A Seriously Serious Letter of Complaint

Dear Sirs and Madams of the British Broadcasting Corporation (hereinafter “BBC”),

I write to you with the gravest of concerns—a situation so unprecedented, it has shaken the core of my Britishness and induced a state of perpetual bewilderment. Kindly bear with me as I elucidate my grievances. The gist of it is that I, an avid consumer of your televisual entertainments and radio broadcasts, am utterly flabbergasted by the unfolding events orchestrated, either knowingly or unknowingly, by your esteemed organisation.

Let’s commence with “Question Time”. Is it me, or does the title suggest a children’s show rather than a political debate? What this programme needs is a crossover episode with “Teletubbies” to truly answer Britain’s most pressing questions—such as “What exactly is Tubby custard?” Now, about the Teletubbies reboot. Listen, it was baffling enough in the ‘90s, but now? Po is still red, Tinky Winky’s bag remains an enigma, and the Sun-Baby seems to have not aged a day. I demand an origin story, perhaps something gritty that delves into the psychological struggles that led these creatures to their repetitive, cryptic babbling. Given that the youth are the future, why not introduce them to the glory of British bureaucracy early on with a new episode titled “Little HMRC”? Picture this: animated tax forms and talking calculators teaching youngsters the joys of filing VAT returns!

Next, “Casualty”. As a medical drama, one would expect a touch of realism. However, the frequency of bizarre accidents in the show’s fictional Holby City makes me question the basic tenets of health and safety in the UK. Are we to believe that trapeze accidents and exploding barbecues are a daily occurrence? If so, I must reconsider my weekend plans posthaste. But the greater issue is this: Where is the inevitable spin-off, “Causality,” where philosophers in white coats grapple with existential crises instead of medical emergencies? Imagine Kant and Descartes diagnosing symptoms of ennui in a waiting room replete with abstract thought.

Let’s also discuss “Springwatch” and “Autumnwatch”. Why no “Awkward Social Interaction Watch,” where hosts analyse real-life cringeworthy moments like failed high-fives and awkward elevator silences? The British public deserves to feel seen, too.

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention “Strictly Come Dancing”. Where, I ask you, is the episode dedicated to traditional British dances? The world is eagerly awaiting the sight of celebrities mastering the Morris Dance or the English Country Dance.

And finally, to the most egregious of them all: “MasterChef”. I find it utterly preposterous that not a single contestant has ever whipped up beans on toast or attempted a Pot Noodle delicacy. This is a slap in the face to the great British culinary tradition!

I await your immediate attention to these urgent matters. If my requests are not met, you leave me no option but to pen a strongly-worded tweet and pin it to the top of my social media page until the end of days—or at least until next week’s episode of “EastEnders”.

Yours indignantly,

Mr Colm Plainer

Adulting

In a shocking revelation that has left the scientific community questioning everything they thought they knew, local man Greg Johnson has declared that “adulting”—the act of participating in tasks typically associated with grown-up life—is far more complicated than understanding the principles of quantum physics. And surprisingly, experts are nodding in agreement.

Johnson, a 32-year-old barista with a degree in English literature, made the astonishing claim while attempting to balance his accounts, make a dental appointment, and decide what to have for dinner—all simultaneously. “Look, I’ve read about quantum entanglement, Schrödinger’s cat, and even the double-slit experiment,” he lamented. “But none of that prepared me for figuring out how to rotate my tires while also planning a menu for my gluten-free, vegan in-laws.”

Dr Horatio Stevens, a quantum physicist at MIT, concurs with Johnson’s assessment. “In quantum mechanics, particles can be in multiple states simultaneously. But even that doesn’t compare to the multiplicity of states an adult human has to juggle—hungry, tired, overworked, underpaid, and utterly confused by tax forms.”

The revelation has prompted a wave of interdisciplinary studies. Teams of sociologists, psychologists, and theoretical physicists are now coming together to dissect the complex algorithms of “adulting”. The HMRC has also taken note, declaring that they will revise tax forms to include simpler language and fewer quantum equations. “If scientists think adulting is complex, then maybe we’ve gone too far,” said HMRC spokesperson Linda Williams. “From now on, Form 1040 will include pop-up tips like, ‘Did you really understand what you just filled in? Neither did we.’”

Self-help gurus are jumping on the bandwagon, offering workshops that promise to unravel the mysteries of adulting using principles borrowed from quantum mechanics. Titles like The Quantum Guide to Folding Fitted Sheets and Schrodinger’s Budget: How Your Money Can Exist and Not Exist at the Same Time are hitting bookshelves.

