Listing to Port

1. Problem: Your laptop won’t boot. Your phone won’t boot. Your shoes won’t boot. You ask the people around you, none of them has ever heard the word ‘boot’. You look in a dictionary. It is not there.

Solution: You have entered a parallel timeline. You will need to go back to 1900 and re-install your grandparents*.

2. Problem: Your computer will only turn on when your cat is nearby.

Solution: Interestingly, this is not a virus. Rather, it is a security feature from the future. This problem indicates that your computer will still be around in 2185, probably in a museum of obsolete technology. At this point, the option to retrospectively apply advanced biometric security controls throughout the machine’s lifetime will become available. As a result of some future curator’s caution, your computer has become equipped with a security system which appears to have misidentified your cat’s microchip as the implanted security data it expects from its primary operator. There is no technical fix for this issue at present, but one will become available in 2053. Until then, you will need to ask nicely to borrow your cat’s computer.

3. Problem: It is raining laptops, and you are trapped under a tree in the middle of nowhere, fearful for your life.

Solution: The physical improbability of this situation suggests that you are in fact a computer-generated intelligence living in a simulated world. Your best bet is to get someone on the next level of simulation up to turn you off and on again. Communication methods vary between simulations, but you could try shouting really loudly, prayer or a makeshift tattoo.

*Note that installing grandparents not originally present in 1900 may invalidate your timeline’s warranty.

1. A cat’s miaow includes frequencies below the range of human hearing, in fact sounding quite different to other cats that it does to humans. This is why elephants are normally kept separate from cats in societies where both are common, as the lower frequencies in the miaow often mimic elephant mating calls.

2. Despite their short lives, adult mayflies are obsessive groomers. They twitch and vibrate to rid their bodies of dust several thousand times an hour, an action which can sometimes be heard by bystanders as a low clicking noise.

3. In times of scarcity, lions will enter an unusual type of pseudo-hibernation in which they are lethargic and do not eat or excrete. This means that, in extreme cases, lions can go months without defecating. The first lion turd of the post-famine season is unusually pungent and is highly prized in traditional perfumery.

4. Guinea pigs are not true tailless animals. In fact they are born with a small vestigial tail which is shed at around three weeks old, typically being eaten by the mother guinea pig to restore vital nutrients after the rigours of pregnancy, birth and nursing.

5. The expression ‘the bee’s knees’ comes from the small pollen-collecting pads that bees have behind the knees on their four hind legs. These pads are so efficient at attracting small particles that the air filters on the international space station were designed along similar principles.

6. Deer are so fond of strawberries that Muntjacs have been known to chew through a wire fence in order to reach them. It is thought that the red pigment in strawberries acts on the brain of adult deer similarly to catnip on cats. However, juvenile deer are typically unaffected and scientists have not yet discovered why.

Behold this drooling, snoring cat!
All snuggly sat upon my lap.
This purring, petted bag of fur,
This connoisseur of hug and nap.
Her hoary form is far from svelte,
Her scruffy pelt is wearing thin.
Behold, such domesticity,
Her days of roaming free all done!

And would you call her, on first glance,
A veteran of chance and scrape
As, heedless of my epithets,
She slyly lets a fart escape?
Yet in her time she ruled the sea,
A prodigy of salt and storm!
Who knows how many men she drowned,
This fury bound in feline form?

They say she studied piracy
As by the sea, in kittenhood,
She saw a score of feline foes
Assuage their woes as pirates could;
Her mind was keen, her claws were good;
She thought she could defeat them all;
She sought the pirates in their dens
And fiercely then she yowled this call:

“Join me or die, ye flea-flecked cads!”
And soon she had (from those not dead)
A cat-boat with a cutthroat crew,
As through the realm the rumour spread:
“Beware the queen who rules the waves,
Enslaves the humans whom she meets
And paws them up at 5 a.m.
To summon them to bring her treats!”

And oh, what terrors she dispersed
To all who cursed her years afloat!
The scourge of scurvy sea-swept dogs
Whose epilogues in blood she wrote;
The scourge of sleepy piratekind
Who’d wake to find their treasure gone;
The scourge of undiscovered lands
Whose unspoilt sands she shat upon.

