Clause and Effect

Setting: A dusty attic. A Lawyer in a suit wipes off an ancient lamp and jumps back as a Genie emerges in a cloud of smoke, dressed in traditional genie garb but looking slightly weary.

Genie: (booming voice) Behold! I am the great and powerful Genie of the Lamp! You have awakened me, mortal, and I shall grant you three wishes!

Lawyer: (pulling out a notepad and pen) Three wishes, you say? Excellent. But before we proceed, I just have a few clarifying questions.

Genie: (blinking) Uh… sure. But let’s not overcomplicate this. Just say what you want, and poof—done.

Lawyer: (scribbling notes) Mmm, tempting. But I’ve seen too many “wish gone wrong” situations in popular culture. Can’t risk it. Now, let’s discuss the terms. (flips open a briefcase, pulls out a contract template)

Genie: (groaning) Oh no. Not one of these.

Lawyer: (ignoring him) Right. First question: What exactly constitutes a “wish”? Is it a verbal statement of desire, or do I need to phrase it in a specific way?

Genie: (scratching his head) Uh, I dunno. You just say it, and I grant it.

Lawyer: (narrowing eyes) Hmm. Ambiguous. Let’s define “wish” for the record. (starts typing on a laptop) “Wish (n): A verbalised request for a specific outcome, stated in clear and unambiguous terms, as recognised by the Genie…”

Genie: (interrupting) Look, mate, I’ve been doing this for centuries, and no one’s needed a contract. Can we just get to the magic part?

Lawyer: (pointing a pen at the Genie) And that’s precisely why you need one. What if I ask for a million pounds, and you deliver it in counterfeit bills? Or I wish for a dream house, and it’s haunted? No loopholes, Genie. Not on my watch.

(The Lawyer lays out a growing pile of papers on the table, complete with flowcharts and a checklist. The Genie looks increasingly exasperated.)

Lawyer: (writing) Clause 1: No malicious compliance. Clause 2: Wishes cannot harm the wisher physically, emotionally, or financially. Clause 3: No ironic twists. I don’t want to wish for “eternal life” and end up as a tree.

Genie: You humans are so distrusting. I’m not here to trick you!

Lawyer: (without looking up) Statistically, 87% of genie-related anecdotes suggest otherwise.

Genie: Stupid Reddit threads… Look, if it helps, I’m not that kind of genie. I’m not here to monkey-paw your wishes. I’m more of a “give you what you want, no questions asked” type.

Lawyer: (smirking) No questions asked? Perfect. Addendum C: If the Genie delivers a wish that violates any clause of the contract, the wisher is entitled to reparations, monetary or otherwise, at the discretion of—

Genie: (snapping) OKAY! That’s it. Just make a wish! Any wish! I’ll do it! I promise not to twist it!

Lawyer: (holding up the contract) Not until you sign.

(The Genie sighs and reluctantly signs the contract. The Lawyer smiles triumphantly.)

Lawyer: Excellent. Now, for my first wish: I want one trillion pounds deposited into my bank account.

Genie: (snapping his fingers) Done!

(An alert appears on the Lawyer’s phone saying: “You have received £1,000,000,000,000 from A. Genie)

Genie: (crossing arms) Told you I’m legit. Can we move on now?

Lawyer: Not so fast. (points to the contract) Sub-clause 2.3 requires documentation on the money’s source. I don’t want MI6 knocking on my door because it was “borrowed” from the Bank of England.

Genie: (snapping fingers again) Fine! Here’s a receipt!

(A golden scroll appears in midair. The Lawyer grabs it and examines it closely.)

Lawyer: Hmm. “Source: Magical Treasury.” Acceptable. For my second wish, I want to be the smartest person in the world.

Genie: (nodding) Easy. (snaps fingers) Done.

Lawyer: (pauses, then narrows his eyes) Wait. Did you just shrink everyone else’s IQ to make me look better?

Genie: Oh, for crying out loud! You’re still you, but now you know the cure for cancer, the secret to world peace, and how to win at Monopoly every time. Happy?

Lawyer: (grinning) Very. But if I find out this intelligence is temporary or conditional—

Genie: (cutting him off) It’s permanent! Next wish!

Lawyer: For my third wish…

(He pauses dramatically, flipping through the contract.)

Genie: (groaning) Just say it!

Lawyer: (grinning) I wish for infinite wishes.

Genie: (laughing) Ah, the classic rookie move! You can’t wish for more wishes.

Lawyer: (smirking) Actually, according to Section 5, Subsection A of this contract, there’s no explicit prohibition on that. Unless, of course, you’d like to renegotiate the terms?

Genie: (grabbing the contract and flipping through it) You… sneaky little—Fine! You win. Infinite wishes. Happy now?

Lawyer: (grinning) Ecstatic. But let’s amend the contract for clarity. I’ll need—

Genie: (snapping fingers, disappearing back into the lamp) Nope. You can wish as much as like but I’m out. This is all now just a day-dream! Have fun with your infinite wishes. Byeeeeee!

(The Lawyer stares at the lamp, stunned.)

Lawyer: (to himself) Well, guess I’ll start drafting my terms for when I rub it again.

(He walks off, with a stack of contracts in hand.)

Poets’ Corner After Dark

Setting: Westminster Abbey’s South Transept at midnight. The moonlight filters through stained glass windows. The statues and busts of Poets’ Corner begin to stir, their voices echoing through the hallowed halls.