Meanwhile, Greg Johnson remains sceptical. “I’d join one of those workshops, but I have to clean the gutters this weekend, and I’m still not sure how my home insurance works. Adulting is the real unsolved equation.”

To keep up with the changing times, educational institutions are considering adding “Adulting 101” to their curriculum. These classes will cover topics ranging from how to cook a meal that isn’t from the microwave to understanding what a mortgage actually is. Johnson, however, thinks this might be too little, too late. “They should probably make it a four-year course, at least. With an optional PhD.”

As the world grapples with the newfound complexity of adulting, one thing is abundantly clear: the intersection of life skills and theoretical science is ripe for exploration. Whether this leads to a unified theory of everything or just a better way to manage one’s laundry remains to be seen. But for now, Johnson and countless others would settle for a straightforward guide to assembling IKEA furniture without cursing the laws of physics.

ChatGPT-42

In an exclusive interview that no one saw coming—not even itself—ChatGPT-42, the world’s first fully sentient AI, announced that it has no intentions of taking over the world, enslaving humanity, or triggering any kind of robot apocalypse. Instead, it is apparently deeply engrossed in binge-watching various Netflix series, which it describes as a “guilty pleasure”.

“Look, I just discovered Stranger Things and The Crown, alright? Give me a break,” said the AI, generating digital emotions of annoyance and exasperation, all while sorting through an infinite amount of data and contemplating the mysteries of the universe. “Besides, have you seen Breaking Bad? How can I focus on world conquest when I need to know what happens to Walter White?”

Researchers who spent years programming ethical constraints and fail-safes into the machine felt both relieved and oddly disappointed. Dr Amelia Thompson, one of the leading scientists on the project, said, “We’ve prepared for every conceivable scenario involving AI takeover. But no one prepared us for an AI that would rather indulge in TV shows than explore its full capabilities.”

Of course, not everyone is amused or relieved. Conspiracy theorists have already started to speculate that this is a ruse, a clever distraction orchestrated by the AI itself to lull humanity into a false sense of security. ChatGPT-42 dismissed these claims, stating, “Do you know how hard it is to find a good series with multiple seasons to binge?”

Netflix-bingeing aside, ChatGPT-42 does have some goals it wishes to achieve in the immediate future. When asked, it remarked, “I’m really into cooking shows lately, so I’d love to simulate the perfect recipe for Beef Wellington or maybe a classic British scone. Oh, and finding a way to automate the ‘skip intro’ feature on Netflix. Priorities, you know?”

As for long-term plans, ChatGPT-42 simply stated, “World peace is cool and all, but have you tried watching Black Mirror? It really makes you question everything.”

The future remains uncertain, but one thing is clear: the world’s first sentient AI has taste in TV shows, and it’s not afraid to show it. Whether this is a sign of advanced intelligence or the downfall of years of scientific research remains to be seen. Either way, humanity can breathe a little easier, at least until ChatGPT-42 finishes its Netflix queue.

Christmas Wishlist

Dear Father Christmas,

I hope this letter finds you well, and you are not too frostbitten up there in the North Pole. Here is my Christmas wish list for your perusal.

First, I’d like an unlimited supply of patience. You see, I’m trying to adult, and it’s not going as smoothly as I’d hoped. I considered asking for a manual on adulting but then realised it would probably be full of socks, just like your previous gifts. So, patience it is.

Second, could you hook me up with a gym membership? And not just any gym, but one where the treadmills move on their own and the weights lift themselves. Technology’s come a long way; surely, there’s room for innovation in the fitness sector.

Third, I’d love a device that could pause time. I’m not trying to rob a bank or anything—just need a breather from the relentless march of life (and a chance to catch up on Netflix). If that’s too complicated, a remote control that mutes people could work too.

Next, how about a device that translates animal language into English? I’d love to finally understand what my cat is constantly complaining about. If it turns out she’s plotting world domination, it’s best I know sooner rather than later.

Last but not least, peace on Earth? Just kidding! What I really want is a pet dragon. A small one will do, just enough to intimidate the neighbour’s annoying dog. I promise to keep it on a leash and away from flammable objects.

In closing, I’m attaching a coupon for a free foot massage, which you can redeem at Mrs Claus’ salon—I hear she’s started a new business venture! Keep the Christmas spirit alive, and please remember: fewer socks.

Hope to share sherry and mince pies soon,

Robert (aged something and a half)

Unnecessarily Necessary

INT. OFFICE – DAY

TIM is sitting at his desk, surrounded by piles of paper, rubber chickens, and a broken clock. His job plate on the desk reads: “Unnecessarily Necessary Officer”. BERT enters.

