Tuesday, September 11, 2001 :::
 
Death Angel..…..I’m working late in a computer room on the tenth floor of a tower block. There is a power cut my computer screen goes blank. I’m under the desk and begin fiddling with the cables when I hear a noise in the corridor outside. I open the office door to see that some patio doors have been left opened, I wonder to myself why anyone would put patio doors on the tenth floor. I see a light switch and automatically think of doing the test that tells me if I’m dreaming or not. I flick the switch; some lights go on in a neighbouring tower block, I now know that this is a dream; I am Lucid. I decide that I don’t like this place; it’s a bit too spooky, I decide to change it into a Spanish Poolside Villa. I don’t succeed instead a white-suited man with white hair materializes directly in front of me. He says, “I am the Angel of Death, it’s time to die. I know that you know this is only a dream, but if you die here you die in real life.” I am overcome with feelings of remorse and regret, I plead; “Please give me some time so that I can think about my kids.” I sit down; put my head in my hands and begin to cry softly, the tears drip at regular one-second intervals onto the wooden floor making a sound like an old grandfather clock. Through my open fingers I see the man casually pick up a house brick, with an easy swing he smashes it into the side of my face, crushing my cheekbone and dislocating my jaw. I think; “I didn’t expect to be executed like this.” I feel my consciousness being dragged away as though by general anaesthetic. Just as I’m going under I get an anger adrenaline rush, I grab the brick and rain hammer blows down on the Death Angel’s Head, as his skull shatters, the support for his face collapses. His face wrinkles and turns into that of an old woman. I stop; the head falls off and rolls neatly into the corner of the room. It’s now the face of the Ventriloquist’s Dummy from the Renault Scenic Advert; its eyes are shut. I think, “If this were a horror film, the eyes would snap open then head would savage me.” Instead, it raises one of its eyebrows and winks.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 10:15:32 PM

Friday, September 07, 2001 :::
 
Halton View Theme Park………They’ve built a wall around part of the Halton View/Crow Wood area of Widnes and turned it into a Theme Park. The Castle Pub has been renamed “The Scary Castle” it now resembles the slide at Gulliver’s World in Warrington. Outside Crow Wood pets I meet a friends Wife who is struggling to cope with her two young sons. Her hands are covered with the remains of several Jammy Dodgers. I offer to help, carrying the oldest child whilst pushing the Pram. We can’t find any toilets but eventually we find an ice cream van whose owner provides a cloth to clean her hands. The child I’m carrying begins to sing along to a song being played over the PA system. He’s only 2 but knows all of the words, I don’t recognise the tune, I ask his mother “What’s This?” she says “Robbie Williams.” I say “Thank god for that, I thought I was losing it for a minute.” She asks me to go shopping with her. I can’t reply because my mouth is suddenly full of pubic hair. I’m trying to pick the hairs from my teeth without anyone noticing. As we walk to the shops we pass a playing field where a game of Rugby League is about to kick off. As the players come out on to the field I notice that one team is playing in Claret Shirts with blue sleeves, the other in Blue Shirts with Claret Sleeves. I think, this must be Burnley versus Aston Villa? The commentator is Stevo, he’s stood next to me complaining loudly that the organisation is a farce because he can’t tell who’s who. As we’re watching the game it is now on a large TV screen in a small cinema, there are about 20 of us sat in plastic chairs. It’s a schoolboy match from the 1970’s. We’re all falling about laughing as they’re warming up. The exercises are Ballet movements combined with Tai Chi. One of the teachers leading the exercises is the female gym instructor from “The Grimleys”. As she’s exercising, her top keeps riding up exposing her large old-fashioned looking bra. When she finally notices; she begins fiddling with her inverted nipples trying to make them point out the right way. Several members of the audience climb into the TV screen to give her a hand.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:37:38 PM

Thursday, August 23, 2001 :::
 
Undeep.......I'm walking along Birchfield Road past Appleton Post Office. I hear the voice of my 3 year old Nephew behind me, he's calling my name like no-one else can. He seems a bit upset, I ask him "what's the matter?" He replies; "there's two "L's" in shallow."

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 8:29:31 PM

Wednesday, August 22, 2001 :::
 
Bad Samaritan…….I’m an archaeologist, I’m at a dig by a vast lake in Africa. Several sports centre-sized polythene tents cover the site. I was here the year before and I notice that the wildlife has completely disappeared from the area. I ask one of the purple tunic-wearing guides; “What has happened to the birds?” He says he doesn’t know, but will ask the other guides. The dig is full of wealthy tourists who are financing the project; a father & son are being videoed in one of the trenches. I accidentally touch the side of the tent; the condensation leaves a damp patch on my shoulder. I am reprimanded by one of the guides, he tells me that I now have the Ebola Virus and have to leave also they will need to reset all the timers and disinfect the tent. I am driven to a railway station, whilst I wait for the train I buy a puzzle-book and begin to read, starting from the solutions to the puzzles at the back. Some of the answers are Students GCSE results, answer 2 b) on page 26 is a full railway timetable. I’m curious so I turn to page 26. Question 2 b) reads: Can someone go to Chester Railway Station and get me a Northern Line timetable. The station is filling up with people, a Salvation Army band arrive and begin to play. They all look at me strangely; I’m beginning to get a bit paranoid. A man with a dancing bear on a chain arrives. The bear is 8 feet tall and is a dirty indigo blue colour; it has large patches of grey hair that tells me it’s quite old. It growls deeply, so deeply I can feel my insides vibrating. The trainer is looking nervous he tells everybody to get out immediately, the bear goes wild and rips the head off it’s owner. People are screaming and trampling over each other to escape. I drop my puzzle book and begin to search for it, when I see someone else’s head ripped off I decide to abandon it. I run up the stairs, the last person to leave, I can smell the bear’s breath behind me, the steps have turned sticky and I’m running in slow motion. I see an old Salvation Army Woman in front of me she is struggling for breath. I consider whether to help her but as I overtake I decide I’d be better leaving her behind; she will slow the bear down for the few seconds that might enable me to escape. As I pass her I now gain speed and take two stairs at a time. From behind I hear the Old Woman’s pathetic scream cut off abruptly by the sound of her snapping neck. I think to myself; “She could have made a bit more of an effort with that scream since it’s her last ever conscious act.” When I get to the top of the stairway and open the door I’m on the flat roof of a building. I run to the ledge and throw myself off. As I’m falling I notice a National Express Coach pulling out from a Bus stop below. Unusually it’s only half the width of normal coach, it also has a blue ribbon tied lengthways around it. I land on the roof of the Bus and hang on to the ribbon. I begin to laugh like I’ve just completed a white-knuckle fairground ride.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 10:11:19 PM

Tuesday, August 21, 2001 :::
 
Fatal Fame……..It’s Saturday, my first day in a new job, I’m taking an order for new equipment over the phone. I complain to the boss that this is not my job; we should have sales staff in on a Saturday. He says he’ll see what he can do and disappears. I’m feeling very hot as I’m wearing a sweatshirt over the top of a Shirt & Tie (I wasn’t sure whether to dress casual or smart). As I remove the sweatshirt the boss comes back into the office with a new Saleswoman. She’s dressed in all black, large shoulder pads in her black overcoat, black hair and oversize black sunglasses. She gives me a secret sign; with both arms outstretched downwards, her fingers in a scissor shape, I think; “Paper, Scissors, Sharon Stone”, but I say; “Aahh, a fellow laptop user.” She spies my Laptop Computer in the corner of the room then rushes over and begins to type away furiously. “Since you two are getting on so well,” my boss says, “I’ll leave you to it.” He leaves; she gets a poster from her briefcase and hangs it on the wall. The poster advertises a music festival, top of the bill is a group called “Camomile Motion”. She asks me if I’ve heard of them, I say; “Yes, but I’m not a fan, I always think of them as a Country group because the singer never removes his Cowboy hat.” She takes me to see them shoot a video for their new single. This consists of the entire film crew (30 people) riding on a large post trolley in the middle of Waterloo Station; I’m given the camera to film them. Later I meet the singer for an interview, which I realise must be part of my Job. He looks a lot like Dave Stewart from Eurythmics, he tells me “off the record” that he hates this life of fame; everything is empty and meaningless. He wishes he could go back to his old life when he was poor but happy. A few weeks later, his picture appears on the TV News, it’s reported that he’s died of cancer.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 7:41:40 PM

Monday, August 20, 2001 :::
 
Drunk & Disorder……A New Order concert is taking place on the site of the old Widnes Market. There’s a large crowd, we’re stood behind a wool stall hoping it’s going to open soon, otherwise we can’t see the stage through the closed shutters. In the end we decide to try to get nearer to the front, as we get there a building rises pneumatically and silently out of the ground. The group is inside in a first floor room; they’re playing a Joy Division song, “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” I go inside the building when the song finishes and begin talking to the bass player, Peter Hook. He’s wearing a very scruffy looking Marks and Spencer’s dressing gown. He opens a cupboard door and removes a rag from a hole in the floorboards. I say, “ Is that where you keep your secret stash?” He says, “ No, I need to clean the windows.” He soaks the rag under the tap, stands on a chair and proceeds to clean the windows. I can now see outside, I look into the audience and notice that a drunk has stolen my can of Carlsberg Special. My brother in law is trying to get the can back; in the struggle the beer is emptied over the tramp’s head. My sister-in-law is pissed off with me; she says, “When are you going to start fighting your own battles?”