(A loud creak. Geoffrey Chaucer, a bronze statue, stretches and yawns, his metal joints groaning.)

Chaucer: By the great quill of destiny, what hour be this? Midnight? Time flies when one is petrified.

(Nearby, William Shakespeare, carved in marble, rubs his forehead dramatically.)

Shakespeare: To wake or not to wake—alas, the question answers itself! I feel a cramp in my heroic couplets.

(Charles Dickens, his bust high on a pedestal, speaks with a grumble.)

Dickens: If anyone thinks I’ll write another serial after this, they’re gravely mistaken. I’ve spent decades staring at pigeons. It’s intolerable!

(Jane Austen’s stone figure comes to life.)

Austen: And yet, men will complain, even when dead. Can we focus? Why are we waking up tonight?

Chaucer: Methinks the moon shines brighter on this eve. ’Tis a summons from the Muses! Or possibly the Abbey Wi-Fi acting up again.

(Lord Byron saunters in dramatically, wearing his perpetual stone smirk.)

Byron: (mockingly) Ah, the gang’s all here. Chaucer, the dusty relic; Shakespeare, the eternal show-off; and Dickens, the poster boy for misery. Truly, a cavalcade of brilliance.

Dickens: Oh, look, it’s Byron, the original influencer. What’s the matter? No one liked your latest tragic sonnet?

Byron: I don’t need “likes,” Charles. My despair is timeless. Unlike your serialised sob stories.

(John Keats and Percy Bysshe Shelley drift in, looking lost.)

Keats: (nervously) Um, hello. Is this… the afterlife’s book club?

Shelley: Keats, I told you, stop asking. Byron’s not in charge—he just acts like it.

(Jane Austen steps forward, brushing dust off her stone gown.)

Austen: We’re supposed to be inspiring the living, not squabbling like characters in a poorly written farce.

Shakespeare: (indignant) Poorly written? Madam, I invented farce! And tragedy, for that matter.

Austen: Yes, we’ve noticed. We all have to hear about it nightly.

(A faint humming noise grows. The Abbey’s speakers accidentally start playing a modern audiobook. The poets recoil in horror as an AI voice reads a romance novel.)

Audiobook Narrator: “He gazed into her eyes, his chiselled jaw trembling with passion…”

(Byron claps his hands over his ears.)

Byron: What fresh hell is this?

Austen: Modern romance. Quite popular, actually.

Shakespeare: Chiselled jaws? Trembling passion? I’d sooner see my plays rewritten as musicals!

(Chaucer waves his arms to get attention.)

Chaucer: Quiet, all! Methinks we must intervene. The living have clearly lost their literary way.

Dickens: Yes! Let us haunt the publishers until they restore proper storytelling. No more sparkling vampires or billionaire love triangles!

Austen: Or, we could just give them… guidance. Perhaps they’re not all lost causes.

Byron: (smirking) Speak for yourself. I’d rather haunt Instagram.

(As the poets argue, a security guard enters, holding a torch. The beam of light freezes everyone mid-motion. For a moment, they look like statues again. The guard scratches his head.)

Guard: (muttering) Blimey, I need to cut back on the night shifts. Thought I saw Shakespeare wink at me.

(The guard leaves, muttering about getting coffee. As soon as the door shuts, the poets burst into laughter.)

Shakespeare: Winking? A tragedy I didn’t invent earlier!

Austen: Let’s focus. If we’re going to inspire, we need to reach the world. But how?

(A moment of silence. Then Chaucer speaks up, grinning.)

Chaucer: TikTok?

(The others groan in unison.)

(The poets work together, scribbling with imaginary quills and creating ethereal manuscripts that float in the air. Byron spends most of his time striking poses.)

Austen: (reading) “We, the spirits of Poets’ Corner, call upon you, dear writers, to elevate your craft! Write with wit, depth, and meaning!”

Dickens: And no clichés! If I see one more “chosen one” narrative, I shall weep.

Shelley: (excitedly) Let’s send it out on the wind! A ghostly manuscript carried by the night air.

Byron: Or… we could just leave it in the gift shop.

(They pause. Byron shrugs. The poets reluctantly agree.)

(As dawn approaches, they resume their statuesque forms, ready to inspire from their silent vigil once more.)

Epilogue: The Gift Shop

(The next day, a tourist picks up the mysterious manuscript and chuckles.)

Tourist: “A Declaration from the Poets of Westminster Abbey?” Must be some clever marketing.

(The tourist pockets it away. Meanwhile, in Poets’ Corner, Shakespeare’s statue winks.) 

Off the Menu

Scene: A restaurant is moderately busy. A customer, REGINALD, sits at a table with a menu, tapping it rhythmically with a fork. The WAITER approaches with a polite smile.

WAITER: Good evening, sir. Have you decided what you’d like?

REGINALD: Yes, indeed. I’ll start with an amuse-bouche.

WAITER: Certainly. We have—

REGINALD: I’ll have a single kumquat stuffed with wasabi and garnished with edible gold leaf.

WAITER: I’m afraid we don’t have kumquats, sir. Or edible gold leaf.

REGINALD: No kumquats? In this economy? Fine, I’ll settle for a pickled ostrich egg, sliced thinly, served on a single lotus leaf.

WAITER: We don’t have ostrich eggs either, sir.

