The following exchanges took place because I’d mentioned on Facebook I’d had Jerked Chicken for the first time. This prompted my friend Mark to comment on how the chicken got jerked in the first place and things just developed from there.
Hiya Mark, re your question on the Jerked chicken. I asked them if they’d been tugging at it before they smothered it in spices and cheese but they averted their eyes and looked a bit abashed then they asked me to leave – immediately. I suspect there’s something dark and sinister happening to Jamaican chickens in the deli Mark. You know me . . .
Thanks for that Mic, my mind is now at rest. I thought it was maybe some obscure American 60’s type go-go dance that they made it do before cooking it. Well done for making an issue of it and I’m sorry you were asked to leave. I suspect you hit a nerve there. A visit with an axe may be on the cards, we hope the air is good where you are.
My goodness gracious me! It’s like you can see right into my situation Mark! i.e. ‘you hope the air is good where I am’. I made us a McPhartie curry last night – a fiery chicken madras with ample garlic and chillies and now that along with the jerked poultry item has produced a fowl smelling, possibly noxious, gas which is being unwillingly and forcefully ejected from my toilet exit way. As I’m working upstairs in my home studio I’m afraid I may be slowly suffocating and in extreme danger of spontaneous combustion. I have opened a window but this has served only to swish the gases around a lot more. I can’t get up to close the window again because the fumes have made my legs wobbly. When I finish this note I’m going to try and crawl out onto the landing using the cat as a form of traction. I hope I make it because I want to continue being among the audiences The Flaming Infidels attract. Oh. oh, it’s getting hard to breathe and uh, oh there goes another pherocious phart!
Ferocious eh? Noxious you say. Fumes and other words. This may be a case for the environmental dept. Not only could it peel the paper off your walls (causing damp and stuff not to mention the dermatological aspects of this outburst) but it could have repercussions that go beyond your four walls and affect your neighbour’s ability to live a normal life. I really hope this settles down Mic, I’m a bit worried now. Regards to the traction cat.
Dear Mark, I wonder if you could come over to assist me? At present I am on the roof sitting in a shambles of tile and plaster. How, I know you’ll be wondering, did that happen? Well Mark it was an accident. As I lifted the rear end of my bottom off the cushioned office chair where I sit whilst working on audio/video projects, a particularly phorceful phart escaped me and, like a jet pack thrusting thruster thing, it propelled me through the ceiling and loft right out onto the roof. There are sea gulls near me and they’re looking a me in odd way and making sidling advances towards me. I couldn’t eat any more fowl meat at present so I may have to kill them using my bear hands – if they attack – which they may not. Anyway Mark, I need some help as I’m worried I may phart myself right off this roof onto another! Currently my phart valve seems quiescent but it’s puttering like a fuel-starved moped engine and I fear it may be building up to something spectacular. I await your arrival with anxiety.
p.s. could you bring a poncho? – my clothes are in shreds.
Dear Mic, my nerves have been shredded by this situation and as a result am writing this from my decompression tank. Panic is not the word. Why? because I DON’T own a poncho or any other type of Mexican apparel that would be of use in this grave situation. This hurts me deeply because I’m well known round here for helping anyone that needs it. I had a friend once who went through this and I got there too late only to find him completely turned inside out. You can imagine my horror at my failure and its haunted me ever since. I will be dispatching my 108 yr old neighbour to do what she can…she should be with you at some point this week (she’s on foot…not feet cos she’s only got one). Its the best I can do. Regards….me
P.S I’m guessing Chris has left you to it which is not nice (but understandable from a health perspective) Winds here light to variable.
Oh yeh forgot to say, when she gets there be aware: she only eats lettuce.
Chris is not allowed near me on Thursdays – not since the Court Order. I’m so sorry to have caused you such trouble and indeed I was about to write to you: ‘Don’t come!’ This is not because I don’t want your help or indeed even your company but is because I’m no longer at my previous position, nor the one previous to that. There have been a succession of violent take-offs since we last exchanged information, I’m afraid that while I have fuel to use up, energy to burn if you like, it will continue to throw me around the sky so I’m beyond help in the geographical sense at least. The sea gulls scattered soon after I wrote you of them, an extremely strong blast from Arse Station Mickey frightened the living shit out of them and they vacated the roof pretty pronto, leaving smears of fish based shite in their wake. I’m having mixed feelings on this situation and my ever changing location; on one hand it’s nice to fly up into the air on a sudden chance but the landings can be harsh. To be fair though I must confess I’ve had some soft landings due to a release coinciding with a come down which as you’ll easily understand, has acted a little like a reverse thrust, and though it has left my arsehole like the fat end of a trumpet, it has provided some relief. Some other touch downs were all too brief however as I let off just as I touched down and was instantly launched back up into the air again! I’m currently in a tree near Portreath and, as I came in to land – just by Hardacre near Portreath actually – I had thought to shout out to ask Alden or Kath if they can help but now I may not need to – I’ve had a stroke of luck which has buoyed my spirits a bit; I was thrown through some washing drying on a line and managed to grab a king size duvet cover in a floral pattern and with a button down closure, I plan to keep this close because I’ve realised it will serve to cover my nakedness while I’m airborne and I’m reasonably sure I can utilise it as a form of parachute once the wind has died down a bit. I saw the old lady you mentioned and I thank you for your efforts but I’m afraid she’ll be of no use to me as she’s heading for Bodmin steadfastly chewing on iceberg leaves and hopping neatly to a lively tune of her making, wait a minute . . . uh-oh . . things appear to be building up again so I may not be able to finis…..
