Every 'Ception a New Direction

Columbus’ Cock and Ball Theory

I was walking, talking (to myself), and as I walked, talking (about me versus wealth), I spotted a cow. Now, cows aren’t - not that they can’t - predisposed to repose upon any of the rows of pretty little (pitiful) fences lining the terraces along which - still not rich - I walk, talking, to me (if only he would heed). This reclining bovine’s fine shape, smiling face, and measured grace, caught the eye that I was using to peruse my cruising; I was searching, reaching, hoping - groping - for something to spice up my thrice-cursed commute and there, hirsute and very cute, sat that cow I’m discussing now. Flushing the rushing from my mission to work I paused, caught, brought to thought - why, and how, here and now, a cow on a fence outside a house? Three inches long from tail to prong and one and a half tall, legs and all. He - she - was destined for me, to join with me on my - suddenly - jaunty, merry, bouncy walk to work.

And that made my day very nice.  She and I took some photos on my lunchbreak as we munched some choclit in Greenwich and sang round a cannon.  Also, my little cow might have tried to eat Canada One.  Bless her.  I’ll post those later.

Surely no-one, at any time in our history, has ever believed the world to be flat.  I was very young when I saw that the world was as ball-shaped as some other things I was just beginning to discover and fiddle with.  It’s clearly spherical - it curves in quite an ostentatious manner, regardless of whether or not you’re looking out at a broad bending sea or just observing a mountain rise up over the horizon as you approach it.  You’d have to be stupid to think it flat.  Now, I could understand it having an edge (except that the loss of water over the edge would be astronomical (get it?!) and God’s water bill would be mindblowing) because people back then understood that all things end somewhere or sometime, even gods, even the universe.  This is why pagans celebrate New Year’s - it’s their way of expressing relief that the world hasn’t ended and they can go on prancing about menhirs and discovering their balls while being conquered by more efficient peoples.  So, what claptrap was Columbus trying to dispell?  Or was he simply hoping to show that the world joined back up again round the back?  Perhaps he too was observing his bollocks at play one day and thought:
“Of course!  On the other side there’ll be an inexplicable welder’s line that holds it together!  I shall immediately set sail to prove this - Columbus’ Cock and Ball Theory.”

By the way, that line down your todger and testicles is called the penile raphe and exists - like the nipples above it - because we all started out as girls.

>cough<

Ed just fought off a small but violent inbreak of transdimensional demon gypsies (they’re similar to the mundane ones we know but leave larger stools).  He had words with them but wasn’t getting anywhere so simply banished them all to oblivion in a big misty sort of glowy kind of half swirly, half wiggly, quarter muggy flash.  Then he sighed - he’d gone and banished his biscuits as well.  I gave him mine, obviously, but you could see he was still miffed.

Househunting and Testicles

Househunting.  Such a common phrase it has now been trunkated to one word.  Such a universally feared and loathed term it has been identified as one of the six main causes for Bubonic Plague.  Such a necessary evil it is unavoidable when one needs to relocate oneself and possessions.  However, really, it’s not so bad if one is looking forward to moving and experiencing something new.

Estate Agents.  Such a common affliction in today’s high streets they are now to be found in rows of four or more (shocked face).  Such a universally cursed and loathed ague they have been identified as the single cause for househunting being immeasurably more difficult than it should be, in addition to it being four of the six main causes of Bubonic Plague.  Such an unnecessary and indulgent bunch of incompetent and brazenly ignorant professionals hindering the rehousing of three young and vibrant gentlemen such as us.

Rent Security Agencies.  Utterly and completely crap and unashamedly so.

Damn that’s fun to write.  But I vent advice as well as rage:

• Never trust an estate/lettings/property/double agent.
• There are good quality 3 bedroom properties in London to rent for £800pcm (shocked face).
• Part-furnished is not a legally-binding term and means the property could have bugger-all in it beside an ageing and leprotic (or is it alopecic in this case?) bogbrush sitting smoking in the corner and leafing through an old French pornographic magazine.
• Beware their ‘reference/registration fees’.  These are actually hidden commission fees and are often extortionate.  You needn’t pay more than £75 per person for an estate agent to make sure the name you’ve just written and signed for is the same as the one on your passport.  Perhaps they charge per page turned.  Yet if that’s the case you should insist they start from the back, damn it.
• Lots of rents are negotiable.  If you like the place or area but think it’s a bit ‘spensive then just offer what you think it’s worth.  The landlord needn’t agree with your offer but you can throw in a paintjob to save him the bother or just make another offer he’ll like more.  Make him an offer he can’t refuse.  Then look for a local stables.
• Never trust an estate/lettings/property/double agent.

We’ve simply found that the infrastructure surrounding hunting for houses is riddled with corruption and ineptitude and has far too little regulation.  I s’pose regulation can be evil too but stopping these bastards charging £100 to check you out of the property is surely a good thing because that kind of absurd fee is total testicles.

Total testicles.  Now that has potential.

What’s next?  Oh, there’s Andy’s awesome poem below.  Read that and compare it to your own dreams of a portable mother.  Not that your mum hasn’t any legs, just that a fold-away mum would be great when you need to have someone tidying up after you while you were on the move.  Airlines and the military have come up with brilliant fold-away conveniences, I’m sure they’re already looking into it.  Then soldiers could have freshly-ironed battletrousers.