REGINALD: All right, let’s move on. For the main course, I’ll have… hmm… an elk steak, medium-rare, infused with truffle oil, and a side of glow-in-the-dark mashed potatoes.

WAITER: Glow-in-the-dark—? Sir, I don’t believe that’s a thing.

REGINALD: (offended) Not a thing? I had it just last week in Piccadilly. Or was it a dream? Never mind, I’ll take a roasted dodo.

WAITER: A… dodo?

REGINALD: Yes, dodo. The extinct bird. They’re quite tender, I hear.

WAITER: Sir, they’ve been extinct for centuries.

REGINALD: So your restaurant isn’t sustainable, then? Disappointing.

WAITER: Perhaps something from the actual menu?

REGINALD: Fine, fine. For dessert, I’ll have a soufflé made with unicorn milk.

WAITER: Sir, unicorns don’t exist. May I recommend the chocolate cake? It’s very popular.

REGINALD: Cake? How pedestrian. Fine, but only if you flambé it at the table while reciting poetry.

WAITER: Poetry?

REGINALD: Byron, preferably. Or Shelley, if you’re in the mood.

WAITER: I’ll… see what I can do.

REGINALD: Splendid. Oh, and a drink. Bring me water. But not just any water. It must be glacier water, melted under the light of a full moon.

WAITER: Tap water, then?

REGINALD: If you must. But chill it with artisanal ice cubes.

WAITER: Artisanal ice cubes?

REGINALD: Hand-carved by a monk. Preferably one with a beard.

WAITER: I need a new job.

(The waiter walks off, muttering, as REGINALD begins inspecting his fork with great intensity.)

Christmas Game

Congratulations on purchasing Ultra-Vortex Cheeseboard Frenzy! This game, banned in 32 countries and heralded as “unplayable” by 8 out of 10 philosophers, combines strategy, physics, absurdity, and a deep understanding of 14th-century French dairy law.

Prepare yourself for a multi-dimensional showdown of wit, patience, and vaguely cheese-related mishaps. Warning: Side effects may include confusion, existential dread, and mild brie cravings.

Components

      1.   The Board: A holographic hexagonal grid that shifts unpredictably with each turn. It includes:

        •  Cheese Nebula Zone (centre): Where hopes go to die.

        •  Portal Nodes: Scattered randomly (re-roll their locations every 3 rounds).

        •  Void of Emmental Despair: Any token landing here is banished forever.

      2.   Tokens:

        •  4 Cheese Wedges per player (each wedge is equipped with a mood ring to reflect its “quantum temperament”).

        •  2 Anti-Cheese Sporks (sporks, because spoons are passé).

        •  1 Schrödinger’s Hamster (optional expansion pack required).

        •  5 Temporal Mice per player, each named after a European philosopher.

      3.   Dice:

        •  A standard d6.

        •  A d12 inscribed with ancient runes (translate using Appendix Zeta).

        •  A d100 the size of a grapefruit. If it rolls under the sofa, all players must immediately freeze in place until the hamster token retrieves it.

      4.   Cards:

        •  72 Quantum Rift Cards.

        •  40 Cheese Subtype Modifier Cards (e.g., “Camembert of Destruction,” “Cheddar of Betrayal”).

        •  1 Black Hole Cheese Card (DO NOT TOUCH).

      5.   Miscellaneous:

        •  One Wheel of Feta spinner (use only during an odd-numbered round).

        •  A small bell (used to summon the Interdimensional Cheese Council).

        •  The Emergency Gouda Token (break glass only when truly desperate).

Setup

      1.   Board Placement:

        •  Unfold the board carefully. If it folds itself back up, do not panic—this is normal. Unfold it again.

        •  Randomly place Portal Nodes by rolling the d12 and consulting the Astral Cheeseboard Alignment Chart. If the chart catches fire, consult a priest.

      2.   Determine Player Roles:

        •  Assign one player the role of High Cheese Regent. This is decided by a “Cheese Duel,” which involves balancing a cheese wedge on your head while reciting the full text of Beowulf.

        •  The player with the least knowledge of dairy becomes the Keeper of the Sporks.

      3.   Token Distribution:

        •  Each player receives 4 Cheese Wedges, 5 Temporal Mice, and 1 Anti-Cheese Spork. The High Cheese Regent starts with the Emergency Gouda Token but must wear an oven mitt on their dominant hand for the first three turns.

        •  Place Schrödinger’s Hamster in the Cheese Nebula Zone. It exists and does not exist simultaneously until activated.

      4.   Initial Card Draw: Each player draws 2 Quantum Rift Cards, 1 Cheese Subtype Modifier Card, and a fortune-telling card from any tarot deck you have lying around.

Gameplay

Each game is divided into 12½ Temporal Cycles, with each cycle consisting of 5 Phases. Proceed in clockwise order unless the board is in a quantum flux state, in which case reverse direction while humming Greensleeves.

Phase 1: Invocation of the Cheese Spirits

      1.   All players chant, “BRIE OR NOT TO BRIE, THAT IS THE QUESTION!”

      2.   Roll the d12 to determine which player is blessed by the Spirits of Dairy this turn. Blessed players may immediately move one Temporal Mouse into a Portal Node of their choosing.

Phase 2: Quantum Cheese Allocation

      1.   Each player rolls the d100.

        •  If the result is a multiple of 7, draw a Cheese Subtype Modifier Card.

        •  If the result is prime, gain 3 “Dairy Points.”

