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A Telephone Conversation - Wally Wally And Wally - Estate Agents

Strong Northern Accent - well one!


‘Good Morning! Wally, Wally and Wally, Estate Agents. How may I help you?’

‘Good Morning! To whom do I have the great pleasure of addressing?’

‘Ms. Wally speaking.’

‘Good Morning Ms. Wally. Are you the first, second or third Wally of Wally, Wally and Wally?’

‘I am the third Wally of Wally, Wally and Wally, Sir.’

‘Excellent! Do you sell houses?’

‘Yes Sir, we are accredited Estate Agents and have been for three hundred and fifty seven years.’

‘Marvellous! Do you sell houses with doors and windows?’

‘Yes Sir. All our properties have doors and windows.’

‘Tremendous! Do your houses have hot and cold running water?’

‘Yes Sir. We take pride in our homes having all modern conveniences which include hot and cold water.’

‘Awesome! Do they have brass taps?’

‘They have a wide range of fittings Sir, from brass to chrome to mixer or individual taps.’

‘Brilliant! What about a lavatory. Do your houses have a lavatory?’

‘Yes Sir. Toilets are standard fittings.’

‘Great! Are they inside the house or outside?’

‘All our houses are fitted with internal toilets Sir.’

‘Excellent! What about a roof. Do your houses have a roof?’

‘Absolutely Sir. All our properties have a roof.’

‘Wonderful! Are they flat, sloping, angled, slate or thatched?’

‘Well Sir, it depends on the style and type of construction. We have all types to suit all tastes.’

‘Impressive! What about feeding troughs for horses and pigs?’

‘A most unusual question Sir. I believe we could accommodate any unusual request.’

‘Wow! Now what about lighting? Do your houses still use candle light or gas lighting?’

‘Certainly not Sir! All our properties come with electric lighting. Candles are mainly for decorative effect. Some of our clients however use scented candles in their bathroom.’

‘Amazing! Is it because they smell real bad being the reason they use scented candles?’

‘Oh no Sir! They use them to create a nice ambience.’

‘Splendid! What is an ambience?’

‘Atmosphere Sir, atmosphere. People like to dim the lighting and light up scented candles so they can relax in a bubble bath after a hard day’s work.’

‘Excellent! I don’t think I need an ambience or to smell nice. My dog would attack me if I changed my scent. He knows my smell and it would confuse him if I changed my smell to a womanly like smell. I wouldn't want a bubble bath either, it would make a mess of the floor and my dog hates bubbles. He jumps up and tries to pop them with what few teeth he has. It doesn’t do his arthritic hips any good either.’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Now what about stairs. Do your houses have stairs?’

‘Well Sir, it depends on the property. Bungalows are stair free as are our ground floor flats and penthouses. All our town houses and country homes can have any number of staircases.’

‘Excellent! Very useful information. Now tell me Ms. Wally, are the staircases made from wood, stone or steel?’

‘That depends on the design Sir. Some are stone, some are wood and in a few rare instances steel.’

‘Awesome! Would I have a choice? I wouldn't want those steel mesh ones with holes in them. It's very likely he’d get his paws stuck in them. Last thing I would want would be him howling away on the bloody stairs while I'm trying to get to sleep.’

‘Depending on the type of property you certainly would have a choice Sir.’

‘Lovely! Now about the wooden staircases. What type of wood are they made from?’

‘Once again Sir, it depends on the construction and age of the property. At present we have houses with oak, teak, pine, mahogany, sapele, ebony and ash staircases.’

‘Incredible! Such a wide choice. I think it would be easier with a bungalow. Much less to worry about.’

‘Whatever your needs Sir, Wally, Wally and Wally will be happy to accommodate you.’

‘Good stuff! Do all of your properties have a garden?’

‘It varies from property to property Sir. We have on offer properties with a small window box to properties with ten acres of land.’

‘Blimey! What about lawn mowers?’

‘Sorry Sir, I don’t understand?’

‘Do your ten acre properties come with a lawn mower?’

‘That depends Sir. Some previous owners leave behind a lawn mower and others do not.’

‘Super! Tell me, is the grass on the ten acre properties long or short?’

‘I don’t think I can answer that question unless you tell me which specific property you are interested in.’

‘By heck! I imagine the properties with short grass would not need mowing for a few years?’

‘I am sure you are correct Sir and I shall bow to your superior knowledge on grass length and the need for mowing or not.’

‘Excellent! If the grass needed mowing could you manage this for me? Ten acres of mowing would wear me out good and proper. Not only that, if my dog slipped his leash, which he often does, I’d not catch him in a month of Sunday's! By heck, ten acres is a lot of land!’

‘I think the mowing is a possibility Sir. Obviously not me personally as I have nothing to do with mowing – the very thought! I would need to speak to Mr. Wally to find out exactly what mowing arrangements could be made.’

‘Good! Which Wally would that be? The first Wally or the second?’

‘Mr. Wally is the first Wally in Wally, Wally and Wally Sir.’

‘Well I never! Now tell me about trees. Do your properties contain trees?’

