Harry Potter Vaudeville

- I say, I say, I say: my nemesis has no nose!

- How does he smell?

- Magically.


(Please suggest alternate punchlines in comments. Thank you.)

Daydreaming

I know what you're all thinking.
You're thinking "Isn't that just a turn of phrase?"
And now you're thinking "Holy Shit! Maybe he is using alien technology to read our minds!"

It's true: I am using alien technology.
See, the aliens landed and I sold you out. All of you.
In return I get to keep five of you as my personal slaves.

Don't worry. You can't escape.

It's funny; this desire to possess someone, and be possessed by them in return.
The UK author Jeanette Winterson wrote that men can never truly love because love is a destructive force, and men are too insecure to allow themselves to be destroyed.
Of course, she's a lesbian, so what would she know?
Probably how to truly pleasure a woman...

But, it's not true! We men regularly destroy ourselves with what we love: alcohol and drugs.
We don't actually love women.
We're very fond of parts of them, sure, but to really love something - to really love it - you have to understand it.
And women are unfathomable.

But I think that's kinda the whole point.
Women are like a desert: that stark, overwhelming beauty. The shimmering horizon. The boundless sky. No sound but the wind rattling sand grains against the dry grass.
And women are also like a beach. A graceful curve of sand, caressed and lulled into calmness by the unending sea. And then when you look at what makes up a beach; at the grains of sand, you will discover that a good many of them are tiny, tiny shells. Perfect miniatures of purest white.

You can't possibly fit it all in you head - boundless sky, timeless horizon, unending sea, tiny shells. It's all too much!
But that's what a woman is.

Obviously, I'm not referring to the random tipsy slags down the pub. I'm talking about a woman I want to possess and have her possess me. Not necessarily for ever, but for a little while at least, y'know?

Of course, it's be pretty cool to drag a fired up young lass into the supply cupboard and tear off just enough clothing: ruck up her skirt, and hitch down my trousers, as we pantingly claw at each other. Nothing wrong with that.
I have never done this, of course. That's mostly due to my irrational fear of massed stationery.

...but, women. Ultimately unknowable. I don't want a tame one.
I want to wake up in the morning, open my eyes to see her give me a sleepy smile through a veil of her hair, and have absolutely no idea what she was thinking.
And you know what I'd do then?
Finger her.

Homosexual Hilarity

I walked into the kitchen and announced:
"Okay, D: I give you permission to undress me with your eyes."

She still doesn't think I am hilarious despite me given her more than ample proof.

My regulars think I'm great, and with good reason.
This evening some of them stacked up their plates and the top one fell off with a crash.
I went out to remonstrate with them, picked up the plates, swept the floor and went came back with a bucket and a cloth.
Cream had splattered over the floor and chairs.

I informed them: "In tonight's performance the part of Cosette will be played by Harry Simpson."
Then launched into "There is a castle on a cloud" and wiped it all up.

Harry: 1
Adoring Public: 1

Everyone wins.

I explained to D that I was so funny that I made me laugh - and I have the best sense of humour in the world.
She still cast doubt on my hilarity.
I put it down to her being hormonal due to pregnancy.

Comedy

I saw UK comedian Daniel Kitson at the Melbourne Comedy Festical this year.
It was standup with a story telling element to it.
He currently has a storytelling show called C-90 which has comedic elements in it in reverse proportion to his Easter show "That's the fireworks talking".
Seeing both shows was like a perfect yin-yang symbol of entertainment.

I saw C-90 on Wednesday night with Sparkly, but befofehand checked who was on Thursday comedy at the Friend in hand and Sam Bowring was MCing with Kent Valentine as the headliner. These were the guys who started the room and ran it for four years until recently. So, it was a must-see night.
On arrival last night I discovered that there was an extra special guest on after Kent.
It was Daniel Kitson.

Awesome.
No; fucking awesome!
It was very very very good. I was laughing so hard Kitson commented on my enthusiasm.

It was great to see Bowring utterly fail at the "What's your name? What do you do?" standard MC banter with the audience.
After flailing for a bit he said "I'm not any good at this at all!!" to much laughter.
It's avery friendly room and there is a lot of love.
Very good for the soul, but not so much for the liver.

Mad Driving Skillz Conclusion

From the editor:
"Even more amused to see the irony in you quoting Canadian songstress-moppets while recalling your comments the other day about LMH40K's "granny"-like driving skillz.

Now isn't THAT ironic?

Zhang etc."


I might as well start sleeping with twenty-year-olds and surrender all the highground and join Mattresshammer on the boggy flats.

At least their cavalry can't get us there.



... ooh.
Perky.

I did my pre-learner safety training for motorbikes three weeks back.
I wonder if any dealers do a "Buy one secondhand 250cc bike and get 20% off a car!" deals?

Mad Driving Skills Part 2

Matt's dad has a little two-seater hatchback Subaru...
Sorry.
Matt's dad had a little two-seater hatchback Subaru...

It turns out that rotating a car 180 degrees in a horizontal plane and 180 degrees in a vertical one is an automatic negligent driving charge.
Who'd have known?

The police officer - or officer attending - was (a) hot, and (b) impressed by how sanguine I was.

"It's not mine," I said, explaining it all.

She took my details and I suggested that since she now had my number that if she was feeling a little down that she should call me around and I would turn that frown - like the car - upside down.

She smiled and we made love for hours, during which time I turned her upside down a few times.

So, that's why I was late for work.

Q: But why, Harry, did you borrow the car in the first place?
A: I was visiting my Aunt at Newport Beach and last time I caught the L-88 bus from Central which took two hours and cost $5.60, so I borrowed the car to save time and money.

Q: But why, specifically, were you visiting your aunt?
A: Because we were planning our two week driving holiday to Victoria and back.
In her car.

And THAT, Alanis Morriset, is ironic.

Don't you think?

And, naturally I had to catch the bus back to Sydney.
the L-88.
For $5.60 plus a new car.

A little too ironic?

Yes, I really do think.

(So, after a dude asked if I was okay as I crawled out the window, and another couple stopped a bit later, I started calling people who could find a tow truck for me.
I got through to Lady Awesome who asked where I had crashed. I told her and she said she'd just heard it announced on the radio.
See! I told you guys I'd be on the radio some day!)

Mad Driving Skillz Part 1

Dear Mike [father of LordMattressHammer],

I am buying you a new car.

Why?

I wrote off your old one.

I am very sorry, but at 4:05pm today I ended up upside down just off the Wakehurst Parkway.

It is (and I think you'll agree with me) ....hilarious.

I texted Matt [LordMattressHammer] who replied by asking what the fluffy dice rolled.
I said a seven.
He claimed that he was now routed and had left the table.

At this point he thought I was joking, but this evening at 10:30pm with four Oporto burgers in hand he sobered up instantly.

I was completely uninjured, and retract my horrible slur against your car when I told my Aunt that it was "waffer theen".

regards,

Harry

PS Your brakes grab a little to the left. You might want to get that checked out.

PPS Matt jokingly suggested I give him a lift tomorrow to his meeting in Lidcombe.
He mimed typing "Dear Heather [mother of LordMattressHammer], You'll never guess what happened..."