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 9:41:08 PM

Wednesday, August 15, 2001 :::
 
Alex The Not So Great……..I’ve got a job as a Daily Mirror reporter, I’m shadowing Alex Ferguson for a season hopefully to ghost write a new autobiography. In a short space of time I have formed the opinion that he is a nasty, bad tempered, egotistical control freak. In the dugout during a game against Liverpool there is a mistake with the substitutions, two players come off the field at the same time only one of whom is replaced; Man United are down to ten men. I point this out to Ryan Giggs, (one of the substituted players) who tries to get back on the field. Alex Ferguson lambasts me for interfering, his fierce face is purple with rage as he spits into my eyes using expletives I’d previously never heard of. When he finally finishes, I reply; “Come Judgement day the world will find out about you and the Queen Mother!” Alex steps back and looks at me in amazement.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 11:38:00 PM

Friday, August 10, 2001 :::
 
Magic Carpet……..Another queue; this time in St Bede’s School playground (transformed into a Funfair), next to the old two storey classroom (now demolished). I’ve been waiting in line for about an hour for the Magic Carpet ride. It look’s pretty scary, it’s about 300 feet up and consists of huge rolled up carpet shaped into a flume type ride. The carpet spirals around the sky in all directions, I estimate that it must be at least a mile long. To get to the start of the carpet ride you need to climb up what resembles some part of a ships rigging. It looks very flimsy; people in front climbing the netting are struggling to hang on. I feel very nervous and bite all my fingernails down until they bleed. When it comes to my turn to climb the rope ladder it has turned into fishnet stocking material. I am unable to climb it because I have no fingernails left. I have to give up and as I push past people behind me to get out of the queue, I hang my head in shame.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 10:10:39 AM

Friday, August 03, 2001 :::
 
On the Buses with the Sopranos…….. I’m in a play at work; it’s about a Bus journey of 3 stops. I’m on the top deck of an open topped double-decker with a friend. We stop at a holiday camp where three men get on; one of them comes upstairs. It’s Silvio from the Sopranos, he’s wearing a purple shirt, black tie and a long thick aubergine coloured raincoat, with the collar turned up in true gangster style. He introduces himself to me while he looks at my friend, who is asleep, then sits down on the back seat. I know he’s on his way to assassinate someone and I realise it’s up to me to stop him. I go downstairs to speak to the driver; I’m somehow not surprised to find out that it’s Reg Varney. From upstairs I hear the sound of a modem dialling; my friend must be helping the gangster retrieve his e-mails. This was supposed to my role in the play so I recognise that this is in fact real life. The bus stops outside the Theatre; two of the men get off. I try to follow them; the man in the purple overcoat takes out a fat bladed knife and slashes at me, I grab the knife by the blade, it cuts through my fingers, but I manage to wrest it from his grip. I stab him through the heart and chase into the Theatre after his accomplice. I corner him in a dressing room; I tell him that since he is a witness, I will now have to kill him. He accepts this philosophically and asks for a last request. Instead of a cigarette he want’s to borrow my mobile to say goodbye to his wife. As I hand over the phone I stab him in the stomach and twist the blade. Music is playing in the background, the scene reminds me of Reservoir Dogs, but instead of “Stuck In The Middle With You” the song is “First Cut Is The Deepest”. He lies down on a brown leather chaise-long and tells his wife that he loves her and to take good care of the children. I feel slightly saddened by this and decide to give up my career in acting.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 12:53:42 PM

Saturday, July 21, 2001 :::
 
Animal House Face Painting Emporium……..We’re walking down Peelhouse Lane in Widnes, there is a long queue formed outside what used to be the Plaza Cinema and Bingo. There’s a Boyband inside, people are queuing for an autograph plus one go on a Helter Skelter. The queue ends at the bottom of the Lane where there is a chemist, which has been transformed into a “Playmates” Nursery. I know this because my niece who works there, is outside with the Nursery Logo (3 blocks and a Teddy Bear) on her tunic. We cross the road to what a garish looking signboard announces is the “Animal House Face Painting Emporium”. The window of the shop displays pictures of faces painted with fluorescent colours. We go inside; the shop resembles a cross between a Barbers and a Pet Shop. There are strange animals everywhere; a ferocious looking dog barks viscously at each person until you stare it straight in the eyes, it then starts wimpering. Another creature resembles a scrawny cat with an elongated neck; it has long yellow fur covered with a greasy looking substance. I watch it jump around the room like a grasshopper. It attaches sideways-on to the walls with its sticky fur. I talk to the proprietor who tells me that the most popular painted face is the “Door Handle Job”. This involves gluing a door handle to the side of your face. Two assistants are sitting in the corner of the room amidst a pile of old doors, removing door handles for the next customer. I take a seat with my two sons in the queue and pick up a BMX magazine. My eldest son takes the magazine from me claiming that I’m creasing the cover. The two assistants begin a mock fight throwing toilet rolls at each other; one roll hits my youngest son who lies on the floor screaming that his back hurts. An Australian wearing a trilby comes into the shop, he begins talking to my wife. He looks hot, steam is rising from his face, I watch it curl around the contours of his hat. He is stood behind my wife helping her into a Bikini top. They are having a conversation about tennis. I hear him say; “The biggest mistake you can make is to walk around this country wearing tennis shorts, we all know how the English hate tennis.” My wife and the Australian leave the shop; I see them get into an Orange VW Camper Van. I decide to go home and ring her mobile to find out where she’s gone. As I leave I start a conversation with the Proprietor; I feel a blow to the top of my head. I look around and see my father-in-law; he has stuck the claw side of a hammer in my head. As I pull it out, black bits of brains spill on to the floor, it looks like caviar. The shopkeeper looks at me and says; “Better get that seen to.”

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 7:05:14 PM

Sunday, July 15, 2001 :::
 
Over………I’m sat in a deck chair watching a game of Cricket. I don’t know any of the Players; there are no other spectators. The game is totally boring; the batsmen are playing defensively. Yet there is an eeriness about this place, I have an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I know this is a dream but none of my techniques for changing it work. I can’t wake up; I can’t get out of the deck chair. I’m forced to watch as over after over is bowled.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 9:38:32 PM

Friday, July 13, 2001 :::
 
2 to Tango……The train full of Railtrack inspectors. We’re examining a stretch of line where there has been a train crash. We go back and forth along the same 50 metres of track, each inspector has a different method of looking for faults. One expert has a shed on wheels in between two of the carriages. There are complex hydraulics and springs attached to two vertical metal bars suspended in the middle of the shed. He is constantly measuring the distance between the bars, he is also monitoring their oscillations using a stroboscope. My method is much simpler, I lie down with my ear to the floor listening to the sound of wheel on track. I detect several imperfections in the rail. I talk to a group of people about their methods; an old woman says to me “I need to feel fibre under my feet.” I ask her to elaborate, she points to a large carpet, an orchestra begins to play. I’m hauled up on the dance floor we do the Tango. We now have numbers on our back (Come Dancing, I think.) The music changes to the Dad’s Army Tune. The compere shouts out instructions; “Do your best Fuhrer impersonations.” I give a steely Adolph style stare. The compere shouts out; “we have a winner” He takes a black comb sticks it under my nose and says “Guten Tag, Herr Hitler.”

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 5:10:28 PM

Thursday, July 12, 2001 :::
 
Dirty Business……..A woman at work has come up with a proposition, she says, “Come round to my house and fix my blocked sink, and I’ll reward you with half an hour in my bed. This sounds quite reasonable so I accept. When I arrive at her home, I say, “If you don’t mind, I’ll have the half hour in the bedroom first.” When we get to her room she lays down the ground rules; “We keep our clothes on and all you get is cuddles.” I feel slightly cheated but don’t complain. When I get to the bathroom the washbasin is full of clothes soaking. I remove a blouse and throw it in the bath; a turd pops up from underneath and floats on top of the water. I recoil in shock and horror, I’m reminded of the scene from Jaws, with the turd replacing the severed head. I pull out the plug and begin to poke shit down the plug hole. The woman is watching me impassively, I point to the toilet; “Your supposed to use that for this sort of thing.” I say. “No way,” she says, “I clean my teeth in that.”

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 7:44:57 PM

Thursday, June 28, 2001 :::
 
Phone Abuse……….The phone rings, it’s 2:30 am. I know who it is, it’s an obscene phone caller; he’s been annoying me for the past week. I answer “Good morning, Patrick Cahill School for the Emotionally Blind” in a sing song kind of voice. The abusive caller is temporarily flummoxed. “er.. I…think.. I have the wrong number..” he begins before finding his feet and opening the floodgates with a tirade of foul and abusive vitriol. I find myself having to admire the free and easy way the expletives slip off his tongue, almost as though he’s left his brain out of gear and let his mouth freewheel downhill to Bileville. I listen silently for about 3 minutes until he finally runs out of words. “Congratulations”, I say, “You’ve really surpassed yourself this time.” The line goes quiet but I can hear a low humming noise, he’s building up to something, I think. I have a brief moment of Deja-vu, I try to remember what should happen next, then it happens, the Phone handset is gripped by an invisible force, it’s pulled away from my head about 18 inches then smashed back against my ear with a heavy blow.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 10:25:20 PM

Monday, June 18, 2001 :::
 