‘It depends on the property Sir. Some houses have many trees and others have no trees at all?’

‘Remarkable! What sort of properties do not have trees?’

‘Well Sir, penthouses do not have trees and a few town houses with block paving have no trees. May I enquire Sir, do you like trees?’

‘Trees? I bloody well hate them! They make a hell of a noise when it's windy but my dog loves them.

He has to have a pee somewhere. He prefers oak trees because they are usually quite big and it's easier for him to cock his leg up against a big tree now he’s getting on in years.’

‘Yes Sir.’


cont'd...


 
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cont'd...

‘I’d best forget purchasing a town house or a penthouse. He would not like a tree less property. He bites people if he can’t have a pee when nature gives him a call.’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘What about coal cellars. Do all of your properties have a coal cellar?’

‘I’m afraid not Sir. Most properties today have central heating although some have a functional, decorative log fire.’

‘Awesome! Such a shame not to have a coal fire. You can’t beat a coal fire Ms. Wally. Gets rid of all household smells does burning coal and you can make good toast on a coal fire. I suppose if I bought a property with trees and a log fire I could cut down the trees to burn on the fire?’

‘I am sure that would be a possible Sir. What would your dog do for a wee stop when they are all cut down?’

‘You are a very bright young lady Ms.Wally. I’d completely forgotten about the dog. That reminds me, coal fires are very good for burning dog hair for when he malts. When I say malt, I mean malt. Handfuls of the stuff!’

‘We try our best Sir. You may need to get permission to cut down some trees as some species are protected and you would be prosecuted if you removed them.’

‘Well I never! Now how would I find out which trees are protected and which are not?’

‘You would need to speak to Mrs. Wally to get that information Sir. She is our expert surveyor and is qualified in all matters arboreal.’

‘Magnificent!! I assume Mrs. Wally is the other Wally?

‘Correct Sir. Mrs. Wally is the second Wally of Wally, Wally and Wally - Estate Agents for three hundred and fifty seven years. I am the third Wally and Mr. Wally is the first Wally of Wally, Wally and Wally.’

Excellent! I am impressed with Wally, Wally and Wally.’

‘Thank You Sir. Do you have any other questions with which I can assist you?’

‘Indeed! Tell me about mice, bats and owls!’

‘What would you like to know Sir?’

‘Are all your properties free from mice, bats and owls?’

‘I think I can assure you that they are free from such creatures but I can not give you a one hundred percent guarantee. It depends on the location of the property. If it is situated near woodland or farmland then it is likely there may be occasional incursions by said creatures.’

‘Damn! I’d best stay away from such properties. I do not want my dog being kept awake all night chasing mice, bats and owls never mind the damage they may do to my property. He gets very grumpy if he has to stay awake all night chasing creatures. Besides I don’t want mauled and dead animals on my land.’

‘Yes Sir. I take it you are very fond of your dog?’

‘Indeed! If it wasn't for him, choosing a new home would be easy-peasy.’

‘Yes Sir. Do you have any more questions?’

‘Now let me think?’

‘Please, take your time Sir.’

‘Excellent! I shall Ms. Wally.’


cont'd









 
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‘Cats. What about cats? Do each of your properties include a cat?’

‘That is a most unusual question Sir. To be absolutely truthful I do not believe they do. Please would you tell me why you ask such a question?’

‘It’s common knowledge that bloody cats maraud all over the place. They are the terrorists of the domestic animal kingdom. They are no respecter of boundaries. Not only that, when people move from house to house they often leave a cat behind. They are good at fending for themselves. You daren’t leave any food lying about. They’d snaffle it all up before you could say Tom and Jerry! Evil little buggers, that’s what they are. Evil dressed in a fur coat.’’

‘Your insights are interesting Sir.’

‘Indeed! I must have a house that is cat free. The dog would never get a minutes peace. Chasing mice, owls, bats and cats. His life would be a living hell. Now that would not do would at his age now would it?’

‘No Sir, it would not especially given his arthritic hips. Now, if you don’t mind Sir, I have been writing a list of all your needs. Would it be useful at this point if I gave you a summary of where we are at this moment?’

‘Excellent! Go ahead young lady.’

‘So far Sir, you have indicated the following:

You do not want a penthouse. You would like a few trees with a garden, preferably an oak tree for your dog’s urinary needs and with short grass. You would like a house or rather a bungalow that has windows, doors a roof, a toilet and a bathroom that is not scented. You would like a log fire if possible. You would prefer a property that has no mice, owls, bats or cats. Is this correct Sir?’

‘Excellent! My God! You are damn good Ms. Wally!’

‘Is there anything else Sir?’

‘Yes. Daffodils.’

‘I beg your pardon Sir? Daffodils?’

‘Yes, bloody daffodils! I hate them! It was that idiot tory poet Wordsworth who made them popular in that stupid poem of his. Waving about in the breeze and a host of gold and all that soppy nonsense.’

‘I’m sorry to hear you don’t like daffodils or Wordsworth, Sir. His poem is famous throughout the world and lots of people like daffodils.’

