Coffee break and I forgot to get some milk!

One of my spies, buried deep in the hierarchy of Robert Mugabe’s ZANU(PF), has managed to photograph the new Zimbabwe dollar note – here it is

Next…

How stupid can I be? There I was thinking that when it comes to marketing, I am a natural born seller. One idea is to use YouTube. So using an MP3 someone sent, I added a few pictures from my archive and put it up. A short time later I realised I had forgot to advertise my Blog on it. Attempts to edit it failed, but I thought ‘aach man, the thing is already been put up there by someone else, so no big deal.’

Yeah, very clever. When I looked at my YouTube account last night, I nearly vomited. The damn thing has hit 32 thousand in three weeks! Aaaaaahhhhh! (It is the one about the Zimbabwean border-fence jumper.)

Next…

I am bored.
I hate the reediting part of writing. Why can’t the words just sort themselves out on their own? It’s supposed to be funny the stuff I write, but after I have gone over it more times than Take That have sung ‘Have a Little Patience’, I think passing a kidney stone would be more pleasurable. At least I would have an excellent new topic to write about. Till it came to the time to edit that too!

Freewrite! That is the magic word, but has anybody sold a book made up entirely of freewrites? Do you put on the cover – Not much of this makes any sense, the punctuation and grandma r atrocious along with the spilling – BUT, you will get the gist of it. Special offer £15.

OR – we can hope, like some of the other lazy writers, who instead of concentrating on EDITING ad nauseum, fart around on their Blogs hoping that a talent scout from a writer’s version of the X-factor will come along and say –

‘Yes, you’re the man/woman/transvestite I am looking for. I have a machine that will be pushed up your arse, suck all the shit out, and spray it onto the blank pages of a best selling book.’

I suppose not. Still, I can sneak off and do a little nonsense writing on the side every now and then, just to keep my wit alive.

I was musing over turning all 100,000 odd words I have, for the time I was in the police, and redoing the lot in the 3^rd person with Sixpence (me) wandering around causing chaos and havoc. Here is a little test run –

1977 - Sixpence joins PATU

Sixpence has joined PATU. He didn’t have any choice, but if he wanted to be a policeman in Rhodesia it was standard procedure that he would be trained to be a deterrent to terrorism. Unfortunately, the terrorists hadn’t been informed that Sixpence was to become a member of the world renowned cannon fodder Police Anti Terrorist Unit (known in the local ‘freedom fighter’ lingo as ‘those who have no brains to shoot out’), otherwise they would have all died laughing and the war would have ended there and then.

Sixpence joined the other fresh inmates at training camp, dressed in his best ‘look like a tree.’ clothes. Rhodesian camouflage was rated one of the best in the world – proven by the fact that within an hour of putting them on, Sixpence had been pissed on by four dogs, a cat had crawled its way up his back (leaving him scarred for life), and now had two bats suspended from his earlobes like some freak earrings from a Dracula film.

On the parade ground, Sixpence stood to attention and listened very carefully to the instructions being shouted at him and the others by Section Officer (SO) Billy ‘The Fucking Insane’ Kidd Ya Knot, who was responsible in getting Sixpence in top-fit order, so as to chase nasty killers and kill them (but Sixpence would have preferred to be in the pub drinking, because he didn’t like this idea of people he didn’t even know wanting to kill him, and then he must kill them back!).

‘Raise your left leg.’ Screamed Kidd Ya Knot.

All complied, even Sixpence, because he remembered that the left leg was the one with his brand new digital watch strapped onto that ankle.

‘Now raise the other one,’ instructed the instructor issuing instructions.

Sixpence shot up his right arm, exactly 10 degrees higher than the standard NAZI salute, just like they had taught him at school when he needed to do a wee-wee.

‘Not your arm, you idiot!’ roared The Fucking Insane.

‘But Sah!’ screamed Sixpence, in fear of his life as Kidd Ya Knot cocked his pistol and aimed it at his head,

‘If I raise my right leg as well, I will fall down!’

‘Congratulations Sixpence,’ SO Kidd Ya Knot replied, as he systematically executed the rest of the squad who had stood there on their right legs, making them all left-overs. Placing the smoking barrel in his mouth, he grunted out one more sentence before the last bullet in the chamber sent him to his Irish maker –

‘You are promoted to my position – God help Rhodesia!’

Sixpence was well pleased. Joining PATU wasn’t as hard as he had feared. He couldn’t wait to get back to his police station and tell his Baas how clever he had been, and whistling his number one favourite pop song ‘Hello Hello, It’s Good To Be Back’ by Gary Gicker, Sixpence went off into the sunset to become the famed Gokwe Kid - Dick of The Bushveld.

Well, that’s enough dreaming and messing about. Back too editing, till next time, stay cool and keep laughing.