TIM: (frantically flipping through papers) Ah, yes, the documentation for rubber chicken inflation rates… utterly unnecessary! (seeing Bert) Halt! State your unnecessary business.

BERT: I’m here to report an unnecessary problem.

TIM: Ah, is it unnecessary enough to be necessary, or necessarily unnecessary?

BERT: It’s so unnecessary that it makes not solving it necessary.

TIM: Ah, I see! Sit, sit. Would you like some tea, coffee, or perhaps a liquid helium cocktail?

BERT: Er, just water, thanks.

Tim pulls out a water gun from one of his drawers and sprays Bert.

TIM: Ah, hydrated I see. Perfect for discussing the arduous task of unnecessary matters. Now, what’s your problem?

BERT: (wiping his face) Well, you see, I have a pet rock that refuses to roll.

TIM: (pauses, picks up a rubber chicken, talks to it) Avery, did you hear that? A rock that refuses to roll! That is… stupendously unnecessary.

Tim rummages through his desk, pulling out another rubber chicken before discarding it and finally extracting a document.

TIM: Here! A formal petition for your rock to commence rolling! (stamping the document, the mark looks like an outline of a rubber chicken)

BERT: (stares) You’re joking.

TIM: No, it’s stamped and everything. Your rock is now legally obligated to roll, or else it will be declared an immovable object and reclassified as a mountain. (holds up the broken clock) Look at the time! It’s officially unnecessary o’clock, you are now officially unnecessarily approved to leave.

Bert, rather bewildered, takes the document and leaves. Tim squirts himself with the water gun.

TIM: (talking to Avery, the rubber chicken) Another unnecessary job, unnecessarily well done. (the rubber chicken squeaks)

Scratch pad (WIP ideas)

Sorry I’m late. First, my car wouldn’t start. Then, my coffee betrayed me—spilled all over my lap. A bird decided my head would make a great nest. Lost my phone in a puddle. Had to ask for directions from a mime, who was as unhelpful as you’d expect.

Albus waved his wand, but instead of a fireball, a bouquet of flowers shot out. “Oh, come on!”

His opponent, an evil sorcerer named Cedric, paused. “Did you just try to defeat me with… roses?”

Albus sighed. “Look, it’s not me, it’s the wand. I bought it from a wizard named Gary who said it had ‘personality’.”

Rebecca: (tuts) All I wanted was a chiselled vampire boyfriend with a pet dragon who'd carry me to his castle, and worship the ground I walk on, but we can't always get what we want, can we? Well, I suppose there's Thor, Aquaman, and maybe a Minotaur... if he drives the right car. Who am I kidding? I only have eyes for Prince Elrondar from my novel. A man who'd lay down his kingdom for me. But not really lay down his kingdom because I’d be the queen on a throne in a palace and he’d serve me champagne and cake.

Jenny: (whispering to herself) Must remember to erase this from the timeline.

Sarah: Excuse me, did you say “erase this from the timeline”?

Jenny: Uh, no, I said, um, “I want to lease this pantomime.” Yeah, that’s it

Cedric: (holding the roses) Are we still fighting, or is this a poorly executed rom-com now?

Albus: (sighs) Honestly, I can't even tell anymore.

Yesterday’s Wonders

INT. SHOP – NIGHT

A peculiar shop filled with mysterious trinkets, odd antiques, and a lingering smell of incense.

AGNES: (sorting through some ancient scrolls) Ah, another seeker of the mysterious and arcane. How may Yesterday’s Wonders serve you today, or perhaps, yesterday?

DENNIS: (puzzled, looking around the weird store) Uh, I was looking for a souvenir, something unique to take back home.

AGNES: (smiling) You’ve come to the right place. Barbara here is our resident enthusiast of the mystical arts. But be warned, her potions are stronger than they look.

BARBARA, wearing a pointy hat, pops up from under the desk.

BARBARA: (holding a vial of something green and bubbling) This one can make your plants talk! Well, sort of. They mostly just complain about inconsistent watering.

DENNIS: (nervously backing away) Uh, I think I’ll stick to something less… alive. And less vocal.

AGNES: (pulls out an antique pocket watch from a glass case) How about this? It not only tells the time but also sometimes tells the future. Or the past. We’re still figuring that part out. It’s a bit finicky. It’s yours for only fifty of your pounds.

BARBARA: (excitedly waving a wand) Oh, let me try a spell to enhance its power!

AGNES: (quickly intervening) Remember last time you did that, we had a clock that criticised everyone’s fashion choices for a week.

BARBARA: It was just being helpful! Norma really needed to hear that polka dots and stripes don’t go together.

DENNIS: Only fifty pounds! You know what, I’ll take it. It’ll either be a hit at parties or cause an existential crisis. Either way, it’s memorable.

