Great Psychic Reading

Great Psychic Reading

"Don't answer spam emails," people say, "It only encourages the bastards."

But when you get one with the subject line "Pay nothing for a Psychic Reading today", I simply cannot contain myself, for I am nothing but one of those crazy fools Mr.T warned you about.

Dear Tara

Thank you for your kind offer for a free Psychic Reading, which was not entirely unexpected. In fact, I'd go as far as saying that I knew you were going to say that. And so did my friend Sam. Bless you, Sam.

However, as a resident of Psychic Reading - the Thames Valley's capital of yummy mummies and Lost Cat signs - I feel I must turn you down, due to the bylaws about BLASPHEMING and WITCHERY, of which you appear to be an eminent proponent.

I look forward to your confession and subsquent firey death in the cleansing flames of OUR LORD.

Your new pal,

Albert O'Balsam

And if that doesn't confuse them, I don't know what will.


And in other news: A new lost cat poster has arrived.

Cannot end well.

On trying to link out of LinkedIn

On trying to link out of LinkedIn

Several months ago, and like a damn fool, I signed up for LinkedIn, the social media website for business types and occasional arseholes looking to expand their circle of contacts.

After a couple of days, it rapidly became clear that LinkedIn wasn't for me, so I did what has already happened to millions of social media accounts all over the world: I bopped it over the dead like an unwanted kitten and left it at the side of the road like so much carrion.

But LinkedIn was having none of it. Like a spurned lover, they kept dropping me emails on a daily basis, reminding me that I still had an account with them, and would I - by any chance - want to make contact with this alluring list of members? Now. Or we kill this puppy.

Enough. Instead of leaving my account inactive, I went back, set my email notifications to "No emails" and then, in a fit of pique, deleted the account altogether whilst saying "You're Fired!" in a Lord Sugar voice.

And did the emails stop? No, they did not. If anything, I was now getting at least two a day, asking if I knew somebody I was trying desperately to ignore, and perhaps I'd like to come and log in to my account? You know, the one that doesn't exist any more. Or we kill this puppy, and a cute squirrel we found.

Now, I know at least one other person who has had the same problem, so I won't beat about the bush. I won't even write them an enraged letter, because it might make them think that I still care. So instead, I will just say this:

Seriously, LinkedIn: Just fuck off.

That is all.

DALAI LAMA QUOTES

DALAI LAMA QUOTES

He is a right old card is my arch-nemesis Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama ("Not daily, not a llama"), and I've made it my life's work to undercover him as the cad and a bounder that he really is. And with China on the up, I'm looking to bolster my profile in Beijing.

To this end, and in the hope of free prawn crackers at the Peking Palace on my next visit, I've been nobbing around the internet looking for dirt on the world's top living spiritual leader, and, as usual the internet comes up with the goods:

On revenge
"There is an old saying that 'Revenge is a dish best served cold'. What a load of old dolphin cock. Revenge is patently a dish best served with a claw hammer, negligee, tuning fork and a pick axe."

On Facebook
Dalai Lama likes Cheryl Cole and That Moment When You Fart and Blame a Passing Nun

On Karma
"I wouldn't touch Widdecombe with a shitty stick. She must have done something TERRIBLE in a previous life"

On hob-nobbing with the stars
"Bono still hasn't worked who out puts clingfilm over all his toilet seats. What a putz"

On celebrity
"Hello Big Brother House, this is Davina, you are live on Channel Four. Please do not swear"
"Hairy granny minges!"

On China/Tibet relations
"I implore you all, faithful followers, to crap through Hu Jintao's letterbox. It's the only language these curs understand. That and Chinese, obviously"

On the eternal sea of politics
"Man, that Michelle Obama is HOT HOT HOT! I'd spill my karma over her"

On Top Gear
"You really had your foot down going through Gambon, didn't you, Holiness?"
"Totally wankered it"

I'll get you, Lama, if it's the last thing I do.

On Facebook trolling

On Facebook trolling

A plot!

