Saturday, 18 July 2009

Cretin Triumph

Last week, I visited the Museum De Cretin. I was quite surprised to see, mounted on the wall, a four by four picture of me, smirking as an albino golfer tweaked my nipples.

“Excuse me,” I said to the curator, “why is there a picture of me on the wall?”
“Oh, sir… you do not know? You have graduated to the Highest Class of Cretin. Well done, you big dummy,” he replied.

So I’m in. I have reached the zenith of Cretinism – a movement whereby all deeply moronic human behaviour is pardoned because of one’s quite exceptional stupidity. No longer do I have to worry about keeping my trousers pulled up in public, giving cashiers the correct money, or offending people by calling them big bogies. Freedom!

On an unrelated (though pertinent) theme, Hugo is a suffering from a similar malady. The protagonist in this rollicking comedy, penned by M.J. Nicholls in the twilight of his adolescence, has a rather burdensome task on his shoulders – living up to his own name.

“Oh wow,” say you. “I would sure love to read that. But I can’t find it anywhere… boo-hoo.”

Never fear. It can be found via the below link at Defenestration. This is a hip ‘n’ happening ezine where the zittiest humorists exchange words and love. I like it, mainly since I've been published there. Otherwise, I would be indifferent. Make sense, gringos?



  1. Excellent. Congrats.

    Now use this as your link:

    Don't be a Derek.

  2. Cheers, Mel. Having trouble with linkage. You da man.