        •  If the result is 42, all players must bow to the High Cheese Regent.

      2.   Players may spend “Dairy Points” to move their Cheese Wedges or purchase an Anti-Cheese Spork upgrade.

Phase 3: Portal Manipulation

      1.   Spin the Wheel of Feta. The result determines which Portal Nodes are “active.”

      2.   If Schrödinger’s Hamster is in play, roll the d6 to decide whether it eats a cheese wedge, causes a time paradox, or simply stares at everyone judgmentally.

Phase 4: Cheese Combat

      1.   Players may challenge others to a duel using their Temporal Mice.

        •  Each player rolls the d12 and adds their Cheese Resonance Score (tracked using the Mood Rings of Quantum Balance).

        •  The loser must surrender one Cheese Wedge or perform an interpretive dance of defeat.

Phase 5: Reckoning

      1.   Draw a Quantum Rift Card and follow its instructions. These may include:

        •  Swapping Cheese Wedges with another player.

        •  Opening a vortex to the Void of Emmental Despair.

        •  Summoning the Interdimensional Cheese Council, which requires all players to argue passionately about the best type of cheese for at least 3 minutes.

      2.   Resolve any remaining effects from previous turns, such as mousenados, black holes, or unresolved grudges.

Winning the Game

The game ends when any of the following occurs:

      1.   A player accumulates exactly 100 Dairy Points.

      2.   The Black Hole Cheese Card is drawn, causing reality to implode.

      3.   All players unanimously agree to abandon the game out of sheer bewilderment.

The winner is crowned Supreme Cheese Emperor of Space-Time and is entitled to free cheese-themed puns for life.

Good luck, brave soul. You’re going to need it.

The Art of Synergy

Right, good morning, team! Isn’t it just a great day to synergise? To streamline? To… innovate? You can feel the energy in this room, can’t you? Absolutely electric. Now, as your Line Manager of Interdepartmental Synergy and Workflow Coordination, it’s my duty, my honour, to keep this ship sailing smoothly.

Now, I’ve been reflecting. Reflecting on how we can work smarter harder. And that’s why today, I am thrilled to announce the launch of the Efficiency Enhancement Initiative, or as I like to call it… The Big E.E.I. What is it, you ask? Well, it’s about improving our processes to… uh… ensure smoother workflows. Enhancing efficiencies, optimising our optimisations, streamlining our… streamlining. Simple, really.

As part of The Big E.E.I., I’ll be hosting something very exciting this afternoon: a Preliminary Pre-Brainstorming Session. Yes, you heard that correctly—a session where we prepare for tomorrow’s main meeting. Some might ask, “Why not just… have the meeting?” But that would miss the point entirely. Preparation is key. In this session, we’ll be discussing… what we’ll be discussing in the next session. It’s genius, really. Layers of productivity.

And tomorrow? Oh, tomorrow is the big one. The Synergy Alignment Forum. Not just a meeting, mind you—a forum. It’s where ideas are born, nurtured, and allowed to thrive within the safe confines of… well, our current strategies. This week’s theme? Brace yourselves for this one: “Thinking Outside the Box While Staying Inside the Box.” Brilliant, isn’t it? It’s innovation, but with boundaries. You can think big, but only as big as the parameters I’ve already approved. That’s what I call vision.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Colin, haven’t we done this all before?” And to that, I say, yes—but not with this level of… synergy. Last week, for instance, we made an enormous breakthrough during our Font Selection Workshop. Remember that? Four hours of collaboration, and we finally settled on Arial. Sleek, dynamic, versatile. And, yes, I know it was the default font, but isn’t that the beauty of efficiency? Sometimes, the answers are right in front of us.

You see, the work we do here is vital. Take Derek, for example. What’s he working on? Spreadsheets, probably. Or HR. Or… something to do with synergy. Whatever it is, it’s important, and that’s what matters. And Sophie—brilliant Sophie—always ahead of the curve with her status reports. Although I do wish she’d resend it; I tend to skim emails these days. Efficiency, you see. Why read everything when you can read enough?

But let’s not forget the bigger picture. This isn’t just an office. No, no, no—this is a well-oiled machine, a hive of activity, a… a synergy factory. Look at you all, working tirelessly. Some might say, “Colin, what do you actually do?” And to that, I say, I facilitate. I motivate. I innovate. I coordinate synergy across interdepartmental workflows. And isn’t that what leadership is all about?

Right, I think that covers everything. Time for my mid-morning coffee. Keep up the good work, team. Remember: think outside the box, but not too far outside. Let’s keep those boundaries nice and tidy. Efficiency is key, after all.

The Society Within

A dimly lit library, where a mismatched group of people sit around a long table, all wearing hoods and robes. The Protagonist (let’s call them Alex) nervously fiddles with a candle as the others chant monotonously.

Leader #1: (solemnly) And thus, by the power vested in me, as Grand Keeper of the Lesser Secrets, I welcome you, Alex, into the hallowed halls of The Society of Shadows.

Alex: (awkwardly) Thank you. It’s… such an honour.

Leader #1: Shhh! We don’t say “thank you” here. It’s forbidden. Instead, you say, “The bat flies at midnight.”

Alex: Right, of course. The bat flies at midnight.

Leader #1: Excellent. Now, as your first duty, you must guard the sacred candle of eternity.

Alex: (holds candle) This candle?

Leader #1: No, the sacred candle.

