I did say there’d be another Odessa massacre, didn’t I? Let’s hope it doesn’t get any worse. Meanwhile, gather your Potemkins, folks. We’re going to need them. Update 07/05/14 It is indeed a day of woe for a narcisist when even his own reflection starts taking the piss. Update 11/05/14 Happy 67th birthday to me. So far the only one that has remebered the date (other than The Fenian) has been the automated system at the Nightmare Network. Don’t you love computers? To celebrate all the lovely death and decay I see all around me, I’ve decided to upload the heartwarming story of how the Shoggoths ambushed the Fatty Orphan in a remote corner of the Gardens of the Twilight Zone. Instantly spotting her as “one of us” and much taken by both her size and her substance, and just for a lark, they offered to worship her as a goddess. The bulky miss was a bit uncertain to begin with, but soon entered into the spirit of game and has actually decided to stay in the TZ as a resident tutelary presence. The Shoggies ara making arrangements to introduce her to Milady of Willendorf (with whom they are in excellent terms) and Milady can then introduce the Sugar Dumplin’ to her chum, the Shub-Niggurath (to whom the Shoggies most definitely don’t talk). At which point, and if I keep going the way I’m going, I think we can legitimately get the Really Big Girl’s Club going in earnest. Size Os of the universe, tremble & quake in your silly Jimmy Choos! Hai! Hai! Update 15/05/14 This is for the two lovely Medialens Davids and their merry variety of Buddhism. The events that inspired it are too long-winded and convoluted to detail here. Soko ni! Update 19/05/14 I swear to Bumba! The Shoggies are getting SO excentric, lately. Here they be, strongest creatures in the hood, and they insist on being carried, and on getting piggy-backs. Honestly… Perhaps it’s an excess of Smarties beginning to affect their electromagnetic fields and they’re becoming like children? Or, as probably rightly I suspect, they just take the piss? I lean towards the second hypothesis. Update 23/05/14 To end on an exemplary note -which makes a change from a happy one, here’s the story of the Pulcinio Polemico, a mini documentary sponsored by Nu-Clear Causic Soap Inc. Bringing Cheap, Cheerful and Efficient Satitazing Devices to Disadvantaged Parts of the World Since 1963. The story so far: The Polemic Pulin -a Genoese variety of high-octane baby chicken- has come to the Dismal Plains charged with the task of introducing the Doodlely Dudes to the raptures of the Dialectic Method. The Dudes, who are unadulterated innocents and prodigiously ignorant to boot and have never heard of Marx, let alone Hegel, are therefore not understanding a single solitary word of the passionate diatribe delivered by the fiery chickie. But thinking it a sort of groovy alien music, and being very musical themselves, they respond in kind. Observe that even the little Triangulated Creature, who never sings or even ever makes a sound, is suddenly attempting a timid tune. Xeno-Zoology Footnote. The Triangulated Creature is a profoundly unhappy being, for it is not in its nature to be triangulated. Triangular yes, but not triangulated. It was forcibly thus moulded by the evil spells of a wicked Third Way warlock who caught it off guard one evening as it was coming home from the George and  Orange. Taking advantage of its small size, limited brainpower and high level of ethylic intoxication, he inveigled the poor wee thing into experimenting with fashionable ideologies. Bozhe moi!!  A sad case if I ever heard one. But now, perhaps under the influence of the vivid coloratura of the Pulin’s rant, we might see the beginning of a slow recovery, who knows? Hope springs eternal.