Max told me to write a short story. I did, and I quite liked it so I have put it on here. Enjoy!
Once upon a time lived a fungle
The fungle was called Fifi
Fifi loved all the other fungles, especially Hunrug and Dondle,
Hunrug loved Fifi as much as Fifi loved Hunrug
And Fifi loved Dondle as much as Dondle loved Fifi,
Needless to say, Dondle and Hunrug loved each other very much
However, it was Switswat that Fifi loved the most, but Switswat didn’t love Fifi at all!
All the fungles hated the ponkins because the ponkins rape young fungles
One day Hunrug said “Shall we sneak into the ponkins’ part of the frandol?”
Fifi wasn’t sure. It sounded very dangerous.
“I’m not sure. It sounds very dangerous.”
“Switswat’s going,” Hunrug said.
Hunrug knew this would convince Fifi.
Fifi decided to go.
Hunrug, Fifi and Dondle went to the ponkins’ frandol and played under the dindoes.
Switswat didn’t appear to be anywhere around.
“What will we do if we see a ponkin?” Dondle asked.
“Nothing. They won’t know we are fungles.” Hunrug explained.
“Why not?” replied Fifi.
“Because fungles and ponkins look the same you silly billy!”
Fifi didn’t like being called a silly billy.
Fifi didn’t know that fungles and ponkins look the same.
Fifi had never seen a ponkin.
Fifi, Hunrug and Dondle were playing games with all the creatures of the frandol.
At first there were only a few, but after a while it seemed like everyone was there.
During a game of hide and seek someone beckoned Fifi into a really good hiding place.
Fifi did not know who it was in the hiding place, so he asked.
It was Jerrup.
Fifi did not know Jerrup, so Fifi said “I’m Fifi.”
After a few hours neither Fifi nor Jerrup had been found.
Fifi was very pleased that Jerrup shared the hiding place.
Eventually they came out of hiding, sure that they had won.
They wandered through the frandol until they heard a voice.
“Jerrup! Where are you?”
It was Fifi’s guardian, Sinkin.
Jerrup replied, “I’m here!”
Sinkin walked over and scoled Fifi for hiding so well.
Fifi was very apologetic.
Luckily, Sinkin didn’t mind too much.
In fact, Sinkin was delighted to see that Fifi had made a friend, and invited Jerrup to tea.
The three of them walked down a path until they reached Jerrup’s home.
“I’ve never been here before,” said Jerrup.
“Really?” said Fifi, “I thought all fungles had been here.”
“Fungles?” exclaimed Jerrup. “Are you a fungle?”
It was at this point that Fifi realised what had happened. Jerrup was a ponkin!
Immediately Fifi and Sinkin jumped into action and pinned Jerrup to the ground.
Then, the two of them took turns in raping Jerrup as violently as is imaginable.
When they had finally finished they killed Jerrup as painfully as they could.
Just before Jerrup had died, Fifi screamed “That’s for raping all those fungles!”
OK, it isn’t the greatest thing in the world, but I just felt like giving it a go. I’ve only bothered with one verse, but I think you get the jist…
I was chatting on MSN
With all my windows maximis’d
I wanted to see more of them
So I decided to resize
I mov’d the cursor down below
Attempting to shrink the windows
But then the taskbar grew massive
My hand must have slipp’d, I suppose
I really don’t like it,
Lock the taskbar!
Lock the taskbar!
I really don’t like it,
Lock the taskbar!
Lock the taskbar!
What do you all think? Comment please.
OK. I was going to Podcast it, but upon hearing it, it seemed pretty wank so I’m not going to bother. Here it is anyway:
Today, I was chatting to John online and I asked him if he wanted to do something. I’d decided already that I would be staying sober tonight and I thought it’d be nice to spend the evening with him, after not having seen him much for the whole summer.
He came over and Dave invited us to go to the Old Greyhound in Aslockton. I wasn’t sure at first but John convinced me otherwise. We walked over to Dave’s for about 25 past 9. He was outside waiting for Hunter to pick us all up. We waited for a few moments before Hunter appeared with Diego.
The car was amazing. It was a little red Fiat with two doors and practically no room in the back seat. I had to get Diego to move his seat forward about a foot for me to even put my feet on the ground. The radio was tuned to Heart FM. It was immediately clear that tonight was going to be a wild one.
On the way we were talking about people getting started on for no reason and Dave told us about this one time when he was drunk at the park and this girl started punching him in the face. We asked him what he did and he said “Just stood there.”