‘I know. Lots of people also like television soaps but that doesn’t mean they are good. My dog growls whenever that Grim-Enders rubbish comes on the television. For some strange reason he likes Coronation Street. It must be because they are Londoners. He doesn't like people from down south. Now about these daffodils. Every council across the land plants them here there and everywhere. They are a bloody nuisance. Once they have been rained on and had mud splashed on them by passing cars they look a right mess. Golden sentinels my foot! When they are dirty they look like little flower terrorists in khaki combat clothes.’

‘Yes, I see, Sir.’

‘My dog used to eat them until I gave him a boot up the bum. Last thing I wanted was yellow vomit all over the kitchen floor. Imagine, bloody Wordsworth’s daffodil remains all over my kitchen floor!’

‘Yes, Sir. We’d best make sure we don’t find you a property with daffodils.’

‘Tremendous! You are good at your job Ms.Wally.’

‘We try to please Sir.’

‘Now about donkey stones?’

‘I’m sorry Sir, I’m not sure what you mean?’

‘Ah well, it’s probably because you are too young Ms. Wally. Donkey stone wash is what people put on their doorstep in years gone by. Put some water on the step and give it a good rubbing with a donkey stone and it looks as good as new. It was common practice. House proud people stood out a mile by the condition of their front doorstep.’

‘I could ask Mr. Wally if he could look into the matter Sir. I am sure he could arrange for you to have a door step which would make use of a donkey stone.’

‘Brilliant! You certainly know how to look after your customers Ms. Wally.’

‘We try Sir. Do you have any further questions Sir?’

‘Yes. Floorboards. Do all of your houses have floorboards?’

‘Again Sir, it depends on the construction. Some do and others may have composite flooring. Many of our heritage properties have stone floors. Do you prefer wooden floorboards Sir?’

‘Amazing! I certainly do prefer wooden floorboards. I like the creaking noise they make. You can hear if any burglars are in the house. They are also a lot warmer, especially if you come home drunk and fall asleep on the floor. The dog doesn’t like sleeping on cold floors. With him getting on a bit, any cold goes through his bones. Not good for his health Ms. Wally.’

‘I’m sure we could ensure you get creaking, wooden floors Sir.’

‘Terrific! You’d best make sure they are smooth. I don’t want floors which have nails and splinters sticking out of them here and there. The idiot dog would find them when rushing around chasing mice and any stray cats. The last thing I want is vet bills for removing nails and splinters from his paws. Robbing sods are vets.’

‘I am sure Mrs. Wally would make sure there were no nails or splinters in your wooden floor.’

‘Good! You certainly know your job young lady.’

‘Our clients’ needs are always our first priority at Wally, Wally and Wally Sir.’

‘Impressive! Now tell me young lady what do you know about these Jack Oozy things?’

‘Jack Oozy?’ I’m sorry Sir, I am not familiar with the term?’

‘It’s a sort of bath with water jets. The vet told me about them.’

‘Ah…yes! You mean a Jacuzzi, Sir?’

‘That’s the one. You are a grand lass Ms. Wally. Sixty years married to my late Ethel and she never understood a word I spoke. Not one! Ten minutes talking to you and you have me to a tee! Can you get me a house with a Jack Oozy? I need it for him. The vet man said it will help with his arthritis.’

‘I shall have a word with Mr. Wally Sir. I am sure he would be able to obtain some competitive quotes for you. Would you like the jacuzzi as part of the bathroom suite?’

‘Now you are being a silly Ms. Wally. I'm not having him splashing about in my bathroom. Can you get it fitted outside, near to a tree if possible.’

‘Near to a tree Sir?’

‘Yes, near to a tree. Whenever he hears rushing water he has to dash off for a pee. Last thing I want is him peeing in my bathroom. You know, Ms. Wally, you can’t take him anywhere. Whenever I go to the town I have to give the fountains in the square a wide berth. He’s a bloody nuisance! If I tie him up outside the supermarket he starts to howl like a banshee. More than once he has bitten a few old age pensioners. He can’t stand old people. Mind you, having said that It’s their own stupid fault. Just because he looks friendly means nothing. Give him half a chance and he’ll sink his teeth into your leg with what few teeth he has left. He once mauled to death a guide dog for the blind outside of the corner shop. It took the poor chap three days to find his way home without his guide dog.’

‘Yes Sir, I appreciate the situation. Is there anything else with which I can assist you?’

‘You have been great Ms. Wally. You’ve answered all my questions. I’ve probably forgot some so I’ll go away with what I’ve got and give it some thought. More than likely I’ll give you another call when I can think of more questions.’

‘Please feel free to call Wally, Wally and Wally any time you choose Sir. We are here to oblige and if there is anything you want including anything special or unusual we will do our utmost to assist you. May I ask how much you are considering on spending on a property?’

‘But of course. I was thinking in the region of two hundred to two hundred and fifty pounds plus a few pounds extra for the Jack Oozy.’

‘Sorry Sir, did I hear you correctly? Did you say between two hundred and two hundred and fifty pounds?’