Going Down Again..…Driving a white minibus with a black roof, coming up to temporary traffic lights at some road works, the type that blocks off half the road for 50 yards or so, while they fix the drains. Approaching the lights; about 30 yards; they’re green. The clutch begins to slip, the bus slows to a halt, the lights turn red, the clutch bites, the bus drives recklessly through the narrow gap, it starts to rain heavily, the wipers don’t work. Vision is non-existent, but the van knows where it’s going. (The thought – who’s Driving?) A flash of luminous green metal and rivets; Runcorn/Widnes Bridge. Pulling hard on the right hand side of the steering wheel now, heading down what at first appears to be a slip road, turns out to be the small lay-by /car space at the centre of the bridge. The minibus hits the barrier flips over and begins the descent downwards. A slight feeling of regret that it’s all over followed by the euphoria of a schoolboy wagging off school – doing something he shouldn’t whilst everyone else is doing what they’re told. Begin to think; this is taking longer than it should, and then realise - this is slow motion, then think - silent slow motion. Begin to float like a spaceman to the floor of the upturned vehicle – think “2001A Space Odyssey”, try to remember HAL’s voice, “BUT I JUST CAN’T DO THAT RIGHT NOW DAVE.” The bus explodes like a bomb on impact, my consciousness continues long enough to enjoy the spectacle.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 8:56:59 PM

Thursday, June 14, 2001 :::
 
Lego Man……….I’m standing on the top of a long ladder on the side of a Gasometer. I’m holding a microphone, giving a live Radio commentary. A man in an old Victorian style striped bathing suit and wearing a pair of swimming goggles is standing on a springboard next to me. I’m expecting him to dive from the board so I’m quite surprised, when instead he just leans backwards slowly and plummets horizontally the 200 or so feet to the ground. He hits the ground in a puff of white powder, then stands up, dusts himself off and climbs the ladder to a different platform and repeats the stunt. He makes one further attempt before I climb down to meet him in the well of the Gasometer. I examine the landing spots; they consist of wooden frames containing different depths of talcum powder, each measured to perfectly cushion his weight at impact from the different heights of platform. In each frame there is the perfect impression of the stunt artist’s shape, at the bottom of each frame there are several Lego and Duplo bricks just showing through the surface of the talc. I examine the man’s arms and can see the brick shapes and read the words "Lego". Then I realise that the writing on his arm is not inverted and that something is not quite right.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:50:04 PM

Tuesday, June 12, 2001 :::
 
Toothless…………..I’ve written a script for BBC2. It’s a comedy of a situation variety, in that the “situation” is a Confessional in St Bede’s Church, Widnes. Dave Allen, the Irish comedian, plays a Father Ted style Priest. Caroline Aherne and myself play the “Confessors”. The plot revolves around confessions about the two principal character’s affair. As Caroline’s character goes into graphic detail about their sexual exploits, Dave Allen’s facial expression provides the comic element, ranging from eyes rolled back in his head to all out Gurning. My character’s side of the story is less graphic and more guilt ridden, the priest tells him to stop whining and go out and enjoy himself while he still can. I have an argument with the director, I think there’s too much canned laughter. The scene switches to an episode of “It’ll be Alright on the Night.” Denis Norden introduces a clip from the series. Caroline and me are in the Confessional at the same time, Dave Allen says something unintentionally funny and we all fall about laughing, the camera pans out, all the crew are hysterical. I’m laughing so hard I smash my face against a heavy wooden pew. My two front teeth fall out, when I pick them up to look at them; they are hollow inside. I look in a mirror, there are two small milk teeth at the top of my mouth. I realise that I have been wearing false teeth without knowing it for most of my life.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:54:20 PM

Sunday, June 03, 2001 :::
 
Stigmata 2……..We’ve had some new desks delivered, they are a bit dusty so I get out a cloth and start to polish them. I spray on a substance I’m not sure of; it smells very powerful, so I think it’s going to do the job nicely. The side tables are made of glass, I throw the cloth to my classmate, as he cleans the glass tables, they begin to melt; small craters appear in the surface. They are about the size of inkwells; my friend begins to fill them with ink. The bell goes, the classroom fills up with pupils, I feel the palm of my hand is beginning to itch. A large yellow blister has formed, I rush outside to the school yard where there is a washbasin and put my hand under the tap. The water starts to turn red with the blood from my wound and then I see bits of flesh swirling down the plughole. I look at my hand; there is a perfectly round hole through the middle. The washbasin then falls apart ; I’m frantically trying to put it back together before the lesson starts, each time I walk away it falls of the pedestal. I give up when my son comes out of the classroom and shows me a yellow blister that is forming in the middle of his chest.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 9:05:07 PM

Thursday, May 24, 2001 :::
 
Going Down……….I'm on a very large jumbo jet, it’s very spacious as there are only two seats on either side of the plane, making the normally narrow aisle into a large lounge area. I’m on my way to the bar when we hit a nasty patch of turbulence; the plane nosedives for about 5 seconds then stabilizes. I have a panic attack, I’m frozen to the spot unable to breathe. A purple mist appears on the floor of the jumbo about 2 feet deep, strangely it smells like WD40. An announcement is made over the intercom. “This is not your Captain speaking, this is God.” I immediately recognise the voice as Tom Baker from Doctor Who, but I know it really is God. He continues, “Return to your seats, fasten your safety belts and prepare yourselves for death, it might be a good time to think about those you love.” Everybody sits down quietly. They all start to pray. I decide that I want to die alone and lock myself in the Toilet. As the plane nose dives again the purple mist comes back through the floor, the plane rolls over and over heading towards the ground, bizarrely I feel calm and start to chuckle to myself, I pretend I’m in a dream and in control. I wake up, the sun is shining, I go back to the dream, I’m outside a television shop watching a news report; helicopters are pulling wreckage from the sea. “I’m under there somewhere.” I think to myself.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 10:54:22 PM

 
Tea with Hannibal.............Hannibal Lecter has come to our house for his tea. We sit down for a vegetarian curry, he can sense that I'm extremely nervous. He leans across the table and whispers to me, "Don't worry, I only eat rude people.","I'd better watch my table manners, then." I say in all seriousness.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 10:29:30 PM

 
Apple Blossom……..The kids have been playing in the mud in the street, they have made a mess, I go outside to clean it up. In the middle of the road is a small wooden footbridge. I am trying to work out what it’s doing there when I hear a distant roar, it’s a familiar sound. By the time I’ve worked out what it is, it’s too late. The road is now a dried riverbed, a huge mudslide is heading down the empty riverbank and is almost on top of me. I scramble up one of the banks and hang on to a boulder near the top, I close my eyes and realise that I’m about to be buried alive. As the mud hits I cling on for as long as I can until I lose my grip and get dragged down by the mud, as I’m carried away, it feels like my skin is being peeled from my body my arms and legs are being pulled from their sockets. Eventually the forces relent the tide is now clear water and I’m washed up on the opposite bank of the River Mersey. I climb out naked - the mud has ripped of all of my clothes. There is an old man on the shore that has now become a pavement on the street where I grew up. He’s staring intently at an Apple tree on the other side of the road that has just blossomed. I ask what’s up, he says; “That tree hasn’t flowered since my wife died in the early sixties.” There are tears in his eyes when he says, “ I look at that blossom and I can feel her presence, just as if she’s by my side right now.” I say, “ Sometimes what’s in your head is more real than what’s out here.” At his side, I see the ghost of his young wife she’s holding his arm and smiling.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 10:19:53 PM

Sunday, May 20, 2001 :::
 
Holding the Baby...........My wife has married someone else and has just had a new baby boy. She invites me round to their house so that I can watch her breast feeding. I notice that the baby has ear-rings with large diamonds attached. My wife unbuttons her top, her breasts are large and translucent. They look inflatable,when I look closely her nipples are actually valves. As the baby feeds I can see the milk flowing through tubes going to the nipple/valve. When it stops feeding, the milk carries on squirting out, she has to put a clothes peg on to stop the flow. She says "Hold the baby whilst I have sex with my husband, you can watch but don't laugh; he's not very good at it." I hold the baby and try to stiffle a grin, she is right.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 8:56:29 PM

Tuesday, May 08, 2001 :::
 
3-D Las Vegas Elvis Wall-covering…………I’m decorating my parents front room. Having removed the old wallpaper I find the plaster is not very smooth. A salesman comes to the door and suggests I try a “radically new wallpaper alternative, specially made for uneven surfaces.” I decide to buy it, a lorry appears outside and deposits what looks like a bottle bank outside the house. I lower a bucket into the skip and fill it with the liquid plaster. I paste the walls with the substance, as it dries, shapes grow from the walls at regular intervals. The shapes are identical and are 3 inch high Las Vegas period Elvis Presley figures. I notice that his the flares on the bottom of his trousers have been grossly over exaggerated. I now have to apply the wallpaper covering, which has matching Elvis pictures. This is proving extremely difficult, as I can’t line up the patterns in the wallpaper with the statues on the wall. I return to the skip to get some more paste/plaster; I’m about to fill up the bucket when the skip is towed away. I return to the house to find an Inspector has looked at my work and has passed the job. I complain that the decorating isn’t finished and that none of the patterns match. He says “Don’t worry mate, it’s good enough for me.”