They say she once, when feeling bored,
Made war toward the Mouse-King’s halls,
And all victorious, she stole                      
His underlings for cannonballs -
And how the mouse-king loudly wailed
And quailed before her unsheathed claws
As from the cannon’s mouth his hordes
Were launched towards the tropopause!

And on an archipelago
Where South winds blow all summer-sweet,
She kept a troupe of eager Toms
Who with aplomb her joyous heat
Attended to; and as she lay
All sunlight-splayed and satisfied,
They rolled in catnip on the shore
And swore they’d serve her ‘til they died.

The end? The ship by Blackbeard sunk
As she lay drunk; the boat’s capsize;  
Her fearsome crew all forced to scatter,
Pitter-patter counterwise.
Until, rainswept and woebegone,
She caused some consternation when,
Escaped from Blackbeard’s Oubliette,
She asked to get back in again.

So though for seas to soothe her soul
Her water-bowl must now suffice,
Who knows what recollections strut
Behind her shut and sleeping eyes?
Where seated on a silver throne
On pirate-flesh alone she dines
With blood-red wines, and in her dreams
Are quinqueremes and barquentines.

1. You rub the chicken with butter, garlic, thyme, rosemary and salt and put it in a hot oven for twenty minutes. You turn the oven down and cook the chicken until the juices run clear, adding some pre-boiled potatoes in the meantime. You take the chicken out of the oven and let it stand for twenty minutes, meanwhile turning up the oven to crisp the potatoes. You eat it.
2. The chicken helps peel the potatoes. You boil them, then put them in a hot oven to cook. You sit opposite the chicken at a low table, eating the potatoes with butter, garlic, thyme and rosemary. The chicken shits on its chair.
3. The chicken sits on the countertop, pecking the potatoes and fixing you with a steely eye until you give in. You take the chicken outside to look for worms, forgetting about the potatoes. They subsequently grow into vigorous potato plants, putting out greedy roots into the butter.
4. The chicken summons the ghosts of the potato people and the potatoes stand up and dance. Before you know it, they have you staked down with sharpened rosemary twigs. The chicken and potatoes cook you for forty minutes in a hot oven, then turn down the temperature and continue cooking until the juices run clear. They toast their newfound relationship with cups of butter and garlands of thyme. After letting you stand for some time, they serve you up. The chicken wanders off into the garden to eat worms, but the potatoes eat until their small round bellies are bulging.
5. You, the chicken and the potatoes accidentally get small and end up trapped in a great forest of rosemary. By laying a trail of buttered potatoes, you are able to attract an enormous worm which you ride to freedom. You celebrate your freedom by joining the worm in consuming a single, huge thyme leaf.
6. You, the chicken, the potato people, the herbs and the butter ghost go to a banquet hosted by the King of the Worms, where you eat strictly anonymous food that has never been invested with a personality. The butter ghost is held to have spoiled the occasion by sending back its main course on the grounds that it is too hot.

 -8911.1 Those in familar places
    –8911.11 In your home, but there are extra rooms
    –8911.12 In some educational venue
       —8911.121 In which you are late for an exam
       —8911.122 In which you unaccountably appear to be missing clothes
    –8911.13 Those in which you need to find a toilet, but cannot go when you find one
    –8911.14 Those in which you are entrusted with some solemn responsibility
       —8911.141 In which you mess this responsibility up
       —8911.142 In which for some reason you appear to be evil
    –8911.15 In your place of work, in which you are, unremarkably, doing work
       —8911.151 Set inside a virtual-reality flat which you did not realise was hidden in your simulation code
 -8911.2 Those in locations from song and story
    –8911.21 Those that mix fictional characters with people who you know, and nobody involved thinks that this is odd
 -8911.3 Those in entirely unfamiliar places
    –8911.31 Dreams of vast snowfields, forgotten mountains and the edge of the world
    –8911.32 Those that feature huge buildings built by architecture cut and paste, and there are great sunlit libraries on the upper floors and vast candlelit theatres below
    –8911.33 Those that feature mysterious staircases up or down
 -8911.4 Those that involve flying
    –8911.31 Flying without any extra devices
       —8911.311 Those where you can lift up your legs at the knee and fly over the autumn fields
    –8911.32 Flying in aeroplanes
       —8911.321 Those where large aircraft fly close to the ground without any seeming alarm, darting under bridges with consummate ease
 -8911.5 Those of short duration
    –8911.51 Tiny dreams that fit into tiny sleeps, barely noticeable save for a lingering sense of nonsense
 -8911.6 Those that fold in on themselves
    –8911.61 Dreams that end with a dream of waking up
    –8911.62 Those dreams that involve a realisation that one may be dreaming, and a check thereof
       —8911.621 Dreams that fail the dreaming test but are nevertheless still dreams
 -8911.7 Those that have disappeared
    –8911.71 Dreams which you know you could remember on waking, but can remember no longer
    –8911.72 Dreams which leave you only with a vague waking memory itch