1. Set up a Facebook account in the name of (say) Alastair Coleman

2. Search on Facebook for other Alastair Colemans

3. Friend only Alastair Colemans, and perhaps Alastairs with other surnames

4. Tell them that the correct spelling is "Alistair", the Alistair-mangling blasphemers

5. Await shitstorm

6. ???

7. Profit!

8. Repeat with all available Stephen Fishbinders, the Steven-mangling blasphemers. And perhaps the odd Graeme.

Weekend Video: Win - Super Popoid Groove

Weekend Video

Win - Super Popoid Groove



It's the type of sort of thing that makes you want to move...

... and a video from a band that I love, but nobody's ever heard.

On falling victim of the McDonalds Ban Hammer

On falling victim of the McDonalds Ban Hammer

I have received a number of reports from my loyal readers that this site has become inaccessible on the free wifi offered in McDonalds resaurants due to its 'adult nature and themes'. Yeah, right.

You know what's coming: Letter.

Dear Ronald

Congratulations of your recent victory over poor, dead Burger King in the recent Fast Food Mascot Brawl To The Death on Sky Sports the other night. You certainly added "beef" to his "buns"!!!!

However, it has come to my attention that your technical department has banned my wholesome, family-oriented website from your premises, due to alleged adult content.

I am shocked - SHOCKED - at this turn of events and find myself perplexed that my site (an instructional guide for young people to enable them to identify dangerous water fowl) is unavailable in your fine temples of nutricious food.

I appeal, therefore, that you re-examine this baffling decision and unblock my website forthwith.

Get your finger out, fuckwads.

You pal,

Albert O'Balsam

Pubic ...err... Public Service Announcement: If you ever find yourself unable to access this site using the usual channels, it can also be found at feeds.feedburner.com/scaryduckusss. That is all

Notes from the Forever Alone Aisle in the Supermarket

Notes from the Forever Alone Aisle in the Supermarket

He runs.

Head down, he runs up and down the aisles of the supermarket.

Own-brand Rola-Cola courisng through his veins, Manchester United shirt on his back, seven years of age and he has never felt so alive.

He's a racing car.

A rocket ship.

No, he's a jet fighter.

NEEEEEOOOOWWWWWWW!

"Cornelius, watch where you're..."

Head first, right into my nuts.

My first, entirely natural reaction: "Oo-yagh!"

And my second, as I find myself bent double over the frozen pizzas, questioning the very meaning of life: "What kind of name is Cornelius?"

Sight returning to my eyes, I see the words that make everything better.

"Deep Pan Frozen Pizza. Buy One, Get One Free"

WINNING

Worst Job You Ever Had

Worst Job You Ever Had

- I was employed for a short while as a live-in bee-keeper. I gave it up because of the No Smoking rule, which just made the bees angry.

- I got a job as a paper boy. But I blew away

- My job as a personal trainer didn't work out

- I quit my job as mowing lawns, because the money just wasn't cutting it

- I had a job as a nude model, but I hated the uniform

- I worked for a while burying the dead at the local cemetery, but I just didn't dig it

- I gave up my job as a lumberjack because I slaughtered all my colleagues with a chainsaw and disposed of their bodies through the wood-chipper in a delightful shower of red

No, wait. That's not a joke.

DAVID BOWIE FACTS

He's The Thin White Duke. He's the chameleon of pop music. He's a geezer from South London who inspired dozens of artists from New Romantics to Lady Gaga. But let's not hold that against him, and let's celebrate the genius that is DAVID BOWIE:

1. David Bowie suffers from a permanently dilated pupil that gives the impression that his eyes are different colours. He suffers the same with his testicles, one of which is moving away from his body at a velocity approaching the speed of light and appears to the observer to be redder than its blue companion

2. Despite huge success in the guise of his alter egos Ziggy Stardust and Aladdin Sane, he was less than successful with a third: Nick Clegg

3. Bowie's number one hit "Under Pressure", a collaboration with rock royalty Queen started life as "Under a Tenner", intended as the music for a TV commercial for the KFC Family Feast. Unfortunately, KFC put the price up to £10.99 and the advert was shelved

4. "Let's Dance! Put on your red shoes and dance the blues" sang David Bowie in his 1983 hit. For those people who could not afford a colour TV licence, the song was broadcast as "Put on your grey shoes and dance the slightly different greys"