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:07:02 PM

Thursday, May 03, 2001 :::
 
Swinging Rock.........This part of the the Algarve beach is very quiet there are few people about, just around the cove it gets very busy. On a large, round flat rock, about the size of a tennis court, a 5 five year old boy wanders with his Yorkshire Terrier. The rock is attached by a thick chain to a large crane from a nearby building site. The Crane lifts the rock out of the ground and begins to swing it round to the more populated area of the beach. The bottom of the rock is about 3 feet above the sand as it swings. I fear some people will be crushed to death, but they all seem to just get out of the way of the rock at the last second. The crane continues to sweep back and forth clearing swathes of people in it's wake, whilst the boy and the dog look over the edge bemused.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 12:50:25 PM

Thursday, April 26, 2001 :::
 
Wall Dance........Walking down a long glass corridor, it's quiet and cool. I reach the end and someone opens the night club door. The room is hot, humid and packed with people, Chubby Checkers' Twist is playing very loudly. The multi-layered dancefloor resembles a small pyramid, each terrace is just wide enough for two people to dance together on. At the apex I recognise a work colleague, he's dancing with Phyllis, (ex Coronation Street). Phyllis' blue rinse is glowing radioactively, I find it strangely attractive. My colleague is not enjoying himself, Phyllis is out-dancing him, she's twisting down much lower than he can manage, he decides to invent his own movements. This involves springing off the walls with one arm flexed, it fits in perfectly with the Twist I think. Pretty soon everyone in the Club begins to copy this bizarre new dance, the walls which were once a spotless white, are now covered with hundreds of black handprints.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:48:58 PM

Wednesday, April 18, 2001 :::
 
Body Flume………. We’re supposed to be on a steam paddleboat on Lake Windmere on a school trip that never quite happened in real life. This doesn’t explain how there appears to be a huge Super tanker about to collide with our port side bow. Next image/experience is I’m underwater - a long way under, I’m kicking hard for the surface in slow motion, my lungs are bursting, I’m about to give up and breathe in water when I hit the surface. I can feel the veins burst on my face and there’s a stinging sensation in my right thigh. I look at the damage; there’s a deep cut just above my right knee. The sea is full of debris, it’s getting dark, I can see the lights from the town in the distance and begin to swim breaststroke towards the shore. Dozens of small fish are constantly ripping away at my leg wound; I have to keep stopping to brush them away. Someone helps me out at the water’s edge. They sit me on bench on the harbour wall and examine my leg. Its been eaten away above the knee, the inside of my leg is hollow, the inside surface of which appears to be made of corrugated cardboard. The person next to me on the bench has a severe head wound. He was in my class at school; I develop some Lucidity within the dream, because I know he is dead in real life. Someone asks his name, he responds with my name, I ask him why he has done this; he says, “Because I know I’m dying and I don’t want my Mum to get upset.” When I look around I realise we are in Cornwall, this is a scene from Jamaica Inn. The Wreckers are collecting the harvest being brought in by the tide, most of which consists of human body parts. They clean parts of arms and legs with hosepipes, then put matching torsos, heads and limbs together like jigsaws. I see a severed head that is still alive. All its nerve endings and veins are still connected and are splayed outwards like tentacles. The head repeatedly mimes the words “help me” until someone hoses it away with the rest of the bodies down what looks like a Water Flume\Helter Skelter. I immediately recognise this as an airport luggage carousel from another dream.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 11:39:07 PM

Thursday, April 05, 2001 :::
 
Church Brawl……….The huge crowd of people in the Vatican Cathedral is due to the Celebrity Priests Confessionals taking place today. When we finally reach the front of the food queue we take our meals then push our way through a throng of clergy to an empty part of the Church. After sitting down with our food trays on our knees, we notice a family of three lying in open coffins on the perimeter bench. The Husband/Father looks very ill and can’t speak, he has his hands tied behind his back. The Child looks sullen but is alert; its eyes follow me around. The Wife/Mother’s face is half-rotted and black. I ask her why they are lying in Coffins, she says they are waiting to die, no-one will touch them because they have Necrotising Fasciitis. All that’s required after they’re dead is to nail on the coffin lids. I am disgusted by this and look for the Bishop to make a complaint. People have started moving to a Church within the Cathedral where a Mass is about to start. My wife and Daughter go to the mass, I stay in one of the pews. Someone cuts my hair, I am told to keep hold of the clippings until I leave the Church. I look around and recognise several people and celebrities whom I know to be gay. Andy Bell from Erasure is in my pew; Graham Norton is in the row behind; there are choirboys to the side all holding guitars. Everyone stands up as the priest enters, I refuse to stand, and stay seated, someone tries to drag me up, I push them away. The priest immediately delivers an anti-gay sermon blaming them for all the worlds ills. I am shocked at the outburst. One of the choirboys starts playing the “Smoke on the Water” riff as a protest, unfortunately he keeps cocking it up and has to start again. A fight starts between the priests, people are crying, they say their Religion is ruined, this is going to be all over the TV tonight. A Bishop grabs the microphone and appeals for calm, he begs everyone to keep quiet about the whole affair. I hear Graham Norton’s familiar voice shout from behind; “I, for one am going to the Sundays." As we leave the Cathedral my Wife take the hair from my hand and puts it in the bin.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 12:58:49 PM

Monday, March 26, 2001 :::
 
Broken Vodka Bottle……….Lunchtime detour to buy a bottle of Vodka, I park a Range Rover in a field near a roundabout, then pop in to a Farm shop off-license. I’m carrying a vital piece of equipment from the hospital that needs to be back by 2 o’clock; it’s Turquoise and looks like an Oscilloscope – it’s got something to do with David Icke and his quasi-religious cult. Exiting the shop I notice the roundabout’s been cut off, a crane lowers a fence in place to prevent access. so I decide to take a shortcut across country in the car which pretty soon inevitably becomes bogged down in mud. I abandon the vehicle and catch a bus that says it’s going to St Helens; though I don’t recognise the route number. On board I overhear two students saying they are going to the Hospital and decide to follow them. I look inside my bag; the neck of the Vodka bottle is broken, none of the Vodka has spilled out though I worry that there might be fragments of glass in the liquid. I try to keep the bottle upright for the rest of the journey. The students get off at St Helens town centre and go into a nearby building; it’s a Lecture theatre. I follow and listen to the Lecture but soon fall asleep. I wake up in a panic and look at my watch – it’s half past three. I run outside for a bus then realise I’ve left my bag with the Hospital monitor in the theatre. Inside the students have ransacked my bag, one of them is drinking my Vodka and blood is streaming down his chin from the deep cuts in his lips.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 11:29:25 PM

Wednesday, March 21, 2001 :::
 
More Chuffing Trains............The car is parked underground, up the stairs to daylight - the London Overground. Six tracks across the street full of old fashioned dirty looking shops - no platform. To wait for the train means standing on one of the other lines, a risky business. Bored of waiting, I explore the backstreets, now 1950's Manchester, the Children playing in the streets are poorly dressed, one is my cousin aged about 10. Their footballs are punctured, shrunken and yellow with age. I join in a game and feel like I belong.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 9:07:40 PM

Monday, March 19, 2001 :::
 
Long Death Train..........The view is of Earth from space. There's a large tunnel through the middle of the Globe through which a Train is passing. The train is 300 Miles wide, the front is emerging from one side as the rear disappears into the other. The train is as long as the Earth's diameter. The entire population of the Planet is on the Train. Each carriage is one minute long in time. The Earth will be destroyed in 13 Minutes therefore everyone not in the first 13 carriages will die. Everyone in the first 13 Carriages know this fact, the rest do not. I’m at the back of the 13th carriage, looking back at the fourteenth, the people appear happy, it looks like they’re having a party. I envy their ignorance. The view has changed the Earth is now an apple. Two maggots are emerging from the apple at right angles to each other. I realise then that the scientists have miscalculated.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 9:54:52 PM

Wednesday, March 14, 2001 :::
 
Counting Sheep........The living room of my parents house - mid seventies, we're all sat round watching Colditz. There are two sheep viewing with us, we are secretly harbouring them from the "Foot & Mouth Gestapo" who want them dead. One of them is beginning to get on my nerves; it keeps pinching my "Beech-Nut" chewing gum.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 10:24:16 AM

Friday, March 02, 2001 :::
 
Labour Arsonists..............I'm living in a house next to Railway line (again). The backdrop is a huge industrial Chemical Plant scene. (Weston Point?) The wind is blowing rubbish and litter around the railway embankment. I catch a piece of paper; it’s a Labour Party Election Pamphlet that condemns where I live and pledges to demolish the whole street. The photo on the pamphlet shows the same scene in the year 1901 and states that the area had not changed in 100 years. I look closely at the picture; amongst the debris on the track is a modern day Walker's Crisp Packet. I realise the picture is a fake and was taken recently. I point out the deception to a Colleague at work. When I return home the rubbish has been cleaned up. I examine the railway track closely and realise that it’s been polished, all forensic evidence has been removed. I now know that it’s not just the Labour Party I can’t trust. I go to bed and wake to the smell of burning; next door’s house is on fire. I wander around trying to decide which of my possessions to take with me when I realise I’m not wearing any shoes. I spend ages looking unsuccessfully for my shoes; I hear shouts from outside urging me to leave the building. When I get to the stairs the bare bricks of next door’s wall are glowing red and giving off intense heat. I look around at all the doors on the landing; they all have wet towels placed at the bottom. I think “Is that to keep the smoke in or out?” and “I never thought the Labour Party would come to this.”