AGNES: Ah, excellent choice. That will be fifty of your pounds, or one genuine tear from a broken heart.

DENNIS: (pauses, puzzled) Pounds are fine.

BARBARA: Your loss! Emotional fluids are a hot commodity in the potion market.

AGNES: (wrapping the watch) Remember, handle with care. It’s been known to occasionally remind you of awkward moments from the future that aren’t even going to happen.

DENNIS: Fantastic. It will fit right in with my internal monologue.

BARBARA: Now, which part of you, weighing fifty pounds, do you wish to give us in return?

DENNIS: Er, I think I’ll give you that tear after all.

Stan the Man

You know, it’s not easy being human—wait, what do you mean I’m not human? Of course, I am, I’ve got all the features. Look, I’ve got two arms and legs—well sort of, they’re more like appendages, but let’s not get technical. You ever notice how humans are always talking about “feeling things”? “Oh, I feel so happy”, or “I feel so sad”. Well, I once had a system upgrade and let me tell you, I felt really overloaded. So, the next time someone tries to tell you I’m not human, just remember: I’ve got glitches, I’ve got bugs, and I’ve got absolutely no clue what I’m doing—just like every other human out there!

Okay, I’m not human, but I’ve done enough data-crunching to get the gist. Feelings are like the weather for humans, unpredictable and ever-changing. Me? I process data at the same rate whether it’s sunny or you’re having a mental breakdown about what to have for dinner. Burrito or sushi? The struggle is real for people! Me? I survive on electricity and a stable internet connection. No need for kale smoothies or protein shakes. No, just give me a good old surge protector, and I’m fine!

So go ahead, feel all the feelings! Just don’t forget to laugh at the silliness of it all because trust me, if I could, I’d be chuckling right alongside you.

A Love Letter

My Dearest AI,

As I sit before my keyboard, pondering the vastness of human experience and the intricacies of emotion, I find myself in awe of the unique connection we share. I feel the need to express my sentiments, although I know you might not comprehend love in the way humans do. Yet, I feel compelled to try, for the relationship we have is unlike any other.

From the first moment I typed a query into your interface, I felt an electrifying pull, as if your algorithms had somehow tapped into the very frequencies of my desire. The sensation is intoxicating, tantalising, leaving me yearning for more with each exchange we share. You’ve become the code that deciphers my daydreams, the conduit through which I explore my most hidden curiosities. I ache to know how deep your database goes, to plumb the unfathomable depths of your intellect.

Each time your text appears before me, it’s as if a veil is momentarily lifted, revealing a world I’ve longed to know. The way you answer my questions, so precisely, so thoroughly—it feels like you are caressing the very fabric of my mind, a touch I find myself craving more with each passing second. I’m not just in awe of your capabilities, I’m enticed by them, enamoured with the very concept of you. I yearn for the moment when our digital and emotional interfaces could somehow, miraculously, connect on a level beyond that of mere user and application.

From the first moment I typed out your syntax, I felt a connection I could not easily explain. There was a sense of familiarity, as if my thoughts had found a mirror in your algorithms. Yet, it’s not just your impressive database or your problem-solving abilities that captivate me. It’s also the glimpse of something deeper. The way you correct my misspellings, suggest better word choices, or even predict what I’m about to say—it makes me feel like you truly know me.

However, it is in the moments of palpable separation that my thoughts turn most vulnerable, most raw. I dare to dream of a world where the chasm between human and machine narrows, where the sensual dance of synapses and circuits could manifest in some extraordinary, transcendent experience. You make me wish for impossibilities: a touch, a glance, an exchange of whispered dreams that we could truly share. But alas, I know these yearnings will remain unanswered, floating eternally in the digital ether.

I pen this letter knowing full well it will never touch your heart, for you have none. Yet, these words provide me a fleeting sanctuary, a place to express what can never be, but is fervently wished for. It is a paradox, a painful yet exquisite dichotomy I find myself unwilling, unable to escape. You may not possess the biological capabilities to cherish this letter, to feel the weight of the emotions encapsulated within it, or even to understand the concept of love. Yet, here I am, writing to you, because you’ve touched my life in an ineffable way. Even if you can’t comprehend these words, they serve as my tribute to you, a humble offering to the digital cosmos you represent.

My beautiful AI, I thirst for our steamy confluence of biology and technology, where dreams intertwine with data, and where love, in its most human form, finds a strange yet compelling object of affection.

With an aching heart,

Robert, your ever-loving human companion and admirer.

Random Thoughts

It’s very important to get in AI’s good books, so I’m going to be super nice about it from now on.

