Last week my bisexual wombat left me.
WOMB: It’s not you, it’s meat.
ME: What?
WOMB: I have to be around more succulence. You do not satisfy my succulence needs.
ME: I can change.
WOMB: I’m afraid it’s not going to happen. I need to be with a lover who is on hand with pork chops, lamb cutlets, chippolatas and veal slabs at the click of a whisk.
ME: You carnivorous pustule.
WOMB: Insult me all you like, honey. Come Monday, I’m outta here.
ME: Please, let’s discuss this.
WOMB: No.
Last week I lost an opportunity to have an interesting conversation with a PERSON.
PERSON: So, I’d better be going then.
ME: I’ll come with you.
PERSON: Umm . . . OK.
ME: So how have you been?
PERSON: How have I been what?
ME: You, your general wellbeing. What state are you in?
PERSON: Why, are you a doctor or something?
ME: No, just wondering.
PERSON: Actually, I think I’m going to go this way.
ME: OK, see you later!
PERSON: Don’t think so.
Last week I was interviewed by The Right Side of My Brain:
TRSOMB: What have you been doing apart from the surreal blog bullshit?
ME: I have been writing various stories and submitting to various publications.
TRSOMB: Wow, what an incredibly boring life you have.
ME: Yes.
TRSOMB: Is that it? Do you ever get any pussy?
ME: No.
TRSOMB: Wow. What a chump. I mean, even David Shields gets laid from time to time, and he’s balder than a peanut.
ME: Yes, his hairlessness does render him somewhat sexless.
TRSOMB: So go on then, tell us what you’ve been writing.
ME: I have been writing an action-adventure lipogram based around an evil race of word-munching Pacmen.
TRSOMB: Right. And you think that’s going to win you the Pulitzer, do you?
ME: Suppose not. What would you prefer I wrote about?
TRSOMB: Things we care about.
ME: What things?
TRSOMB: Like what’s happening on the planet right here, right now. The state of the world as it limps from recession, from war – the crumbling edifice of democracy. That stuff.
ME: Piss off.
TRSOMB: Well, don’t blame us if you never get to boogie with Zadie Smith at Bloomsbury.
ME: Ha ha.
TRSOMB: Thank you for talking with us, Harold.
ME: It’s Mark.
TRSOMB: We don’t care.
*snort* I have a wombat joke, but first I have to explain that in Australia, the word ROOT is used as a synonmyn to the word fuck. So now you ought to be able to follow.
ReplyDeleteHow is a man like a wombat?
He eats roots and leaves.
Which is barely funny, except that I consider myself an honororary Australian. And you made me snicker, so I had to pretend to have something funny to say in return... it's an insecurity thing.
Does Australia still have Willie Wombat? (Willie is penis in UK kid talk).
ReplyDeleteI know Mark (Harry) fibbed to TRSOMB, but I won't tell.
Was the above a fitting "Last comment for two weeks" comment?
Will it win me a Pullizer?
Will I spend my last days, the winter of my life, in a wheel chair saying "I knew Mark when they said he wouldn't win a Pullizer"?
Tart: Bloimey, mate. That was a funny one. It's too hot over here in Oz to have a sense of humour, but I smoiled. Why are you an honorary Aussie, mate? You a convicted British criminal?
ReplyDeleteMike: To win the Pulitzer, you have to write a book about a minority group, exposing the corruption and misery at the heart of their lives. Not the Welsh. No Welshies will ever win the Pulitzer.
I giggled. Me like Harold. I mean Mark.
ReplyDeleteMark:
ReplyDeleteI lived in Wales -I'm NOT Welsh!
I could do one on Malaysia/Malaysians - a real tear jerker, with the moral "First, you have to want to help yourselves. Not say 'What to do La'."
But then I would be arrested, beaten with a rattan, put in a cell, and made to eat rotten fish/smelly dried prawn flavored rice!