91

I have come back again, again.

Unfortunately, within twenty-four hours of my return, my washing line snapped in two.

90

I am going to Scotland again.

89

I sat down to eat my supper, but then noticed that I had in my hands two knives, rather than a knife and a fork.

So I returned the two knives to the kitchen, returning to my place with a fork. Eventually I realised: I no longer had a knife on me.

I returned again to the kitchen and then back to my chair. This time I had the appropriate one knife and one one fork in my hands, and I went on to enjoy a splendid meal of cheese ravioli, carrots, tomatoes and courgettes.

88

2009 was the year when the new ascendancy of poetry began. No one has quite fathomed out why the fifteen-minute poetry programme on BBC4 on Sunday mornings suddenly shot to the top of the ratings, but within a month there were six spoken-word poetry recordings in the top ten of the singles charts. Every magazine, from Good Housekeeping to Playboy, had a poet on the cover.

Before long, crowds were chanting whole poems by Wordsworth, Milton and Stevie Smith at football matches. So enwrapped did the spectators become in the subtle celebrations of life, the poignancies, tragedies and ambiguities and the deep philosophical dilemmas articulated in the poetry, that they lost interested in the game being played, and before the end of the season the players had lost interest in it too.

The daily poetry recitals at Wembley Stadium all sold out within minutes, even the ones at 7.30 in the morning.

Politicians started speaking in verse, and in July an episode of Eastenders was broadcast with each character speaking entirely in iambic pentameter. This soon became standard, in soap operas, thrillers, documentaries, the news and eventually even weather forecasts.

Housewives meeting in supermarkets stopped gossiping and took up declaiming sestinas. Unfortunately, road accidents increased, owing to drivers experiencing epiphanies at the wheel.

The birth rate decreased, as couples gave up sex, in order to concentrate on reciting love poems to each other in bed.

Space travel resumed, so that astronaut-poets could recite sonnets on the moon.

Then in 2011 everyone started playing the flute.

87

I've got a problem with Microsoft Word. Namely, that I can't open it. Grrr, what a wretched life this is. I mean, what is the point? Why do I bother?

It's alright for you, all you people with your so-called problems. You haven't got a corrupt Microsoft Word file to worry about. You lucky buggers, you don't know you've been born.

a bit later

Grrr...
Grrr... Grrr
Maybe... maybe ... no ... no, of course no

a bit later

Maybe... Don't hold your hopes too high, Drodbar, learn from bitter previous experience... never count you chickens before they cross the... YES! It's bloody well working, it's bloody well working ... (bursts into song) Oh, I sorted it out all by myself, I sorted it out all by myself.

Oh, all's right with the world, and I'm just a genius. Oh, they don't call me Mr. Practical Computer-Sorter-Outer for nothing, you know. I'll just do a quick lap of honour. Oh, it was nothing, it just comes naturally.

86

I think very deeply.
I'm a really good thinker.

People don't bother me much.
They can see I'm using my mind.

Watch my conclusions:

hmmm hm-hm hm-hm
hm-hm hmmmm


(Ivor Cutler, 1975)

85

Would you like to be a giraffe? Or would you rather be a hippopotamus?