David Hadley's Blog, page 63

Eroticism and Fresh Cream Cakes

These days Picklingvinegar Stoatadaptor is best known as one of the world’s leading exponents of the use of the cream…

This Blog has Moved

This blog has moved to my new website.

Consequently, there will be no more new posts here.

This blog will remain here for at least the time being, so that links etc. continue to work.

Those older posts at the new blog that contain links to other posts may – for a while – still link back to this blog (or – in the case of some very old posts – back to the blog before this). But I will get around to fixing them at some point.

Thanks for reading and I hope to see you at the new place soon.

Here is the RSS feed for the new blog for those interested.

 

 

Filed under: Admin, Blogs, Computers, current affairs, Events, Futures, Internet, Journeys, Memory, News, Places, Services And Shopping, Technology, Time, Web Sites Tagged: blog, new, posts, website

Wherever It Was

Still. As these things go….

It didn’t.

Mercher poked it tentatively with the tip of his least favourite finger. Jerking it back as soon as it touched, just in case.

Nothing happened.

Mercher glanced behind him, just in case….

In case of what, he’d rather not think about.

Ever since he’d fallen into, passed through, into this… place… dimension… universe… whatever it was, things had been jumping out in front of him and behind him. All of them were seemingly intent on if not killing him then seriously injuring him, often – apparently – merely because he was there.

Which, he supposed was all well and good in its way. After all, back on the Earth he came from there were some dangerous places, like city centres on weekend nights.

Back there though, in his own place… dimension…universe… or whatever it was, Mercher knew the rules, knew what to expect and when to expect the unexpected.

Here though… wherever it was… was different.

He was beginning to suspect that this dimension did not operate to the same laws of nature as his own more familiar Earth.

Mercher touched the… thing again, this time with his pointed stick.

The… thing had leapt out of the bushes at the side of the path Mercher was running down, and it was not to say hello to him.

After being here less than a week, after a quite a few close shaves, Mercher knew that now. He had learnt that the creatures in this world did not leap out of the bushes to offer the claw of friendship.

After all, Mercher was running down the path to get away from a pack of… well, things with sharp teeth and claws that had been chasing him since first light that morning. Even now, as he stood in front of this other… thing with claws and – of course – lots of teeth, he could hear the pack of those other things howling to each other in the distance.

After only a day in this place, Mercher had armed himself with a big stick. After a couple of days, he had ground the end of it down to a very sharp point. Now he had another stick as well, more of a branch, really. The big one, the branch, made quite a useful club.

Mercher, being a trainee filing clerk, had not – in his past back on Earth – ever had to do much in the way of violence, at least not after leaving school. Now, though, he found he seemed to have an aptitude for it.

Lucky for me, he thought as he stepped over the… thing that was now leaking a strange greenish-blue blood across the pathway, otherwise by now he would be very dead indeed.

 

 

Filed under: Animals, Environment, Events, Fantasy, Fear, Fiction, Fragments, Health And Safety, Journeys, Moments, Mystery, Myths and Legends, Places, Possibilities, Stories, Time, Wildlife Tagged: fantasy, fiction, writing

Mistakes

Mistakes

We now are almost ready to begin.

This is the place it starts, beginning here.

We find these places and we create times

From those we take with us as memories.

We cannot shape these moments held so tight

Into a final form until we know

The shapes they should always then take before

It is too late, and all our open hands

Are left bereft and empty once again.

We build the monuments around these places,

Remembering the past mistakes we made

And taking moments from those times before

To turn them all to history for us

To each remember, but we do not learn.

The past and our mistakes all haunt our nights,

Perhaps too much for our remembering.

Believing in the possibility

Of some perfection, imperfection taunts

With its inevitability. Still,

We learn, but only slowly through mistakes.

Forgetting far too easily, we need

These things, reminding us all to forgive.

