Intruder Alert
Friday September 25th 2009, 3:55 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man
It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity
It is the middle ground between light and shadow
Between science and superstition
And it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge
This is the dimension of imagination
It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone

Take Spencer Dial
A quiet but often opinionated Taxi driver
He is tired
Worn out from a 20th anniversary bash
But he can’t sleep
Look at him rolling around in the bed
Staring into the dark
Finally he gives up and moves to the lounge
He thinks that watching some late TV might drift him back
He checks the clock
It’s 2am
He’s up for work at 6am
An urge
One that crosses us all from time to time
Has just crossed Mr Dial
Something he can’t translate
An urge of a warning from the unknown
Or perhaps a sense of gravity
Who knows
What we do know
Is that Mr Dial
Is about to enter The Twighlight Zone

He gets up from the couch
And opens the door to the hallway
Two steps into the dark
And he senses a waft of movement up ahead
He thinks it’s just some late night toilet movement
It’s probably Mrs Dial
He stops alongside the kitchen
Mr Dial is a little puzzled
Staring at the darkened kitchen door
What is she doing in there?
She was only up for the toilet perhaps half an hour ago
There is more movement
Then he hears the back door handle squeak
Why would she be going outside?
Then a wave of strange darkness cooled itself over him
He took two heavy breaths
And tried to comprehend
That an intruder had just walked right passed him in the dark
He pushed open the kitchen door
The back door was wide open
Crossing the kitchen he stopped and took a carving knife from the drawer
And followed through the back door
The yard was quiet and familiar
As was the side of the house
He ran into the street
At this point he took a look at himself
T-shirt…boxers…bare feet…carving knife
There was no sign of the intruder
Spencer thought of kick the can
Juniors favourite hiding places
Behind the big bush in front of the basement flat
As his quiet bare feet padded around the corner
There was the intruder
Crouched down facing the wall in the basment well
Spencer crouched also and tapped his knife on the floor
“What the fuck are you doing?”
The burglar froze in his position facing the wall
There was a huge silence
During which neither of them moved
During which grave doubt crept into Mr Dial
He realised that even though he had the thief trapped in a basement well
He had much the wrong weapon to carry this out
Trying to stop him leaving the basement with a carving knife could be really messy
And either one of them could end up completely dead
Plus the burglar was no longer on his property
“Damn it!…if only I had picked up the cricket bat”
Reluctantly Spencer had to return to the house
By way of all the way around the back
Then had to don some trousers and shoes
Whilst calling the police

The thief had made a complete getaway
Whilst Spence was still talking to 999
Three police cars arrived
Spencer was about to be impressed by the police
They had been combing the streets as soon as the call was identified
He gave the cops a description of the man
Before going inside to give a statement

The next hour was vague
Adrenelin had caused his life to leave him like a gas
The statement was old fashioned and slow
Each sentence had to be flattened out
Spelling mistakes had to be signed
Other cops came and went
A dog came and went
Eventually they all had gone
And Spencer Dial sat there in silence
Tired…the clock said 4-15am
He went to check the doors
And then fell back onto the couch under the duvet

But once the door to an ancient sensation has been opened
It can’t be closed
As he laid there he played with the sensation
He put himself back on the spot
To sample the tingling cold and fear
To feel the single moment vastly expanded by the unknown
And after toying with it foolishly… he fell asleep

Within moments of dropping off he sat up
There was a noise in the hallway
He opened the door to flat darkness
Somebody was walking around the other side of the house
He went to check
Was it Mrs Dial?
Spencer walked through two corridors and two doors
Before he realised
That the whole house was wrong
He woke up back on the couch…phew
Sitting up he listened into the darkness
There was a squeaking
Sounded like the door handle to the back door
Surely the man hadn’t come back
Straight to the kitchen Spencer pushed open the door
The back door was wide open…
Spencer stared at the blackness beyond the door
Stitched tightly into the black depth was a terror
He dashed for the door…tumbling and scrambling
Grasping for the handle
And slammed it shut
But when he looked round…he had locked himself outside
As he was about to scream
He sat bolt upright on the couch…phew
But there was a noise
It was coming from outside
He could try to take a look from the conservatory
At least it’s nice and light in there
But the handle to the door was missing
He caressed the smooth door
Before looking round
The couch had gone…the door had moved
He forced himself awake properly…enough enough enough!
Sat up and rubbed his eyes and sighed
There were two people sat talking at the dining table
And now there was a crazy looking plump woman dressed in black
Sitting next to him on the couch
She was whispering something
Spencer moved closer to hear
“Fuck me…Fuck me” She said
Then she turned over…stuck her bum in the air
And pulled forward her skirt
Spencer was looking at a normal big arse
But the pussy was a manufactured grotesque pink slot
Made from shiny metal

The whole thing filtered away to the green of the cushion
Pressed against his nose
The room was light
He rolled over…it was 7am
Late for work
But at last free from…The Twighlight Zone