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 12:38:08 PM

Tuesday, February 13, 2001 :::
 
Scooby Doo…………We’re at the front door of your typical haunted house, that’s me, Judith Hann (ex Tomorrow’s World) and Peter Purvis (ex Blue Peter). When we get inside, the stairs go down two floors instead of up. We hear noises from below, it sounds like a drum roll, a stiff breeze is blowing through the stairwell. We go down one floor; the noises are getting louder, there’s acrid dust in the air which burns my throat. Something hits my face. The noise now sounds like a swarm of bees it's interspersed with high pitch screams, the breeze has turned into a gale. I realise we have disturbed hundreds of bats. The others decide to go down to the next floor, I am feeling pretty frightened and run into the nearest room and close the door. The room has an old, musty smell; it is pitch black. I can’t decide whether this is a dream or not, I consider that I’m too scared to be dreaming as this feels real. I try the light switch trick, which usually tells me if I’m dreaming. I flick the switch; instead of the light coming on, the contrast changes instead. (This should have convinced me I was dreaming, but didn’t). The room is now grey, I can see outlines of the furniture. There is an upright piano in the corner and a bed right next to me. I recognise this room from my childhood, it’s my great Uncles old house on the corner of Deacon Road and Fredrick Street. There is a figure in the bed, it’s leaning over as if trying to say something to me. I somehow know this person has been dead a very long time. I try to get out but there is no handle on the door. I put my little finger in the square hole where the doorknob should be. I feel/hear my finger break 3 times before it finally turns the lock. I escape into the hallway and hear Judith scream from below; “ get the Police there’s a Burglar in this Bed! ” I look down into the stairwell; I see about 30 Keystone Cops surrounding the burglar. Only they can’t see him and he isn’t a burglar, he’s Wally from “Where’s Wally”. I throw down a firework; it explodes. Wally is exposed by the flash and arrested.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 2:12:53 PM

Friday, February 09, 2001 :::
 
Twin towers............In the living room of my parents house, someone has spilt pink ice cream on the new couch. No-one seems bothered apart from me. I start to tell everyone a dream I had about playing at Wembley..... I'm in the Great Britain team to play Australia along with Jonathan Davies and my brother who is the captain. He is leading us out from the changing rooms, which are a mile down the road from Wembley. There are no changing rooms at the stadium because it's been demolished, all that remains is the Twin Towers and the pitch. As we're walking alongside our opponents we realise both sides are wearing the same Australian kit. Since we're the home side the Aussies take their shirts off and play as "skins". My brother rallies the side from the front; "Be inspired by the Twin Towers." he says, "cos this is the last time you'll see them - they're getting destroyed tomorrow." Jonathan Davies is worried, he hasn't got enough kicking cones. I fashion some from breadsticks bent into spirals. " I like these," says JD, "they're the perfect consistency, they shatter nicely." He's now worried about the ball, I inflate it until it's almost round.... My dad interrupts the telling of the dream by scoffing, "YOU..... playing for Great Britain !" This makes me angry, I grab a sponge and march off to the Kitchen, I open a door in the fireplace and work straight into a brick wall, everyone laughs hysterically, I take the real door into the kitchen, soak the sponge with too much water and begin to clean the pink ice cream from the couch splattering everyone within range with ice cold water. As I wipe the couch, the material wears away, "it's not a very good settee." says my mum. I decide to skive off work and walk down to Victoria Park, I sit on a bench by the bowling greens. One of the bowlers has a radio playing country music, the sound of a slide guitar solo ebbs and flows with the breeze. The sun come out for a few seconds through a crack in the clouds, it warms my face, I feel a simple optimistic kind of joy, the kind of happiness I haven't felt since I was a small child.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:38:00 PM

Tuesday, February 06, 2001 :::
 
Dead Ringer..............Bill is having problems with his summing up of the News report, he has about ten attempts at saying, "Bill Neeley, News at Ten, Alaska." He gives up and blames the cold weather for compounding his prostate problem. I'm flown in to take his place. When I arrive I'm booked into Student Accomodation. I go straight to the union bar after dropping my suitcases in the room. I order a pint, then realise I have left my wallet with my luggage and have no money. To earn enough money to pay for my drink I take the Entertainment Managers job that is offered to me. My first job is sort out tonight's entertainment it's a group called the Clangers. I mishear and say "Did you say The Stranglers?" "No, it's a tribute band, " says the barman, "they're a bunch of ringers."

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 10:41:36 PM

Monday, February 05, 2001 :::
 
Snapshot......I'm lying on my stomach in my bed on the No 61 Widnes bus. My hands prop up my head as I look out at the moving landscape. I'm wearing headphones but I can't hear any music. A warm, naked woman pulls back the duvet, lies on my back and wraps her arms around my chest. There's a low buzz feeling in my brain, I feel very relaxed and safe. The bus pulls up at a stop outside a house in Birchfield Road, two mothers are waving their daughters off to school. The girls are wearing St Trinians outfits; one has a paparazzi style camera with a huge flash attachment. The girls wave; the Mothers lift their nighties over their heads; the camera flashes. The flash has burned the image into my head, I notice the women have unusual pubic hair topiary designs. In the bottom corner of my eye I see an icon which reads SAVE. I click on the icon the display reads SAVED TO: C:\france\paris\montmartre\rue_de_voitures. I'm in Paris outside an artists studio, there's a man in the window painting the scene from the photograph.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 12:44:55 PM

Friday, January 26, 2001 :::
 
Lands End..............We're travelling on a coach to Scotland to see Lands End. It doesn't strike me that we should be heading for Cornwall. When we arrive we see a turnstyle to a cave entrance. Inside the cave a man sits on a chair next to what looks like a sewer. He's reading a book by the light of a small window in the ceiling. He waves us through. At the end of a narrow passage there's a ledge surounded by a 12 foot high fence to stop the jumpers. I climb some stairs to another ledge immediately above. This is set back slightly from the one below and it doesn't have a barrier. I look out from Land's End and realise it is really World's End. I expected to see the sea or at least sky and clouds but there is nothing at all, oblivion. I look down to the ledge below and calculate that with a run and jump from this ledge I could clear the fence below.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 9:13:13 AM

Tuesday, January 23, 2001 :::
 
White City......I'm standing on a hill on the outskirts of a huge White City. I can see the City is laid out in a perfect circle. I am looking directly along one of twelve avenues that radiate outwards from a central Basilica type building. I start to walk along the avenue, the pavements and roadways are spotless and deserted; they seem to be made from the same material as the buildings - bright white bone china. Eventually I arrive at the central building and go inside. A man approaches and tells me that the contents of the envelope he's holding could destroy the world. I look around, the doors and windows are all UPVC with thick rubber seals. "This place is airtight," says the man. He says the envelope contains one thousand blue butterflies. He opens the envelope and releases one. I watch as it flaps around the room and think, "that's not a butterfly, that's a moth." He tells me to stand still and let the butterfly land on my hair. If it touches my skin I will die. After a few laps of the room the butterfly comes to rest on my head, I feel something being conducted through the roots of my hair. The sensation that hits my brain is a cross between an orgasm and an electric shock. My eyes start to rotate in their sockets; cartoon character lumps are appearing and disappearing on top of my head. The oscillations are increasing; my brain is about to explode.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:04:44 PM

Monday, January 22, 2001 :::
 
Sans Porte........I've got a new job - cleaning the South Pillar of the Eiffel Tower. I don't particularly feel like cleaning it and decide to build a fence instead. I get a lorry load of wooden fence panels from B&Q for £9.99 each and build a perfectly square fence around the South Pillar. I'm feeling quite proud as I finish the creosoting until my boss points out there's no gate, so no-one can get in.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:14:03 PM

Wednesday, January 17, 2001 :::
 


::: posted by steerpike Uk at 2:00:49 PM

 
Rubber Ladder...................I'm repairing the roof with the sticky bits from brown envelopes. I notice that the ladder I'm standing on seems to be getting longer. Soon I'm higher than the ridge tiles and have to reach downwards to cover the holes in the roof. The ladder starts to bend over the top of the house eventually I'm hanging upside down by my legs wondering what to do with the rest of the envelopes. I hear John Lennon sing "mother told me there'd be days like these."

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:58:18 PM

 
Joy Rider............Another stag do, we have just left the Prince Of Wales we hear Disco Music coming from the Columba Hall, the stag starts Saturday Night Fever type dancing and disappears into the Club. We carry on along Frederick Street then everything goes very dark, the streetlamps are off. We hear a car being driven aggresively down the street it does a handbrake turn narrowly missing us it doesn't have it's lights on. It's a woman driver she gives us a mad/crazy grin. We carry on walking to the Deacon Road Junction as the car continues its dance up and down the street. At the junction the mad woman does a right turn on the wrong side of the road and collides head on with a Range Rover. A lorry swerves to avoid the Crash and knocks down a girl crossing the road. The lorry stops, then speeds off without waiting. I get most of the registration. I try to write the number on the girls broken arm, the pen won't write it keeps slipping in the blood.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:34:24 PM

 
L-Shaped Theatre...........I'm in the audience at an L-shaped theatre. It's like two theatres joined together at right angles at an L-shaped stage. My wife is in the play(s). She is 11 years old. The tannoy announces that for the first time ever there is a capacity audience. The two plays that are being performed are actually the same play seperated by a time delay of 30 seconds. The actors do their bit on one stage then rush through the back to the other and repeat their lines 30 seconds later. Consequentially all scenes are very short. I'm watching the time delayed stage but can't help looking across at the other audience to try and work out what's coming next. Out of context a clown on a unicycle appears on stage. I have a feeling that this is happening in the past so I ask the person next to me (who is reading a newspaper) what date it is. He says 4th November, I ask what Year, he replies "1967". He tells me that he knows that I'm from the future, I ask how, he says "Your Trainers are circa 2000, I've seen them on the internet in 1987". I think to myself "the man is lying, the internet wasn't invented in 1987."