 

Filed under: Events, History, Memory, Moments, Monday poem, Places, Poems, Poetry, Possibilities, Society, Time, Words Tagged: memory, poem, poetry, words, writing

The Drum Solo and its Dangers

Highhat Paradiddle is probably the world’s leading professor of Drum Solo Studies. Now Emeritus Professor of Drum Stools at the prestigious University of Steve (formerly Stroud Agricultural College Annexe), he has produced the world’s leading paper on this great enigma. For almost as long as humanity has existed, there have been drum solos, but nobody on Earth really knows why.

Of course, back in the mists of prehistory, hitting something resonant with a stick was probably one of the few ways of making a noise. So, in a way it is inevitable that drumming would have evolved in most, if not all, prehistoric societies. At least until the headman of the tribe got a headache from it, then it would have stopped… suddenly.

Drums exist in more or less every society; mainly it seems as a way of keeping those who like to hit things occupied and away from hitting other members of the tribe. This is also – probably – why the drums have featured so heavily in military music. Probably as the people who most like hitting things, at least up until the increased use of ranged weapons, would naturally have gravitated towards the army. Of course, each army when not at war would have needed to find something for its soldiers to hit – apart from each other in training – hence the increased use of the drums in the military.

It also explains why up until the modern age, armies would go into battle with the drummers leading the way. Mainly in the hope that the drummers would be hit first and the rest of the soldiers would then be able to get a bit of peace back at the camp.

It is at this point, where Paradiddle’s latest theory comes to the fore. The decline in military drummers in modern warfare has had dire consequences, according to Paradiddle. He points out that modern societies no longer use them as expendable targets on the battlefield. Consequently, he says, the natural numbers of drummers produced in modern society would inevitably increase.

As a side point here, Paradiddle has put forward a theory as to why all cultures around the world produce drummers. He says that the only way to stop a drummer from drumming – at least temporarily – is to have sex with them. Thus, it seems the number of drummers in a society would always increase. Mainly as more and more tribes, or later communities, encouraged their nubile young women to have sex with as many drummers as possible, as often as possible. At least so that the rest of the tribe or community could get some peace, for a minute or two anyway.

This increase in the number of drummers, and the decrease in the military wastage of drummers, is what Paradiddle claims led to the rise in the number of drummers. Hence, he argues, inevitably, leading to an increase in the number of drum solos.

As evidence, Paradiddle points to the number of inordinately long drum solos in the 1970s. A time when anti-war protest campaigning – especially during the Vietnam era in the US – and anti-war feeling, in general, was at its highest.

Therefore, Paradiddle argues the only way a society can ensure its peace and safety from the drum solo is to be permanently at war. Making sure that every regiment has its full complement of drummers on the front line.

Many feel that this would be a price well worth paying, if only for a little more peace and quiet.

 

Filed under: arts, Culture, Entertainment, Events, Fear, Health And Safety, History, Horror, music, Mystery, Places, Popular Culture, Possibilities, rock music, Science, Sex, Society, Tales of the Unexpurgated, Time Tagged: comedy, funny, humor, humour

Free Kindle Novel: What Dreams May Come

 

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Dreams are dangerous things.

After a mental collapse forces him to sell his software company, entrepreneur Stephen Parker retreats to the quiet coastal village of Stoneyhaven, hoping to rebuild his life.

Soon Parker discovers how dangerous dreams can be, as the world of his nightmares threatens to break out into his waking life and destroy the new happiness he finds in Stoneyhaven.

To save the lives of those he loves, and perhaps even the world itself, Parker must enter the Dreamlands to rescue the ghostly woman haunting his dreams and solve the mystery of the Manor House before it is too late.

FREE FOR THE NEXT FIVE DAYS

What Dreams May Come

Available here (UK) or here (US)

Filed under: Book, Books, Dreams, Entertainment, Events, Fantasy, Fiction, Free, Kindle, Memory, Moments, Mystery, Night, Novel, Novels, Possibilities, Publications, Secrets, Society, Stories, Time Tagged: fantasy, free ebook, free fiction, free kindle, free novel, SF

Dancing Celebrity Prime Minister on Ice

Wheelarch Sellbydate is probably the first-ever British Prime Minister, who is also a celebrity ice dancer. Recently, the 2015 General election recorded the lowest-ever national turnout of only 3 people. One of whom had mistaken the polling booth for a public urinal. As a result, the entire UK population decided that something must be done to reinvigorate the country’s political system.

