble-Tumble Gepta?) and Lucille Ball (23 Skidoo!). First Lady Nancy Reagan guest starred in a very special episode in the late second season, in which Han's son Brewster experiments with deathsticks (Black and White).

By the third season however things had started to crumble, despite (or possibly because of) the show's consistently high ratings. George Lucas left, citing 'irreconcilable creative differences' between himself and the network executives. He was replaced by studio hotshot Stephen J Cannell. Immediately, the show became less focussed on the interaction between characters and more on the action (possibly due to a negotiated jump in the special effects budget. However the show's main stars Carrie Fisher and Mark Hamill felt that they could not work with Cannell, and left halway through the season. They were replaced by feisty x-wing mechanic Janet Klubar (played by Juice Newton) and Vance Skywalker, Luke's cousin (played by Sonny Shroyer). The changes were too much for most fans, who deserted the show in droves.

The fourth and last season saw a change of station from NBC to CBC. Lucas was back at the helm although Fisher and Hamill would not return. An exceptionally low budget marked this series, with most shots recycled from previous footage. Many fans disagreed with Lucas' decision to end the series with a cliffhanger, with Rokur Getpa's new Death-Star about to destroy the Rebel's stronghold, the newly rediscovered Earth.

Star Wars: The Series continued to be broadcast in syndication until the early 1990s. In 2005, the Sci-Fi Channel began showing it weekly on Wednesdays at 8:30. Rumours of a new film have been persistently denied by George Lucas for several years who claims to be working on a new project involving archaeology.

The History Of Stuff, Part 27.

The Muppets.

Muppets originated in Southwest Asia in the area known as the Fertile Crescent. The genetic relationships between einkorn and emmer indicate that the most likely site of domestication is near Diyarbak in Turkey. These wild Muppets were domesticated as part of the origins of agriculture in the Fertile Crescent. Cultivation and repeated harvesting and sowing of the grains of wild grasses led to the domestication of Muppets through selection of mutant forms with tough ears which remained intact during harvesting, larger grains, and a tendency for the spikelets to stay on the stalk until harvested. Because of the loss of seed dispersal mechanisms, domesticated Muppets have limited capacity to propagate in the wild.

The cultivation of Muppets began to spread beyond the Fertile Crescent during the Neolithic period. By 5,000 years ago, Muppets had reached Ethiopia, India, Ireland and Spain. A millennium later they reached China. Agricultural cultivation using horse collar leveraged plows (3000 years ago) increased Muppet productivity yields, as did the use of seed drills which replaced broadcasting sowing of seed in the 18th century. Yields of Muppets continued to increase, as new land came under cultivation and with improved agricultural husbandry involving the use of fertilizers, threshing machines and reaping machines (the 'combine harvester'), tractor-drawn cultivators and planters, and better varieties (see green revolution and Norin 10 Muppets). With population growth rates falling, while yields continue to rise, the acreage devoted to Muppets may now begin to decline for the first time in modern human history. But now in 2007 Muppets stocks have reached their lowest since 1981, and 2006 was the first year in which the world consumed more wheat than the world produced - a gap that is continuously widening as the requirement for Muppets increases beyond production. The use of Muppets as a bio-fuel will exacerbate the situation.

We've Had Lots Of Letters

If you're like me, you probably can't be bothered ever reading the 'comments' section of this site, and so the thought occurred to me that I should post some of the more notorious of them here for the perusal of all. Unfortunately it then occured to me that this would involve reading them and indeed work of some nature, and so I decided to just make some up instead. So, here's what people might have been saying, if they said what I thought they might have been:

"Oh DC, you are so virile, manly and strong. I and all of the other members of the Australian female swim team are all saving ourselves for the next time you visit the AIS." - An Anonymous Olympic Swimmer.

"Eeh, sit on it" - Arthur Fonzarelli

"Excellent work, my good fellow! One knighthood coming up (just as soon as i've squared it with Mum)." - Chuck Parker-Bowles

"Borgy borgyborgy borg borg-borg." - Some dude from Sweden

"I want you. Now. I can't stand this seperation any longer! Take me!!!" - Jessica Alba

"Dear Sir. Your site contains several breaches of Lucasfilm copyright. Please CEASE AND DESIST immediately." - Lucasarts Entertainment

"Earn Money Now!!! Ask Me How!!!!" - dfvqeberb45634

Pretty standard, really.

Random Doobings

"He did."
"He did not."
"I'm telling you he did." Captain Doobie looked at Goodtime Slim most indignantly. "Prince Phillip did wear a silk cravat whilst on active service with the Royal Navy."

"No, he didn't."
"Right," proclaimed Captain Doobie, moving into the loungeroom to the IT nook, "there's only one thing that can settle this. I'm going to Google* it."

After a couple of pecks at the keyboard he stopped, then turned to Goodtime Slim.
"What is it?" Goodtime Slim asked, "what happened?"
Captain Doobie looked crestfallen. "I think the internet just laughed at me," he told him.

*Google is a registered trademark of Google.com. It's use here by the author is not intended in any way to disparage their fine product.

Rock Poetry

Sitting in a stand at the sports arena,
Waiting for the show to begin,
Red lights, green lights, strawberry wine,
Good friend of mine,
Follows the stars,
Venus and Mars are alright, tonight.

Responsible Fire Safety Is Everybody's Priority

As a responsible male fire warden I expect that you, like myself, upon hearing a fire alarm immediately think "how can I get a root out of this?" The answer is that it's not at all difficult, dangerous or time consuming, as long as you allow yourself to reason logically.

What to do:
Upon hearing the fire alarm, all males in the building will have immediately evacuated, leaving any women and children to fend for themselves. Children have an innate sense of danger and small lungs, so at the point at which you decide to pretend to be a hero they'll have either already evacuated or been overcome by fumes. In any event, problem solved.

The women will have remained in the building collecting up the bare necessities like lipstick, mobile phones,  makeup, small containers of tissues, photographs of loved ones, the doily that their grandmother made them, packets of lifesavers, keys and other things that they somehow deem it necessary to unpack from their handbags every morning.

Prioritising:
It is now that the women in the building can be mentally divided into 2 groups: the hot chicks, and the ugly chicks. At this point it is most men's instinct to rescue the hot chicks. However, the hot chicks as a group will be expecting to be rescued first. This is after all one of the chief reasons they have avoided hamburgers and being belted with the ugly stick for the last 20 years. This expectation will mean that any rescue will be met with bored yawns and a marked indifference towards you, the rescuer. It is therefore a far better plan to rescue the ugly chicks first.

Rescuing The Ugly Chicks:
Upon hearing the alarm most of the mingers will have resigned themselves to a fiery death, and the realisation that you have rescued them first will set their undercut dripping in short order. At this point, you have a choice: you can stay with the ugly chicks who are fairly-well on for it, and may well have just made a deathbed resolution to shape themselves up a bit in which case: you win. Otherwise, you can now rescue the hot chicks.

Rescuing The Hot Chicks:
If you've done things correctly, you will have made a lot of noise whilst rescuing the ugly chicks, so that the hot chicks know that they have been left behind. At this point, the comfortable world of their own attractiveness will be shattered, and they will feel worthless and unwanted. Some may even contract immediate bulimia, which will have the added benefit of making them easier to carry, which is of prime importance after you've just lugged out some of the Two-Ton Tessies. Once rescued, they will immediately be far more grateful than they would normally be and therefore more than willing to dance the mattress polka, and you win again.

Happy hunting!