Recently I had the pleasure of spending a few days in the wilds of Scotland, celebrating a friend’s 50th birthday. One afternoon a group of us went out on a boat to see the scenery and hopefully spot some seals. Fishing was an added option. I found the experience quite thought-provoking.
There once was a land of rolling hills and valleys. At the top of the highest hill lived the King in a grand palace. Nearby, in a castle, lived a Count. His job was to count the King’s money which he kept locked in the castle cellars.
And is it true you made it up,
Spread those lies, blamed the fans,
Called them drunken hooligans?
No comment! No comment!
…
I wander in awe around the city,
Those artisan arches and avenues,
Classic sights along the snaking Seine,
Pausing to admire the iconic tower.
I hadn’t noticed the smog until the taxi driver mentioned it. We were on our way from Kuala Lumpur airport to the city for a night’s stay before continuing on to Borneo. One of my travelling companions asked if we would be passing any major sights, if so, would he point them out. The driver’s reply was alarming. It would be hard to see anything from a distance. The whole city was covered in a smoke haze. It had been like it for weeks.
He explained more. The haze happens every year. It drifts across from Indonesia; from Sumatra and the Kalimantan province of Borneo. It’s caused by ‘slashing and burning’ – a cheap way to clear land. Some farmers might adopt the technique but the finger of blame mainly points to the palm oil producers creating space for yet more plantations.
As a child I loved the TV programme The Man from U.N.C.L.E. Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo were my absolute heroes. Each episode excited and entertained to the full as they battled those evil enemies from T.H.R.U.S.H.
They stand erect and still,
a sea of uniformity,
some tower above.
Ranked in regiments and rows,
ruddy faced,
life like.
All those poppies.
All those people.
Greg Small was just an ordinary 22 year old living with his parents and young sister. That is, until the day he awoke as an insect. Now he is known the world over as ‘The Cockroach Kid’. Hi Magazine went to interview him in his secret hideout.
Greg and his family are staying in a closely guarded location as the final details are put together for ‘Revelation Day’: his first live appearance. As part of the lead-up Greg agreed to tell his story. We started by asking him about the day that changed everything.
‘Well, to be honest, it was just like any other morning,’ Greg explains. ‘I woke up and lay there, dozing. I felt rough but thought that was down to the party I’d been to the night before. Thought I’d sleep it off. Looking back now my body did feel different – my skin all hard – but I was too busy coping with my hangover. It was only when I heard my sister Greta calling that I woke up proper and realised I was stuck on my back and couldn’t turn over. Then I saw I had all these legs. Jesus, I freaked!’
Since the power cut every clock in the house was wrong. I know – I thought – I’ll phone the speaking clock. Or TIM as my mother used to call it, which was less incongruous when the voice was male. Nothing could be easier – simply dial 123.
But things had changed. The woman was almost singing at me.
‘You have reached the Time Enquiry Service sponsored by Zedog Digital Instruments. If you have a tone phone press the star button now.’
Done.
‘Welcome to the Time Enquiry Service. If you want information about the Zedog product range, please press 1.’
There are few jobs left for the boys,
nobody can relax,
even if some do find work,
we make them pay more tax.
Face the fierceness of cuts ahead,
girls crash glassy ceilings,
bosses say ‘I must let you go’,
no room at all for feelings.
…
