EURO MELTDOWN FEAR – THE FACTS
The government has just announced details of a mysterious psychological condition sweeping European cities. The illness primarily affects investment bankers and stockbrokers although anyone who owns even a small number of shares is also at risk.
The neurological imbalance is characterized by debilitating facial spasms and wild eye-rolling, whenever markets take a downward turn, followed by an obsessive compulsive desire to sell ones investments using a mobile. Ever more frantic gesticulations lead ultimately to severe depression, head trauma and unconsciousness.
The public are encouraged to approach affected individuals with extreme prejudice, using a rolled Financial Times whenever possible.
UNWASHED TRAVELLERS UNREST SPARKS EURO MELTDOWN FEAR
Amid global anxiety that the Eurozone will suffer the worst crash since 1929, the local residents of Little Horndon-on-the-Hill, Essex claim to know the answer.
Extensive statistical analysis of the deepening crisis have unearthed a sympathetic increase in ‘crusty jugglers’ leading to an obvious devaluing of well-to-do homes and an undermining of common decency. Leading the highly intuitive investigative team, Detectives Matt Blunder and Nick “Your Nicked” the Tinker support the findings. “Them travellers need a %$£*?! good wash.”
Calls from middle England gentry to napalm Dale Farm for ‘The Greater Good’ have not been ruled out. The enquiry continues.
Amused, Angelica savoured the dismay on Robert's face, his
shock descending into rage barely held in check.
"Of course, she is only partially turned, she wont be truly mine
until sundown tomorrow. But, if you cooperate ..."
Angelica drifted the sentence into silence; the chill air
seemed to mist with possibilities. Robert controlled himself.
"I thought you wanted me dead. Why this ... persuasion? What of
Her hand blurred; the talisman he clasped broke free, spun and
impacted against the mortared stone.
Angelica smouldered coldly.
"Your father has courage but his insolence is too much,Rebecca."
Her voice commanded obedience. "Pick up the cross."
YOUNG BLOOD can be found as the first submission below this one.
THE MIDDLE KINGDOM (Have you ever seen us?)
Have you ever seen us, out the corner of your eye?
Discarded brief imaginings, a momentary lie.
Children babble wonders, while the world remains aloof.
'Out of the mouths of babes', are heard; we smile at your reproof.
You rarely trust your instincts, your realm is not your own.
How quickly magic fades to dust when perched upon a throne.
We do not tease, beguile or trick as legends willingly suppose.
But beware our fickle nature, as a thorn upon a rose.
To disparage younger fantasies, or make a vengeful dare.
Is to invite a starborn Faerie to the urgency of prayer.
IMPORTANT: Please read WEEK 4 of this blog first (use the search)
- this is a continuation of that piece.
YOUNG BLOOD (part 2)
"So, Robert, how DID you find me?" She winced, imperceptibly.
He held the cross steady. It was silver, heavy, blessed by the
Abbot himself. And would not be nearly enough. He rallied his faith.
"It wasn't hard. That creature you sent to kill me couldn't help
"Out of the mouths of babes?" Again, the playful banter.
"Dont play coy with me, Anjelica. We both know that a child was
the last thing she was."
A light breeze fluttered the curtains; they bulged, a form
coalesced within the folds.
Casually, the queen parted them.
"You mean like this one."
VERY IMPORTANT: Read ARTY FARTY, then THE NEW GIRL and BRIDGET MOANS
(previous post) first at the link below before you read this one.
Uh, this is so dull! What does this sign say? Some pompous
stuff about a guy called Blowchump. Whatever! He so needs to get
a life. Probably gay too.
Where's Trish and Stace? Oh, they're at some flowery bear thing.
Or elephant. Dunno. Cute. In a baby way. And they're sniggering.
They're really immature, bet they're whispering about me.
Don't care, me n' Darren are gonna deep snog later. Lush!
OMG, that thing just moved! That's wicked cool! Blowchump
should have thought of that.
Oh no, Flaky's seen me. Where can I put this fag?
I know, open wide Gilbert!
Oh bum, its been twenty minutes since Miss "Flaky" Dandridge gave
us this park project and I'm bored already! Luckily, I copied
Trisha's pad when she wasn't looking, but Stacey let me trace her's
for some gloss. And Darren's number. Cow.
Now I've got to draw this weed on my own. Tragic. Cos I gave Stace
the wrong number (Ha!) and Trish caught me cribbing. Again.
If they really were my friends, they'd do it all for me.
God, it looks a mess!
I know, I'll just add a couple of 'anatomical improvements', that
should be good for a laugh!