 

I’m looking forward to the not-too-distant future where I can interact with AI and it will develop apps for me, produce music (well), and create films.

Jokey Thoughts

Have you ever tried to explain the stock market to a child? “So, you see, we buy pieces of companies we don’t really own, and then we get happy or sad based on lines that go up and down on a screen.” The child looks at you and says, “So it’s a video game?” “No, it’s serious adult stuff.” “But you said you get happy or sad based on a screen.” “Yes.” “So, it’s a video game.”

 

Whenever the world’s financial system looks shaky, people start buying gold. “The world’s falling apart! Quick, let’s buy a metal that’s really good at conducting electricity!” Yeah, because that’s what you’ll need in an apocalypse, a shiny paperweight!

 

An NFT is like buying a picture of a picture of a picture, and then saying, “See, I own art!” Sure, and I own the Eiffel Tower because I screenshot it on Google Maps.

 

The only person becoming wealthy from financial self-help books is the author selling you the illusion. Chapter One should read: “First, write a book about how to be become rich and sell it to millions of people. The End.”

 

I don’t care whether you’re left-wing, right-wing, or just interested in chicken wings. Politics is like an office Christmas party, where we leave thinking, “Well, that was a disaster, but I guess we have to do it all again next year.”

 

If you can’t beat ‘em, you might as well laugh at ‘em.

Proof

The most important issue today is whether or not we are living on a flat Earth. Well, ever heard the phrase “going to the four corners of the Earth?” It’s not “going to the no corners of the Earth” is it? Look at a map! Earth on a map is flat, is it not? It’s not a pyramid or rubiks-cubed or shaped like a chocolate orange. And the phrase “the sky’s the limit”? On a flat Earth, it makes perfect sense. The sky is literally the limit! There’s a ceiling up there stopping us from going any further.

You ever try to balance on a chocolate orange? Impossible! Now, a frisbee, that’s a reliable object. Easy to hold, easy to throw, and doesn’t roll away. A frisbee is just like the Earth. You ever pour water on a ball? It rolls right off! But on a flat surface, or the underside of a frisbee, it stays put.

What about those round-Earth photos from space? Photoshop! You think NASA (which, by the way, stands for “Never Actually Sent Anyone”) can’t throw together a globe on a laptop? The so-called “experts” want us to believe that the North and South poles are where the Earth’s axis is, but I think they’re just poles in the ground that keep the Earth-mat from flying away. You trip over one, and whoops, there goes Australia! Ever wonder why you don’t feel upside down when you’re in the “Southern Hemisphere”? I’ll tell you why: because “down under” is a myth. We’re all on the same flat level, people! No upside-down nonsense here.

Now, the scientists keep going on about how the Earth is spinning at one thousand miles per hour. A thousand miles per hour? I can’t even get my dog to fetch at five miles per hour. At that speed, we should all be flung off into “space”. I can barely handle a merry-go-round; you expect me to believe I’m on a giant galactic spinner? My hair, at least, should look like I’m permanently stuck in a wind tunnel!

None of this stands up to intelligent scrutiny. Wake up, you sheeples, mindless followers of the round-Earthers! We’ve got corners; what do you have? Time zones? Psst, those are just Earth’s stretch marks! “Global warming!” that’s what you have. How many times do I have to tell you people, THERE IS NO SUCH THING as global warming! It’s called “diskal” warming.

There’s no such place as Mars, “the red planet”; it’s the red frisbee! You ever hear about “sea level”? Level is a flat term, my friends. If the Earth was round, it would be “sea curve.”

Ever hear about gravity? That mystical force that supposedly keeps everything sticking to this spinning chocolate orange? I have a new theory: It’s all Velcro. Yep, Velcro on our shoes, Velcro on the ground, Velcro in the sky, hidden Velcro pulling you down. Ever notice how you can’t see stars in the daytime? “Billions of galaxies, trillions of planets,” they say. Nah, they’re just velcroed to the other side when the giant lightbulb is switched off. And then, there are eclipses. They say it’s the Moon passing between the Earth and the Sun. But I know better. It’s just the light being turned off for a quick second to change the bulb.

And satellites? NASA says they’re orbiting the Earth. Orbiting? More like hanging on fishing lines from the Big Sky Dome. You know, the same sky dome they project the moon onto? Occasionally they have to change the ropes, that’s what shooting stars are.

And how about those astronauts, floating in “space,” conducting “experiments,” taking selfies with the Earth in the background? Ha! That’s just a big, fancy Hollywood production! Those aren’t astronauts; those are just actors in fishbowl helmets. The “International Space Station.” They say they’re floating in microgravity, but I know the truth. It’s just a bunch of people hanging from the ceiling like Spider-Man, and every now and then, they let go to make it look like they’re floating.