5. Who says lightning doesn't strike twice? In the same week that David Bowie released his seminal song "Heroes", he found himself trumped by The Stranglers and their new release "No More Heroes". Similarly, The Thin White Duke's move into the world of hardware was frustrated when his marketing campaign for David Bowie-branded nails was swamped by that for Unibond's "No More Nails" which launched on the same day

6. Bowie's tenth studio album Station To Station was entirely conceived, written and recorded on the Circle Line of London's Underground network

7. Born David Jones, he famously changed his stage name to Bowie to avoid confusion with Davy Jones of The Monkees. Years later, the Pirates of the Caribbean film series were forced to change the name of the villainous David Bowie, captain of the Flying Dutchman in the Dead Man's Chest sequel, to Davy Jones to avoid confusion with the singer

8. The film Labyrinth is actually a finely-observed fly-on-the-wall documentary detailing Bowie's life in the year 1986, a time when he was wearing a spaniel on his head and suffering Laughing Gnome flashbacks

9. Bowie's 1970 song "The Man Who Sold the World" is an autobiographical account of an encounter with an American tourist in central London, in which the singer raised enough money for a slap-up meal in an Aberdeen Steak House

10. Despite having a top ten hit with the song "The Jean Genie", Bowie had never been a man to openly wear jeans in public, going as far as posing as a transvestite for several years rather than succumb to Fa-fa-fa-fa-fashion. Ironically, he's a huge fan of Jeggings these days

11. Towards the end of the 1980s, David Bowie tried his hand at stand-up comedy. However, his "But Seriously, Moonlight" tour died on its arse

12. David Bowie's pet dog is called Iggy. Iggy Pup

Some Bonus BOWIE FACTS that you might have seen before:

13. Obsessed with 1970s politics, David Bowie named his 1980 album after his idol: Scary Monsters (and Edward Heath)

14. Following his outing as a junkie in the David Bowie song Ashes to Ashes, NASA are to hold an internal inquiry to find out how and why Major Tom was allowed to pilot a space craft knowing full well that he was under the influence of drugs

That's enough Bowie

On the future of BBC Television Centre

On the future of BBC Television Centre, Wood Lane, London, W12 7RJ

There is a certain amount of sadness in broadcasting circles following the news that the BBC is to sell off Television Centre, that iconic building that stands as a symbol of Public Service Broadcasting for the entire world. The news is sad, yet inevitable, as the ageing building is hardly suited in this age of modern digital technology.

I remember, at the age of five or six, being taken by family friends on the bus up to Shepherds Bush, where myself, my brother and sister were taken to the viewing gallery above one of the studios to watch the blessed triumverate of John Noakes, Peter Purves and Valerie Singleton broadcast a live edition of Blue Peter.

Then, we were led through a maze of corridors to another studio, where preparations were well under way for a recording of Scouse cop drama Z-Cars. Of course, I failed to understand that this was TV history in the making, but I fell in love with the building on that day.

It has been my privelege, then, to spend at least some of my career actually working in TV Centre (measured in days, rather than weeks or months), and spent my time there wondering, lost, around its notorious doughnut, unable to work out where I was, where I was going, or even, as I passed picture of Ken Dodd for the third time, remember who I was. TVC's like that, once you're inside, it has you and it doesn't let you go. The only reason some people never leave is because they can't find the exit.

Now, its days are numbered as the BBC announces its intention to leave the site. It would be sad to see the place demolished, so the hope is that some investor will put up the money to keep it as it is.

This week's B3ta Newsletter carries an appeal from the World of Geek to create a playable map of TVC for computer games such as Halo or Call of Duty. "There are so many confusing corridors, secret passages and obscured balconies, it'd be fun to run around in," B3ta says, hoping that someone, somewhere has the blueprints.

But why do that in an imaginary world? Why - dammit - can't we do that for real?

Come on BBC: Give the people what they want. And the people demand Television Centre Paintball. Rushing from room to room, studio to studio, cavernous costume store to the deadly canteen, war will indeed be HELL. Bloody brilliant, utterly awesome HELL.