A New Surface
Monday September 14th 2009, 9:29 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

The streets are potted and dotted
And patchy and dippy and fucked
It’s a 4×4 experience
With an urban ambience
With short skirted gals
And drunks and bums
Bright coloured PCO coppers
And warm prams and mums
Watching from the equally patchy pavement
On a sunny day I am  a Greek island taxi
On a cold day I am a Nepalese mountain guide
And then
There’s a man from A+E
Fat collar round his neck
And a bandaged knee
And then its
Dum Dum
Bum Bump
The cab rocks in a dip
Aggghhh!!… he shouts
Me neck
Me hip
I’m sorry I say
There’s no other way
If only Brighton would pay
And re-pave the pavements
And re-street the streets
Put Silverstone tarmac under our wheels and our feet
It would make my dreams a reality
And make Brighton
A royal principality

Saturday September 05th 2009, 10:12 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

Today at the Spencer Dial International Bogie Mine
Production was temporarily halted by management
In recent weeks output has doubled
With miners working long hours
Management last week found miners working during the night
But damage has been discovered at both sides of the front of the mine
And one area of the rear face
As a result large new deposits have appeared around the damaged areas
These deposits have proved tempting to the miners
But management wish to avert any further damage
And have had to compromise
Work can continue in other parts of the mine
But unabated work during the night must cease
Reuters 5-9-09

Slack Pie
Tuesday September 01st 2009, 2:17 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


A wandering mind
Can be the symptom of inactivity
And mornings during this particular summer term
Have been very quiet
This particular morning I have taken £5 in the first 2 hours
And my mind has wandered badly
‘Fly round a lightbulb’ syndrome had kicked in
Thoughts flitted from one subject to the next
With no control or reason
Where is my focus?
Daft question
As far as I can remember I have never had any focus
It wasn’t one of the optional extras fitted at birth
I am a scatterbrain
I am bits and bobs

If I could stop time
I think it would be possible
That I would simply just do everything on my list of things to do
Fix up the house
Write all the stuff out of my head
Clean and tidy every nook and cranny
Then I could stand back…take a breath
Observe what I had done
And push the button and start time again
Get in my taxi and go back to work
Mundane I know
But what a wonderful relief it would be

I popped into the office to collect some job info
The woman in the office
Was lamenting the fact
That so few cars come out on a Sunday morning
I agreed with her that it was a problem
Just then an idea crossed my mind
I raised my finger and opened my mouth to speak
Nothing came out but a smile
And I stood up and left
Silly me…what was I thinking
Sunday morning is my favourite slot
Empty streets…non stop work until after lunch

I rejoined the daily fray
Although one couldn’t really refer to it as a fray
Everything is flat and slow during the week
Even with the racecourse in action
It felt the same
I was having to wring the flannel of tactics for every last drop of work
And then I stumbled on a new tactic
I found a way of making the data unit think that I had a passenger on board
Without turning on the meter
This proved a real winner
Especially on the east side of town
Where a lot of our cabs congregate
I was able to find a space/area with nobody on it
And tell the machine that I was heading there
And that I would soon be free
It returned 3 jobs in the next 2 hours
I could award myself another medal
For skill in the field

To nicely cap the day
The radio room sent me one last good un from the racecourse
I drove up the hill
And collected 2 chaps
Both wearing crombies and ties
Oddly they both sat in the front
(a transit has 3 seats in the front)
I don’t mind this when the cab is full (8)
But when there is nobody in the back
Then it’s a bit of an arse
Because I have to be careful not to touch the leg of the nearest passenger
With the hand that is on the gearstick
We set off to Shoreham
The pair were full of banter
And the subjects rose and changed
I noticed an odd friction between the two at times
And it peeled away after I dropped the first one
At the end of a magnificent driveway
With the house nowhere in sight
The remaining man flicked playful V’s as we drove off
And laughing he turned to me and said
“I fucking hate that bloke”
“But I like him in equal measure”
He sighed
“He’s totally out for himself all the time”
“But then dynamic and interesting…stimulating company”
‘What does he do?’ I decided to inquire
He raised his eyebrows
“He heads a government think tank”
‘Really…’ I was impressed…’What do they think about?’
“Creative Taxation…”
“A lot of todays stealth taxes came out of his head”
My mind was rotating with questions
I asked him if he was privvy to any of them
“Yeah he loves telling us the good ones”
Here is a new proposal

Taking up slack
Was how he introduced this
It involved the subject of taking kids out of school
For holidays etc…during term time
Currently the school is responsible
And often grants the time off
In odd cases where the parent is fined
The fine is small…say £50
Therefore the parent thinks it is worth the risk
Because they can save hundreds of pounds
And therein lies the slack
So the tank has proposed
That local councils take control away from the schools
To stop letting them off the hook
And thereby getting a piece of the pie
That the parents are saving