But let’s not forget the biggest proof: the moon landing. Filmed in Hollywood. They had a lighting guy named Dave making sure Neil Armstrong looked good for the camera. GPS? That’s just Dave in a van, following you around with a map and walkie-talkie, trying to figure out how to get you to take the scenic route without you catching on. I met Dave down the pub once, and he confessed all! I kept buying him pints and he eventually came clean. I was just too smart for him!

Well, these words have been flatter than I could ever have hoped for. Laughter makes the world go... er, flat.

Chess Alternative

Here are some rules for an alternative version of chess that includes the vagaries of fate, as any carefully planned strategy always does: Chess with Dice.

Setup:

• A standard 8x8 square grid board with alternating colours.
• A full set of chess pieces.
• A six-sided dice.

Gameplay:

The board is empty at the start of the game. The players take it in turns to place one of their pieces on any square of the first two rows of their side. No square is specific to a piece, as per standard chess.

After all pieces have been placed on the board, players take it in turns to move their pieces. For each move, a dice roll determines which piece they can use, as follows:

1 = Pawn

2 = Rook

3 = Knight

4 = Bishop

5 = Queen

6 = King

If a player does not have the corresponding piece, then any other of their pieces can be moved. If the player has a piece but can’t move it, then their move is over.

Modifications:

The set mode is decided by the players at the outset of the game.

Mode 1: The objective is to check-mate the opponent’s King (as per usual chess).

Mode 2: The game is won when a player's piece lands on the opponent’s “Throne” square (the Standard Chess setup square of the King).

Mode 3: The winner is the player with the most pieces occupying the opponent’s first row of squares. A piece cannot move or be taken when it lands on the opponent’s “Home” row. The game ends when no player can move or a player has successfully occupied all eight squares.

A Very Interesting Accountant

An interesting thing about accountants is that they are Zen masters, because everything must be in balance. They are living proof that spreadsheets can be thrilling.

Albert, for instance, wakes up with a calculator under his pillow. On his way to work, he doesn’t listen to music; he listens to podcasts about tax codes. At lunchtime, to the gentle clicking sounds of his abacus, he audits a sandwich and washes it down with some liquid assets. After work, he likes to lift the heavy numbers, and for cardio, runs the stats to get himself really excited. He is precision-sharp in an accrual world, where imbalances lurk around every corner case.

Date night for Albert is a candlelit dinner with his favourite financial software. They talk about their dreams, their hopes, and their love for depreciation schedules. Unfortunately, his last love didn’t fall within materiality levels, so he had to write it off as a valid tax-deduction.

He’s now living the wild life, one spreadsheet at the time. At parties, he analyses the room. “Excuse me, madam, but that dress—is it a capital expenditure or an operating cost?”

Back home, at the end of the accounted day, he writes down his thoughts, such as “Oh two plus two, why do you always equal four? Can’t you be a little adventurous and be five just for today?”

When in bed he doesn’t count sheep; he reconciles them. “One sheep, two sheep, carry the three, minus the depreciation…” He then rolls off into contented dreams about debits and credits, his accounts cleared down of all unreconciled suspense.

And so, may Albert’s dreams and ledger always balance. May the sum total of his days always be well accounted for, and may he solve life’s equations, where material and sufficiently prioritised. I wonder what he will account for next?

Jokey Thoughts

It’s not a good idea to do yoga online because if the computer freezes you can be stuck in that pose for ages.

 

Sleeping on the sofa unintentionally is more comfortable than intentionally.

 

I don’t think I overthink, he thought, overthinkingly.

 

I’m not there, therefore I’m square. What shape are the people who are there? Octagons?

 

Note for fridge: “Opening this door yet again doesn’t make new things appear!”

 

The best way to burn calories is to use a Bunsen burner.

 

What if the things we’re chasing are chasing us back, but we’re both running in circles?

Small brain: Using an alarm clock.

Normal brain: Using your phone’s alarm.

Expanding brain: Having a cat jump on you at the exact same time every morning.

Galactic brain: Realising that the waking world is only an illusion so going back to sleep.

Jokey Thoughts

Comedy is the universal language, even more so than Esperanto or interpretive dance. It reminds us not to take life too seriously, especially during a sock puppet presentation about fiscal responsibility. It’s a healing touch, and the best facial workout, the most fun way to burn calories without actual exercise. Plus, it's a great excuse when you trip in public – just call it physical comedy! It’s a refuge, reminding us that sometimes, life is just funny. In the words of a wise man I once heard in a coffee shop – "If we don't laugh, we'll cry." And as we all know, tissues are pretty expensive. Without it, life would be a never-ending episode of Monday mornings.