Obviously, and most sensibly, the population decided first to get rid of all the politicians. Hardly anyone noticed the difference for the first few years. Except that it reduced, the nightly news bulletins to now only 7 minutes long and things, in general, seemed to work somewhat better than they had done before.

However, it was felt that the British state did need someone to go to the worldwide governmental jollies at expensive locations around the world. Someone to sign the treaties and other meaningless reams of paper that convince politicians they have some significance on the world stage. As well as meet and greet foreign dignitaries and/or politicians for those all-important media appearances.

Eventually, the nation stumbled toward a consensus view that politicians had proved time and again that they shouldn’t be allowed to run anything, especially not a country. Consequently, the nation moved, almost as one to seek some other method of selecting a person to be photographed shaking the hands of various world leaders.

However, a poll conducted by the reputable WEmakEitAllup polling company produced some fascinating results. It found that the majority of British people would like to see the British Prime Minister and other world leaders making utter arses of themselves.

So the format of the next election was decided, mostly by the TV companies who needed another ratings hit. These companies all know that the British population loves reality and talent shows. They also enjoy seeing celebrities making arses of themselves. It, therefore, seemed obvious that this was the ideal method of choosing the next national leader. Along with all the necessary dogsbodies, hangers-on and mentally-flawed careerists that populate the Houses of Parliament.

So, Dancing Celebrity Prime Minister on Ice was born.

Up until the first round of the new programme, Wheelarch Sellbydate was just another TV presenter. At the time, he was fronting an obscure motoring programme on a cable channel. It was the only motoring programme on at the time that did not set fire to caravans in an overly-contrived but mildly amusing way.

However, it was Sellbydate‘s complete inability to stand upright on ice for more than two steps which endeared him to the audience. By then the UK was a nation bored shitless by professionalism and competence in every arena (except politics, of course). It was Sellbydate‘s sheer incompetence, inability to perform and lack of any noticeable awareness of – or interest in – politics, which – inevitably – made him the perfect choice for British Prime Minister.

So, in the final when he only managed two steps of the tango before falling on his arse and spraining his partner’s wrist. This was during an ill-thought-out disco dancing arrangement of Amazing Grace played by the Royal Scots Dragoon band on spoons. However, the performance still won the coveted first prize for Sellbydate.

Of course, his stint as Prime Minister has not been without mishap. For example, he waltzed Vladimir Putin across an ice filled Buckingham Palace Courtyard, making the Russian leader fall over seventeen times. The British population regards this as the diplomatic coup of all time, despite a distinctly unamused Russia imposing a total trade embargo on the UK. Even now, the video clip of the dance is the most watched video on YouTube.

All in all then, it looks as though the UK’s great experiment with popular democracy has worked out very well, for once. There is even talk that the US will pick its next president by seeing who can eat the most unpalatable and disgusting insects in a jungle-based reality setting.

However, only time will tell if this experiment with real democracy will take off around the rest of the world.

 

Filed under: Celebrities, Culture, current affairs, Entertainment, Events, Health And Safety, Ideology, Internet, media, Moments, music, politics, Popular Culture, Society, Tales of the Unexpurgated, TV, Video Tagged: comedy, funny, humor, humour

First Contact

‘That one. The small blue and green one.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Signals…? What sort of signals?’

‘Ah… that is where our scientists disagree.’

‘Why? Surely the mere existence of the signal must indicate intelligent life?’

The chief scientist nodded his left head while one of his tentacles scratched the other. ‘Not necessarily. I mean, for example, your highness, there are always one or two – even amongst one’s own nestmates – that one is always not that pleased to see, don’t you think?’

The princess glanced behind her with her right head, noting that her bodyguards and her advisers had slipped back out of earshot. She nodded both heads, tentacles coming up to cover her mouths as she giggled… discreetly.

The chief scientist relaxed. ‘You see, your Highness, it is not the signal that is the problem. It is -of course – so exciting, after all these centuries of searching, to at last have found a signal, but as for signs of intelligent life…?’

