My most prized posession

I thought I had lost this newspaper clipping, I’d been looking since moving house – but it finally turned up, stuck between some post cards. I love it so much! (It must be 16 years old now)

Apparently there was some kind of competition, sponsored by a local business, which asked children to send in their illustrations.

There is just so much going on here. The longer you look the better and more bizarre it gets. Why is a knight sword fighting with a slice of melon? Is the melon huge or is the knight tiny? Are those stab wounds or seeds? What sinister object or event does the partial triangle behind them signify? Is it a spotlight? An alien abduction? A larger piece of melon waiting for its moment to strike?

But my favourite element, the piece that makes this work truly transcendental, is the disclaimer at the bottom. “Opinions expressed in this newspaper are not necessarily those of the competition sponsors.”

The Newcastle Permanent Building Society does not condone the fighting of melons.

Lisa Williams, you are my hero.



I AM the peanut


An Unstable Tale

I regret to retell an abhorrent tale that I experienced only last week,
I was brought by a clatter, to a house and the matter that forced two once strangers to meet…

I beg your pardon but we hear you are harbouring an arborist.

Who, I? Forsooth, I fear you are mistaken.

I understand you’re making to save your bacon but we see your tree is free of leaves and needs to please be leased overseas for woodchipping and clipping and maybe furniture shipping. So where is the tree lopper?

What? Are you a copper?

Is treason the reason you keep on displeasing this innocent man of the law?

I refuse to reuse my excuses, it’s useless, but you’d back me if you’d seen what I saw.

Is that a pun? We don’t take kindly to that kind of thing, now bring out the felon. Chop chop.

Your wit is a sharp as his axe, but before you take him I should tell you the facts of the matter so you will see it’s a matter of fact that he works to preserve not destroy and, my boy, he could take you down quick as a trap.

The policeman looked stressed and addressed not the logger but the man who stood in the door – I must confess I’m impressed though it was this address that our records directed me for. I feel, in the light of this newly opened canopy, that I should give you a warning, just this once, and no more.

The man looked pleased and with well greased knees took a step out the doorway but slipped on the leaves that had once littered the eaves but now covered the pavement below. Oh heck, as he fell, he considered it well, the space where the great tree had stood, now he observed, somersaulting, that his house, sans door vaulting, had been crushed by the arborist’s wood.

Just sit tight, sang the cop, all this wood that was chopped will need to be cleaned up post haste. I’ll locate the wood chopper if you give me his number and insurance will pick up the waste.

The man groaned and he turned and he kissed the concrete – there never was an arborist. I did it, and I’m proud of this.

But why?

The bees they displeased me and the birds they would mock me and the monkeys…
The monkeys?
There are monkeys no more! I have ended their madness and it is with immense gladness that I find this huge mess around us on the floor.

But your home is destroyed…
But my life is now full!
But you have no insurance…
But I know someone who will!

He then flashed a grin revealing his sin as a second huge pine tree collapsed on the road. On a car. A police car. All white with blue lights and blue trim and shattered glass and crumpled steel and crushed rims.

The officer was not amused, nor was he confused – I’ve changed my mind, since you’re out of yours, I’m taking you in… though we’ll be taking your car.

Fine. But no monkey business. Don’t think I didn’t notice, from the start – your tail!