We pulled up at the Greyhound and all peeled out. We were slightly disappointed to see that the car-park was quite busy so we were afraid that the pool table would be in use. We wandered in and went to the games room. It was full of people. Someone said “If we go in there we’ll get fucking bummed.”
We stood in the corridor outside the games room for a moment trying to decide whether to venture within. Diego said
“Fuck this, let’s go.” and walked off. With nothing better to do we all followed.
We walked back through the main room and it seemed like everyone was watching. It was so embarrassing, it was a mockery to our very existence.
We wedged ourselves back into the car and rang Simon to tell him not to come and instead to meet us at Chequers in Cropwell Bishop.
We pulled into Chequers and there was a man sitting on the bench staring at us. I looked at him and then regretted it. He seemed to be glaring even more now.
We sat in the car until Simon turned up with Brett. We squeezed out of the car and went into the pub. I was at the front and as we were going in a man was turning into the toilets. As he walked past us he snarled “You guys won’t get served here. Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.”
Instead of going near the pool table which was surrounded by people we took a right turn and walked into an abandoned lounge area. We all sat down. A barman arrived and asked us what we wanted. It was at this point I realised that no one was intending to actually buy anything. Luckily, John decided to buy a pint of coke, which cost him £2.60.
We sat in silence watching John drink his coke for a while before completely out of the blue a girl called Kayleigh from my year at school appeared. I gave her a hug and we started chatting. At one point John tried to enter the conversation, he said something stupid so Kayleigh told him to “Pipe down!” After that, everyone else was completely silent.
Then Kayleigh called over to the table she was at and another girl from my year, Aimee turned up. I gave her a hug too and we continued to chat. I chatted to Aimee for a while about this and that, and about how things had changed since school finished. I asked her if she came here often. She told me that she’d been kicked out the night before.
“Why?” I asked, slightly bemused.
“One of the guys we were with last night had a weapon with them.” she said “I can’t remember what they’re called. Those things with two pieces of metal attached together by a chain.”
“What? Numbchucks?!” I said.
“Yeah, numbchucks!”
I was amazed. I’d never heard of something as cool as being chucked out of a bar for having numbchucks on them.
We chatted for a bit longer, with the rest of the gang sitting in silence. Eventually she went back to her table. I gave her another hug and wished her all the best.
We all sat in silence for a moment. No one said a word until Dave said “That was the girl who punched me in the face.”
For a moment everyone looked at him in disbelief and then we all burst into streams of laughter. He had been shitting himself through the whole conversation.
By this point John had completely finished his coke. The man from the toilets before walked up to us and said.
“Joggon.”
I had no idea what he’d said. No one replied to him.
He repeated himself.
“Jog on. The barman’s told me to tell you to leave. You can’t just sit in a pub and not drink anything.”
Someone said “Alright.”
He remained stood there and said “Go on then.”
We all picked up our things and left, half embarrassed to death and half crying with laughter. The result was 7 heads hanging low and the sound of chuckling resonating around the room.
Out in the car park we tried to decide where to go. We didn’t succeed so we decided to go to Bingham and decide there. In the car I thought about the previous event. I realised that if the barman had wanted us to leave he’d probably have asked us to himself. That man had just been trying to start a fight with us! Well, I bet he wasn’t expecting that! We backed down like cowards immediately. Group of teenagers: 1. Man in bar: NOTHING!
Brett, John and I went in Simon’s car and the others went with Hunter. We arrived in Bingham much earlier than the others so we sat around trying to decide where to go. John was shitting himself because there were lots of people in the square and he thought they’d start on him. A fight started between two of the girls, and they were proper punching each other and stuff. This frightened John to no end. The others turned up with Gold by Spandeau Ballter blasting out of the gaymobile. We all discussed the possibilities for the rest of the night. We considered going to Central, a gay bar in town but Brett didn’t want to, claiming it’s too scatty. Instead we decided to go to Redmile, a fifteen minute drive away.
We put on alexisonfire really loud and wound all the windows down. We drove around the square once so that we could drive past the quarrelling chavs. John was so scared that they’d look at him that he jumped into the boot. We cruised past them with the music screaming out and we got some interesting looks, and then it was off to Redmile.
Along the way we decided to change location. Simon rang Diego up and told him that instead of the pub in Redmile, we’d go to the “Pikey Pub”. John expressed dismay at this but Brett reassured him that it was only a minority of Pikeys that had mental problems. This didn’t seem to reassure him.
We parked and the gaymobile parked next to us. We all piled out and wandered up to the door. We went in and it was full of women in funny hats. We left again and stood outside.
“It’s a hen night,” someone said.