‘Show me.’

‘But… your Majesty….’

‘I am prepared and I will take full responsibility. I will declare it now – in front of witnesses….’ She called over her adviser and her assistant. ‘I will declare now I take full responsibility for requesting what you now show me, Lord Chief Scientist. I also declare – make a note of this – that I absolve the Lord Chief Scientist from any blame that may attach to him over what he is about to reveal. Furthermore, I decree there will be no retribution on him or his nestmates. Is that clear?’ The princess looked around as all the heads around her nodded.

Satisfied, she nodded too. Both heads.

The chief scientist took a breath and gestured to the control panel.

Every mouth gasped.

The princess swallowed and took a deep breath. Behind her, she could hear retching. One of her assistants mumbled an apology through tentacle-covered mouths and ran out of the room for the conveniences.

The princess remembered her training, her breeding, and forced herself to remain calm. ‘They have only one Head?’

‘Yes, your Majesty.’

‘How odd. But I suppose we must remember they are aliens. We wouldn’t expect them to look like us…’ she turned hopefully to the chief scientist, ‘would we?’

‘Not in theory.’

‘Their tentacles…? They have only the four?’

‘So it would seem.’

‘I must say I was hoping for something a bit more…. A bit more aesthetically pleasing. But still, it is our First Contact.’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘Turn it off.’

The chief scientist waved a tentacle and the screen faded.

‘So, they are the only other intelligent life we have found in the entire universe?’ The princess wiped her sweaty brows discreetly with the royal tentaclekerchief.

‘Yes, your Majesty.’

The princess nodded. ‘Tell me, have you discovered what they will taste like?’

‘Not yet, your Majesty, but we are working on it.’

‘Good. Continue.’ The Princess turned, waving a tentacle to her retinue to follow as she swept from the room.

 

 

Filed under: Environment, Events, Fiction, Fragments, Health And Safety, Moments, Mystery, Nature, Places, Possibilities, Science, SF, Society, Time Tagged: aliens, fiction, science fiction, SF, writing

Bacon and the Theory of Breakfasts

Parkingspace Weaselfur is emeritus professor of Bacon Studies at the University of Port Eynon in Wales. Yesterday, he released a paper in the prestigious Journal of Inquiry into Breakfasts, claiming that without the bacon sandwich, Western civilisation would not have developed to the extent that it has. Nor would it continue to grow and develop unless we do more to promote the use of the bacon sandwich, not only in the workplace, but in schools too.

‘For a long time,’ the professor said, ‘the central role of bacon in a proper breakfast has been well-established.’

Of course, over the later decades of the 20th century many food revolutionaries tried to overthrow the central place of bacon in the traditional breakfast. But more often than not without success. There have been several attempts by critics of the proper breakfast to replace it. Some have tried to replace the traditional breakfast with cereals, porridge, even muesli and other staples of Continental Breakfast Theory, including the croissant. However, the traditional proper English breakfast has managed to hold its ground. Even despite its theoretical underpinning coming under threat by those who would like to undermine the traditional breakfast. Often wanting to replace it with what they see as a more revolutionary approach to the breakfast table.

Although, as many point out, the EU countries that have adopted the standard EU-style Continental Breakfast have not fared so well in the world’s economic indexes. At least not as well as those countries that have stuck with their own breakfast traditions, especially in the free use of bacon.

However, Weaselfur goes further than this in his contentious claims. He says it is the development of the bacon sandwich, in particular, helped establish the Industrial Revolution. This, he argues, brought about the massive increase in longevity, health, living standards, freedom and material wealth now enjoyed by the peoples of the West.

He also points out that the spread of the bacon sandwich to underdeveloped countries has also resulted in those countries experiencing a massive boost in their own indigenous wealth and productivity. Which, in turn, invariably brings about those rises in living standards, not only for the wealthy but also for everyone. Eventually, with all levels of that society experiencing access to as much bacon as anyone could wish for.

