“You aren’t going to lie around and moan all day,

are you, dear?”, enquired Mother, solicitously side-stepping

an incisor and a small tangle of intestine. Edgar nodded weakly

and tied off another tourniquet with his teeth.



The raid on São Paulo Charlie’s Drive-thru Sanatorium®

was a bit of a disaster. Father almost lost a frontal lobe

in a duel with an orderly, and Edna flat-out refused

to eat any of the vegetables.


Gone, but not forgotten: It’s true: I haven’t visited your sites in ages, I haven’t written, I haven’t called, I haven’t thanked you for your lovely write-ups… I’ve even missed a couple of birthdays. And dangitalltoHades if I don’t feel a wee bit guilty about it all.

I’ll get back to Teh Internet eventually. I swear. I’ve only got 3 gargantuan epics left to midwife, and 8914… 8913 heads to pickle.

Update: The incomparable Ms. Vita ages disgracefully on Sunday – do join me in a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday.

Quick, while she’s still got that hangover…

Updated Update: Aaaand… let’s belt out another verse (I know it’s Monday, but with feeling, okay?) for Dolce’s Evil Twin and Trailer Park Temptress: daisyfaaaae!

Happy Birthday(s), dears – long may the liquor flow, and the cakes continue to… crumble.

ZZ Big Top.

May 16, 2008

Farewell to the flesh. *Burp*

“The Carnival’s back in town”, said Mother, casually,

“you aren’t still upset about the thing with the bear, are you?”.

“Of course not” snapped father, “but I do hope your sister’s

brought her own beard trimmer this time”.


Late. As In Deceased.

April 14, 2008

“Who died?”, queried Edna querulously,

nudging the chalk outline with her stump.

“The Internet” confided Officer Humlae confidentially,

dusting my Martini flagon for prints.


(It wasn’t me this time. I swear. Apologies for the late post, dears.)

Post Toasties.

April 4, 2008

A clear case of burn-out, if you ask me.

Virgil slipped away from Toxicology class and was

discovered behind the bicycle shed, smoking.

“Polyester?”, panted Matron Böhmer, splashing on

some well water and beating him with a sack.


Having A Bad Hare Day.

March 21, 2008

Throwing up into a bucket at regular intervals is hardly one of my favourite activities – especially not on my day off. So, no tale today, dears – I’m resting my delicate constitution so I can gorge myself with chocolate and hot cross buns on Sunday.

Also, I couldn’t think of anything funny to say about rabbits.

Put A Sock In It.

January 18, 2008

“I think they’re leaving”, Edna sotto voce’d

as the officer turned towards the patrol car.

“Thank heavens”, breathed Edgar, and accidentally

shot her in both ankles.


May the triforce be with you: The Other Side turns three today. Happy, happy, dear!