Make it so, for The Battle of the Blue Peter Italian Sunken Garden is there to be won.

Motivational poster du jour

Motivational poster du jour

Weekend Video: The Smiths - Panic

Weekend Video

The Smiths - Panic


Sing along if you know the words!

Ayman Al-Zawahiri: My part in Al-Qaeda's downfall

Ayman Al-Zawahiri: My part in Al-Qaeda's downfall

We notice, with a certain amount of interest, that they've named Ayman Al-Zawahiri as new Al-Qaeda chief after the death of my Arsenal chum and murdering bastard Osama Bin Laden.

And guess what he's promising? If your answer is "More Jihad, and less Rick-rolling," give yourself a pat on the back and take the rest of the day off.When you're in the business of international Jihad, that's the road you want to go down in the all-too-brief moments before the US drone aircraft wipes you off the face of North Waziristan.

Congratulations, dude, on getting through the interview, and well-played for tipping the scales with your side-splitting Lord Sugar impression. I've been to job interviews in the past, but these guys were harsh:

"Can you tell us of a time you tried to pursue the cause of international jihad, but it didn't go as planned? How would you have done it better?"

"Can you tell us of a time when you've illustrated the core values of the business in a fully-inclusive, customer-focused manner? What was the outcome?"

"Give us an example of a time when you have successfully collaborated with another department or organisation. What were the challenges you faced?"

"What's your favourite colour?"

Sad to say, they passed me over for the top job, and I think I know where I went wrong:

"How would you raise the profile of the Al-Qaeda Organisation in an increasingly diverse and fast-moving marketplace?"

"I'd campaign for the setting up of a national radio station playing 1950s Doo-Wop"

Crap. I get the only interview board comprising 1950s skiffle fans.

Lost Cat: THE WAR HAS BEGEN

Lost Cat: THE WAR HAS BEGEN

It all started with a lost cat and ended in WAR. And WAR is HELL.

Regular readers will be aware of my ongoing operation to mess with the head of the self-appointed guardian of our community noticeboard in Caversham. You see, they do not seem to be blessed with a sense of humour, and my attempts to find Lord Likely's poor lost cat Thundercock have ended up in the bin.

As, sadly, did my attempt to find my lost 'Lost Cat' sign, which, too met the same dreadful fate at the hands of the burghers of Caversham. Of course, you realise that this means WAR.

And being in a state of warfare, I am not able to admit defeat, and this is why this latest sign now has pride of place bang in the middle of the Caversham Community Noticeboard, between Costa Coffee, Icelands and Age Concern.


I am more than aware that The Keeper of the Noticeboard will come along in the next couple of days, have a bit of a conniption and bin my latest work.

And so he may, for I am already prepared. Feast your eye, the internet, on the next poster.

Your move, melon farmer, your move.

On people who should have been going to Specsavers

On people who should have been going to Specsavers

Have you seen the TRAVESTY of a new advert for Specsavers? HAVE YOU? Quite apart from the fact that it does not feature my car, there is one aspect that has got enormously on my tits. Letter.

Dear Specsavers,

Congratulations on your new "Should have gone to Specsavers" campaign. Granted it's not as brilliant as the one with the little old lady driving the awesome Nissan Micra (which cost me £400 to get through the MoT after the shock absorbers gave up, I'll have you know), it is quite certainly a landmark in television advertising.

Unfortunately, you should brace yourself for what is technically known as a "shitstorm" from people like me. You know: Sad letter-writing pedants with nothing better to do with their lives.

You see, as any fool knows (but clearly you do not) pilots will NEVER attempt to land on an aircraft carrier from the bow end of the ship. That's the front, if you're a lubber, and I think you probably are. This is because they run the risk of missing the landing deck, getting run down by 100,000 tons of nuclear-powered awesome and getting completely KILLED TO DEATH and/or stopped the £20m for a new Harrier out of their wages.

I think the pilot in your advert [JOKE ALERT!] should have gone to Specsavers!!!!

Be lucky

Your pal

Albert O'Balsam

That certainly told them.

