The musings of Doctor Marcus Burkenhare.

"So I'll give you your 'free speech society'. Anyone can say anything without fear of repercussion. Before you've finished patting yourself on the back for being so progressive, I've started rumours that you're nothing more than a lying, cheating dirtbag unfit to hold office in a sweet shop, let alone government, while at the same time insisting that I am the one to be trusted on all counts at all times.
With that established, I proceed to further demolish any reputation you may ever have had, turned society itself not only against you but against all you ever believed in, forging the people into a massive blunt tool with which I shall depose you and install myself as ultimate leader in perpetuum.
And when that is done, I turn the tables on the very people who put me there, reversing any good works you may have done and putting the entirety of human civilisation under my thrall as little more than my personal plaything. By splitting society into ever-smaller cliques I ensure that everyone is in-fighting against one another and no genuine resistance shall ever be found to my tyranny.
Billions suffer and it's all your fault - why? Because you insisted I could have total freedom of speech.
Pah, freedom is over-rated. Give me a benevolent dictatorship anyday."

How Did A Kitten Get To Be Called 'Puppy'?

I'd like to take a few minutes out to explain something. As anyone who knows me knows, I have cats. A lot of cats, if five can be considered a lot. There's Suki, the Old Girl (we can't be entirely sure but pretty certain she's somewhere in the region of twenty-three years old), Harry the Bruiser (the inspiration for my short story 'Biscuit The Dreamcatcher'), Shady the Shae-Shae, we may never know exactly what happened to her tail, but I'll tell the tale (pun intended) sometime. Then there's the little ones - Ozzie the Dude (it's official - the vet said so) and Gizzie the Puppy.

Puppy? Yes. But she's a kitten. Yes.

It all dates back to one evening: I was sat in the lounge, the wife was at work and I was - as usual - on Twitter. Someone had posted a short film of some cute puppies doing cute puppy things. I watched the video, laughed and aloud said the words "Aw, puppy."

Across the room, from behind the curtain, I heard a little 'mew?'.

Looking up, I said the word again. "Puppy?"

Again; "Mew?" There was a definite questioning tone to it, as if it were saying "Yes? What do you want?"

Once more, this time a little more definite. "Puppy!"

Gizzie's little black-and-white fluffy head popped out from behind the curtain. "Mew!" She leapt off the windowsill, crossed the room and jumped up on the sofa next to me.

"So your name's 'Puppy' now is it?"

"Mew!" She replied.

So from that day on we've always referred to her as 'Puppy', or sometimes 'Puppy-Kitten'.

True story. 

ROAD SAFETY ADVERT CAMPAIGN IDEA - DON'T DRIVE LIKE A RICHARD!

SCENE: A country pub. Mid-shot, showing both front door and a few cars in the park.
CLOSE IN: Front door. It opens to show RICHARD.
V.O.: This is Richard. He's just had three pints, but thinks he's okay to drive.
RICHARD gets in his car and drives off quickly. Sudden screech, crash noise. A single wheel or hub cap rolls past.
V.O.: He isn't.
SCENE: A different RICHARD behind the wheel. He has his mobile phone against his shoulder. In the background we can hear him speaking 'Yeah mate, no mate, alright mate'.
V.O.: This is also Richard. He thinks it's okay to use his phone while driving.
The car careers off the road. Sound of a crash, again a wheel or hubcap rolls past.
V.O.: It isn't.
SCENE: A third RICHARD driving. He comes up behind a slow moving car going up a hill.
V.O.: This too is Richard. He thinks he can overtake this car on the crest of a hill without any problems.
RICHARD starts overtaking. As he reaches the crest of the hill, we see a massive lorry coming the other way. Close up of his panicked face as we hear brakes screech and the sound of crashing.
V.O.: He can't.
SCENE: All three RICHARDS standing next to one another. First RICHARD has his arm and leg in plaster, second RICHARD has steering wheel wrapped round his head, third RICHARD has a neck brace. All are battered and bruised.
V.O.: Drive safely. Don't drive like a Richard.
CAPTION: Don't drive like a Richard. Drive Safe.

The Lone Ranger - Or 'You Learn Something New Every Day'.

