The Riot Diaries
Jan 15th
I’m off for a job interview today. I’ll take a couple of No-Doze
tablets so I’ll give the impression of being fresh, alert and fascinated
by everything my interviewer has to say.
They rang me out of the blue. I can’t actually remember applying for the
job but I desperately need the work so I went along with the call.
“You will have been to our website”, the male voice said implying
that I even knew who they were. “Of course I have”, I said rushing
to the computer to do a frantic search.
We chatted on happily and I must have given the illusion of knowing my stuff
as the next thing I know I’m being invited in to meet the company.
“You
can write?” he asked, “Absolutely’ I replied, neglecting to
mention that what I write is actually a load of old bollocks”.
“Good”, he said, “because as it’s a tourism web site
you may have to write about things like Bunji Jumping and so forth”.
Oh I can write about Bunji Jumping, I thought, like how you’d need to have
had a frontal lobotomy to even want to attempt to dive off a perfectly good bridge
tied only to an elastic band.
Then it occurred to me that I might be required to trial such delights in order
to write about them, “Er…” I said, “NO,” came
the reassuring reply, “You’d just be writing about it”.
That’ll be a great shame when it comes to writing about the delights of
the many vineyards down here.
Jan 16th
I tottered in to my job interview on high heels wearing my fabulous
Christmas outfit – courtesy my Mother.
I got on swimmingly well with ‘Gary’. I wore my schmart
glasses (which tests prove make me appear 80% schmarter) which was
lucky because I was then given a series of aptitude tests.
I
had to write a story about what I did over xmas. Unfortunately it had to be
kept to only 250 words so I wrote about Brent’s missing underpants. It
was the only thing I could think of at such short notice.
I made it festive and filled them with mistletoe. I described the resurrection
of Brent’s holey underpants in terms of a Christmas miracle.
In the light of a new day, I’m now wondering if, rather than
offer me a new job, they’ll offer to have me commited.
Jan 17th
I’ve invented a new form of Ballet; more of a ‘Bedlet’.
It’s a mixture of Ballet and lying in bed.
All
the same movements used in Ballet are performed except you don’t actually
get to leap through the air as such.
I can see this being hugely popular. It could also be performed on
a slippery wooden floor such as a stage. I’m working on all the
major Ballets – so far I’ve done
The Firebed – Fabulous costumes
Nightcracker – A lot of flailing arms and legs
Bedtrushka – The clever thing about this is that the bed is actually
a puppet!
Sleeping Beauty – an 8 hour epic where not much happens
Swoon Lake – a lot of sighing and collapsing.
Jan 18th
Gary,
from THE JOB rang!
“Just wanted to know your thoughts”, he said.
I assumed he meant my thoughts about the job, which was a lucky guess
because if I’d told him that D. I. Zeuss was still trying to
interrogate the pair of holey underpants, he probably would have hung
up and dialed the emergency brain replacement unit.
I was honest. I told him I loved the work and the people but that
8 hours of fluorescent lights would kill me. I said I could manage
5 but not 8. I expected him to say thanks but good bye. He is going
to try to work something out!! I can’t believe it.
It has to be Brent’s miraculous Holey Christmas Underpants. I
think we’re going to have make a shrine.
Jan 19th
D. I. Zeuss, tired of questioning Brent’s traumatuised Holey
Underpants, who were exercising their right to remain silent, has moved
on to investigate a more serious matter.
Badger’s missing leg.
Badger Magoo has had to have a leg amputated. We think she wrenched
it jumping a fence after a rabbit. It hasn’t slowed her down
at all.
However
D. I. Zeuss; noting that on the morning of the 14th Jan 2008, Badger was in
charge of 4 legs, but on the following morning, was missing one; is on to the
case.
He’s questioning everyone. This mystery could go on for a very
long time.
Meanwhile Brent’s Holey Underpants got themselves mysteriously
wrapped around Flossom’s ample belly. She’s in the process
of killing them.
Jan 20th
The toy shark in our bath tub is sporting a new hairstyle.
It looks a bit like a guy who is going bald but who scrapes the last
vestiges of hair across his polished pate anyway.
Actually, it looks exactly like an insurance salesman: a lot of teeth
in a grey suit, with a large spider perched on his head disguised as
a new hairstyle, all ready to sell me the deal of a lifetime.
Jan 21st
Grommart flew out of the bathroom with her fur standing on end.
“Why is there an insurance salesman in the bath tub”?
D.I. Zeuss pricked his ears up. His investigation into Badger’s
missing leg isn’t going too well and this sounded like something
he could really get his teeth into.
He
trotted off to make some inquiries.
When he hadn’t returned an hour later I thought I’d better
check up on him.
He was curled up on our bed fast asleep with the shark in his paws.
He awoke as I walked in and blinked sheepishly.
“Well?” I said.
He yawned loudly, “the suspect has been neutralized”, he
said, “he was wearing a fiendishly clever disguise, but I recognized
him for what he is – a large fish; brought him up here for questioning
and may, or may not have accidentally eaten his toupee.
“So, what did you discover?” I was dying to know what a plastic
shark would have to say about lolling about in our bath tub masquerading as
an insurance salesman.
Zeuss looked at me as if I was mad, “that he in fact, comes from
Taiwan”, he said, “And therefore doesn’t speak any
English”. With that, he curled up into a tight ball and went
back to sleep.