A Despicable Thing At Opeibea House

An urchin scampered from car to car at the Opeibea House intersection. That is where an ex-president's car turned cartwheels when it was crossed by a 'drunken' man. The boy would touch his nostrils to each car window and mist it up as if to disgust the driver to give him coinage quickly and make him evaporate. A driver of a tiny box-car swept him away by throwing the door open. Three times he did this. Each time, the lad pushed it back shut. If you insult him by treating him like dirt, don't be surprised at what he will grow into.

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Tomato Movie Awards

The makers-happen in our ‘measled’ movie market amaze me mindless. You roll and eddy over one another like confused crosscurrents with your myriad flimsy film awards. If you don’t close them to a classy one or two, you’ll continue to clutch at celebrity straws.

Assad, Gingrich and Other Random Questions

Has the EU ever needed Britain?
Should Iran give back the border-breaching drone?
Shouldn't we put an assassin on Assad?
Why did they allow Gingrich to rise again?

The Art of Public Peeing

Yes, I understand that art must mimic real life. It matters nothing if ‘real life’ is a national dishonour for us. But the movies strike me dumb! Why must the movie-makers stream sick scenes of men dog-peeing in the open where civilised people live?

Faux-Fang Vampire

Twelve or thirteen year-old spectre haunting the Mahogany avenue at 37 beneath where the bats hang upside down. He has his hand to his mouth. He stirs the cars to motion and makes me wonder why. Then he ghosts up to my window and drops his hand. Geez, he has two-inch fangs for canines, and he tries to shock you to give him money. I thought him unfortunate but a friend thinks they were faux fangs.

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Give the Bone a Dog

Yes, I wrote and meant that. Give the bone a dog. Imagine my voluptuous stimulation on hearing that profligate, plundering Portugal, who formerly came to explore, and then exploit, Angola is now imploring Her to save Him from imploding. Asking Her to buy fat stakes in His ex-economy. Oh, give the bone a dog!

Wanting

I have not felt the want of anything so badly in such a long time. I espied a loafing, adorable urchin on my street this morning, while everybody was at church. He was gazing over a dwarf fence into a neighbour’s compound. Even from far, I could tell his naughty contemplation. As I got closer, I saw his bait: a chandelier of low-hanging green mangoes. He panned from the fruit to my face, and then back. His honest hankering made me almost stop to aid the trespass. Such simple hunger! It is a feeling I have not had about anything in yonks. And the mangoes were not even ripe!