1. The cursed emeralds of La Spezia. The story of the cursed emeralds begins in 1830, with the return of teenaged Bostonian adventurer-poet Hiram Johnson from Italy. Hiram refused to give details of his adventures, let it be widely known that he had suffered some dreadful trauma, and subsequently released a series of increasingly fevered poems about emeralds. Although the actual details were obscured by florid language, this served only to stoke up interest in the hidden treasure and its mysterious curse. Before long, a stream of would-be adventurers were making the trip to Italy. One by one, they returned empty-handed, refusing to say what they had seen. This state of affairs lasted some seventy years, until one Theodora P. Blunderbuss, a writer, decided to make the pilgrimage herself. She followed the coded directions of the poems, which led swiftly to a small house by the seashore, inhabited by an old woman with curiously green eyes. One learning her mission, she gave an extravagant eye-roll and informed her that all the adventurers had been taken in by a series of poems in the ‘why can’t I get laid’ tradition, stemming from the occasion, seventy years distant, when she had turned down Hiram’s propositions and brained him with a frying pan. The emeralds were none other than her eyes, the vast and brazen force protecting them the pan, and the identity of the poem’s damp forbidden caves was pretty obvious when you think about it. Since then, she had run a profitable business selling green glass souvenirs to visiting Americans, and so had been unwilling to reveal the secret until retirement.
2. Feldmann’s Contrary Bezoar. Believed to have been discovered in the stomach of a goat with two heads, Feldmann’s Contrary Bezoar was a dull grey stone with two rumoured properties. First, when turned the right way up, it was said to have the power to cure cancer. Second, when turned upside-down, it was said to have the power to cause cancer. Unfortunately, the difference between the two sides was rather difficult to discern. In fact, the bezoar was distressingly spherical and nobody really felt like finding out what would happen if one turned it on its side. As a result, its supposed curative powers were rarely invoked and it languished in a box in someone’s shed for years after its initial discovery. These days it is rumoured to have been sold on to a group of scientists in the pay of certain scurrilous newspapers, for the purposes of headline generation.
3. The Star of the Southern Ocean. This large star sapphire was originally discovered in 1892 in Queensland and subsequently displayed in the Australian Museum in Sydney for some years. On the night of June 27th 1950, however, it was stolen by notorious jewel thief Gideon 'Fingers’ Blackthorne. The full details of his cunning plan have never been revealed, but we do know that he smuggled the jewel out of the building up his bottom whilst dressed as a member of the cleaning staff. Scarcely had he had time to admire his new possession when a massive police search was launched. Back went the gem, and on went the next disguise. Over the next few months Gideon masqueraded as, respectively, a nun with a sapphire up her bottom; a fortune teller with a sapphire up his bottom; a chef with a sapphire up his bottom; and a well-known opera singer with a sapphire up her bottom. Eventually the search was scaled down. By this time, however, Gideon had discovered that he quite liked having a sapphire up his bottom. He continued to store it there, on and off, for the rest of his life, disclosing its location only in a secret will distributed to his heirs shortly before death and marked 'read BEFORE cremation!!!’. The Star of the Southern Ocean was returned to its rightful owners, who were oddly loath to have it back. It has not yet been returned to public display. There are those who say the stone remains curiously warm, with a mild pungency that cannot quite be erased.
4. The Stone of Ultimate Power. It is a little-known fact that, some years ago, there existed a diamond of exquisite purity, save that it was seeded throughout with atoms of an element hitherto unknown in our paltry human dimension. Besides giving the Stone an eerie green glow, these atoms allowed it to align the vast energies of the Void of Space and Time and channel them into an easily controllable and near-infinite power source. Thus the Stone was possessed of great power for good or for evil. The stage was set for a giant, all-encompassing struggle for the future of mankind. Before this could take place, however, the Stone was purchased by a French lapidiarist, cut into multiple pieces, and set in a matching necklace and earrings. The setting was quite beautiful and commanded a record price at auction; nevertheless, it also completely erased any world-changing properties the gems had once possessed. The remnants of the Stone are believed lost following a bomb blast in WWII Paris, which is probably for the best.