UPDATE: I have received a reply from those damn fine people at Specsavers, whose eyesite is incredible thanks to their range of excellent products.

While they'd rather I didn't reproduce their emil in its entirety, I am entitled to tell you that those responsible for this OUTRAGE have been put completely TO DEATH in an amusing and ironic manner, and let that be an end to this hideous affair. Well played, I say.

On Fish Pedicures

On Fish Pedicures

The phone rings. It is my soon-to-be-ex-wife on a social call.

After a few pleasantaries, she throws in - apropos of nothing - "I'm going for one of those fish pedicures tomorrow."

"A what?"

"Fish pedicure. You put your feet in a big bowl of water, and fish eat all the dead skin."

Feh. Cheese grater not good enough for you?

Actually, never mind the cheese grater: Crabs not good enough for you?

But I agree - a fish pedicure is exactly the kind of thing she needs, for it gets her out of the house and away from the stresses and strains of everyday life.

It also gives me a spunker of an idea.

"Hello, is that the Weymouth Fish Pedicure Barn?"

"Yes. Yes it is. How can we help you?"

"You don't happen to have any sharks in stock? Great Whites?"

"No. We do not."

"Could you get hold of a couple? By tomorrow?"

"No, sir. We cannot."

Crap.

On not getting struck by lightning

On not getting struck by lightning

Every day, billions of people are not struck by lightning, and I am one of these lucky, lucky people.

However, I can tell you what it's like to be nearly struck by lightning, and it's this: hot, loud and hurty. I've plugged myself into the mains before, and I have no desire to repeat the experience, only a million times hotter, louder and hurtier.

But: Getting out of the car at Sedgemoor Services on the M5, the mid-afternoon sky as black as night, and the rain coming down like the proverbial stair-rods, I swear I was but yards away from that all-too-familiar frazzling feeling as a bolt of the Queen's finest electricity shot from the sky.

Sense of distance and/or perspective may have been a bit skewed by the ear-ringing explosion, but trousers were well and truly soiled.

Ironically, I have been nearly struck by lightning in exactly the same car park before. I GET THE MESSAGE.

If there's one thing that the whole episode proves, it's that I shall never fulfil my ambition of standing up in a concert hall and leading an orchestra.

I'm not a conductor.

Motivational poster du jour

Motivational poster du jour

Meanwhile, in the Kremlin, Putin's watching the Obama/Cameron table tennis game, casually giving them both the Nescafe handshake. LIKE A BOSS

Weekend Video: David Bowie - Let's Dance

Weekend Video

David Bowie - Let's Dance


No expense spared, we've pushed the boat out and gone for the colour version.

Rear of the Year

Rear of the Year

Today, we are mostly offering our world-weary congratulations to TV's Carol Vorderman for her recent triumph in the 2011 Rear of the Year competition, heading off the Pippa Middleton bandwagon with MATHS, SCIENCE and a PEACHY BOTTOM.

People are already asking me a question about this annual tasteful competition - judges giving marks for style, control, damage and aggression based on the Scaryduckworth-Lewis scale - that is in no way sexist and stuck back in the seventies along with the likes of Bernard Manning.

And the question is this:

"How do you enter Rear of the Year?"

The answer is simple: "Ask very nicely."

I thank you.

On historical re-enactment

On historical re-enactment

I think we are all agreed that 1970's pornography was a high-water mark in our society's cultural development, and is a thing that should be celebrated.

Alas, outside of late-night showings on German television, finding genuine 1970s smut is becoming increasingly hard to come by, and this great art is in danger of becoming lost in the mists of time.

If many perfectly normal people can find it within themselves to dress up as Vikings, Cromwellian soldiers or troops from the Napoleonic Wars, then there is nothing to prevent the formation of a Seventies Pornography Re-Enactment Society, in which perfectly normal people almost nearly take their clothes off, and almost nearly - but not quite - have sex. All to the cheesiest music ever composed.

The Order of the Sealed Grot.

No need to thank me. Just another public service.