I’m beginning to understand this now Mic you old fox. Its all a ruse so you can carry on stealing peoples personal effects from their washing lines and keep yourself with a ready supply of floral shirts for your forays into showbiz. Oh no ..you cant fool me with your tales of flatulence. I have friends in Culdrose that have been watching the radar for any disturbances in the area and apart from some freaked out seagulls ( I’ll give you that one) there has been nothing to report. Putting 2 and 2 together is one of my fortes and I can tell you its 4. And to think I’ve spent all this time in my decompression tank for this. I dread to think of my electricity bill. However being partial to the odd bit of thieving myself, rest assured this information will stay with me and me only, providing you agree to a course of cognitive behavioural therapy to help you understand the complexities of various shirts and their intended uses. I trust you’ll comply, it’s for your own good. I’ve been through it myself for string vests and found it liberating. I hope this finds you well and please don’t feel any embarrassment. I know I don’t.
P.S if I’m wrong about this I can only offer my apologies and a further offer to help with any medical bills.
You, have broken my heart! I thought you were my friend but now I find your scurrilous accusations in this reply I think perhaps you’re not. How very sad you’ve made me as if I’m not in enough trouble already with the anal explosions and so forth. For the records; I have no need to purloin items from washing lines for the creation of my show biz shirts. The local Salivating Army are positively drooling as they fall over themselves to provide me with suitable material for my creations. Not only that thy also keep me well supplied with other commodities for my unusual appetites. They, as you’ll know, save fallen women and indeed have just offered me an aged one-legged lady they found munching Lolla Rossa near the chip shop in Lanivet just a few minutes ago. Though she stinks of Baby Bio I know this can be quickly remedied with a good hose down from an industrial model Karcher Pressure Washer and there’s room in the cellar now the other item has departed. My difficulties with the sudden bouts of high energy propulsion have been reduced quite markedly due to a lessening of the pressure which has meant fewer take offs and indeed landings. I’m dejected knowing you doubt the veracity of my reports, indeed if you run out now, go on, run out now, into your garden and look up, go on, look up, (you may need binoculars) if you get this in time and indeed get a view you will see me parasailing over the East End of Truro that I’ve been able to modify the king sized duvet into a parasail and indeed I am now sailing over St Just-in-Roseland which is indeed just-in-Roseland though there a those who will argue it’s a little outside of Roseland they are known to be Luddite in their behaviours. I’m happier to be able to report that my situation is slowly resolving and as I sail up towards Veryan I am confident I’ll soon be back on home turf. Due to me comprehensive local knowledge I am fully aware that the wind from up that way blows downhill only so I expect to be home or at least hovering above home by two of the clock this very day! My only regret in this matter is that I hadn’t the presence of mind to pick up a camera as I was hurtled through my roof, there have been myriad opportunities for aerial photography this fine day. Actually I have another regret which is that with the lessening of the gaseous expulsions there came an extremely smelly and loose diarrhoea which I was unable to contain and so I’m afraid I spoiled some lunch dishes and indeed clothing with my uncontrollable purgings, although it may not have looked like it I was definitely not aiming at the policeman exiting his car at Trafalgar Police Station car park just after lunch. Truly I was not. This last report ought, I think, bring an end to these missives but I will end on one more serious and indeed you may think sombre note. It is this: I hereby officially give you warning that I have in my possession a 15 foot bullwhip, fashioned from the pizzle of a three ton bull who once roamed the plains of the Russian Steppes in former times. I am not afraid to use this lethal weapon on those who secretively, slyly, scurry snidely in sewers seeking to sleight me. I am a dab hand with this device so be aware. I’m just saying, not stating, not making a mission statement just letting you know, putting it out there so you know . . . that’s all.
Please bear in mind that the following has nothing at all to do with bullwhips of any description nor any veiled threats pertaining to the bullwhip (hereafter called “bullwhip”) real or imagined. Any resemblance to anyone represented in this article or said bullwhip is pure coincidence and should be treated as such. Ok, I gave you the benefit of the doubt and took you up on your offer to go outside and have a look in the sky. To my utter shock (bear in mind I have spent a great proportion of my day in a decompression tank and as a result I am now completely decompressed and 4.5 inches bigger than I was aiding my view considerably) there in the sky travelling at great speed heading over to the Roseland was your (dare I say) ample frame just as you said. My timing was impeccable. You were there and then you weren’t. Had it not been for my fast shuttered son I could have missed the moment and continued with my predilection with missing washing items/shirts etc. I’m just glad that you had retained enough strength to prevent an outpouring (euphemism) whilst passing over our home. Should there have been anything of this sort it would surely have caused serious grief to our washing and incurred the wrath of my missus. No doubt I would have born the brunt of any punishment for this …not you. Anyway to mark this event I enclose a small picture for your perusal a copy of which is going viral on the inter-web as we speak. Your friend and mine…. Me.
P.S copies are available in all good police stations around the country.
Ah! See??? The truth will out! I am vindicated! Thank you so much.
p.s. any threats you may have perceived, real or imagined are the sole responsibility of your drug addled brain and fevered not to say decompressed mind. A bird in the hand is usually because you’re taking a leak but it can be there for other reasons/functions/obsessions. Nothing wrong with that. . .
Seriously, I have to say: that photo is an excellent finale to this nonsense!