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:02:51 PM

Friday, January 05, 2001 :::
 
Exhuming Myself..........I walk into a room, my 2 younger sisters are helping my Mum and Dad digging away at my Grave. They are using small gardening trowels and aren't getting very far. They have exposed part of the coffin lid, which surprisingly is only a few inches below the surface. They need to get some tissue from my body so they can test the DNA for a rogue Gene. "You won't do much good with that, let me have a go I say. They step back, I produce a large spade and lever off the Coffin Lid. This exposes the rest of the Grave, which contains two coffins lying lengthways on an iron bed frame. Lay Diagonally across the top of the two Coffins is the badly decomposed body of an old woman in a Lilac Dress. The torso seems to have melted and dripped on to the floor on to the carpet between the Coffins. I try to shield the face of the woman with the spade, my Dad says "Don't worry, It's alright." I notice that the door to the room is open. My Mum is sat next to the door. I ask her to close it. "No." she says, "I am not ashamed of anything in this room." I walk to the door and close it myself. My Dad touches one of the coffins the decomposed fluid is corrosive and burns his hand. Sulphuric Acid fumes drift across the room. "I'm definitely getting cremated when I die." I say. "You're already dead." says one of my sisters, "Oh yeah, I forgot" I say. After my cremation someone smashes the charred remains of my skull with a mallet, I look on indignantly as the man takes some of my remaining teeth and puts them in his pocket.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 2:16:59 PM

 
20 Stretch..........I've just been released from prison after serving my 20 years sentence. My younger brother is picking me up. I exit via the rear gate and look around to the front gate where new prisoners are entering for their 20 year spell. (All jail sentences are exactly 20 years regardless of the crime.) My brother's voice shouts "Let's go!" I look around but I can't see him. "I'm up here! " he shouts. I look around and see a lampost which is also a car. The panel on the lampost is the car door. I open the door but I can't fit inside so I just wrap my arms around the post. "Are these thing's safe?" I say thinking of the high Centre of Gravity of the lampost as we round the corner at speed. "Don't worry," says my younger brother, "it's just the new technology, you're not used to." We pass the new inmates queueing for the Prison and I wonder what the technology will be like in another 20 years.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 2:13:17 PM

Friday, December 29, 2000 :::
 
McCartney and the Model.......I wake up on a long tressle table in a large car park. I have my arms around a strange woman. It's a cold frosty morning there's about 100 other people still asleep on the table. I walk to another table where someone is selling Matchbox model cars. There's a Red Porche that's priced at 1000 pounds. I haggle the price down to 689 quid and take the car. It's in its original box and mint condition. I take it back to my car boot table . My assistant says "why have you paid so much?". I say "Paul McCartney collects these, he'll pay a couple of million for this." I leave my assistant to look after the stall for a few minutes. When I return a child is playing with the porche, the roof of the car has no paint left on it, the inside of the car is full of sand. "no!" I say, and take the car from the child who begins to scream hysterically. I give the car back, the child smashes it to the ground where it breaks into small pieces. A black cab pulls up Paul McCartney gets out.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 12:57:32 PM

Saturday, December 16, 2000 :::
 
Tango Kenny…….The doorbell rings, my daughter says. “Dad, there’s a horse at the door.” I open the door, my youngest sister is riding a pony, it tries to walk into the house. “You can’t bring that in here.” I say. The pony grabs my sleeve with its teeth and drags me into the front garden. “Watch this!” says my sister. “Kenny…Kenny!” she shouts. Kenny rears up on his hind legs, his front legs scratching at the air. My sister grabs his front hooves and they do the tango on the front lawn. A girl rides past on another pony, there are more horses at the bottom of the road; Kenny gallops off to join them. We walk down to the group of horses, they are talking to each other by barking like dogs, I can understand what they say. “Does he always talk in Dog language? “ I say. “He’s very clever, he can speak loads of different animal languages,” she says. The horses immediately start meowing, and then begin talking in high pitch chirps, which sounds remarkably similar to the alarm on my wristwatch.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 6:50:46 PM

Monday, December 04, 2000 :::
 
Heaven or Hell………….It’s the tallest skyscraper in the world; it’s got to be. We are in New York and through our powerful telescope we are watching a building in Chile. The others are FBI, I’m not sure if I’m with them but I know I don’t trust them. I’m trying to work out how high this building must be for the horizon to stretch this far. I conclude that we must be almost in Space. There is no sign of criminal activity in Chile; I decide to go back down. The lift is tiny it will just about hold one person. I have to tuck my arms in to squeeze in. I’m travelling downwards for so long I think to myself; if I go much further I’ll be underground. The lift slows to a vertical stop then begins to travel horizontally. It moves out of the building into daylight, there is a small glass window close to my face through which I can see the city streets. The further I travel the older the buildings become. I am transported through a place called Queens. I somehow understand that the Chinese built this part of the city 500 years ago. The marble walls of the city’s buildings are turning to chalk dust. I get the impression that despite the natural light, I am underground. The lift starts to rotate so that I’m now lying on my back travelling feet first, it enters a tunnel and everything goes black. The container comes to a stop. I begin to feel claustrophobic, the sides of the container seem to be closing in around my shoulders, I’m having difficulty breathing, in fact, come to think of it, I’m not breathing. It slowly dawns on me that a person who is not breathing is dead and that the container I’ve been travelling in is my coffin. I’m all alone with nothing left except thoughts and memories with which to torture myself. Oh shit, I think to myself, this is serious.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 7:45:55 PM

Saturday, November 25, 2000 :::
 
Playground ……..Someone’s put my name forward for the Local Council elections for a laugh. I win the poll and become a councillor. This means I have to give up my job and start work at Halton Borough Council. My first day is very frustrating, as no one seems to actually do anything. We just sit around in a lounge all day people have the feet on the tables I notice that their shoes are very muddy. I talk to a colleague he says “…just go with the flow, don’t rock the boat. This is a cushy number with loads of perks.” At the end of the day a committee meeting is called. The head of the department arrives. She’s about 25, has a short blonde bob and is very attractive. My colleague whispers, “What do you think of your new boss?” The boss sits down next to me; she is too close; I can feel the heat from her body. She looks into my eyes and smiles sweetly. Too sweetly, I think. I stand up “Is this any way to run a F***ing Council?” I exclaim. As I’m delivering these words, I feel somehow detached as if someone else is saying them for me. The Boss looks around the room and raises her eyebrows. The meeting ends, my colleague says, “she likes people who stand up to her, but beware her bite’s much worse than her bark.” “ She’s not getting her teeth anywhere near me.” I lie. I look out of the window into the Council’s staff playground. Around the perimeter is a crazy golf course; red and green striped Astroturf and some bizarrely shaped swings. My Wife and Daughter are waiting to pick me up from my first day at work; they are playing in the sandpit waiting for the bell to go. A cyclist rides by and crashes in front of them. His badly charred remains are smouldering, the wisps of smoke form rings of perfect circles.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 11:29:03 PM

 
Abandoned Shopping Trolley…………Scene 1: The main corridor in the Path Lab at Whiston Hospital. Bill from Neighbours is putting holes in the wall with a screwdriver. I say I have great admiration for his technique, and does he want a job in the Network Department? He says sure thing in an exaggerated Aussie accent, I start to wonder if he’s the real Bill or an impostor. I think to myself “Bill Impostors will be prosecuted.” He puts his tools in my shopping trolley then we head off up the corridor. Scene 2: The corridor has become Knowsley Road, home of the Saints. The terrace is crowded so we get onto the side of the pitch. I meet someone I haven’t seen for years, I ask how he’s getting on, he says his mum’s got a new famous boyfriend. I look ahead; his mum looks like Dot Cotton, her boyfriend’s got red hair. He turns round; it’s Chris Evans. The passageway is getting narrower; someone drops their shopping bags, potatoes spill out and block the way through. I try to get my shopping trolley to fly but that’s not allowed so you have to wake up now.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 11:28:24 PM

Monday, November 13, 2000 :::
 
Ill Wind..............I receive a phone call from my sister-in-law, there's something wrong with her new house, she want’s me to have a look at it. I arrive at the small cottage near to a single-track railway line; something tells me this is North Wales. As I arrive she's making up a fire with rolled up newspapers and logs. I ask what's wrong she says, "There's a smell of fear coming through from next door." She lights the fire and throws the extinguished match on to the mantelpiece. I notice that the match isn't completely out, a babies knitted cardigan in a parcel on the mantelpiece starts to smoulder slightly. I grab the package and rush to the kitchen sink; I get about halfway there before it erupts into a huge ball of flames. My hand starts to burn; I drop the cardigan; it sets fire to my trousers, they are made of polyester and start to melt; I feel severe pain across my thighs. I extinguish the flames with a wet tea towel, my legs now appear to be made of brittle black plastic. My sister-in-law points to a door in the kitchen, it appears to lead to next-door's house. I go to the door I can feel a slight breeze blowing through the gap in the doorframe. I sniff the air; it does smell of fear. "You breathe it in and it fills you full of fear." she says. She blows up and ties several balloons, within seconds the balloons whither. I go into the living room my nieces are immersed in a playstation game, they look astonished as a hand emerges from the TV screen, finds the power button and switches itself off. Someone screams we all run outside, there is a deafening noise coming from the sky. I look up to see what looks like Concorde falling backwards directly towards us. I start to run even though I think it's too late. The plane drifts away in the direction of the airport and disappears over the horizon. I brace waiting for the inevitable impact. Nothing happens. Surely the pilot couldn't have pulled out of that dive, I reason to myself. A helicopter appears and hovers briefly over the top of the airport control tower. Then there is a huge explosion, which knocks everybody off their feet, everything has gone quiet, everything has also gone red. Objects fall all around us out of the sky; suitcases, wheels, pieces of metal, I look up and see people falling, I follow one man down, unable to look away. As he is about 10 feet from the ground he suddenly slows right down, lands safely on his feet and walks away. I immediately recognise this from another dream.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 8:21:04 PM

Friday, November 10, 2000 :::
 