MAY CONTAIN TRACES OF NUTS

MAY CONTAIN TRACES OF NUTS


I've been told my idiot letters of complaint are far too verbose. Straight to the point, then:

Dear Aldi,

Your so-called "Extra Large" peanuts appear to be the same size as normal peanuts. Explain yourselves, you curs, as to why they are not the size of a giraffe.

And no, "Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey" does not a good explanation make.

Your pal,

Albert O'Balsam

Actually, now I come to mention it, they get bigger the further you go down the packet...

Dear Aldi,

As you were.

Your newest best pal,

Albert O'Balsam

Crap. That's two stamps wasted.

The Big Book of Condensed Movies

The Big Book of Condensed Movies

IT IS DONE.

Years of hammering behind the keyboard. Years of blood, sweat, tears and defacating into plastic bags (ONCE, I did it ONCE), I have finally collated all of my condensed movies into one, handy electronic book.

Containing ...ooh... a metric shitload of the finest Condensed Movies, it also comes with genuine, not-published-before Tales of Mirth and Woe as a pathetic come-on to you, the reader.

Yes, I know, you are already is a state of orgasm at the very thought of this literary classic, and you want a copy. NOW. And, once you have tidied yourself up, here is it:

If you've got one of those new-fangled Kindle devices, you can get it for download from the Amazon Kindle Store for not very much money at all.

And if you haven't got one of those new-fangled Kindle wossnames, but still want a copy, use Paypal to bazz me £2.50 of the Queen's Pounds ($4.00 US or Canadian, $3.75 Aus, 2.85 Euro) at scaryduck@fastmail.fm, and I'll get a PDF Formatted copy to you post haste.

And don't forget that Tales of Mirth and Woe and I am Not Mad are also still available, with free beer, money and sex for every purchase*.

On the other hand (for example, if you have three hands), just email me anyway, especially if you are female, single and attractive with low morals.

There. That didn't sound too desperate, did it?

* Free beer, money and sex offer closes 19th October 1968, only available to residents of Brazzaville, Republic of Congo


And look... here's one for free:

Condensed Movies: Planet of the Apes

Charlton Heston: Hello, I am C.Heston and I am excellent. I am from a distant planet called Earth

Apes: Actually, this is Earth, only in the future

C. Heston: FFS! Also: Damn you all to HELL!

END

On accidental nudity

On accidental nudity

You know that scene in Life of Brian where he throws open the shutters in the morning and he's completely naked?

Yeah, that one.

Me.

Bedroom curtains.

Morning glory.

Three workmen in car park.

Awkward.

They were still there when I left for work. Looks were exchanged.

Postscript: There is a knock at the door. It is a member of Her Majesty's Thames Valley Police.

Me: Ah.

Him: What?

He has not come to see me about my pecker. In fact, had I seen three people pretending to be council workmen who were stealing all the brass fittings from all the external doors in our flats? And would I be prepared to make a statement?

Me: All coppers are bast... Why, yes. Yes I would.

Good grief - where to start?

Motivational poster du jour

Motivational poster du jour

Weekend Video: Thomas D - Liebesbrief

Weekend Video

Thomas D - Liebesbrief


What the world needs is more German rap.

OK, it doesn't. This is just about the right amount of German rap.

On spending an £11m government grant, again

On spending an £11m government grant, again

Yesterday, I entered a local competition to find a better use for an £11m government grant to a local palm oil power plant. A road surface made of penny chews? What a STUPID idea. What was I thinking?

So, I entered again:

Dear NOPE,

Come to think of it, my idea of spending £11m on 1,100,000,000 penny chews for a novelty road surface is a bit of a non-starter, as it will only encourage people into their cars and eat our roadways, the exact opposite of what the NOPE campaign is suggesting in the name of sensible renewable energy.

However, with the 1.1bn chews already ordered (I've taken the liberty of making a few phone calls on your behalf - hope you don't mind), I've decided on a different tack which will, instead, bring together the peoples of Weymouth and Portland, and come 2012, the Olympic family.