“Yeah, we can’t go in,” someone else said.
“Yeah we can. There’s room in the pool room.”
We went back inside and walked through to the pool room. A few people bought drinks. We’d learnt from our mistakes.
John, Diego and I went on the quiz machine while the others started a game of pool. It was a quiz about films that Carrie Fisher was in. It was stupidly hard. We lost.
Fifteen minutes later, John edged closer to me and muttered “That girl outside’s getting her tits out.”
It was one of the hen-night girls.
John turned to Diego and pointed at the window. “That girl’s getting her tits out.”
Diego’s reply to this was “Oh well obvious John. Point at them and everything.” He then turned around to face the window.
Someone tapped on it and said “Calm down boys.” And that was the end of that.
The next excitement came from the slot machine. John put a few quid in the 10p machine and came out £1.80 up. He was really pleased with himself so he moved up to the 25p machine, where he lost 4 quid. He then bullied different people into putting money into the 10p machine because he thought it would pay out big. I put 50p in and John immediately took control. We were up a pound so I said let’s claim it. He kept playing. We were then up two pounds. So I said let’s claim it. He kept playing. We lost it all.
We then started to finish off and head outside. As Simon was finishing his fag a boy from my year went on the 25p machine and won. By the time we were outside he was also winning on the 10p one.
John was well upset.
Random Song - 7:47 pm - 18-08-2006
A few weeks ago Dave (Perry) asked me to write a song. I decided to give it a go. Here it is:
Welcome to a world full of poverty and greed
Where you can take what you want but can’t have what need
Everyone’s afraid of what they don’t know.
But you’re not as scared of it as it is of you.
The Christians and Muslims are all preaching love,
But the wackos in charge won’t keep the dove.
It’s true what they say about safety in numbers,
As long as they’re green,
On the cash machine screen.
There’s nothing they can do that isn’t done.
Nothing you can sing that can’t be sung.
Nothing they can say but they all learn how to lie just fine.
Is it easy?
Is Love all I need?
You tell me.
You take the lead.
We’re created through happiness but born through pain.
We’re told what to do until we’re made tame.
Chores at home, exams at school.
I don’t want to be a doctor,
Let me be a fool.
“Shut up and listen, and do as you’re told.”
“And eat up your greens before they get cold”
I’ll be me, and you can be you.
Why make it complex when it’s so easy to do?
They tell me I’m white and they tell him he’s black.
They make us feel different.
They put the bomb on his back.
They make up the fashion and we politely obey.
We’re straight if they say so, if not then we’re gay.
We try to be different, and end up the same.
But it’s not our fault- “Myspace’s to blame”
They control religion,
And government too.
They rule education,
Decide what is true.
They give us our food,
Tell us where to sleep,
Tell us when to laugh,
When to smile, when to weep.
They’re all around us, but yet you ask “Who?”
I should have said, but I thought that you knew.
Should I be honest? Am I to be true?
What will you think when I say that they’re you?”
Post your opinions. It is my first attempt ever, mind.
A few weeks ago at John Gunstone’s house I experienced what I thought was the worst shower experience ever. Let me explain.
I was at John’s house (with Suzi, Alan and Megan Hatton) and wanted a shower. John kindly complied with my request and told me to go for it. I don’t normally like to have showers at other people’s houses because I’m afraid I might flood it or do something else silly.
To ensure that nothing bad befell me, I made John show me exactly how to work the shower. He sighed and walked upstairs with me. He opened the shower door and pointed to two different knobs. Both were for temperature (wha?). He told me not to touch one of them but to move the other to whatever temperature suited me. He pointed to the towels and left me to get undressed.
I managed to de-robe fairly successfully without any trouble. I put my clothes on a heap in the corner and got into the shower.
I withdrew the shower from it’s holder (on a vertical rail) and held it so that it pointed downwards. I turned the shower on (following John’s instructions perfectly) and found a suitable temperature. I then put the shower head back into it’s plastic armour. I tried to slide the nozzle up the rail to better suit my height. For some reason the nozzle refused to stay up. I analysed the shower head and discovered that it was broken. I began to plan my apology to John. Needless to say the by-product of my strict and rigorous analysis of the shower head’s mechanics was a powerful spray of water entering my eyes.
Without the vertical rail fulfilling its right and proper duty the dousing of my hair became trickier. I held the shower above my head and attempted to direct it at my hair. As many of you will know, my hand-eye coordination is not what it could be, so I received a large mouthful of water. I then left the shower at the bottom of (useless) vertical rail and began to shampoo my hair. The shampoo was mint flavour and was very pleasing to the nose. I then retrieved the shower-head and rinsed my locks. It was here I discovered that the shampoo was less pleasing to the eyes.
