About this series
Conspiracy theories usually get dismissed by worker, who can’t believe that THEY would plot against us lowlies. Members of THEY dismiss them because THEY don’t want to get rumbled as the playful darlings love their fun and games; and the truth stays invisible, hidden in plain sight. But this time no one can dismiss the truth because it is so plain to see, even if the seer’s head is shoved up their botty.
The ‘terrible’ truth won’t slap you in the face because it will be ‘inside’ your face; that’s because in some cases, you’ll be chewing it. So, don’t read this little offering while you are standing up as the sudden realisation what is happening to you may shock you so much your legs will give way.
It’s in two parts. Firstly an academic waffles on about the world of retail in the usual academic way and then I’ll tell you what the academic can’t. As a little comfort offering I can tell you that it will happen slowly so you probably won’t notice ... until it’s too late and the last thing you ever see are teeth. Good luck.
Titles in the series (6)
- The Hell-Raising Rock and Roll Adventures of Alice Pooper and Iggy Popsicle
11
Can two rag dolls of rock gods Alice Pooper and Iggy Popsicle help save the world? Can the two of them persuade governments to stop the rot? We shall see. Rock On Man! Just think dear potential reader. If you have but the faith of a mustard seed, surely you can trust the power of hell raising by two great exponents to come up trumps. Rather controvertial book! For some folk that is.
- Tits Up
14
Apology. As this book has just been loaded, there may be some formatting problems. We will fix them asap. Quiet self time is liquid gold time, it is so very precious. No quiet time, and noise prevails inside the human, and that’s the invite to madness, and in many cases, the doorway to the world of therapy. It’s not enough for sleep to be the only escape from an increasingly insane world. Silence is golden. Silence is our true nature. To ‘chill’ (the modern word for meditate, or ponder), some people like to watch tropical fish (nothing against solitary ambitious goldfish). Some like to drive to a country car park away from the hustle and bustle, eat their sandwiches, not talk, stare at a field, then go homeand think about what to have for tea (it’s called marriage). Some like to sit in, or stroll through a wood, hopefully an empty one. For others it’s the middle of a field. Just somewhere where they can be with nature. Nature is exquisite. Some may be handed a back garden, in a quiet area, where, with a little work, they can create a beautiful ‘chill’ Nirvana. Somewhere lovely, to go and lose themselves, as in my case. I was lucky though, because as there were small sections of wooded area, I would be surrounded by glorious tits.
- The Parallelogames
17
It’s 2012! It’s time for the Olympics! Ah but! On an earth ‘twin’ planet, in a parallel Universe, they have a little extra. Someone came up with the bright idea of having Fringe Olympics i.e. various sports here and there which do not, for one reason or another, get to be part of the main events. What the Olympics do for seriousness, the Fringe Games do for ‘fun’. Enter the portal, and enjoy them.
- One Year in Tibet
Fifteen minutes a day training the mind to work at optimum level? I fancy a bit of that. I thought, 'who are the Masters' at this? The Tibetan monks of course. I thought, I'll go there and do the job properly. Peace for twelve whole months! Just me, in a cave, no hassle! Perfect! It was okay for a while, although I don't suppose I'd recommend it to my grandmother, as she would have a bad time on Thursdays with no bingo.
- The Chuckling Crab
The tantalizing story of the Ghost Town's (Coventry) brilliant specialised seafood restaurant, which was made to sparkle by Nim Chana, an alien. The restaurant was a legend in its own lifetime. Mouth wateringly funny! Crabs rule ok!
- The Smaller Conspiracy
Conspiracy theories usually get dismissed by worker, who can’t believe that THEY would plot against us lowlies. Members of THEY dismiss them because THEY don’t want to get rumbled as the playful darlings love their fun and games; and the truth stays invisible, hidden in plain sight. But this time no one can dismiss the truth because it is so plain to see, even if the seer’s head is shoved up their botty. The ‘terrible’ truth won’t slap you in the face because it will be ‘inside’ your face; that’s because in some cases, you’ll be chewing it. So, don’t read this little offering while you are standing up as the sudden realisation what is happening to you may shock you so much your legs will give way. It’s in two parts. Firstly an academic waffles on about the world of retail in the usual academic way and then I’ll tell you what the academic can’t. As a little comfort offering I can tell you that it will happen slowly so you probably won’t notice ... until it’s too late and the last thing you ever see are teeth. Good luck.
Frankie Lassut
I am the one being shaved; the other one Nim, is is a looney bin now!I went to see a psychic years ago who ended up as my girlfriend; she didn’t see that one coming! But she was extremely honoured. However it ended badly i.e. it rained heavily as I buried her body and I got soaked. No! You don’t really want to hear about it, it’s depressing; I was joking about the burial. She told me that I was to uncover a talent I had ... Well, another psychic told me that as the first one was dead; I was lying when I said I was lying. Nothing happened for quite a while. Suddenly I realised I needed a ‘job’ quite badly as I was beginning to drink halves. No, not a boob ‘job’! I went for the cheap option i.e. the surgeon gave some socks to shove up my jumper when I go out. I got a ‘job’ (have you got boobs on your mind?) because someone told me that bus-driving was easy because you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel. She was about six, a wise woman ... that’s called an oxymoron. Fantastic! I thought get the job and in a couple of days I’d be driving all the nice passengers around and about seeing all the sights for a fraction of the cost of a tour bus; and we’d have a roof in case it rained. Easy! First of all though there was the training; and I entered hell.I was born in Cumbria in a little ex-iron ore mining town called Millom. It was only small, a one- horse town; the horse was called Peg. It had a pedigree name too, but I can’t remember it at the moment: Peggy Suss? However, I got fed up and left as I was the only man in a town full of women and they were all lesbys; I’ve always been lucky. I went to Blackpool and attended the photographic college. I then moved to Coventry and met the psychic who would tell me what was going to happen. I could say now that the rest is history. Well it is, but obviously not history as that’s all made up anyway. Then I got the job bus-driving, which as I said is easy ‘you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel’. The bus station management weren’t pleased that she had said that though, so she was tried and sent to Guantanamo Bay; they have a section for young kids who are bad to the bone.The job was so mad that I thought it would be a good idea to write out some posters and stick them all on the wall of the bus station. The other drivers enjoyed them, but the management tore them down, the badstars (that’s an anagram of astards +B). I carried on and ended up with a manuscript for a book, which, by the way is ‘brilliant’. The management didn’t like it, but bollocks to them.I couldn’t stop writing after that episode and I’ve been writing ever since, mostly cheques to people, such as the mortgage people and the gas board etc. I am so brilliant that I’ve lost all my friends because I wrote about them in my style which I believe is called Bizzaro. My inner being is a bit of a crazy horse, because whatever I write it has to be in that style, even the horror. It just goes that way. ‘Ordinary’ writing to me is like lemonade minus the bubbles ... I can’t bring myself to do it; but thank God I can still bring myself off. I need a selfie stick as I do that because the close focus on the phone won’t do it; how else am I going to post them on the Dark Web?Writing is like a drug. When I was writing my Millom book, the pictures that flashed into my head were so funny to me that I laughed myself into hernia-ville; my stomach tore. I got injured writing.You see, hernia-ville, a retirement home for people with stomach hernias; no comedians are booked to appear at that place.So, my writing is brilliant, so read the bloody stuff!I have actually suffered for my art. I won’t go to hospital to get it fixed because, well, I’ve written about that friggin place too.All that and now I’m an international bestselling author. I’m the only author in this world who has sold books on Mars (eat your heart out Tony Robbins), so I can say with certainty that Martians have fabulous senses of humour.What a profile!
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