The Correct Use Of Soap Stars......My brother has a Car Alarm/House Alarm/Phone built into his wrist watch. We are in a subway on the way to his house for Sunday dinner, when his watch starts bleeping. "Either we're about to be attacked our my car alarm's going off." he says. Mike Baldwin emerges from the shadow’s points a gun at us and bundles us into a high rise office building. We go into a room, which looks like a church, except the pews have been replaced by comfortable sofas. The are people asleep on some of them. Ken Barlow makes an appeal to let us go, he is shot by Mike Baldwin who forces me to dump Ken's body in the back of an MPV style car. Mike tries to drive away but crashes into a lamppost. We return to the Church, which now developed a Grassy Knoll in the middle. I slump on one of the sofas, someone starts to play some Requiem music, I begin to doze, the music becomes colours in my head, I maintain my half asleep state within the dream and change the colours into shapes. I can now read the shapes. I visualise the music as a stream of nectar flowing into my brain and realise I have to fight the sickly sweet feeling.I jump out of the sofa and start rewiring a laptop I have found. I get a few shocks from the mains. I have to cut a piece of trunking with an 87 degree angle to finish the job.(?) Once the PC is working I send a 999 E-Mail. The police arrive Mike Baldwin escapes across St Bedes Infant's School Car park. I tell the police about the body, they open the boot. Inside is a large version of my toolbox. I unlock the toolbox Ken Barlow jumps out wearing a Butcher's Apron, he sprints across the School yard to the Guild Hall which has become a Grocer's shop and starts working behind the counter. "That's My Ken!" says Deidre Rasheed.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:37:10 PM

Thursday, November 09, 2000 :::
 
Last Bus to Warrington............We're staying at my mother-in-laws house, (it's not were it should be). My wife went to get the Bus to Warrington half an hour ago. I can see her through the window; still waiting at the bus stop with two of the kids in the distance; at the far side of the Prince Of Wales car park. A chef calls, I let him in and help him peel some large potatoes, we cut them into long thin chips. He puts what looks like a small bush into a pot. He gives me some instructions to pass on says "Good Luck" then leaves. I look in the pot, all the leaves have fallen from the bush, it looks like a pile of twigs. At the bottom of the pan I can see some Microchips on a small circuit board with sensors attached. I find the Chef's telephone number on the instructions and ring the company to complain. "Those chips are our for our protection" the man says. "Your deposit will be refunded on their safe return." "What do they do?" I ask."Well.." he says "If you cock up the meal, we have a recording of times and temperatures. So when you try sue us in court, we can prove that it was your fault." My wife returns, "Forty-five minutes I waited at that Bus stop and nothing turned up." she says. I look at of the window two (Purple?) Warrington Buses are Just leaving.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 12:32:02 PM

Monday, November 06, 2000 :::
 
Shut Up......On a bike ride in the countryside, we are lost.We decide to ride to the top of a nearby hill to see if we can see any Landmarks. When we get there, we find we are at Ditton Station. We enter the station door and discover that the station has been turned in a Holiday Camp. By the door there is a large Red Postbox. On closer inpection the Panel which normally contains the Date of the next post is an LCD display. I touch the display it immediately displays all my personal details; Address, Phone Number E-Mail etc. I'm amazed by this, until someone tells me there's a microchip in my wedding ring and they are tracking all my movements. I go into an amusement arcade and notice that it's an exact replica of my office at work. Someone has rearranged the desks to look like a school classroom. I'm upset to discover I'm wearing a dirty, beige coloured, badly knitted Aran Jumper. Luckily so is everyone else, someone tells me it's the new Friday dress down policy. The bell goes, we all sit down on tiny chairs, a group of people keep asking me to build a mobile phone for them.I tell them to shut up, the teacher arrives and tells me to shut up.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 12:58:38 PM

Thursday, October 26, 2000 :::
 
Train In Vain…..it’s Man United Versus someone else at Old Trafford. I notice the stadium layout has changed, hardly anyone watches live from the side of the pitch anymore, instead there are large cinemas all around the ground linked by a perimeter corridor and bars. My dad my brother and myself are in what we decide is one of the “rougher” theatres in the ground, i.e. no-one sits down or pays any attention to the game, they just sing and throw plastic beer glasses at each other. Someone suggests moving to one of the plusher theatres, when we get there the bars are very expensive. “Why don’t we watch from the side of the pitch?” Is the revolutionary suggestion from my brother. When we get to the Stands the whistle blows for half time. There are only a few hundred people around the ground, mostly families with young children. As the players leave the stadium a novelty train arrives, which several children board for a ride around the pitch. The train is drawn by a donkey, led by a woman who looks a lot like Barbara Windsor. As the train passes our position the Donkey starts urinating; there is a strong wind; the wind blows the Donkey’s piss over the three of us. Some of it goes into my eyes, which become sticky. I start to rub them at the same time trying to keep my hand over my Pint. “Good God!” shouts my Dad “This beer’s bad enough as it is!” My glass starts to fill up, disgusted I throw the beer over my shoulder, it lands on Barbara Windsor’s tee- shirt, she promptly rips it off and parades topless around the ground waving to the cheering crowds. I’m can’t help being appalled by the extent of the stretch marks.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 9:19:28 PM

 
Heart to Heart……….. I’m having problems with my heart. The doctor suggested, “Respite Care” This means for the past two days I’ve been wired up to a Woman’s body. Four rubber tubes protrude from my chest to a “Donor Carer's Chest”. Her heart is doing all the work for mine whilst it has a rest. It’s quite painless apart from the awkwardness of the tubes getting tangled up when we move around. Not forgetting the Heat generated from three people sharing the same bed. (My wife insists on being there at night time for some reason). We also have another link between our intestines which consists of a thicker tube connected to a stoma that looks like a hot water bottle top. A car sounds it’s horn outside the window, the women leaps out of bed, looks through the curtains and shouts “they’re here”. It’s disconnection day, I presume it‘s the Doctor. Instead there’s a Rentokil Van from which my Sister In Law emerges. “What are you doing here?” I ask. “we’ve won the contract with the NHS, I’ve come to disconnect you.” She says. I’m a bit reluctant to let her try. She turns the hot water bottle top on my stoma and immediately the air starts to escape from my stomach like a pressure cooker. I scream with pain. I’m choking to death. “whoops” she says “maybe I’m supposed to pull the Heart tubes out first. Hang on whilst I go and get the Instructions.”

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 9:18:11 PM

Wednesday, October 25, 2000 :::
 
Ghost Riders In The Sky..............I wake up momentarily, my mind captures a snapshot image of a tall figure stood in the shadows at the side of the bed. I've seen this one before I think, a classic dream, I open my eyes again slightly, the figure is still there, my heart races, eyes snap shut - didn't expect that. Do I pretend I'm still asleep? He may go away and not murder me in my bed. I decide I'll look once more, if he's still there I'll make a move for my five iron. As I open my eyes again, a car passes the window, its headlights illuminate Hank Marvin's face. He looks surprised and walks out of the room. I'm lying awake in bed (or think I am) is my brain playing tricks on me? Is someone sending me clues from the other side? All I need to do is put them all together like a big jigsaw. Another one of those "meaning of life" moments. Life's a joke. Hank Marvin in the Shadows. Nice one.. ha ha

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 9:17:48 PM

Sunday, October 22, 2000 :::
 
Italian Job........ a school trip in a foreign country. Our coach is speeding recklessly through narrow streets. I have a roller coaster feeling in the pit of my stomach I'm beginning to get very frightened, everyone else looks calm. We career through a hedge maze and take the corners at impossible speeds. We come to an abrupt halt in an Italian looking square, some gates open and the coach edges into narrow passageway inside a building. Everything has an "Italian Job" feel. I half expect Michael Caine to appear. I find out that all my fellow pupils are Christian Fundamentalists, they have come to protest against a Transsexual Brothel, and I thought we were on a skiing holiday. Some of us go to an outdoor cyber cafe in the square. I find a website that shows that the people I'm with are Right Wing Fascists and are trying to de-stabilise the country. The PC I'm using transforms into a large projection screen. Everyone can now see that I'm a spy. I think about making a run for it but my enemies seem unconcerned and just want to hear my argument against their cause. They listen sympathetically until the wind gets up and my projector screen is blown away leaving a hole in the wall. Inside the hole is a little man with horns on his head, he grins at me and turns off the fan.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 9:59:38 PM

 
Exhuming McCarthy.........another Pub Crawl, I've got an earphone just like a TV Presenter. I'm getting voices in my head telling me what to do and say from the producer in the Control Room. He looks like the bloke from the seventies TV Pop show "Supersonic" i.e. White Hair. We go into the Bradley. The fireplace is larger than it is in reality, standing in the fireplace are a dozen or so oldish men. I recognise them from the Club where I used to work, one of them is my father. Four of them are holding their pints facing inwards towards the wall. I realise that these are people who I know to be dead. The voice in my head tells me to Interview them and gives me a series of questions. I ask one or two questions but get no response. The questions are hopeless; the producer obviously doesn't know what he's doing so I ignore him. I try to make conversation with the dead men by saying "I'll be dead pretty soon". "Oh yeah" says a dead man sarcastically, "how do you know that?" I say "because God is talking to me through this earpiece." "and what else is he telling you" they say. "He says you're a bunch of communists and Mr McCarthy is not very pleased" I reply.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 9:58:54 PM

Monday, October 09, 2000 :::
 
Irish Eyes......I'ts my first day at University, when I collect the keys to my accomodation the receptionist asks if I would mind if other students waited in my room, as not all the rooms were ready. I say "that's OK". When I get to my room there are 4 female students in there already. I say hello, no one replies. There is no room to unpack my things, all the wardrobe space is taken, the desk is full of unpacked luggage and small ornamental gnomes. I can't sit down as both chairs are taken, one girl is lying on the matress (which has been removed from the bed), another lies on the bare wire bed frame. I put my paper down. One of the girls picks it up and completes the crossword in about 30 seconds. I say "do you mind? That was my paper." She picks up the newspaper and slams it down angrily on the desk. The desk has now turned into a news stand at Lime Street Station. I pick the paper and notice the supplement is missing. The newsagent wants to charge me for the paper and we start arguing. A woman and her young daughter are walking past, the mother is Natalie, the Rovers' Landlady from Coronation Street. She sees the look of recognition in my eyes and averts her gaze. She turns to her Daughter and says in a thick Irish accent "come along Monica."