‘Excellent! Indeed you did. You’ve obviously got good hearing Ms. Wally, unlike my late Ethel who holds the world record for saying: ‘What did you say?’or ‘You what?’


cont'd...

 
cont'd...

‘I’m sorry to inform you Sir but Wally, Wally and Wally are premier estate agents. Our property prices start at a base level of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds and go up to one hundred million. I think we would find it very difficult to find you a property for two hundred and fifty pounds plus the additional cost of a jacuzzi.’

‘Well I’ll be beggared! You call yourself a premier estate agent but you can’t find an old man and his arthritic dog a nice humble home with a Jack Oozy for two hundred and fifty pounds? Shameful! That’s what it is, bloody shameful! What is this world coming to when you can’t find a decent home for hard earned cash?’

‘If you would like to call tomorrow Sir I will have a chat with Wally and Wally and see if we can find something to meet your humble needs.’

‘Now you are talking lass. I knew I’d got the best. You are the tops! When I found your number and advert in the phone book I said to myself: ‘This lot will do. Lots of nice staff photographs with all of them smiling – unlike them miserable sods at the corner shop who look like they are chewing a mouthful of wasps.’

‘Your advert, Ms. Wally, said, and I quote:

‘No matter how small or large, from a designer shed to a mansion, Wally, Wally and Wally are the leading estate agents in the United Kingdom. Come foul or fair weather Wally, Wally and Wally will go the extra mile to meet each and every need of our clients. For Wally, Wally and Wally, failure to serve is a living hell!’

‘Now that is some boast young lady and I am sure when I call you tomorrow you will live up to it by finding me and him a nice humble abode.’

‘We shall try Sir, we shall try.’

‘Excellent!

‘Thank you for calling Wally, Wally and Wally Sir. May you and your dog have an enjoyable day.’

‘Good Bye Ms. Wally.’

‘Oh...hold on one second Ms. Wally! I almost forgot!, Rabbits. We need to talk about rabbits and whether or not me and him can hunt them down on any property we buy? Nothing like a pot of steaming hot rabbit stew for keeping out the cold.’

‘Can we discuss this when you next call Sir?

‘But of course, Ms. Wally. Of course.’

‘Cheerio!’


To be continued…

Next, in the unfolding saga of Wally, Wally and Wally. Ms. Wally arranges a property viewing for him and his dog. He gives her tips on making a good rabbit stew. His dog’s urinary problems are becoming more of a problem. He comes up with an idea to save money by building his own Jack Oozy. He realises he has forgotten fifty important questions. The Wally family make an urgent appointment at the doctors for stress treatment. Local solicitors and surveyors are sent a warning email. The local cats, owls, foxes, bats and mice go into hiding.
 
The Absurd World Of Mr. Zoffok

Insomnia
Mr Zoffok could not sleep because his long hair tickled his ears keeping him awake. 'I'll stop this tickling right now, he exclaimed, otherwise I'll not sleep! I'll be very tired and I'll be late for work.' Jumping out of bed he went to the kitchen. Taking a sharp knife from the drawer he cut off both ears. When his alarm clock rang in the morning to wake him for work he didn't hear a sound and with a smile on his face slept throughout the day and into the next night.



Neighbours
Mr. Zoffok's friendly neighbour called a cheery and loud 'Hello!' as he passed by her window. Mr. Zoffok did not reply causing her to feel hurt at being ignored. Had the old gossip noticed he had cut off his ears, she could have run out from her house and shook his hand - but she didn't.



An Invitation

Mr. Zoffok received an invitation to the grand opening of the Zoffinski State Parliament. He was informed that formal dress and a top hat was essential. Having cut off both ears Mr. Zoffok could not find a top hat that did not fall over his face. Realising he would not have been able to see the King or Queen or any politician he stayed at home and ate a cucumber.

The Economy
While reading his favourite financial newspaper in his favourite café, Mr. Zoffok noticed his fellow patrons had their shoelaces threaded differently. Mr. Zoffok blamed the country's ills on the manner in which people threaded their shoelaces. Some people used the criss-cross diagonal method and others used the left to right method. Had they all wore slippers, he concluded, the economy would be booming. Mr. Zoffok threw his newspaper into the waste bin, left the café and went to the shops to buy himself an extra pair of slippers.


R.I.P. Daniil Kharms


 
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A Visit To Furkle, Furkle and Furkle – The North West's Most Exclusive Car Dealer - It's Him Again!

'Good Morning Sir! What a delightful day! What a nice dog! One couldn't wish for a nicer day, could one? Blue skies, pillow case clouds. It makes one think that life really is worth living and especially for ourselves, Furkle, Furkle and Furkle, the North West's Premier Car Dealer. The sun always brings the best out in people and of course the best people come out in the sun!

Now before you say a word, may I offer you a drink?'

'Err...well..err...'