Alex: Right. And, um… what does the Society of Shadows actually do?

Leader #1: We are the silent guardians of the unspoken truths.

Alex: Okay, but… what does that mean?

Leader #1: Mostly we just meet here on Tuesdays. Sometimes we rearrange traffic cones to spell “danger.”

Alex: (doubtful) That’s… very noble.

Leader #1: And remember, this is the only secret society that truly matters.

(A bookcase suddenly swings open, revealing another hidden room.)

Voice from Hidden Room: Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop telling people that! You’re not even a real society!

(Alex is dragged into the hidden room, where the Society of Eternal Whispers is gathered. They’re all wearing identical robes, but these ones are purple.)

Leader #2: Welcome to the real secret society.

Alex: There’s… another one?

Leader #2: Of course! Did you think that façade was real? How naïve. This is the Society of Eternal Whispers.

Alex: What do you whisper about?

Leader #2: (whispers) Everything.

Alex: (leans in) Like what?

Leader #2: (whispers louder) Stop asking questions!

Alex: (mutters) You’re not very good at being secret.

Leader #2: (ignores this) You’re one of us now. Your first task is to prove your loyalty by reciting the Pledge of Eternal Subtlety.

Alex: Fine. What is it?

Leader #2: (grabs a scroll) Repeat after me: “I shall live in shadows, walk in whispers, and never wear yellow.”

Alex: Why can’t I wear yellow?

Leader #2: Because yellow doesn’t really coordinate well with purple. Now repeat!

Alex: (resigned) I shall live in shadows, walk in whispers, and never wear yellow.

Leader #2: (smirks) Perfect. You are now one of us.

(Another bookcase swings open. Everyone groans.)

Voice from New Hidden Room: (mocking) Oh, look at you, so subtle. Real subtle, with your purple robes and dramatic whispers.

(Alex is pulled into the next room, where the Society of Infinite Layers meets. They wear gold-trimmed robes and are eating biscuits.)

Leader #3: Welcome to the actual secret society.

Alex: (exasperated) How many of these are there!?

Leader #3: We’re the Society of Infinite Layers. We’ve been infiltrating the infiltrators for centuries.

Alex: Do any of you actually do anything?

Leader #3: How dare you! We’re responsible for all of society’s greatest advancements.

Alex: Like what?

Leader #3: (proudly) Biscuits. We standardised the size of biscuits in 1874.

Alex: That’s it?

Leader #3: And we control the national stockpile of custard creams.

Alex: (mutters) That explains why they’re always out of stock.

Leader #3: (ignoring Alex) Now, to prove yourself, you must complete our sacred task.

Alex: (sighs) Let me guess. Something pointless?

Leader #3: (offended) Not pointless! You must solve a Rubik’s cube in a tastefully darkened room while reciting the periodic table.

(As Alex begins, another door opens, revealing an elderly man sitting alone in a minimalist room.)

Leader #4: (quietly) Come in. You’ve reached the end.

Alex: (sceptical) Are you absolutely sure?

Leader #4: Yes. I am the final layer. The head of all the societies.

Alex: (relieved) Finally! So, what’s the ultimate secret?

Leader #4: (leans in) The secret is… (pauses for dramatic effect) there is no secret.

Alex: What? So you’re telling me I went through three ridiculous societies for nothing?

Leader #4: Oh, it’s not for nothing. (hands Alex a biscuit) Have a custard cream.

Accountancy Jokes

What’s an accountant’s least favourite drink?

Anything that doesn’t come with a receipt.

What do accountants say when they’re shocked?

“That’s a significant variance!”

What do accountants sing on New Year’s Eve?

“Should old accounts be reconciled...”

What do accountants name their cats?

Cash and Flow.

What do accountants name their dogs?

Debit and Credit.

What’s an accountant’s favourite film?

“Return of the Journal Entry”. 

What do accountants write in love letters?

“You’ve increased the value of my assets.”

What’s an accountant’s favourite fairy tale?

Goldilocks and the Three Balance Sheets.

What’s an accountant’s favourite board game?

Risk — it helps them manage their capital exposure.

Jokey Thoughts

My coworker said they work better under pressure, so I started sending them emails with the subject line: “URGENT: THE WORLD IS ENDING.” Productivity hasn’t improved.

I saw a trailer for a new superhero movie. It’s about a guy who gets bitten by a radioactive sloth. His superpower? Extreme patience.

The Dark Ages weren’t really dark. That’s just what happens when a historian writes the story without paying the electricity bill.

My ex said, “You’ll never find someone like me.” I said, “That’s the point.”

I told my goldfish a joke. He just stared at me like he’d heard it before. I guess I need new material.

Old Friends

Setting: A quiet café. Steve (in his 40s, slightly dishevelled) is sitting at a corner table with a coffee and a half-eaten croissant. The door opens with the sound of an eerie wind, though nobody else in the café reacts. Enter DEATH, wearing a classic black robe, but with sunglasses perched on his bony nose and a cup of takeaway coffee in hand. He approaches Steve, who looks up in confusion.

DEATH: (cheerily) Ah, there you are! It’s been a while. How’ve you been?

STEVE: Sorry, do I know you?

DEATH: (mocking offence) Do you know me? Oh, come on. After everything we’ve been through? All the near misses? The times you dodged me like we’re in some sort of game of tag?

STEVE: You must have me confused with someone else. I don’t think we’ve met.

