HAPPY 14 BILLIONTH BIRTHDAY TO YOU

Dear Universe,

We know you’re a little shy when it comes to your big day. Yes, we’ve all heard about your birth and we’ve graciously taken on your phrase The Big Bang and adapted it to our own moment of procreation. Anyway, that’s all in the past. Today, 14,000,000,000 years ago, you created everything only for some mythical charlatan called God to invent ‘his’ own version of events.

But this thing you created is only partly there. Sure, you served up more matter than anti-matter, but what matters is us – the only species that knows how to get depressed. What talent we have to see the world, sorry universe, as half-empty. Listen to us, putting the dampers on your birthday, what a killjoy. Sorry, let’s leave it at that.

Many happy returns – now, you better start blowing out your candles before the duoverse comes along.

2013 – YEAR OF THE UNDERDOG

My New Year’s Resolution is to point the camera at the people who will dredge up every inch of resolution to steal the limelight in the coming 12 months.

In no particular order:

Please note: at time of going to publication, only one of the above had materialized.

THERE ONCE WAS A COUNTRY CALLED BRITAIN (# 74,871)

There once was a country called Britain

Whose idea of cold was a mitten

On the day that it snowed

Why did we implode

Like the planet saying ‘hey humans, I’m quittin’.

THERE ONCE WAS DIVER CALLED DALEY (# 74,872)

There once was a diver called Daley

Who taught stars to flop down on their baley

Twas one hell of a hit

Till a head got bit

Off by a trespassing whaley.

THERE ONCE WAS A CYCLIST CALLED LANCE (# 74,873)

There once was a cyclist called Lance

Who fell out with the Tour de France

He went begging to Nike

Who said ‘on yer bike’

He became one of the world biggest can’t's.

EAT ZOO

Dear Carnivores,

I hope you enjoyed your roasted bird over Christmas, but wondered whether you enquired as to its gender?

The reason I ask is I’d like to know if one sex is tastier than the other. Is a muscular male more succulent than a buxom female? Does it depend on the part of the bird you’re tucking into? Let’s leapfrog the cliche and assume for a second that the leg of lady is more tender than that of her macho counterpart. And while we’re in the seat of assumption, let’s reckon on the breast of a man out-juicing the breast of a woman (still talking turkey, of course).

And what of its poor country cousin, the chicken? Can you eat a pregnant chicken? Is a chicken always pregnant? How about a pair of pigeons on a plate, one of each sex, and a blind taste test to define a verdict?

No, I’ve got a better idea. Let’s all go carnivore. It’ll sort out the food crisis, the care crisis and the out of control population. Maybe we could elect to be eaten by our family, friends or fellow man instead of donating our bodies to medical science – just think of the fun you could have with that organ donor card in your wallet.

And why restrict our diet to people and poultry? Let’s launch a chain of restaurants called Eat Zoo. Yes, you enter, browse and choose your dish from a cage (or free range safari park, we don’t want a run-in with the animal rights brigade). And you get to cook it yourself. DIY BBQ.

Yep, that just about nails/skewers it.

See, in the month of detox and abstinence, we fall upon bounteous ideas to save mankind.

Must go now, as I need to marinate loris kebabs for the kids supper.