'We have a wide range of coffees to choose from. We have air dried Brazilian coffee. Columbian freeze dried coffee from the forests of Columbia - obviously. We also have a very strong, drop filtered coffee all the way from Turkey. Many of our customers enjoy a cup of Zorro coffee from Italy. Hand ground by elderly widows dressed in black. If Sir would like something a little more milkier, and dare I say urban, we can offer you a delightful cappuccino made from fresh milk. If that is not to your taste we can provide you with a freshly ground drink from our own designer cafetière - the French go wild for a coffee cafetière. Oo-La-La! So very paysan, so very French.'

'I do like your dog. He has such a friendly face.'

'He may have a friendly face but don't you go stroking him. He's only got two teeth and they are very sharp. He likes to bite people to keep them sharp. He's very fond of old people – less fat, more bone.'

'As I was saying...I can also offer you a blended coffee, if you wish. It is our very own creation and has an exquisite, unforgettable aroma. Mmm...delicious! I think I shall have one myself when I have tended to your good self. My wife adores it! She helped our CEO Mr. Furkle senior create the blend while they were holidaying together in Vietnam.

If you prefer something other than coffee Sir, can I offer you a glass of chilled water from our atmosphericorator water cooler? It is the finest in the world. You can have a choice of Buxton spring water or maybe a glass of clear water with added ions which are excellent for your health - especially if you would like a little bubble to start the day. My wife loves a little bubble before getting out of bed in the mornings! Alternatively I can offer you a sparkling drink of L'eau Spéciale, sourced from the virgin streams of Mont Blanc. Very, very expensive and, of which, it is filled in a delightful hand blown bottle by French artisans. Needless to say, it is free to our exclusive clients. If that is not to your liking, we have a range of flavoured waters including, apple, elderberry, peach, lime, lemon, aubergine, cucumber and even Bleu d'Auvergne flavour - a big hit with our overseas clients. Perfect with a nibble of cheese and lightly salted biscuits.

Apart from these exciting liquid refreshments I have mentioned, we also have the usual range of soft drinks including Vimto, Pepsi, Dandelion and Burdock, Cream Soda, Ginger Beer and Barley water. We stock these for clients who bring their children with them. Never let it be said Sir that we, Furkle, Furkle and Furkle can't match each person's individual tastes buds as well as quenching their thirst. From a sip of chilled water to the most exclusive car on the road, we are here to fulfil each and every need or dream of our clients.'

'Err..what's that noise?

'Sorry Sir,? By noise, do you mean the ambient music?

Most of our clients enjoy a little discrete music while they are waiting in reception for their vehicle to be serviced or while browsing through our brochures. I take it you are not a Janis Joplin fan Sir? Maybe a little Bach or Paganini is more to you taste? A little Piaf maybe? I can arrange to have something more soothing if that is what you wish.'

'Why is this Janis woman asking God to buy her a car? He's got no money and from what I know he doesn't know a thing about cars least of all I don't think he can drive? Crucifixes, a few miracles along with pestilence, floods and pillars of salt is his schtick. '

'Aha! Now I see Sir. You are referring to Ms. Joplin's lyrics:

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,
So Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?

La,la,la,la...


A very catchy tune Sir and of course it blends perfectly with our latest range of S Class vehicles. Hmm...? You must be the first client who has ever made comment about this well known and much loved song. I confess, I am somewhat taken aback.

'There' always one.'

'Oh indeed!

Well Sir, now you have declined my generous offer of a drink from our wide range of refreshments, may I take you around our showroom to show you the new models and possibly arrange for a test drive? If you wish, you can bring your dog with you. If not, we will be pleased to permit him to remain seated on our lounge chair. I take it he would not run away if left alone?'

'There will be no need. I have not come in here for an executive car. Nor have I come in here for a drink from your wide range of exquisite, effervescent, scintillating liquids.'

'Oh..I see Sir! And what may I ask is the reason you have visited the North West's most exclusive motor vehicle showroom?'

'I thought that would be obvious. Look at him, can't you see he's panting away. It's very hot out there and while passing your showroom I thought I would come in to see if you can provide him with a bowl of water. None of your fancy stuff mind. Just a bowl of water from the toilet or tap would be great.'

'Well Sir...! I am flabbergasted! I wish you had said this before I had named the complete range of drinks we have on offer. I'm jolly glad I didn't get to mention our accompanying range of luxury diet conscious, filled panini!'

'I would but you wouldn't let me get a bloody word in edgeways! Not only that you didn't mention tea.'

'I do apologise Sir. We are obliged to make our clients feel welcome as soon as they put a foot in our showroom. It has been a key policy of Furkle, Furkle and Furkle for as long as I can remember. I also apologise for not mentioning tea. We leave cups of tea and those hideous coffee machines to the lower end car dealers.'

'Well then, are you going to get him a bowl of water or not? While I'm at it I'd like to know about the large oak tree outside?'

The tree Sir? The tree? Oh...you mean our ornamental, fibre glass oak tree? That tree, along with the others, is there to provide an atmosphere for our clients intending on purchasing a 4x4 off road vehicle or SUV as the Americans fondly describe them. We park our demonstration models next to the trees to create a raw and rugged ambience. It enables out clients to think they are driving across the wilds of Dartmoor or the windswept moorland of North Yorkshire'

'Ambience? Raw and rugged ambience in the centre of Manchester!? That's the second time today I have heard that bloody ambience word! Wally, Wally and Wally are very fond of that word too.'