The Lone Ranger and Tonto had been tracking the bloodthirsty bandit Blackheart Bart for five days now.
They crouched in the undergrowth near his hideout, watching the single sentry pacing up and down.
"Well here it is old friend," said the Lone Ranger. "Blackheart Bart's hideout."
"Yes, it is Kemo Sabe." Said Tonto.
"Do you think you can take out that sentry with your bow and arrow?"
"Of course I can Kemo Sabe." Tonto drew his bow, nocked an arrow to the string and took careful aim.
"Remember, don't shoot to kill - we don't work like that." Said the Lone Ranger.
"Of course not Kemo Sabe." With that, Tonto loosed his arrow, which struck the sentry right between his thighs. He collapsed without a sound.
"Great shot!" Said the Lone Ranger. "You got him!"
"Yep," said Tonto. "Right in the Kemo Sabes."
And that, historians determined was the exact moment the Lone Ranger's relationship with Tonto went sour. 

Sook The Wook.

Sook the Wook was the oldest of all the cats. Being so old, she was also considered the wisest of all the cats. This may or may not have been entirely true, but she was certainly wise in her own way.

All the other cats came to her for advice. One day, two cats approached with a mouse. They explained to her that they had both pounced at the same time, and were currently arguing as to which of them would get to eat it. Sook the Wook heard both their stories patiently before ruminating a while. Finally, she came to a judgement and without a word sprang forward and swallowed the mouse whole. "Now, it belongs to neither of you. You shouldn't have been so foolish in arguing between yourselves."

Reluctantly, the two cats accepted her judgement and went their own ways. When she was sure they had gone, Sook the Wook leaned forward and coughed hard. After a couple more coughs, she brought the mouse up and spat him on the floor, still alive and quite confused. Sook the Wook bent down and spoke in soft tones to the mouse. "I'm sorry I had to do that; had I not, one of them would surely have eaten you. Go from here, and be safe little friend."

The mouse looked at Sook the Wook in surprise, then bowed gratefully and ran away. The next day, Sook the Wook awoke from her mid-morning pre-lunch slumber to find the mouse had returned with some friends, and they had brought her some cheese. "My family and I brought you this to say thank you for saving my life," said the mouse.

"There is wisdom in mercy," replied Sook the Wook. "Thank you for your gift."

In fact, so grateful was the mouse that he and his family would bring some cheese to Sook the Wook every day, which made her most happy. Sook the Wook loved cheese.

Devices for defence of the self from Burkenhare incorporated.

In these increasingly-troubled times, it’s reassuring to know that there is a company out there that has your best interests at heart – for a price of course.
THE HOUSING BOOM:
Your plasmatronic defence shields failed, the space pirates holed both your engines and you were lucky enough to send a distress call and get to the escape pods before the warp core breached (if you don’t know what that last bit means, it’s not good). Unfortunately, you are now stranded on a hostile ice planet with no shelter, and the evening’s drawing in.
That’s when you need Clarence Burkenhare’s Patented Housing Boom. Simply take the four-inch spheroid in your hand, give it a good shake, pull the pin and throw and in a split second you’ll have a comfortable and surprisingly roomy shelter big enough for up to four persons of average height, weight and diet.
The patent-pending Buckymax(tm) buckminsterfullerene and long-short-overchain polymers are lightweight, but sturdy enough to tolerate any* atmospheric conditions, and the natural design of the quick-drying foam means it can withstand up to a force 12 gale. The expanding doorway-tube automatically cuts off at three feet, creating a natural entry/exit from your new shelter, and once erected it can last a lifetime** if needs be.

* Within reason.

** Considering anyone in such a situation would in all probablity have neglected to bring food or water with them, lifetime is construed as two to six weeks, maybe longer depending on circumstances.

CHRONOMITE:
Ever wanted to blow something (or someone) back to the stone age? Well, with Clarence Burkenhare’s Patented Chronomite(tm) temporal disaffection explosives you can! Just place your charge, light the fuse and BOOM! the chroniton-heavy particulate detonation will hurl any given body backwards (or forwards, if you use Clarence Burkenhare’s Patented Blue Chronomite) through time. Full instructions are supplied with each shipment, including how much Chronomite is needed to disassociate any given body through any given amount of time. As an example, one half-stick of Red Chronomite, correctly applied and detonated can project an object the size of the average family car eighteen months into the past. Better act fast, as an unfortunate incident at the processing plant has rendered the entire Isle of Wight suspended sometime around last Tuesday, so stocks are limited.
Clarence Burkenhare Defence Systems Incorporated – If it kills you twice as fast, it’s probably a Burkenhare.