You know when you have a mint or something eucalyptus flavoured it sort of tickles your mouth and makes it feel almost… clean?
The feeling is better in your mouth than any other facial feature.
Anyway, by this point I was becoming increasingly wary of my bad luck, so after I put the conditioner in my hair I rinsed it out while squatting at the bottom of the shower (a funny sight, I am sure).
When I was completely clean I turned the shower off, opened the door and reached around for a towel. I did this because I didn’t want to make the floor wet by stepping out onto it.
So, I patiently dried myself in the confines of the shower enclosure and then stepped out onto the floor. The floor which I had taken care not to let any water go onto. The floor which was currently drenched.
It seems that the enclosure is not as waterproof as one would hope and expect from a structure designed solely to be waterproof.
I now noticed the inclination of the floor. I had assumed that the floor would all be on the same level. Alas, it was not. The whole floor slanted into one corner.
The corner where my clothes lay.
I know, you’re thinking “How horrendous for you McAsh! I cannot imagine an experience in the shower more horrific! You write really well!” Well yes, it was horrific, but believe it or not I have another yarn to spin about another shower-related experience which you may find as horrific, or even more horrific! (It’s true!)
Yesterday morning I awoke to a dismal morning at Canterbury University. I wandered into the bathroom and stepped into the shower.
Unfortunately, due to spacial problems regarding the packing of my luggage, I had not brought my shampoo nor conditioner with me.
The night before (Sunday, for those who aren’t paying attention) I arrived and noticed a transparent pack on my bed with two small bottles inside. Due to extreme relief and excitement I assumed they would be Shampoo and conditioner respectively, so it was to my dismay and utter disgust, that I discovered that one was shower gel and the other was a shampoo-conditioner combo.
A shampoo-conditioner combo.
You read right.
If someone’s reading this to you, you heard right.
This is quite simply the worst invention since torture. In fact, you may consider it a subset or torture. Or you might consider torture a subset of shampoo-conditioner. Regardless of your beliefs, I am sure you will understand my horror.
Anyway, back to Monday morning. I was in the shower, and I turned it onto temperature 5 (which I had been recommended). The temperature was fine.
I wish the same thing could be said for the pressure.
The spray was like a mist. A mist being fired from a cannon. I’d never heard of or experiences high-velocity mist but now I had. In fact, I have yet to experience this outside of that particular shower. This leads me to believe that it is a freak occurrence, divine intervention perhaps. I’ve never been a believer in any kind of God, maybe this was my punishment.
I should have (choose one: prayed for forgiveness/sacrificed a lamb/smoked some pot and listened to reggae) for things only got worse.
I had been warned that the drain was not very good, so I should turn the shower off while applying shower gel, shampoo or conditioner. I followed this advice and the water had time to drain.
But, and you knew there would be a but, when I turned the Mist-Machine back on the scatty shampoo-conditioner combo in my hair went into the scatty mist in the air, which then successfully went into my eyes.
With my eyes burning I reached my hand out of the shower to find my towel. It was not there. I strained my brain for its whereabouts. I remembered.
I dripped out of the shower and onto the floor. I trickled out of the bathroom onto my carpeted bedroom. I flowed across the room, and poured into my bag where I retrieved my towel.
Showers are shit.
Showers are shit.
Showers are shit.
Who needs hygiene?
There once was a boy whose curiosity never failed to get the better of him.
He grew up in a small village near a vast forest. Although he knew the forest held many dangers he would often go in and explore its numerous secrets. He would climb trees and talk to the birds perched at the top. He’d crawl through the bushes searching for fairies. One day he found a clearing surrounded and hidden by towering trees. Within the clearing was a beautiful tranquil lake. He bathed in the warm, sun drenched waters and lazily caught fishes in the twilight.
It wasn’t long until he spent every free moment he had either in or by the waters. Everything seemed perfect.
Then, one day when arriving in the clearing a man was waiting for him. The man was clearly very angry. He towered above the boy and shouted down to him “How dare you trespass on my land?“. The man struck the boy to the ground and continued “As punishment I shall curse you. From this point onwards you will forever have to hang your head, if you ever look towards the sky your liver will turn to maggots and eat you from the inside out.“
The boy cowered on the floor whimpering. The man left before the boy had said anything to him.