'Err... Wally, Wally and Wally? Who may they be Sir?'

'Never mind. Now about that bowl of water. He's going to die of heat stroke if you don't fetch him a bowl. And when he's finished with it I hope you don't mind if he has a pee against your raw, rugged ambience, fibre glass oak tree. He always needs a pee when he's finished drinking copious amounts of water. It's his age, in one end out the other.'

'Sir, if you would like to go around to the back of the showroom, you will find the service bay. I am sure one of the mechanics will be able to provide your dog with a bowl of water. You will also find an exit in the same area in which you and your dog may go on your way and continue with your stroll. Thank You for visiting Furkle, Furkle and Furkle. We look forward to seeing you in the not too distant future. Please, do take a brochure.'

'Right, c'mon you, off you get! Stop bloody scratching yourself and let's get you a drink of water - without bubbles. Look at all the bloody hairs and fleas you have left on this man's posh sofa!'

'Thank you.'

'Cheerio! Or should I say, Au Revoir, Sir!'

'Arrividerci, Chum! Arri-bloody-vi-derci!'
 
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I managed to complete this today. Well to be honest I don't think I've finished it properly, but all the blanks are filled in, so to speak. It's a piece of world-building I've been working on for about a year and a half, tinkering with it now and then when I get an idea of how to make it fit together better. Yeah, I am so goddamn slow.

Timeline of Terran History (v1.0)

It's all sorts of crap, but I largely do this sort of thing for my own amusement.

Version 1.1 is now up!

Changelog:

Began elaboration of technological developments during the years of the 21st century.

Expanded upon events and developments within the 4th, 5th and 6th Millennia.

Added more details about Fargate technology in the 2nd Decmillennium.

Added a bit more information about the Cosmic Gates in the 4th Decamillennium.

Various small formatting and editing changes made.


To do for the next version:

Finish/continue elaboration of the 21st century. Also try to include more political and cultural developments.

Add a decade-by-decade breakdown of events and developments within the 22nd century.

Add more paragraphs to the other Decamillennia thus far unedited since the first version.

Make the Age of Chaos fit in better with the rest of the timeline. This may entail some significant revision.
 
Can someone read a story of mine please and see if they agree with some criticism? It's very short, so not a lot of effort. It's here with the feedback: scifisam / Hour of Writes.

I'm just really confused and upset by the comments; one of them couldn't even tell whether the mother in the story was Rebecca or Jane. There are lines like "Rebecca accepted the makeshift tether and joined her daughter on the gargoyle" which I would have thought made it bloody obvious who the mother was. Doesn't it?

I agree that I could have reduced the number of characters, and that's actually useful feedback, but what prophecies have I left unanswered? The dysentery one? That happens three years later and the word limit for this is 2,000 words - I had to cut some stuff out. Is there something else?

Being told that the story felt rushed is galling in a competition where you're supposed to write the entire story in an hour.

Honestly, I'm upset enough to delete all my fucking fiction. I actually thought this was an OK little story, but now I'm doubting myself. The guidelines for the feedback are that you should be positive so this amount of negativity is basically saying it's really shit.
 
was off my tits when writing this. Think I can rescue a few lines though. Ever the cry of the poet 'gis a minute to sober up and you'll love this shit mates'
Commander! We approach the zone'
He quivers in his seat as he plays his paws over the command screens
'This is the lidless zone'


'Your lack of astronomical knowledge betrays you Executive Officer Tank. We shall soon be hoving into the land of non-alcoholic bottle lids'

'I see Sir'

TO BOLDLY GO WHERE NO MAN AND DOG HAS GONE BEFORE


It wasn't supposed to worrk this quickly you know. When we designed the genetic patch it was assumed that it would take a few generations at the least for a result. But no the furry bastards had things to say the minute a google translate collar was fitted. You should hear the cats. I have never been insulted so thouroughly. We are talking multi layered haiku style artful yet hurtful. Fuck cats.

The first thing my dog ever said to me was 'thats chocolate, save me some' before doing a Laika and being trained to become the canine equivalent of a god. Like me, a Sky God. You don't get to go faster than a rocketship, ever. But sometimes, if you are good enough and know the craft then you get to escape orbit. They let you ride one of those rockets. The displeasing dichotomy is the amount of groundside paperwork and tests and BS it takes too get the engines lit. But once you are there, it was worth every arse-fingering minute of medicals and associated bureaucratic bullshit

'Jupiter'


'Looks a little shit to me. You left my green ball in the bedroom right? this is me taking leave. You have the conn'
5 stone of concerned canine wafted past me as I looked at the glory of a failed sun. Beautiful and terrible. Both of them.



Now I know what you are thinking. How did they upgrade a dog enough to be a space pilot. Not the first. They did the cats first. Useless as space crew. Smart enough but no drive. Rats were given a try but displayed no aptitude and besides are too small to work alongside clumsy humans.

