Here’s an unusual encounter that befell me yesterday. I was at work, quite quiet, very hot, when in walked a fully uniformed policeman. They occasionally make the rounds in my area, popping in just to say hello and reinforce their presence. This chap, however, was a little more memorable than many of his predecessors.

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… and it was agonisingly awkward.

There was a girl in my shop with (presumably) her parents. She was maybe 18-24, I’m useless with guessing ages, and had bright blue hair (and for the record, I am quite a fan of bright, dyed hair). Anyway, she sort of shot me a few smiles, and I shot a few back in that customer/shop assistant kind of way, and after a very small chat with the lady I assumed to be her mother that she sort of joined in with, they left.

Cut to two hours later, and the phone rings.

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I hate people constantly over-describing themselves as ‘sarcastic’, as if it’s one of their main character traits. ‘Hi, I’m Felix. I’m 6’2″, dark-haired, sarcastic.’ You can’t just be sarcastic. Are you being sarcastic when you call yourself sarcastic, because you can’t identify your entire being as ‘sarcastic’ if what you mean is ‘I often, but […]

Well, you know… sometimes. If I just happen to be sitting by the lake with my ladyfriend when the sun decides to glare off of my camera like a monochromatic, upside down rainbow. Also, I feel like I should work the word ‘dappled’ into this somehow. Hipsters love the word ‘dappled’. http://instagram.com/p/qr-64bNlF3/?modal=true

Religion has been a primary catalyst of war, genocide, murder, rape, destruction, oppression, segregation, and a million other overlapping offences during its reign over the human race; however, all of these I can forgive of religion, for one simple reason: It’s human nature, we’d do it anyway. The four horsemen of the apocalypse aren’t fictitious, they’re simply the personification of four common atrocities that have ravaged humanity since its inception two hundred thousands years ago. No, I can forgive religion of all these monstrous offences, because it’s just the convenient excuse. If we didn’t have religion, we’d inevitably think of some other scapegoat in our efforts to maim and kill and conquer one another.

However, there is one thing that I can never and will never forgive religion for (and note that I’m talking about the entirety of fundamentalist religion as a whole here; I’m not criticising any particular pious individual), and that is the promotion of an under-appreciation of the world around us; because to try and deny, forbid and oppress an understanding of the process of natural selection and evolution is throwing a tarp over the greatest masterpiece ever conceived. Continue reading

*ring ring* *ring ring* *ring ring*

*click*

Operator: Gooooood morning, suicide hotline.

Dave: Uh… hi. My name’s… Dave.

Operator: Well, how do you doodle-e do, Dave?

Dave: … … …

Operator: *audibly smiling*

Dave: Uh, well… not great, obviously.

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There are a lot of reasons why I should hate them, I’ll be honest. Like their neighbours in the land of rock-that-clearly-isn’t-actually-rock music, Coldplay, the Chili Peppers are one of those bands so devoid of personality, that it takes a not-unsubstantial portion of my energy just to hear someone say their name. It’s one of those easy-answer ‘favourite bands’ that are loved by people who aren’t so much fans of the music, but rather just fans of not having to sit in terrifying silence. The spider-feet guitar sounds mixed with the odd clunking bass and the nasal dross that makes up the vocals all congeal into a thick grey paste of oozing weariness that… I’ve just remembered that this wasn’t what this post was supposed to be about. Continue reading

So I was at work yesterday when a young kid came in with his father. He was probably about eight years old, I guess (I’m pretty terrible at estimating kids’ ages), and was dressed from head to toe in a full body Spider-Man suit. Anyway, father and son began wandering the store; the dad was […]

Me: Yes, mother?

Mum: I didn’t text you, so what does ‘yes, mother’ mean? Mind you, it’s always nice to hear from you.

Me: I had a missed call from you earlier. Was that not you? My phone says it was you, and my phone never lies, mother.

Mum: I didn’t call, and I certainly didn’t call early in the morning. I must have sat on my phone or something.

Me: Have you been murdered? Am I now speaking to the person who killed you after you tried calling me for help? Admit it. You have to tell me if that’s true. Come on, man; don’t be a dick.

Mum: I can’t be a dick, I’m a girl; and also, I’m fairly sure that I’m alive. Maybe it was a call from a parallel world.

Me: But why would they have called me? On purpose, you think; or maybe it was solar interference scrambling the satellite signals. Maybe you were calling me from the future. You can’t disprove that.

Mum: Okay, whatever. I’m busy internet shopping. Don’t make me think, it’s scary.

Me: Yeah, the thought of you thinking does chill me to the bone. Tell your knock-off handbags I said hi.

Mum: Handbags are cheaper than psychiatrists.

Me: In your case, however, they clearly aren’t as effective.

Mum: That’s only because I haven’t found the right one.

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Manager (female): I’ve put the new girl on the bar with you tonight, so no distracting her. Me: What do you mean ‘distracting’? Manager: You just… have a way of distracting the female staff. Me: Do I? Manager: You do. Me: How? Manager: You just… do. So don’t. Me: Well, how can I not do […]