As Weaselfur points out, the bacon sandwich, once tasted inevitably brings about a desire to repeat the experience, usually the sooner, the better. This increases the productivity and hence the wealth of the worker. But it stimulates the demand for more bacon, more bread, and in more developed economies, more brown sauce or ketchup. This makes the bacon sandwich more available and so stimulates the workers to eat more sandwiches, thus making them happier.

‘Contrast that,’ Weaselfur said in his paper, ‘with the prospect of facing another bowl of muesli.’

Some critics have pointed out though that there is more to pork products than bacon. However, to their surprise, Weaselfur agrees. ‘We need not only a Special Theory of Bacon, we need a General Theory of Pork,’ he said at a recent International Breakfast Convention.

Other critics have pointed out to that a proper breakfast does not depend on bacon alone, unlike Weaselfur’s Bacon Sandwich Theory. There, if you remove the bacon, all that remains is a couple of slices of bread and – perhaps – a smear of sauce.

However, only time will tell if the General Theory of Pork will prove the claim of some that sausage and even black pudding are essential for a proper breakfast.

 

Filed under: arts, Culture, Days, Education, Events, Food, Health And Safety, Mystery, philosophy, Places, Popular Culture, Science, Society, Tales of the Unexpurgated, Time Tagged: comedy, funny, humor, humour

Every Shade of Darkness

There was pain. Her eyes clenched shut.

She opened her eyes.

She swore and tried to move, shift away from the hardness that was hurting her back.

Her arms were behind her back and they wouldn’t move. Something at her wrists stopped her.

She writhed.

Jenny opened her eyes again, feeling something as her eyelids brushed it. A blindfold?

Her mouth was stuffed with something too… a gag?

She, of course, had read that book, like all her friends. Her best friend, Sarah, lent her a copy. She’d laughed about it with all her mates over too much wine.

Then one day she’d suggested it to George. As a joke, or in a way that she could pass off as a joke, because sometimes George could be a bit funny… sensitive about things like that.

To her surprise, he’d agreed.

It wasn’t like the book… of course not, not even close. So all the stuff, the handcuffs the blindfold and the gag went into that drawer of things that are never used again and then are forgotten about.

Now, though Jenny wasn’t lying on their bed. She was on some hard, rough floor. She could feel it against her skin.

It could be the garage. There was a cold draft and the floor was hard, rough and dirty. She felt with her fingers, back past the pain in her back, wincing again as the rough floor grazed her nakedness.

It felt like concrete. There was a hollow feeling to the air and a hint of engine oil on the air too, something damp against her bare thigh.

Her head throbbed as Jenny tried to remember, to cast her mind back to what had happened before… well, before this.

There had been an argument, or as close to an argument as George ever got. He was quiet equitable, most of the time. But that old saying about still waters was more than true of him. Which was why she’d been hesitant about bringing the toys into the bedroom, not sure of how he’d react.

Now here she was tied up and blindfolded, lying naked on the floor of the garage. This time it didn’t feel like a game.

When he let her go, this time there would be trouble. The hard cold concrete dug into her back, her shoulders, and her thighs.

She was getting cold now too and the taste of the cheap plastic ball gag was making her feel a little sick.

She wished she could scream, or stand up… or anything.

It sounded quiet, wherever she was, as though it was the middle of the night. As if just to confirm it, an owl hooted. If this had been a TV mystery drama, she’d have laughed at the cliché. She didn’t feel like laughing now. If anything she felt like… she needed to go, the pressure in her stomach, her bladder, was increasing, and now she couldn’t stop thinking about that.

Then she heard the door open.

Then footsteps.

More than one set. Jenny thought about her nakedness and people looking down at her.

Strangers?

‘What shall we do with her?’ It was the voice of Sarah, her best friend.

She was safe! Jenny sighed with relief around the gag. Surely, it was over now.

‘We’ll get rid of her,’ George said.

The footsteps turned and walked away.

 

Filed under: Events, Fear, Fiction, Fragments, Health And Safety, Moments, Mystery, Night, Places, Popular Culture, Possibilities, Secrets, Sex, Society, Stories, Time, Wednesday Story, Words Tagged: fear, fiction, mystery, writing