The first upgraded do spoke 30 verses of canine poetry that are still being investigated by scholars who see its cadence in the wolf howlf and suspect a long line of verbal complexity previously unconsidered. The prototype uplift neuroaug burned the dogs brains out too quickly. Later models rectified this, a simple coolant system derived from freon.

tbc
 
I feel a bit odd posting about this. I'm writing something but no idea how to describe it. It's my autobiography but that seems an odd description since calling it that implies some sort of interest on the part of other people in the result. It's not memoirs, it's just there. Accounts of events in my life *shrugs* I just feel the need to exercise my writing muscles.
 
Okay I've actually decided I'd quite like some feedback on this prose. Showing it to my beau only yields praise but I can't discern if it's love or ability that feeds his positivity.
 
My beau offered more feedback and said it's raw.

My mate said definitely when I said he'd said that and my mate also said "I'd deffo want to read more if I picked that up as a book" which has made me glow a bit.
 
'Mate,' I sobs. 'Oh, mate, I'm bare sorry. It's my fault.'

I've took me coat off and me fleece, I'm pressing em down on her neck. I'm knelt down, got me lips pressed on hers. Breathing for her. She's warm but she ain't moving. There's blood on her mouth. She's bleeding everywhere, on me hands, me skin. It's all crusted up.

Don't die, Katrina.

She opens her eyes. Looks right at me. Starts coughing, tryna breathe, tryna say summink. Then she just don't, she makes this gurgling, her eyes don't move no more, like summink gone out. Presses down on her chest. Keep her breathing. But she can't. Her heart's stopped. I tries, tries get it pumping again, I dunno how long. But it's stopped. Her eyes is fixed, not moving, not seeing.

She's gone.

It were me. I fucking killed her. I chucked that grenade.

'You can 'ave some peace now. Sleep tight, lass,' I says. Kisses her on the cheek, puts me coat round her. Kadeem goes, sits down with her. Her blood's dripped all over. Can't bear to watch, to look at em. He gonna be broken hearted. I wanna be sick at what Basma done. What I done. Basma's laying on the pavement. She ain't moving. Good. Rot in hell.

'She dead, is it, Omar?' That's a prisoner we let out, Pakistani lad, one what could fight. Twenty eight, desperate to fight. His wife ain't let him. Then ISIS come locked em both up.

'Yeah. Looks like.' That were what I said to Tal that day when we gone Ante Kovacs's house, thought I blew him up. Tal ain't thought so; she wanted to check and I ain't let her. Then the fash got me.

'Looks like?' I says. Summink's ripped me heart out. Me stomach. Katrina bare reminded me of Sunny. That innocence. That sweetness in the midst of all that. And I got the guilt of killing her on me. I chucked the grenade. It hurt her, made her weak. Friendly fire innit. Gonna leave a hole. A fuck off gaping hole. The rage, the hurt's bubbling up inside me. It ain't fair. It ain't. Katrina ain't had a chance. She ain't deserved none of it. She ain't deserved to meet me.

I shoulda come alone.

'It looks like Basma's dead, yeah. She's still warm, though.' Bends down. Dun wanna touch. She don't look dead. We shot her couple times, she fell. I can't see where she's hit beneath her clothes. Don't wanna look. Her tablet's laying on the ground a metre away. I picks it up bare careful, bare careful. It could go off, innit. Could be a bomb. But it ain't, Lou, cos she let you fucking use it, you stupid, stupid cow. Try ignore that voice. I puts it in me pocket, walks over to Kadeem.

Basma gotta be dead. Ain't she?

'Comrade,' I says. 'Come on. We gotta go. I'll 'elp you carry 'er.'

Kadeem gets up. Tears running down his face. He don't say a word; I helps him lift her. She's light as we carries her. Me breathing's ragged. Looking over me shoulder. Think bout Baljinder. They got on. Katrina told me she helped her and that. Baljinder were like a grandma to us all. I wanna see her again. I want her reassuring me, listening. She ain't never had a bad word, she were always kind. Nta were sat there banging on once bout Katrina were a Nazi and Bal come and told her she were wrong, not bad, always gentle. And that psycho killed em both cos they talked.

'I was in love,' Kadeem says when we's by the gate. Poor, poor Katrina. I pushes the gate open. Nta's stood up, steps out from by that lil shrub.

'Oh gosh,' she goes. Poor lass. Just a kid.

'Fuckin' ISIS.' I gotta stop meself yelling it, kicking summink, punching summink. They runs this city. They rules it, they'd have us. We walks to the lil bit of long grass at the end with Katrina. Omar said there was once flowerbeds they done in the shape of smiley faces and that in this park but ISIS dug em up. Said it were idol worship. Dug up the cemetery and all. Worshipping graves they says. They worships fucking death innit.

The other blokes all gets up, shambling to us like fucking walking dead. They looks like it too, though they's cleaned up a bit. Is that how they's treating my Tal? We lowers Katrina down, lays her in the grass. Ain't got time to bury her. They'll come. They be back. Kadeem sits down. Hugs her again, holds her close. He don't wanna leave.