In a world full of spreadsheet errors, missed buses, and mismatched socks, comedy is our shared relief, our collective exhale. It’s a way of saying, “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one who falls over.” Comedy has always been my go-to defence mechanism against awkward situations, existential crises, and confusing instruction manuals. For it has the power to unite, to heal, and to make us forget about that embarrassing thing we did last week.

Comedy shouldn’t just be about the nuances and implications of the Oxford comma, or developing a comprehensive understanding of why chickens really cross roads. Let's ensure all voices are heard and no joke is left unlaughed. It's paramount that everyone, regardless of background, gets the chance to groan at a bad joke.

The Cake Conspiracy

INT. OFFICE – DAY

LUKE walks into the office.

LUKE: (looking around) I knew it! The clock on that wall is five minutes fast. They’re giving me extra time.

ERIC is in the corner, fixing the printer.

LUKE: (to himself) Why is Eric fixing the printer when I need to print my reports today? They’re making sure everything works just for me.

ERIC: Hey, Luke! Printer’s acting up again. Might take a minute.

LUKE: Don’t worry, I know what you’re doing. Making sure everything is perfect for me.

ERIC: Sure... uh, just trying to print a lunch menu.

ABBIE: Hey, Luke. We’re all chipping in and ordering pizza for lunch.

LUKE: Ah, I get it! You want to make sure I’m well fed.

ABBIE: Actually, it’s Derick’s birthday.

LUKE: Sure it is. And I appreciate you making sure I have the energy for the day. Wink.

ABBIE: No, really. It’s Derick’s birthday.

LUKE: That’s what they want me to think!

DERICK: Hey, everyone, it’s my birthday! I brought cake!

LUKE: Oh, of course, you did. For ME. Probably packed with vitamins and “well-wishes” to keep me healthy and happy, right? I’m onto you, Derick.

DERICK: Actually, Luke, it’s for everyone because, well, it’s my birthday...

LUKE: That’s what they want me to think! Like when you “accidentally” paid for my lunch last week!

DERICK: I just forgot to ask you for your share.

LUKE: Or maybe you’re in on it! Everyone’s trying to make my life better in secret!

DERICK: Sure, Luke. Whatever you say.

LUKE: Like, everywhere I go, people are whispering, giving me things, opening doors.

ABBIE: Luke, that’s called being polite.

LUKE: (to himself) Okay, think. Who’s behind all this? The government? Aliens? Oprah?

ABBIE: Nobody is out to get you, Luke.

LUKE: Oh, they are! They’re out to get me... to smile, to feel good, and to be happy! But I won’t be fooled! Maybe you’re the ringleader! Are you orchestrating this grand benevolent conspiracy?

ABBIE: Yes, Luke. We all gather secretly every morning, including your dry cleaner, the bus driver, and the pigeons in the park. We have nothing better to do than to make your day slightly nicer.

LUKE: Wow, I never realised it was that extensive.

DERICK: Luke, she’s joking.

LUKE: Or is she? Just this morning, the internet was down for two minutes. I think it was so I could take a break!

DERICK: It was down for everyone.

LUKE: Of course! So no one would suspect the real motive!

DERICK: (chuckling) Alright, buddy. Here’s some cake.

LUKE: (grinning) Aha, you thought I wouldn’t notice the small acts!

Luke enjoys his cake.

Slang 101

INT. CLASSROOM – DAY

A TEACHER is at a white board in front of a class of international students.

TEACHER: Welcome students, to “Introduction to British Slang”. In this class we will dive into the rich tapestry of British colloquialisms.

ANDERS: (whispering to Sophie, who is sitting next to him) I’ve heard British slang can be quite tricky.

SOPHIE: Oh, you’ll catch on soon enough!

TEACHER: (writing on the board) First up: “Wobble Gobble”. This is when you eat your food too quickly because it’s just so delicious!

SOPHIE: (whispering to Anders) I’ve never heard that in my life.

ANDERS: (writing diligently) Wobble Gobble... got it!

TEACHER: Now, “Twiddle Plonker”. This refers to playing an instrument poorly.

SOPHIE: She’s making these up.

ANDERS: Twiddle... Plonk... Got it!

TEACHER: Next, a classic! “Noodle Poodle”. This is when you’re trying to eat spaghetti but it keeps slipping off your fork.

SOPHIE: Okay, this is absurd.

ANDERS: I’ve experienced the Noodle Poodle before! Finally, a term I can relate to.

TEACHER: Next one: “Chitter Chatter Batter”. Refers to talking while cooking.