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 1:18:00 PM

Sunday, October 08, 2000 :::
 
Widnes Past……..I’m walking along Widnes Road towards the town centre. I hear cheering in the distance and see an open topped Double Decker bus making its way past the Derby Pub. It’s the 1964 Challenge Cup Winning Widnes team showing off the trophy. The player holding the Cup is Reg Bowden so it should be the 1975 Cup Winning Team but somehow it’s not. The bus, the players and the road are in black and white. The crowd of people and everything else is in colour. As the bus passes the shop fronts they turn black & white also. I think “ ah! The Widnes Colours are Black & White” Then I realise the shops are changing into the way they were in 1964. I become more Lucid in the dream and decide to use this opportunity to do a site seeing tour of how things were. I go into shops and they actually have products in old packaging. I’m Lucid (or think I am) but the packaging is very convincing. I then realise that my Gran’s Shop on the corner of Dixon Street will be still be there (it’s now a car park). I go to the shop and look in the window. There are apples and pears on display. I go inside; the shop is completely empty except for a set of scales and weights. I have this overwhelming feeling of sadness and have to get out.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 4:42:36 PM

 
Model Passenger.........there's a long line of planes waiting to take off. The pilot is impatient; he wants to jump the queue. He knows of a shortcut around the airport's perimeter. We weave in and out of a maze of roads and terminal buildings. He takes one of the corners too fast and the plane tips to the right and scrapes the wing against the ground. I notice this through my window and I go to the cockpit to tell the captain that the plane is damaged so we should not take off. The captain looks angry, I decide not to say anything and go back to my seat. We taxi onto the runway and take off. I look out of the window the wing is bent almost double. I realise that we are going to crash and that this is the end of my life. The plane summersaults and amazingly lands intact back on the runway. We are taxiing back to the terminal when I notice the other planes look huge compared to ours. We travel up to one and pass underneath it I look at the enormous wheels, and realise that our plane is a balsa wood toy and we are miniature people. The captain approaches and tells me he needs help winding up the elastic band that powers the propeller.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 4:40:31 PM

Monday, October 02, 2000 :::
 
Class Bus........I'm sitting in the lower class seats at the back of the Bus. The upper class seats are at the front. The seats are arranged sideways so there are four rows of 15 seats. There is no centre aisle so the only way to change class of seats is to get off the bus. I notice the seats in the row in front look more comfortable. At the next stop a seat in front becomes vacant. I get off the bus and take a seat in the next row. The seat has levers at each arm rest which hydraulically adjust the height, inclination etc. No matter how I try I cannot adjust the seat to be as comfortable as the previous one. My back starts to hurt. I look in front and see that the next class has a TV screen built into the seat. I transfer again at the next stop. The new seat terminal has a menu. Item No. 2 on the menu is: " 2. Control stink from desk No. 2". I select item 2, I then notice that the seats in the front row have desks, the lid of desk No. 2 opens slightly and some air freshener is released. I ask one of the passengers what is in the desk, he replies "an old mouldy t-shirt". I climb over into the front row and open the desk lid. Inside is the new Radiohead CD.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 12:48:52 PM

Tuesday, September 26, 2000 :::
 
Crocodile Survivor.............there are ten of us in a large glass bowl about the size of a tennis court. The object of the game is to be the last person to be eaten by the giant crocodile. The bowl is full of realistic remote control crocodiles. One of the crocs is for real, it's hard to tell which is which until someone is eaten.....there's about 3 of us left, we lure the croc into a conveniently located car crusher. We switch it on; as the crocodile is crushed lengthwise like a concertina.The crocodile begins to scream, there are multiple screams, they are human screams. We then realise that the people swallowed by the crocodile are still alive. Human hands and feet burst through the sides of the crocodile cube.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 2:50:05 PM

Monday, September 25, 2000 :::
 
Fairground Attraction...........the fairground has mostly circular stalls of the type "stick three darts in separate cards" and "hook a duck". One stall contains a large earthenware planting pot in the shape of an old fashioned pram. The Container hangs from the stall from four ropes, one at each corner (a hanging basket?). A gardener complains that the container is flawed and demands a discount. He says one of the hooks is missing. I take a look; the hooks slide up and down inside the pot. As I demonstrate the retractable hook to the gardener, the stall owner grabs the pot and swings it into the stall. This drags me across the front of the stall; I'm hanging by the tips of my fingers and the soles of my feet. I look down into a very deep chasm (cartoon style). I hear the ropes above my head creaking (they are about to break). Just as I think I'm about to fall, the stall owner pushes the pot back in place. The pot is now full of flowers. My wife appears and drags me into a bush. "What are we hiding here for?" I say, "we're married". "yes" she says, "but not to each other !" Suddenly everything seems clear.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 4:57:24 PM

Friday, September 22, 2000 :::
 
Flying Again.............the Jumbo jet is heading for Florida it's fully booked. I start to notice there are less and less people in the seats. I start to wonder were they're going. I remember a Stephen King film called "The Langoliers"? In which the plane flies through a Time Warp and loses all the passengers who aren't asleep. I start to panic and wonder whether the Captain and Co-Pilot are still on board..... The passenger count is now down to about 5. I walk to the cockpit and open the door. The Pilot and Engineer are missing but the Co-Pilot is still there. He is wearing shorts, tartan socks and a white beret. Payne Stewart grins at me and says, "do you know how to fly this thing?"

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 12:37:08 PM

Wednesday, September 20, 2000 :::
 
Twisting by the Pool..... I'm walking over the steel arches of the Widnes/Runcorn bridge. I look down below at the road. Running parallel to the bridge is what looks like a giant corkscrew. I cross over to Runcorn and take a look at the corkscrew. It's a fairground ride from Runcorn to Widnes. The seats on the ride look unsafe they're just a metal chain swing with a plastic seat. I get on anyway. The ride loops across the Mersey. Towards the middle of the ride it dips close to the water. There are people in the river rowing boats; their appearance suggests they are from the distant past. They look frightened as I veer towards them. I reach out and kick one of the rowers' caps from his head. I immediately feel sorry for the man and wonder why I did it. I arrive at the other end, there is no way back I look around it's Southport Pleasureland, the hall of mirrors.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 10:18:21 PM

Friday, September 15, 2000 :::
 
Flakey Fuel Supplies........waiting in the queue for Petrol, my pillion passenger gets off and talks to some other people in the line. He returns to tell me that they are not letting anyone with more than a quarter of tank of fuel fill up. I look at the gauge on the scooter; it's nearly full. I move the bike nearer to a grid and tip it up emptying virtually all the petrol in the tank down the drain. A policeman then inspects the fuel gauge and waves me through. The next policeman wants to see my ID. I fumble around in my pockets- I can't find it; I am sent out of the queue. There is a large advertisement hoarding at the side of the petrol station. The advert consists of 2 frames. One of a girls face, she's holding an unwrapped bar of Cadbury's Flake in front of her slightly opened mouth, the second frame is the same girls face covered in chocolate, she's now holding an empty wrapper. The banner reads "Lick the F*** off a Flake". I think to myself "these adverts are getting a bit over the top." Underneath a Government Health Warning states the maximum penalty for counterfeiting Cadburys Chocolate is 20 years imprisonment.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 12:31:42 PM

Thursday, September 14, 2000 :::
 
Magnetic Stations ....... a group is gathered around one of the stations of the cross in a modern looking church. The priest is showing me how to play "a game not unlike Monte Carlo?" in his words. Closer inspection of the station reveals a magnetic board upon which the priest is demonstrating how to move the pieces around. The pieces resemble the shapes in a game of Tetris. I notice that I'm the only one of the Group that is paying any attention then realise that all this for my benefit only. Some youths enter the Church; they are playing loud music on a large Ghetto Blaster. I think the Priest is not going to stand for this when to my surprise he gets up and starts dancing in the aisles unconvincingly. "This is Great Music." says the priest, "Have you got any REM? "

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 11:59:36 AM

Monday, September 11, 2000 :::
 
More bull........I have acquired a dwarf cow (about 2 foot high). I have placed it on a table in an attempt to milk it. It has screw in udders and I'm attempting to adjust them with a penknife to start the milk flowing. A farmer says "you won't get any milk out of that cow until you introduce it to a Bull." A small Bull appears, I introduce it to the Cow. (Cow, Bull. Bull, Cow) The Bull starts choking on something, it's having great difficulty breathing. I pick up the Bull and start slapping its back. I notice it has transformed into a large baby. The baby has Jet Black hair and a horror movie style grimace. It still has Bulls horns. "It's the Devils baby you've got to kill it." says the farmer's voice. "I can't kill it, it's only a baby." I say. I slap it's back harder. It's still choking. A few more slaps then I feel something break. The baby smiles as blood seeps from its mouth.

::: posted by steerpike Uk at 8:32:27 PM