'Goodbye, love. Sweet, sweet girl. I'll miss you.'
 
This is part of the lastest thing i wrote:


When I wake up my feet sting from the wire I have been sitting on. As I open my eyes, disorientated and in constant pain, I realise the cage is suspended over the swimming pool. My clothes are soaked through. I look down at the steam rising from below, hopelessness building up inside me. I have given up any hope of a quick death, ISIS don't do quick and painless. The cage wobbles as I sit up. As I look through the bars I realise with mounting horror that it is closer to the ceiling than the pool.

'Wow, this is impressive. How much did it cost IS to build this contraption?' I hear Sohail laughing. I screw my eyes shut, put one of my legs over the other almost instinctively, shivering despite the heat. At least he's down there and I'm up here. He can't hurt me up here.

'Couple hundred thousand, I think, akhi. It's a good one, isn't it?' Their words make me nauseous. I close my eyes tighter and try to retreat somewhere inside my mind. Anywhere. I can't think about Lou without giving in to the tears. The memories are filled with such pain.

'Nice. D'you know how hot the water is, brother?' If Sohail is upset over Basma's hospitalisation the thought of killing me like this has perked him up.

'85°. We can make it hotter for the film, I'll show you the controls.' To think these degenerates rule a territory of several million people. The things they say to each other, the way they discuss their savagery as if it was nothing, are as much a form of torture as any physical pain. Maybe worse. I don't know. I have to keep it together but I don't know what I'm keeping it together for.

The bubbles disguise the sound of them walking out of the room. I only notice they have gone when look around and can't see them any more. My neck is aching and condensation is dripping down my back. I try to lean on one side slightly, close my eyes, my throat stinging.

*

'Tal?'

I sit up, startled. What was that? Was I asleep? I lift my head and try to work out the source of the noise, confused and disorientated. It must be coming from the speakers. It's probably Basma's awful friend Imogen Smith, 'Umm Reyaad'. Another former neo-Nazi, who converted while in prison for stabbing an Afghan refugee at an anti-immigrant demo. The people with the worst pasts, eh. A lot of those in ISIS. I screw my eyes shut again, lean back against the bars as the cage wobbles.

'Oh my goodness. Tal. Can you hear me?' It's a woman's voice. It sounds familiar. Young. For a moment I wonder - I grit my teeth. No, I won't play their sick mind games.

'Tal? Can you say something? Can you speak to us? Please!' I sit up at the obvious anxiety in the girl's voice. Now I start paying attention. My ears are blocked, crusted. I don't think I can hear her properly. I'm getting ill. Not that I want to hear her, speak to her, anything. That girl is sitting with a device which lets her give prisoners electric shocks, probably being egged on by one of 'the sisters'.

'Tal. It's Nta! I - I escaped, they let me out. We're coming to get you, too.' I sit rigid, not knowing whether to believe it or not. Is it true? Is she being told to say that so Daesh can give me false hope and torment me even further? Anger rises inside me. That's if it even is her. Those sick, sick fucks. It does sound like her. Maybe it is...

'I know you're being told to say this. I'm so sorry.' I swallow, my voice cracking.

'No. No, it's not like that, Tal. I'm OK.' Nta's voice is gentle and oddly soothing. 'I'm free.'

I try to sit up against the bars of the cage. It's slippery because of the condensation. My throat is stinging. I'm getting a cold or flu or something. I'm in so much pain. I don't want to ask her where she is; I don't know who else is listening. 'Oh, goodness, this is horrible,' I hear her say to someone in the background. I hear a man's voice, a heavy Pakistani accent. And then it hits me.

The rebels let her out.

'You hang in there, mate. The revolution is coming! No pasaran,' Nta says. Someone loads a gun in the background. A smile spreads over my face for what feels like the first time in a very long time.

'Hasta la victoria, comrade.'
 
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I've almost finished the last chapter of my book! just got to edit a few things before I post it to the site :))
 
Can someone read a story of mine please and see if they agree with some criticism?

Never mind, I've deactivated my profile and promised myself I won't write again.

I wanted to read it, from what you said later criticism was harsh and I sympathise. Reading your experience terrified me, and I have to say keep writing. Whatever people think about it, it worth doing because it's an urge. Let it out.
Edit, re-write, turn it into something else, do cut-ups with it. Just don't stop.
 
I've almost finished the last chapter of my book! just got to edit a few things before I post it to the site :))

It's intense, and writing it must be. I'm still reading over the thread but I'm seeing this page first, I'll look for more earlier because that's great.
You must be doing shedloads of research?

Edit: Noticed you've got a page at Wattpad. I'm not a member, and it's late so I'll sign up later. I'd like to read Damaged.
 
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It's intense, and writing it must be. I'm still reading over the thread but I'm seeing this page first, I'll look for more earlier because that's great.
You must be doing shedloads of research?

Edit: Noticed you've got a page at Wattpad. I'm not a member, and it's late so I'll sign up later. I'd like to read Damaged.

Please do, id love your feedback on both
 
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