After an hour or so the boy stood up. Taking care not to look up, he made his way back to the village. His family and friends asked him why he was in such a strange position. Many asked if he had damaged his neck. The boys only reply was “Curiosity got the better of me.“
And so the boy grew into a teenager, a young adult and eventually an elderly man, without ever looking towards the sky. He stayed in the village, afraid to enter the forest again, left only with his memories of the aquatic woodland scene.
Then one day, as he was nearing the time of his death, his desire to return to the lake became too great, and he made his way through the trees to the place of his memories.
He sat by the lake for hours, but it wasn’t the same; just like everything else in his life, his curse had ruined it.
However as he sat there a bird flew above him, and from a tremendous height, it dropped a small pebble which landed on the old man’s head. The man fell backwards and was knocked unconscious.
He awoke a few hours later on his back. He opened his eyes but his vision was blurry. His head hurt, but he strained himself to remember where he was. Slowly, he became able to see properly again and he realised that he was looking at the clouds drifting above him. “This is it then, I am to be eaten alive from the inside out.” He thought to himself. Accepting his fate, he remained where he was and watched the heavens above him, in pure bliss.
He lay there for hours before realising that something was not right. He started to feel awful, an empty pain started to fill his stomach. He slowly came to the horrible realisation that he was fine, that his liver was perfectly in tact, that the man from years ago had lied to him.
He let out an almighty sigh as he mourned his wasted life. He thought back to the day he had met the man, and deeply regretted taking what the man said as truth. It began to dawn on him that by not taking the risk of looking upwards he had taken an even greater risk. Frightened of losing his life, he had wasted it away. All it would have taken to be happy was for him to raise his head slightly.
Deeply depressed, the man lay there for days unable to forgive himself. He did not bother getting any food or drink, he didn’t even bother returning home to his village. He just lay there waiting for death, thinking about all the opportunities he missed out on simply because he hadn’t taken them.
I’ve not finished the script to AEROBICS.
Some Preliminary Ideas were shown previously and many of them still remain. We performed it recently as part of our Drama exam and it went very well. We will be performing it again in the near future and I will try to get a copy of the video onto the internet. Until then, here is the script!
ICT Exam - 3:10 pm - 23-05-2006
Today was my ICT exam. It was stupidly long. I finished the exam after 20 minutes and then had to wait 55 minutes until I could leave. It wasn’t just me either: halfway into the exam everyone had finished, everyone just staring at the teachers and invigilators hoping to be allowed out early. We weren’t. OCR has wasted an hour of my life.
However on the plus side, I did have time to write this delightful limerick:
I once had to sit a boring test,
It was a test I grew to detest,
I finished it quick
Was bored ’til I was sick,
Everyone says it was a pile of cest.
Good eh?
Using my amazing programming skills, I have set up a Virtual Lynx Clicker. I have created a minute button, connected to a constant wireless internet connection, which when pressed increases a variable in my internet database which will change this image. So therefore everytime I press the button, the number on the image will increase by one.
Anyone who has seen the advert will know what’s coming next.
Everytime a girl gives me the look I will press the button once and the number will go up.
Let’s see how high this number soars!
The Album
NG13 have just released their new album “Linear at 420″ (pictured above). Everyone at McAsh’s blog agrees that this album is a promising beginning for the Nottinghamshite-based group. The sound is a unique combination of jazz, blues, techno, acidhouse, country, gangster rap, emo, metal, world and rock. This does sound off-putting but the result is surprisingly pleasing. The lyrics are profoundly deep about the subjects they discuss. Examples include:
“Strawberry laces, I think of them every day,
Strawberry laces, Why did you throw them away?”
“I was an eye and I became a head,
I thought I’d do better and became a toe,
I should have believed what was said,
No more gambling, now I know.”
Overall the album is a must have.
The Tracklist
1. Twister
2. Fruit Machine
3. Starsky and Hutch
4. My Sunglasses (They Make Me Cool)
5. The Bridge
6. Quit While You’re Ahead (Or You’ll Become a Toe!)
7. The Wind Spitting
8. Strawberry Laces
9. On Top of The World
10. Don’t Take My Innocence
11. The Sky
12. Approaching Weather
13. Honking Breasts
14. Why I Love Caramel Donuts
15. Baba O Riley The Who cover
16. Twister (reprise)
17. Sannie Attack (Bonus Track) Hidden Element cover
The Band
NG13 are a relatively unknown new band from Nottinghamshite. The members include Lieutenant Foxworthy, Fonz, Mr Fun and Shorts but their manager Mr Spank Spank has also made artistic contributions towards the album.
The band spend most of their time playing Super Smash Bros. Melee.
Linear at 420 will be available at all fictional music stores from 20th of April 2006.
Next »
