Yanny Mac - Bungled

  I swear that I will pay true allegiance to democracy and universal suffrage, where leaders are chosen by their people, and not by accident of birth. I swear to no longer inflict these ludicrous positions of soft power & obscene wealth on anyone, out of a false sense of patriotism or national pride. I promise to offer the Windsor/Saxe Coburg Gotha family a decent and fair upbringing, away from intrusive media as any citizen would expect. I swear my allegiance to the elderly woman with the even older dog who I see everyday, struggling to walk, and aided by nothing more than a shopping trolley. I promise to give people such as this compassion, assistance, a sensible income, warmth, company and sustenance. I promise not to invoke a Dunkirk Spirit of flag-waving, anthem-singing, and blind sycophancy, in the vain hope that that will suffice. I swear allegiance to a god that knows no sectarianism, no war, no antipathy to others, no doctrine, no liturgy, no defender of any faiths, an...

I talk to myself. I make out I'm talking to my cats and I suppose in essence, I really am. But they can't hear me. They can, but they don't fully understand. They comprehend a few words, but a lot of the socio-economic terminology or philosophical idioms are largely lost on them. I talk to myself. I have actual  conversations with one of my cats where I get all demonstrative, and spell-out words phonetically so that she might reply. I often find myself laughing at myself thinking how stupid myself has become. The cat smiles at me. (With her eyes). After I've cleaned up the daily litter mess, we often settle down to a Radio 4 play or a wireless documentary on depleting fish stocks. I'm never sure if either of the cats are totally content with my listening, but the odd cuddle and a drawn-out purr often quell the paranoia in my mental backyard. When I turn out the lights, Pig buries herself into my broken and twisted torso. Trousers checks all the locks on the doors, t...

  It’s May 1st 2023. A Rimmel-bronzed woman with a shaved head hidden under a Hermes scarf, strides into the British Embassy in Muscat. She’s in good health and in her early 60s. She’s come to claim her crown. Dodi Fayed is dead, and she is the rightful Queen of England. And she’s tired of ‘Saudi Living’. Join Diana Frances Spencer on a madcap & zany adventure, as she leaves Lord Lucan’s desert hide-out, and drives across North Africa - encountering TikTok zombies, James Corden, flat-earthers, and an Eritrean Bake-Off like no other - in a car chase against time, hoping to get to the Tower of London and claim those jewels for her rightful heirs. Shit just got real! And the Princess of the People is more than a little pissed-off! Unbelievable!  - The Daily Mail. Makes you think! - Hello. Big Tits & Creme Eggs UP HIS ARSE!   - Sunday Sport.

  Nyctophobia (or Noctophobia) is a  phobia  characterized by a severe fear of the night. It is triggered by the brain's disfigured perception of what would, or could, happen when in a night-time environment (Wikipedia).  Wikiphobia is a phobia characterised by a tendency to look-up fears on Wikipedia and post them as scientific fact. (Yanny Mac). So I'm a bit of a mentalist. I'm on all sorts of pharmacological gubbins for an anxiety that came from nowhere, stunted my ability to write or perform, destroyed one or two personal relationships, and resulted in me living in a warden-assisted retirement home at the age of 55. I'm ok about it. Rather than pretend to be a 'normie', and continue with the excruciatingly painful charade of being a show-off and an all-round party guy, I now live a fairly solitary life with my cats, my tiny patch of garden, and my best friend - the wireless. I've found that recognising my anxiety and how it leads to depresssive episodes...

  And of course as one gets older, decisions are often made based on user-friendliness, rather than moral or ethical stances. After a lifetime of avoiding overly-processed, hyper-manufactured junk, or trying my hand at a wealth gap-widening property market (by not possessing a smartphone, by avoiding financial products and by always recycling ‘properly’ ) health and wherewithal eventually give way to practicality. "Do I know how it works? Does it have instructions? (In English, and preferably in LARGE PRINT?) Will it require an allen key? Can I actually see it, hold it, or realise it’s there? Will I drop it? And if so, does it have a warranty? Can I purchase it outright, or will they continue to draw funds from my bank account until I remember I don’t use it anymore? Does it have buttons, or do I have to swipe, click, or ask a chatbot to render my very existence negligible? " I was on my Once-In-A-Decade pursuit of a reconditioned laptop.................... Being a ...

  I remember once encountering what I thought was a racist nurse. It seemed rather odd. That a vocational carer would have such fiercely negative views about others, based simply on their nationality and their desire to live somewhere else. As she tightened the tourniquet around my arm I resisted the urge to expostulate, and remained silent until she had finished telling me about her villa in Torrevieja.