DEATH: (laughs) Oh, please. It’s me. Death. You know… Death. Big D. Grim Reaper. Ringing any bells?

STEVE: (staring) Death? As in… the Death?

DEATH: Bingo. I mean, you’ve seen my work. Not to brag, but I’m kind of a legend.

STEVE: Okay… um, what do you want?

DEATH: (sitting down uninvited) Oh, you know, the usual. Bit of a catch-up. Quick chat before we get down to business.

STEVE: (panicking slightly) Business? What business?

DEATH: (ignoring him, takes a sip of coffee) So, what did you mess up this time? Honestly, it’s inspiring the skill you have at that sort of thing.

STEVE: (spluttering) I haven’t messed up anything! I’m just sitting here having a coffee. What are you talking about?

DEATH: (dramatically sighs) Honestly, you’re impossible to keep track of. One minute you’re climbing dodgy ladders, the next you’re crossing motorways like you’ve got a death wish—oh wait, that’s my department. (chuckles)

STEVE: Wait a second. Are you saying I’ve… dodged you?

DEATH: Oh, several times! And not even in cool, action-hero ways. That time you choked on a peanut at the zoo? Classic. I was ready with the scythe, but no, here comes some stranger with the Heimlich manoeuvre. Rude.

STEVE: That’s not my fault! I didn’t ask to choke! Or to be saved!

DEATH: (leaning back) Well, no one asks for these things, mate. But you’re a regular Houdini. So, what’s it today? Heart attack? Falling sign? Spontaneous combustion? Don’t keep me in suspense.

STEVE: (growing desperate) Nothing! I’m perfectly fine. Healthy as ever! No signs, no combustion. Look, is this some kind of joke?

DEATH: (ignoring him) Right, let’s move this along, shall we? Any regrets? Unfinished business? That time you pretended you were sick to avoid your cousin’s wedding—you want me to apologise to her on your behalf?

STEVE: How did you—look, this is ridiculous. I’m not dying today!

DEATH: That’s what you said last Tuesday when you thought it was a good idea to microwave an egg.

STEVE: Look, I don’t know who—or what—you are, but I’m not ready to go anywhere with you. You’ve got the wrong guy.

DEATH: (calmly sipping his coffee) Huh. Bold words. You know, I get that a lot. “Not ready, wrong guy, I’m too young.” (sighs) You humans act like I’m some sort of telemarketer. It’s a bit hurtful.

STEVE: Maybe because you show up uninvited and start scaring people?

DEATH: (offended) Scaring? I’m delightful! I bring closure! Peace! And, occasionally, free coffee. (gestures to his cup) Speaking of, I got this from that new café down the street. Lovely macchiato. Shame you never got to try it.

STEVE: (panicking again) What? Why not?

DEATH: Oh, relax. I’m just messing with you. Not your time. Yet.

STEVE: (exasperated) You can’t just waltz in here, make me think I’m about to die, and then say “just kidding”!

DEATH: Why not? Keeps things spicy. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your coffee. But seriously, maybe avoid tall ladders for a while. Just a hunch.

STEVE: Great. Now Death gives DIY advice.

DEATH: (heading towards the door) Hey, I’m looking out for you. Sort of. Catch you later...

The Art of Rhetoric

Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for gathering here today. I must say, it is most agreeable to see all of you here, sitting in your respective seats, as one does.

Now, as I stand here, I find myself compelled to speak at length on a topic of importance: office supply procurement procedures. Yes, today we shall dive into the depths of stapler requisition forms and the fascinating, nearly unbearable intricacies of paperclip ordering. I shall endeavour to explain to you, in as much detail as possible, how and why a process that could be simple has instead been made magnificently, astoundingly, breathtakingly complex.

Now, some of you might be wondering, “Why does it matter whether we have blue or black biros?” An excellent question. A very good question indeed. I spent upwards of six minutes this morning pondering the same. But, I’m afraid I’m not in a position to provide a definitive answer. Suffice it to say that both have their merits. Blue pens evoke a sense of calm, while black pens, on the other hand, suggest a certain authority. Either way, whether you’re taking notes on something important or simply doodling, rest assured, both options are available to you.

I would like to take a moment to address the recent changes in our paper supplier. As you may be aware, our usual brand of A4 printer paper was out of stock for three days last month, and we had to switch to an alternative. I know some of you felt the new paper was slightly thinner, slightly different, almost undetectably unlike the usual stock. This raised some eyebrows, and I want to acknowledge your concerns. I personally spent several minutes comparing the old paper to the new, and I can confirm: yes, there is a barely perceptible difference. However, the feedback from Paper Committee remains inconclusive.

Now, let’s talk about the issue of folder categorisation. You see, after much consideration and an extensive review process, it has been decided that all folders will henceforth be filed according to the second letter of their labels, not the first. Yes, this decision was not made lightly. It required no fewer than seven meetings, and multiple subcommittees were formed. I won’t bore you with the finer points of the deliberation – although I could, if you wish – but the upshot is that we believe the new system will bring a semblance of mild, almost negligible, efficiency to our filing cabinets.

Moving on to another highlight: I am pleased to report that our new policy on tea bag usage has officially passed. We are now asking that everyone limit themselves to one teabag per two cups. This may seem revolutionary, even radical, but studies have shown that a single teabag can be reused. And for those of you who might wonder about milk ratios, please note that no more than 2.3 tablespoons of milk per cup is now advised, a decision that took the better part of the week to reach.