I speak, of course, of a 400-foot tall model of antipodean wonder Kylie Minogue, constructed entirely from penny chews, perched on top of the Verne Citadel, reminding each and every one of us of her most famous role: "Neighbours, everybody needs good neighbours". Who, I ask, would not be moved by the sight of Monster Kylie, standing athwart Fortuneswell, her message of good neighbourliness played 24 hours-per-day on the bonkers sound system built into her chewy cranium?

And next year, when another £11m lands in our laps, we can build a 400-foot tall model of her wonky-eyed sister Dannii at the other end of Weymouth Bay, playing a selection of her chart hits, whatever they are.

I'm certain you will agree that this idea will certain put Weymouth and Portland on the map, and this time for all the right reasons.

I am not mad.

Stay Lucky, Albert O'Balsam

Hang on - another idea: Three million bricks of Cathedral City and build a mansion out of cheese. I WIN.

On spending an £11m government grant

On spending an £11m government grant

There's a local pressure group down in Weymouth and Portland who are campaigning against the building of a Palm Oil power station in the locality.

Whatever the rights and wrongs (Renewable power = good; Importing palm oil from the other side of the world = bad), it has certainly sparked a local debate, not least due to the £11m annual government grant the project will be receiving at a time when local services are being hacked to the bone.

So, they ask by way of a competition, to what better use could this money go? Prize = Slap-up meal.

Red rag. Bull.

Dear Nope,

Very simple solution to your money problem: The £11m could be spent on 1.1 billion penny chews from a local sweet shop. The money won't be wasted, and we'll be supporting a local business into the bargain (not to mention the Guangzhou No.1 Penny Chew and Lead Figurine Concern in southern China, the acknowledged leaders in the field).

Now, taking into account that each chew measures roughly one inch by half-an-inch, the sweets can be used as a road surface that will completely pave the road from Easton Square, down through Fortuneswell, across the Causeway, through Weymouth and all the way to the County Council offices in the centre of Dorchester, a distance of some 14.5 miles.

If you get stuck in a traffic jam and you're feeling a bit peckish, you can simply lean out of your vehicle, grab a handful of penny chews and you're completely sorted, safe in the knowledge that there's another £11m coming next year from central government to repair any 'holes' in the road.

I know what you're thinking: Blue-Tac doesn't come cheap, and what else is going to hold all these sweets down? I've thought of that as well - simply do the work on a particularly hot day, and the sun will do the rest. Mmm... I can taste that sweet, sweet road surface already.

Your pal, Albert O'Balsam

If that doesn't win, there's something wrong with the world.

In which the author plugs his books in a number of formats

In which the author plugs his books in a number of formats

"Hey, Scary!" I have been asked, "Why don't you publish your books in Amazon Kindle format?"

So, I have published my books in Amazon Kindle format, including the previously-unseen Big Book of Condensed Movies.

You can still buy my first two in good old-fashioned paper format, but "Movies" will, for now, remain electronic only. And if you want a download that's NOT Kindle formatted, you can do that as well.

TALES OF MIRTH AND WOE

Alistair Coleman's first collection of writing (mostly) from the pages of the award-winning Scaryduck blog, with an introduction from world's greatest living Englishman, Neil Gaiman.

Paperback from Amazon

Kindle version from Amazon

For a PDF format version (without the cover art, I'm afraid), Paypal £2.00 ($3.30 US dollars, $3.20 Canadian dollars, $3.00 Aus dollars, 2.30 euros) to scaryduck@fastmail.fm with your email address and tell me which book or books you want.

I AM NOT MAD

Alistair Coleman's second collection from the pages of his Scaryduck blog, along with some new material and a nice, soothing picture of a duck on the front cover.

Paperback from Lulu

PDF download version from Lulu

Kindle version from Amazon



THE BIG BOOK OF CONDENSED MOVIES

Alistair Coleman's infamous condensed movies - the classics and not-so-classics from the world of cinema hammered down into the easy-to-read txt language and l33t speak of today's modern youth.

Contains previously unpublished material and an all-new Tale of Mirth and Woe.

Kindle version from Amazon

For a PDF version, please Paypal £2.50 ($4.00 US or Canadian, $3.75 Aus, 2.85 Euro) to scaryduck@fastmail.fm and tell me which book you want.

THAT IS ALL.