19/3/2006
Breaking News
Unfortunately Ancient Alfred died last night in a freak accident. While stepping out of the shower (on his regular Friday night wash), Alfred slipped and impaled himself on the bayonet of the rifle that he always keeps handy. He will be missed by 2 people.
5/3/2006
Toothbrushes
I hate the way toothbrushes are now so large you look like you’re holding someone else’s arm. They’re so big now that they won’t fit into the toothbrush holder on my wall that I mounted in 1971 using the blood of a spoilt hippy in the epoxy resin.
Back when I was growing up, we used to brush our teeth with a few pieces of wire wrapped around a stick.
If we were lucky we’d get a bit of steel wool from the army disposal rubbish bin.
My teeth have never felt as clean as when I used steel wool to clean them. I don’t even have teeth anymore and the big toothbrushes piss me off.
27/1/2006
Phones and Music
I notice all these young people walking around with things in their ears. “Hands free” mobile phones—to me it looks like they’re talking to themselves. The only people who should talk to themselves are the over eighty-fives. I’m one of them, and I don’t even need a hands free or a mobile phone or even an erection.
Who wants to talk to other people anyway? It’s bad enough that every bastard can call you on the home phone a try to sell you things.
If only those little phones could send messages, like instant telegrams, they’d be useful. But they’ve only got tiny little buttons with labels I can’t read and they don’t have enough buttons to type up words, unlike my trusty typewriter. My typewriter has buttons the size of duck livers and more of them than you can press with all your fingers and toes at once—all nineteen of them.
I remember when I was a boy some of the other local boys used to play with two cans connected by a string. I thought they were idiots back then, and I still do.
Communication! It’s nearly as useless as music.
I tried one of those confounding iPod [Alfred used “eye pod” here -Ed] things. My great grandson stuffed my ears full of foam and then assured me it was on.
Couldn’t hear a thing!
What’s the use of a little music player gizmo if you can’t even hear it? Give me a good old gramophone—preferably one with a handle to crank. I never have trusted gramophones with springs that go by themselves. Springs have a devious look about them when they’re all wound up.
7/1/2006
We’re waiting for Alfred to get his medicine so he can finish his first column.