DOOM GRENADES OF DOOM!:
Is there a pesky planet obscuring your lovely view of the Horsehead Nebula? Neighbours getting noisy? Just don't like people? Then this is the product for you! Utilising Clarence Burkenhare's patented molecular energy bond dissipation system, the Doom Grenade Of Doom collapses the energy bonds between atoms, causing a catastrophic chain-implosion that can turn entire planets into miniature black holes in a matter of minutes. Just press the button, place on any solid surface and retreat to a safe distance (preferably an orbit of approximately 3500 miles or greater) and watch the planet itself crumble, fold and simply disappear, leaving nothing more than a rock the size of a small warehouse (we were going for the size of a cricket ball, but physics got in the way).

NARRATIVE VEST:
Do you have an annoying tendency to get fatally shot? Would you like to avoid being gratuitously killed at inopportune moments? Do you have occasional moments of gut-wrenching existentialism? Then you should buy the Narrative Vest! Simply don this stylish double-breasted (single-breasted available by special request) garment and you will become the chief protagonist in the story of your own life, with the added bonus that you cannot be killed. The patented automatic narration system ensures that your every move is documented by our reknowned Narrat-O-Tron, while the perpetual cascade of Narrativite particles ensures your continued survival.
Warning - while you can not be killed, you can still be injured, although there is always a good chance of a decent recovery, given time and a sympathetic audience. Narrat-O-Tron voices vary according to region, budget and other factors currently out of our control.

THE RANDOMISER 3000:
 You're down to just three men and your last two energy cells, and that rampagnig mob of enraged locals keeps getting closer and closer. This sounds like a job for the Randomiser 3000! A single shot from this ergonomically-designed psycho-magnetic electro-pulse crowd control device will have them all wondering why knees bend in one direction, or what the price of fish has to do with anything, or any one of countless random topics of intense thoughtful debate. It's hard to rampage when the question of 'how can you tell when you've overcooked black pudding?' is running through your conscious mind. With a study rechargable power cell capable of a thousand shots, the Randomiser 3000 is the perfect device for utterly non-lethal crowd control, that is assuming the debate over why sour cream has a sell-by date doesn't get too out of hand!

(This message presented on behalf of Clarence Burkenhare Defence Systems Incorporated. All rights reserved. Clarence Burkenhare Defence Systems Incorporated cannot be held responsible for any loss of life, limb, mobility, sanity, property, planet or solar system due to misuse (or correct use) of any products. Always read the instructions before use.)

Tyburn-English

Sometimes I speak my own language. Not literally as in every word, but I tend to use a lot of personal shorthand. I shall hereby attempt to bring you the basics of, as I call it – the Tyburn language.

To BAF – Blue-Arsed Fly – i.e. run about GSD PDQ.
To GSD – Get Shit Done, Getting Shit Done, Got Shit Done.
Squirrels! (Or Squirrel Pants) – Usually a single-word exclamation, denoting that unpleasant experience (in men, no female equivalent has been determined yet - feel free to add your own suggestions) where one’s underwear is attempting to devour one’s nuts (or stuff them in the nearest convenient hole)
Sweeny! – Upon entering a coffee shop with my wife, a quick cry of “Sweeny!” means “I’ll get the coffees, you go and find the comfy chairs”. From an old Sean Hughes routine about fighting over the comfy chair in which to watch The Sweeny.
(Quick note – do not, under any circumstances say the phrase “There’s no ‘I’ in ‘Team’ to me, unless you’re prepared for and willing to accept the response “Maybe, but there’s a ‘U’ in ‘C*nt’)
(Additional note – probably not a good idea to say “At the end of the day…” to me either, unless you’re okay with me saying “…the sun goes down” under my breath.)
(Additional Additional Note - "On the other hand..." usually ends in "Your fingers face the other way.")
Aren’t Fluffy Bunnies Cute? – This actually means ‘Your arguments, which I am not a part of but am caught in the middle of is getting a little too heated for my tastes – I’d really like you to change the subject.
I Hear The Himalayas Are Tall This Time Of Year - Same as above, originally a line by Vila in Blake's 7. 
(Not sure how to spell it, but it’s pronounced as a quite lazy-sounding ‘fu’m', with a glottal stop in the middle.) – Never mind, on with the next bit.
Mission, Mission Up, to get Missioned or Missioned Up – To set about doing a particular task with great gusto and intensity. It’s not just wanting to GSD, it’s having to do it at the expense of everything else.
Dot, dot, dot. – Used when I can't be bothered to finish the sentence but you know where I'm going with it.
‘Simons’ – my own little bit of Cockney rhyming slang (I’m half-Cockney) – Simon Cowell = Bowel. A case of the ‘narky Simons’ refers to Irritable Bowel Syndrome.