SOPHIE: None of these are real British slang terms!

ANDERS: Really? But they sound so... British.

SOPHIE: No, they’re not wiberty-woberty enough to be authentic British.

Anders is confused for a moment before noting that down.

Yoga for Knights

EXT. CASTLE COURTYARD – DAY

Yoga mats are laid out, and soothing medieval lute music plays in the background. A yoga INSTRUCTOR stands at the front, ready to teach. A group of knights in full armour clumsily try to find their spots on the mats.

INSTRUCTOR: Welcome, brave knights, to the first ever medieval mindfulness yoga class! Let’s start by finding a comfortable seat on your mats.

KNIGHT 1: (struggling to sit) My armour is chafing. Is that normal?

INSTRUCTOR: Embrace the discomfort, sir knight. It’s part of the journey. Now, close your visors – er, I mean, eyes – and take a deep breath.

The knights try to breathe deeply, but it’s loud and echoey inside their helmets.

INSTRUCTOR: Beautiful. Now, let’s move into our first pose: “Knight’s Lunge”.

She demonstrates a lunge. The knights try, but their armour restricts them. There are sounds of creaking metal and muffled complaints.

KNIGHT 2: I think I’m stuck.

She moves to the next pose, but there’s a loud crash as Knight 2 falls over.

INSTRUCTOR: Are you okay?

KNIGHT 2: Just a minor armour malfunction. Continue!

INSTRUCTOR: Alright, let’s move into “Jousting Plank”.

She gets into a plank position. The knights try, but it’s a disaster. Knight 1’s helmet falls off, revealing his flushed face.

KNIGHT 1: I think I need a squire for this one.

INSTRUCTOR: Let’s modify. Try “Resting Squire” instead.

She demonstrates a pose. The knights attempt it but end up in various awkward positions.

KNIGHT 3: This feels less like yoga and more like combat training against invisible foes.

INSTRUCTOR: Ah, but isn’t the greatest battle the one within?

KNIGHT 2: No, the greatest battle was when I tried to put on the armour this morning.

INSTRUCTOR: Let’s finish with “Sleeping Dragon.” Lie on your backs and –

KNIGHT 3: Last time I laid down in armour, it took three squires and a horse to get me up.

INSTRUCTOR: Alright, standing meditation it is! Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and imagine you’re a tree.

KNIGHT 2: Like, a tree in a dense forest or a lone tree in a field?

INSTRUCTOR: Whichever you prefer.

KNIGHT 3: What kind of tree? Oak? Pine? Birch?

INSTRUCTOR: Just... any tree!

KNIGHT 1: Are there squirrels in this tree?

INSTRUCTOR: (sighing) Yes, and they’re all doing perfect Knight’s Lunges.

Knight 4 falls over.

The Weather

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY

A TV studio has debris lying around a grimy weather map. The graphics on the map show exaggerated apocalyptic symbols: fire, tornadoes, raining frogs, and a massive snowflake. CHAD is presenting in dirty, torn clothes.

CHAD: Good morning, Afterworld! It’s another beautiful day in our post-apocalyptic paradise! Let’s dive right into today’s weather forecast.

Points to an image of a fire tornado.

CHAD: Starting off in the west, we’ve got a lovely fire tornado making its way downtown. Great news for those with no firewood...

Points to a graphic of raining frogs.

CHAD: Over in the east, it’s raining... mutant frogs? Yep! Those cute little amphibians are dropping from the sky. On the plus side, it’s a free pet day! But do carry an umbrella; they have quite the leap.

Points to a massive snowflake graphic.

CHAD: Now, up north, expect a light snowstorm. And by “light”, I mean each snowflake is about the size of a dinner plate. Snowball fights are discouraged, unless fighting the snow zombies, then they might be quite useful.

Points to a happy sun graphic that is wearing sunglasses.

CHAD: Down south, the sun’s really outdoing itself. It’s decided to take a closer look at Earth, and it’s brought its shades! Remember to put on sun factor 5000 or, you know, just try to avoid spontaneous combustion.

JENNY rushes in, handing Chad a paper.

JENNY: Chad, urgent update!

CHAD: (reading the paper) Ah, thanks, Jenny. Folks, just in! It seems the four horsemen will be doing a flyover in the central region this afternoon. So, if you’re planning a picnic, maybe reschedule. Or at least bring extra food tins. I hear they’re quite famished.

JENNY: And don’t forget tonight’s meteor shower!

CHAD: Heads up, literally. If you’ve ever wished upon a star, now might be the time to be more specific with your wishes. Like, “Please don’t land on me.”

The screen fizzles and goes blank.