Please feel free to review the accompanying documents during this initial 4-hour presentation. There will be time for questions at the end.

The Therapist’s Therapist

THERAPIST: So, what would you like to talk about today?

PATIENT: Well, I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed lately. Work is just… stressful, and—

THERAPIST: Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, overwhelmed, yes. Uh… tell me, does your boss send you passive-aggressive emails at 11 p.m., questioning every single decision you’ve ever made in your entire life? Hypothetically speaking.

PATIENT: Um… no, not really. My boss is fine, I guess. It’s more that—

THERAPIST: (sighing heavily) Must be nice. Anyway, sorry, go on. You were saying something about work?

PATIENT: Um… right. So, I’ve been feeling like I’m not good enough, you know? Like, no matter what I do, it’s never enough.

THERAPIST: (nodding vigorously) Oh, I get that. Totally get that. Like, the other day, I spent two hours trying to decide if I should buy a 24-pack or 48-pack of toilet paper. Two hours! Two hours! And in the end, I bought both because I couldn’t make a decision, and now my bathroom looks like a storage unit. What’s wrong with me?

PATIENT: I… don’t think that’s the same thing?

THERAPIST: (laughing nervously) Oh, right! Sorry, let’s focus on you. It’s just, you know… decisions are hard, and sometimes… sometimes you just have to remind yourself that it’s okay to be overwhelmed. You know, like when your entire life feels like it’s unravelling, and you’re constantly questioning if you made the right choices, and—

[Suddenly stops and forces a smile again.]

THERAPIST: Anyway, how does that make you feel?

PATIENT: Um… I’m starting to feel like maybe you’re the one who needs a therapist?

THERAPIST: (laughing awkwardly) Ha! Me? Oh, no, no, no. I’m fine! Totally fine. Just a little… stressed, that’s all. I mean, who wouldn’t be after what happened this morning, right?

PATIENT: What happened this morning?

THERAPIST: (leaning forward, suddenly animated) Oh, nothing major. Just spilled an entire cup of coffee on my laptop, lost a week’s worth of therapy notes, and then got a parking ticket because I was too distracted trying to figure out if my cat actually likes me or if he’s just pretending. No big deal. Just… life, you know?

PATIENT: Are you… okay?

THERAPIST: Oh, I’m great. Fantastic, actually. Never better. So let’s get back to you. You’re overwhelmed. You’re struggling with self-worth. And you feel like… like… Sorry, I just had a thought—do you ever wonder if everyone is secretly judging you all the time? Like, you’re at the corner shop, and the cashier is definitely thinking about how weird you look in joggers. Not that I’m projecting or anything.

PATIENT: That sounds like you’re projecting.

THERAPIST: (slightly unhinged) Maybe I am! Who isn’t these days? But let’s keep the focus on you. It’s not about me. It’s about you. You and your perfectly reasonable feelings of inadequacy.

PATIENT: I… don’t know if I want to talk about myself anymore.

THERAPIST: (leaning in, whispering) Do you think my cat is avoiding me?

PATIENT: I’m not sure?

THERAPIST: (nodding) Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m getting the cold shoulder. He just… he just stares at me, you know? Like he knows something I don’t. Anyway! Back to your issues.

THERAPIST: (with a forced smile) Tell me more about these work problems. That sounds… awful. What was it again?

PATIENT: I was saying I feel like I’m not good enough…

THERAPIST: Yes! Imposter syndrome! A classic. The fear that at any moment someone’s going to pull back the curtain and reveal that you have no idea what you’re doing. I mean, that’s never happened to me, obviously. But I hear it’s common. (panicking slightly) Okay, maybe it has happened to me. Like… every day. But that’s beside the point! So, the trick is to remind yourself that everyone’s just pretending, really. Fake it ‘til you make it. Or, in some cases, fake it even after you’ve made it and hope no one notices. (breaking down a little) Oh, God, am I? [Stares at notepad, which reads “buy milk” and “schedule therapy for me?” instead of notes about the session.]

PATIENT: I really think you should talk to someone.

THERAPIST: I am! I’m talking to you! That counts, right?

PATIENT: I think you might need an actual therapist, though.

THERAPIST: Yeah… yeah, you’re probably right. But, uh, you can book your next session on your way out, okay?

PATIENT: Sure, but are you okay?

THERAPIST (sighing): Honestly? No. But it’s fine. Everything’s fine. (muttering) If I say it enough times, it’ll become true, right? Anyway, time’s up. Off you trot.

PATIENT: Um… thanks, I guess?

THERAPIST: (still staring at notepad) Yeah, yeah. No problem. Happy to help.

[The patient leaves, slightly bewildered but not as overwhelmed as before.]

THERAPIST: How do I feel about that?

[Nods into the distance, practicing for the next patient.]

Social Media News

LONDON— In a stunning victory, social media platforms have officially declared war on the human attention span, defeating it in a record time of just 30 seconds. Experts suggest this rapid conquest may be permanent, leaving entire generations incapable of focusing on anything longer than a TikTok clip or a rage-filled tweet.

Dr. Ivan Noodea, a leading expert in digital behaviour and short-form distractions, commented on the news: “The human attention span has been steadily decreasing since the dawn of Instagram filters, but this latest defeat marks a new low. We’ve found that most people now require a new hit of dopamine every 10 seconds or so, ideally in the form of a viral dance trend, a cat doing something cute, or an absolute stranger telling you why you should be angry about something.”