Lumpy shadows, cats that have three eyes and all of them a different colour, great grey stones half-seen through the rain, serpents who have lost their hearts and will take any replacement, old woodlice, naked squirrels with long white fingers, round pebbles that take a single breath a day, orphaned songs, frostbitten swifts, things that sit in hollow logs cracking sticks, blackbirds with one white wing, the spirits of stagnant ponds, bottle imps, the lonely bees of the last light of day, those who have forgotten everything other than carving clocks, toads with a stone in their head, things that are raised from the mud, lantern-bearers, lavender-weavers, ticking whisperers, cold and lonely moles, evaporating ghosts, genial hosts who have taken off their masks, holes that skitter over the faces of trees, the holders of keys, bitter architects, lost horses from centuries past, wrong paths, the white hart turned red, charcoal-singers, stag-headed bonebags, gentlewomen all of sticks, counterwise-shades, those things that are inside-out and have no wish to be, caterwaulers, veiled chalkmen.

1. Extragalactic Gastronomy. The study of food originating beyond the Milky Way.
2. Comparative Cunnilinguistics. The study of similarities and differences between oral sex techniques in different cultures.
3. History of Fart. The study of momentous releases of wind throughout time.
4. Non-Invasive Cardie-ology. The in-depth, but very polite and completely consensual, study of cardigans and the people who wear them.
5. Chemical Whengineering. The science of using chemistry to travel through time and/or determine which time you have ended up in.
6. Metametametaphysics. The study of the study of the study of the fundamental notions by which people understand the world. Metametametaphysicians spend a lot of time in research institutes, looking over people’s shoulders and making copious notes in pencil. Occasionally they get beaten up by irritated Metametaphysicians.
7. Feline String Theory. What is string? Where did it come from? Why is it jumping around like that? Is there a mouse on the end of it? Oh crap, did I just land on my butt and look silly? Quick, lick a paw until they forget about it. What is string? Wait, where did the string go? Why do I need to kick it like this? What is string?
8. Nanotheology. The study of really, really small gods.
9. Bayesian Hatistics. A discipline in which you work to update your hats in the light of new information that has become available, before wearing them on your posterior.

1. The Mascar-Pony. No matter the hour, there is one who listens out for the plaintive calls of those who find themselves in need of a creamy cooking cheese. Hark! What is that noise at the door? Could it be the knocking of a hollow hoof, and the subtle crinkle of a soft package being dropped onto the mat? It may be that we, too, have been touched by her mild and milky presence.
2. The Shit Shower Sheep. When misfortune strikes, pauses a little, then strikes again, possibly with a bit of extra striking on the side and some extra striking just for fun, only then can you be sure that the Shit Shower Sheep has passed over. Few ever set eyes on the Sheep, but the chunky pellets of ill-fortune he scatters behind him have a peculiar pungency that all who have encountered him will recognise for the rest of their lives.
3. The Anxiety Hamster. Furry, warm and nervous, the Anxiety Hamster sits on your shoulder and gently reminds you of that time you were accidentally rude to your next-door neighbour and got too flustered to say sorry and now they hate you and they’ve probably told everyone else they know about it.
4. The Category Cat. Every time you put something into the right place, the Category Cat peers over your shoulder and nods sagely. The Category cat is grey, short-haired and likes to be filed under ‘C’. If you meet it in person, you should be unfailingly polite and if possible provide it with a box that it can be placed in. In return, it may bless you with the power of Being In The Right Place At The Right Time.
5. The Tangle Two-Toed Sloth. As the soft light of day gloops over the horizon, the Sloth hangs motionless, its super-sensitive hearing alert for the little swears floating up from those poor souls who have just discovered the night’s tangles in their hair. A particularly juicy curse stands a good chance of summoning the Sloth itself. You should be wary of doing this, however; although the Sloth will clumsily attempt to get the tangle out with its claws, it usually ends up making the situation worse.

1. Have you ever been eaten by an elephant? It happened to me. That is, the elephant was actually a taxi and I was able to get out again at the other end of the journey, but in all other vital respects it was exactly the same. Anyway, that’s the start of the story. The second part of the story is that I left my hat in the taxi, which is a bit like part of me getting stuck in the elephant and requiring the attention of a vet.
2. Anyway, I called the vet, who due to a misunderstanding laid me out on the table and began a fevered but unsuccessful search for the ether. Caught up in the occasion, I suggested phoning it to see if it would ring. We tried this. Alas, we had a wrong number. Instead of finding the ether, we had accidentally called North Korea and arranged a custom missile strike for the next day. This was obviously a problem. For a start, I was completely unsure how to break it to my employers, whose premises we were on at the time.
3. When one is in trouble, I find it helpful to sit back and have a little something. Fortunately, there was a something takeaway just down the road. I ordered a thing and a whatnot for myself and a doodah for the vet, should she ever come back (I think I neglected to mention that she had made her excuses). Imagine my surprise when I found that the thing had a beetle cooked right through the centre. Well, no right-thinking person could stand for that. Missile strike or no, I needed to set the record straight.
4. If I may, I find it helps immeasurably in explaining the next part to take a brief excursion into numismatics - specifically, the history of the threepenny bit. Let us cast our minds back to the reign of good Queen Anne. Unfortunately I cast my mind back a little too far, unsettled as I was by the events of the day. I ended up with my body in the present day and my mind somewhere South of the Great Fire of London. Worse yet, my mind was stuck up a tree being stared at by hungry squirrels. Meanwhile, overjoyed at finding a vacant body, a family of beavers set up home in my navel.
5. I find that being wedged in time concentrates the liver marvellously, and right on cue, my liver took control of the situation. We agreed to split the difference, add the remainder and copy the rest, with the somewhat predictable result that all my constituent parts were hastily reunited. I believe the beavers may have been launched through time at a hitherto unprecedented velocity for a semiaquatic rodent. I hope that the folk of the far future will be grateful for this intervention, but you never can tell. Anyway, we ended up on Shit Creek. Interestingly, this is a real place, with its own fascinating ecosystem based on the shit cycle.
6. You may have noticed that I always have a paddle on me. Well, that time was no exception. You will appreciate that I am not at liberty to disclose the location of Shit Creek until the various papers that I have in preparation are published. Nonetheless, I hope you will believe me when I say that the outlet of the creek lies not more than thirty minute gentle stroll from a major centre of civilization. In defiance of all probability, I found myself within reach of home. All I needed was the ability to charter a modest charabanc or some such device.
7. Now, as it happened, a taxi was passing. Hailing it with my one remaining flipper, I was astonished to find that it was the very taxi I had left not twenty minutes earlier. And there, resplendent in inky felt on the back seat, was my hat! I was filled with that peculiar joy that comes from fate’s occasional acts of outrageous serendipity. For some reason, the taxi driver failed to share my effervscent joy, although she did pat me on the back a few times and perform the Heimlich manoeuvre. In any case, I found myself chewing down on a Happy Ending, so I shall leave it here too for you to have a bite. Enjoy!

1. Po from Teletubbies. I feel this choice would improve Prime Minister’s questions immeasurably. PMQs could start with a rousing round of ‘Eh-oh!’ and proceed thereafter as a game of peek-a-boo with the Shadow Cabinet (by that time likely consisting of Jeremy Corbyn plus fifteen-odd glove puppets). Political engagement among future generations would skyrocket.
2. A small round of camembert. The unity candidate, with a strong hope of patching up relations with France. Why pay a 150,000 pound salary when you could pay one pound twenty at Sainsbury’s for a Prime Minister who is not actively trying to trash the economy?
3. The giant pacific octopus (Enteroctopus dofleini). If we are going to have someone who squirms out of tough decisions, let’s at least get an expert squirmer. Plus probably a lot of signing stuff is going to be needed in the next few years, which will be faster with eight arms. The giant octopus’s cthulhoid appearance may also strike terror into the hearts of Britain’s negotiating partners which, on balance, is probably better than derision.
4. Niccolo Machiavelli (1469-1527). Bear with me here. Machiavelli’s main qualification for the post is that he is dead. OK, there may be some minor diplomatic issues involved with going to Italy and digging him up. But on the plus side, we would have a Prime Minister with global name recognition who is nevertheless, at present, completely unable to lie, backstab, make incompetent power grabs or stir up popular prejudice for personal gain. And after 500-ish years dead, he’s probably not even smelly anymore.

3004 Calming things
 -3004.1 Sounds
    –3004.11 The sound of the rain on the roof when you do not have to go out
    –3004.12 Music that you remember from your early childhood
       —3004.121 Music that you do not quite think you can remember, but that just sounds right
    –3004.13 Songs or shouts of simple joy
    –3004.14 The voices of other people, here with you, singing against the darkness
    –3004.15 The magical silences of those remote places one reaches at the end of a day of walking
 -3004.2 Sights
    –3004.21 Those things that remind you you are coming home
    –3004.22 Small things that are lined up
       —3004.221 Things that are lined up in order of colour
       —3004.221 Things that are lined up in order of size
    –3004.23 The faces of loved ones, sleeping
    –3004.24 The sun setting and the sun rising
    –3004.25 Landscapes against which you are very small
 -3004.3 Things to feel
    –3004.31 Things that are very soft
    –3004.32 Things that have complex patterns on them that are better felt than seen
 -3004.4 Smells
    –3004.41 Custard
    –3004.42 Apple blossom
 -3004.5 Calming things to eat and drink
    –3004.51 A large mug of tea
    –3004.52 A treat that you have been saving

1. Jack climbs the beanstalk and finds a magical castle in the clouds, where he wakes a sleeping giant with a kiss.
2. Rapunzel loses her super-strength and badass flighting abilities after her hair is cut. She is never thereafter entirely happy with her life, even though nominally it has a happy ending.
3. The wolf huffs and puffs to such an extent that she ends up blowing out every birthday candle in the world, leading to a near-infinite number of wishes. Being a wolf, she has no idea what to do with them. The wishes hang around for a while, disgruntled, before evaporating into the air on the Wolf’s death.
4. Three bears desperately try to get back to their house, which is being burgled, by tricking the troll who guards the bridge back home.
5. Cinderella absent-mindedly eats some of the pumpkin flesh and is consigned to a life of servitude in Faerie.
6. The woodcutter cuts open the belly of the wolf to reveal Red Riding Hood, her grandmother, and two partially digested pigs. The Hood family are invited to their funerals, where they discuss home security and the perils of wood with the one remaining pig sibling.
7. The gingerbread man jumps out of the oven and sprints all the way to the forest, where he is scooped up and nailed onto the roof of the witch’s gingerbread cottage to replace a missing slate.

1. Tick this box to show you’re not racist
2. Tick the other box to stick two fingers up at the establishment
3. Should we send current immigrants home?
4. Are you dissatisfied with your life right now?
5. Do you want Boris Johnson as PM? [OK, the only person who believes this was the question is Boris]

Normal service will be resumed shortly on t’blog, BTW. Having trouble with non-brexit ideas right now.

1. The strawberry moon. The full moon in June which marks the start of the strawberry season.
2. The banana moon. A large, yellow crescent moon, low on the horizon, presaging bananas in the road ahead.
3. The Pea moon. A small, green moon that may indicate that one has been kidnapped by aliens and dropped off on another planet.
4. The grapefruit moon. Large, round, yellow, and seldom seen after breakfast.
5. The durian moon. Smellable across the whole world, and probably a little too close for comfort.
6. The peach moon. Its gentle, rosy light presages the arrival of the Bottom Fairy, dispensing dreams of buttocks across the wide and drowsy world.
7. The dragonfruit moon. Wow, that was a good night.

1. Boris Johnson becomes the new Tory leader, with Gove as chancellor. They campaign for a November general election on the basis of carrying out the popular mandate given to them by the referendum, including migration controls which necessitate leaving the EEA. The left is fragmented, with a significant vote in Leave bastions for a UKIP which is now campaigning to actively send non-UK citizens home. The Tories win a majority. They continue with the populist, don’t-believe-experts tone of the Leave campaign. Government without expert advice works about just as well as you’d expect. Scotland votes for independence and becomes a fast-track candidate for EU membership.  
2. Theresa May wins the Tory leadership election and negotiates an exit from the EU which involves remaining in the EEA. As it becomes apparent that freedom of movement is being retained, there is significant unrest in some of the main Leave-voting areas. The country remains divided, but there is now also a narrative that economic hardship is an establishment punishment for voting Leave. The second Scottish referendum comes out narrowly on the side of the Union. The Tories hang onto power until 2020, at which point they are replaced by a series of messy and weak coalitions.
3. Following the Leave campaign’s repeated backtracking on its promises, a non-Leave candidate wins the Tory leadership election. A coalition of left-leaning parties wins the subsequent election, having campaigned on a slow and reasoned exit from the EU. They promise to invoke Article 50 only when a set of economic/stability tests are met. These tests are never met. Occasionally EU officials threaten to chuck the UK out, or other parties demand that exit happens at once. Then the markets go belly-up and everyone quietens down again. Eventually the non-invocation of article 50 becomes a long-running background political issue. The constant uncertainty around it is a perpetual economic and social problem.  
4. Just as both major parties are tearing themselves to shreds in preparation for leadership elections, a large meteorite lands in the Mediterranean just North of Algeria. A large area surrounding the Western Mediterranean is devastated, including much of Spain and Italy. Negotiations are abandoned as everyone attempts to deal with mass movements of refugees across Europe and Africa. Russia uses the situation as a pretext to invade Ukraine in the name of regional stability. By the time the dust has settled, Europe is so changed, physically and politically, that Brexit is barely a footnote in history.
5. 2016 is recalled for faulty components and poor performance. It turns out it was supplied with the ‘0’ upside-down and that what we thought was a 1 is actually a cut-up letter l. Following a stern letter to the Years Commission, the world is awarded substantial compensation, including the return of David Bowie and Prince, a complementary Truth upgrade on all politicians, a nice biro and five months of amazing sunsets.

Screwed, funted, fucked, staring down the gullet of a hungry python, up shit creek without a canoe, gone off a cliff on a pogo stick, covered in superglue and hugging an angry bear, proper bolloxed up, queuing for a ride on the Titanic, hanging from the gonads above a banqueting table of hungry lions, about to put on that hat that the audience know is full of seagull shit, not welcome in the club anymore, 30m beneath a herd of flying rhinos who’ve just had their first vindaloo, pissing on an electric fence right in front of a bull, proudly boarding Failship One for immediate takeoff, a little bit in the poo.

Train, donkey, unicycle, astride a fish which is steering a wheeled tank, in a chariot pulled by the reanimated corpse of Queen Victoria, on the wings of a song, on turtleback, by plane, by gosh, by magnetic repulsion, in a hamster wheel, under a lorry, up the down escalator, by travelator, by tractor, by tractor beam, by car, by hastily cobbled-together parachute, by kite, by pogo stick, by sail, strapped to a furiously tunnelling mole, by being so fabulous that one is wafted forth on the fickle winds of glamour, on horseback, by kayaking down a stream of piss, by swinging from vines and branches, by swimming, by cartwheeling, by the eventual movement of tectonic plates, by harnessing the power of the solar wind, by using a combination of farting, physics, and an office chair, by being pulled along by a puppy on a lead, by elephant, on stilts, through a pipe, by folding the world up and making a hole through it, swept away on a wave of escaping sheep, on foot.

1. I am trying to find the sea, and this is the direction that it is probably closest

2. I have always believed that when one is up shit creek without a paddle, one should keep digging

3. I am building a grotto for my hermit to live in

4. I am a dog

5. I am putting in the first foundations for a mile-high skyscraper in the shape of an inverted pyramid, it will be named The Colossus, could you move please, you’re standing where the lift shafts need to go

6. After putting all salient details into my Life Simulator, the result with optimal outcome on a net lifetime income basis involves digging here

7. This is where the end of the rainbow touched down, as you may observe from the sheen on the surface of these puddles

8. I said that I was literally digging it, so I thought I had better start

9. I am training for the Olympic digging event

10. Are we all not digging, really, in an existential sense?

1. Steadfast refusal to queue-jump even when the person in front has been steadfastly refusing to move for weeks and may in fact be dead

2. Science experiment gone wrong leads to being blasted into space strapped to a giant bottle of vigorously shaken irn-bru

3. Pulled limb from limb by a rampaging pack of royal corgis following the great gourmet dog food shortage of 2031

4. Fatally skewered by extremely pointed tutting

5. Did not want to make a scene about the whole being swallowed by a python thing

6. Got drunk in a hot climate and accidentally fried self on the white-hot rocks of global warming

7. Swept sixteen miles out on a sea of mud by the great Glastonbury floods of 2044

8. That lady asked really nicely if she could strangle you, it would make her happy, it seemed churlish to refuse

9. Revealed to be an amphibian after a year’s uncharacteristic lack of rain results in 100% dessication

10. Eaten alive from the inside by the World’s Worst Sausage

11. Punch grabbed one end, Judy grabbed the other, and they started to pull

12. Two people tread on each others’ feet simultaneously and are sucked into the Infinite Apology Vortex

1. Diver’s delight. A four-metre deep, one metre-wide cylinder of creamy mousse developed by celebrated chocolatier Frederick Lowly Peach, the diver’s delight serves two purposes. Its first purpose, as food, is relatively straightforward. The second purpose is more unusual. The different levels of the diver’s delight have have different flavours. The upper layers include such flavours as sock, sand and earwax, separated by the occasional fine layer of gravel. Middle layers include garlic, burnt toast and fish. The lower layers are are a more conventional array of fruit and nut flavours and are, by all accounts, delicious. One merely has to get ones head far enough in at first go to get to the tasty part. Therefore it is also a test of the diner’s cream diving skills.

2. The Stanningford fishslap. This little-encountered dessert consists of three hundred marzipan fish with cherry liqueur centres. It is served by a troupe of five waiters in pierrot costumes whose job is to slap the faces or bodies of diners with the fish such that the liqueur squirts into their mouths. The discarded marzipan skins are then dropped through a grille in the floor, where they are consumed by a horde of tame parrots in the room underneath. Eventually, once the diners are drunk enough not to care, they too are deposited amongst the parrots and left to sleep it off.

3. Skronks. Skronks are micro-desserts, usually the size of a peppercorn or smaller, and often containing amazingly realistic tiny versions of larger ingredients. A successful skronk is experienced only as a fleeting moment of sweetness by the diner, despite the hours of work that went into its creation. The skronk diner, out of respect to the skills of the chef, is customarily expected to lie about the deliciousness of the dish and its amazing, mouth-filling flavour.

4. The Southern Ocean. It is a little-known fact that the Southern Ocean has honorary dessert status, following the ceremonial addition of a quart of vanilla essence off the South coast of Tasmania by well-known homeopathic chef Esperanza Buttocks in 2010.

5. Surprise bubbles. These small, flavourless globes are carefully engineered to burst on a choreographed schedule in the diner’s stomach, releasing a series of fascinating-tasting gases for the diner to burp up over the course of the rest of the evening. Some particularly skilled chefs have even extended the surprise bubble experience well into the night, leading to bizarre dreams about passion fruit.

6. Chocolate poetry. