Kowalski: a Hazard of Parsnips spin off-mini adventure

Kowalski groggily opened one eye. Like a sleepy Cyclops  he contemplated getting up. He stared at the outfit he had laid out on the corby trouser press for the day ahead  Sure, it was a challenge to accessorise the trouser press he carried round with him ritually, but Kowalski makes his own fashion statements, even if they were really heavy and cumbersome. 

He had carefully chose his finest corduroy pants, tan bomber jacket, wide tie and striped shirt. He hadn’t worn shit this fancy to work since he used to meet Sheila on his lunch break. 

SHEEEILLLLA! Why did you have to be a crude drawing! A sketch. A rendition of a woman. Then STOP. What? 

Kowalski scanned his thoughts, guardedly. Like a guarded thought-scanner. He was thinking the usual thoughts about his beloved wife, Sheila, but yet…something was different. 

Kowalksi was usually old school. He subscribed to Aaron Beck’s postulations that it is not the events themselves that causes our distress, rather the way we think about it. Theoretically, if two men experience the same event…say their wife had been part of a hot body show, they could have totally different emotional reactions. Their emotional reactions would be modulated by their thoughts about that event.  One man might think “wow, my lady is a total hot slag. Fuckin ace” the other ” my wife is broken and ruined and I am less of a man” leading to feelings on the sad spectrum. Like those men, Kowalski had always been broken by his thoughts of Sheila. 

However, today was different. Today he was thinking the usual thoughts, but the emotion was different. Almost as if his conviction in his grief about Sheila had waned. He was so used to these thoughts, they were second nature, they were automatic. But now those automatic thoughts had been replaced by a disbelief, a challenging of his own thought process. 

Am I still sad? Kowlaski solemnly regarded his countenance in the mirror. This was no mean feat from being in bed and the mirror being located 6 foot up the wall. 

No. I am not. 

Fuck. 

So what has my sadness been replaced with?

The answer came as a tentative whisper in the form of a crumpled, listless, police officer. 

Ian. 

Detective Inspector Ian Detective Inspector.

That’s why he had become more careful over his appearance. That’s why he’d been in the gym pumping his muscles. That’s why he’d been shaving his legs every day. That’s why he’d been carrying the trouser press. That’s why he’d joined Linkedin. 

Kowalksi was rattled to his very foundations. What WAS he? He’d always thought of himself as straight down the (drawn) line. He was attracted to crude sketches of women, not real life, living, breathing, rippling, writhing, sweating men. 

There was nothing else for Kowalski to do. He trashed the entire road and all the villages in a ten mile radius and then spent three hours in Matalan. God he was confused. 

There was only one man who could help him. 

That man was Sherby57…

To be continued…

 

 

Thomas Bangaltar’s Bang Altar: Part 2

Good Day

I return. My name is Mister Thomas Bangaltar. I like to investigate religions. It give me a break from making the music. Some times when I play the music my bottom get sore from sitting down so I have to get up and investigate subjects.

My favourite subject at school was religious studies. I had a teacher with brown eyes and curly hair. He was short and thin. He was about 45 years old. His name was Monseiur Active. He was my friend. He said I did good. I like religion since. Monsieur Active he used to meet us in the sixth form block at break times. He used to be at the bars where we would go to. He would talk to us and purchase us Absinthe and Pernod. He said he was our friend.

Here is the Religion I have been invetigating: Jewism

Jews like god. They no like what he did recently though. They only like his old stuff. They say his recent stuff was not as good so they no read it. It a bit like when Frasier got a bit merde.

Jew god, he no like bald men. He is a vengeful god. He punish bald people by making them wear doily for putting the glasses on the table. He say bald men’s head reflect his face in unfavourable way from up in the sky. Like when you look in spoon when your mum give you your petit filou once you have finished your croque-madame. God no like this. He also no like artificial lighting, so he make all jew houses have lots of mood lighting in the form of candelabras. God like to be seen in flattering light. He no like superbowl lights.

That is all I have found out. Good day to you.

Respectful wishes

Thomas

Meeting Toby Anstis

Sexy.

 

Recently it came to my attention, I could win a competition. Not just any competition. A competition that centred around TEA!

As regular reader of the blog know (and I know there are regular readers as I get lots of lovely comments thanking me on the ‘content’ of my blog and it is EXACTLY what they are looking for. Admittedly, they use all the same phrases, but I’m sure that’s because my CONTENT is exactly what ANYONE would be looking for, so it’s divine coincidence, rather than vicious spam bots) that I love tea. Yes, I’m beveragely bonded and caught in a naughty love-game with tea. You may not know that a ‘Good heart’ by Feargal Sharkey was written about someone making you a decent brew. Yeah. It’s hard to find all right.

Anyway, I digress. Suffice to say, any sensible tea lover follows the Tetley tea folk on Twitter. They often have competitions like “what do you best love about tea?” or “what’s your favourite tea?” Searing stuff, but it sorts the wheat from the chaff in a competition arena.

The latest competition was, obviously, tea related and I’m pretty sure you could win some tea, or I wouldn’t have entered…but wait…there’s a catch…you win tea and get the chance to meet Heart FM’s Toby Anstis.

Look, the tea I’ll take, but meeting Toby…er…I’ve nothing against the fella, but what would you say to him?!

Seriously, I cannot think of a single thing to say to Toby Anstis. I mean, the conversation is going to get quite thin early on isn’t it?

Tetley worker: Er, Mr. Anstis, we’ll bring in the competition winner in a bit. Name’s Dr. Angel. Likes tea. Female, we think. You’ve got an hour to spend some time together and then you can take your tenner and fuck off.

Anstis: Nice one, pal (I assume Toby Anstis, uses the word ‘pal’ when being chummy)

Dr. Angel: er, hiya Toby, I’m Dr. Angel.

Anstis: Hi there, I’m Toby.

Dr. A: Pleased to meet you. So…you like tea?

Anstis: No not really. Are you a fan of Heart FM?

Dr. A: I’ve never heard of it to be honest. Is it a southern radio station? I only listen to radio phone ins when the host is particularly provocative and gets people riled up.

Anstis: Oh. Why did you enter then?

Dr. A: I fucking love tea.

Anstis: you watch any programmes I was on?

Dr. A: er, I think I saw you on an episode of come dine with me, but I’m not sure.

Anstis: Oh. Do you, er, drink tea?

Dr. A: I do, Toby, I do. So…

Anstis: Well…

Dr. A:  So…

Anstis: er

Dr. A: Toby, I’m going to the loo. Just go if you need to. There’s another 55 minutes to go.

Anstis: Thank fuck. I’m going to spend my tenner on Astrobelts.

So, Shedders, be careful what you enter. Whether that may be a complicated romantic liaison with a unstable co-worker, or an ill thought out tea fest. You may get more than you bargained for (an STD or Toby Anstis).

 

Thomas Bangalter’s Bang Altar

Bonjour

Bzz, bleep bleep, whizz

Allo. My name is Thomas Bangaltar. I work in a musical situation called ‘Daft Punk’. Perhaps you are knowing it?

Where is the Bridge? Do I take the first road on the left after the church?

When working in musics is not working for me, I am spendings time discoverings different religions.

Image

I hoping you will be sharing my goings with delight. I like to look and to discover. I like hockey and netball. Do you ever go to hockey and netball? Do you do the hockey with your friends at school?

In next weeks, I will be talking about religions that you may like and smile at. This week I talk about only the religion of my own, which is the Catholics Church. It is very nice. I like it.

In the catholics church, we eat wafers and drink blood. It is nice. A man asks us to stand up and sit down. Is is giving of the health. It is what gods wants. For us to have perfect bodies so we can dress up in Robot costumes and sample 70s basslines and pull the hot women. But those hot women must not use protection for sexy-time. It makes god sad. When God sad, he make thorns tighten round jesus heart. Everyone gets sad.

Catholics is also fun as the man who stand at front of church dress up. He no dress up like robot. He dress like a ghost. I like. He is my friend. My mum makes me go to church on Sunday. She does not let me wear robot costume. I sampled her favourite song and made out I made it up myself and release it on album to make her mad. My mum said I couldn’t wear Robot costume for a week.

Amities

Thomas Bangaltar