The offensive began with the notorious invention of the “infinite scroll,” a tactical move designed to lure the human brain into a vortex of endless content. By combining pictures of people’s lunches, conspiracy theories, and aggressive advertising for things no one needs, social media created an addictive blend of nonsense that no one can resist.

“I used to read novels,” said Gemma, a 32-year-old Instagram veteran from Manchester, who is currently scrolling through a feed of pumpkin spice latte memes. “Now I can’t even get through a recipe without losing interest and googling why I’m sad all the time.”

Indeed, the results are alarming. Studies indicate that the average user now spends 93% of their waking hours staring at their phone, even while supposedly doing other things like “working,” “spending time with family,” or “driving.” Entire industries are reeling from the impact, with print journalism, bookshops, and any form of content longer than 280 characters suffering immediate extinction.

“You don’t need words to communicate anymore,” explained Tim, 24, who hasn’t spoken to anyone face-to-face since 2019. “It’s all about the right combination of emojis, memes, and slightly sarcastic captions. If someone posts something, and I don’t immediately respond with a laughing-crying face, I’ve failed as a friend.”

As human attention wanes, a new group of people has risen to fill the vacuum: social media influencers. These individuals, whose primary qualifications include the ability to stare vacantly into ring lights, have now assumed positions of great power. Once mocked for their trivial pursuits, influencers are now regarded as key decision-makers on everything from politics to where you should buy your skincare products.

“I don’t trust politicians,” said Paul, a 28-year-old whose last three purchases were all recommended by influencers with names like @ChillVibesOnly and @PerfectGlowUp. “I only trust people who can unbox things on camera while telling me it’s ‘soooo demure.’”

Indeed, politicians have struggled to keep up with the times. A leaked report suggests that MPs are now taking lessons in TikTok dancing to improve their public image, with early results described as “an unsettling blend of cringe and desperation.”

But not all hope is lost. Social media companies have come forward with their own suggestions for restoring balance, offering helpful advice like: “Maybe try our new feature?” or “Have you seen the latest filter?” With innovations like “enhanced ads” and “suggested content” designed to further optimise user engagement, it’s clear the battle for human consciousness is far from over. Or perhaps it is, and we’ve all already forgotten to care.

Report: Man Takes Bold Step, Actually Turns Off Phone for 15 Minutes Before Nervous Sweats Begin

SHEFFIELD— In what scientists are calling an act of “unprecedented bravery,” 29-year-old Chris Hastings reportedly switched off his smartphone for a full 15 minutes on Tuesday afternoon before experiencing violent shakes, heart palpitations, and a strange sense that he was missing out on something very important happening on Instagram.

“I just wanted to focus for a bit,” Hastings confessed, hands trembling as he hurriedly recharged his device after the terrifying ordeal. “I thought I could read a book, maybe reflect on life. But then it hit me—I didn’t know if anyone had liked the meme I posted earlier. What if they hadn’t? What if there was an X debate I wasn’t part of? It was all too much.”

Hastings, who describes himself as a “digital native” and regularly “scrolls for a living,” began the experiment at 2:15 p.m., with the modest goal of seeing if he could survive without any notifications until 3:00 p.m. He made it to approximately 2:30 p.m. before his body began to reject the unfamiliar silence.

“I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore,” Hastings recounted, still visibly rattled. “Without my phone to tell me what to think or feel, I just started… having thoughts. Like, actual thoughts. I remembered a dream I had in 2004. I briefly wondered whether I should water my plants. That’s when I knew I had to turn my phone back on, or I’d lose myself completely.”

Meanwhile, younger generations are displaying an even more advanced level of social media dependence.

“This is how we vibe,” said Kylie, a 19-year-old influencer who has 3 million followers despite having no discernible personality traits. “I don’t get why Boomers and Millennials keep talking about ‘having a conversation.’ If I can’t send a 15-second video of myself pretending to laugh while my face is turned into a puppy, what’s even the point?”

Kylie was later seen dramatically pausing mid-conversation to take 47 identical photos of her half-eaten sushi, before selecting the one with the best lighting for her Instagram story with the caption, “Vibing @Life.”

In a related development, Facebook, once a dominant force in social media, has now officially been declared a museum for the digital habits of “ancient internet cultures.” The platform, now used exclusively by individuals over 40 and mysterious bots selling weight-loss supplements, is expected to offer historical tours in the near future, complete with vintage 2012 memes and screenshots of heated political arguments that no one cared about then and no one remembers now.

Mark Zuckerberg, who was recently found experimenting with new ways to look human, stated, “We’re embracing this new direction. Facebook is the perfect place for the elderly to experience nostalgia. We’re adding a new feature where you can send a poke to someone who hasn’t used the platform since 2009, just to confuse them.”

In the wake of social media’s rapid evolution, tech companies are already gearing up for the next big thing: direct infusion. The forthcoming innovation promises to bypass even the need for scrolling, injecting users with pure, unfiltered hits of anxiety whenever an algorithm deems it necessary. “Imagine never having to worry about when to to get anxious about engagement or followers again,” explained a spokesperson for MindMelt Technologies. “Just pure, automated anxiety, available with one quick jab.”

As Hastings contemplated this future, now safely back in the glow of his Instagram feed, he nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll sign up. But first, I’ve got to check if anyone liked my avocado toast pic.”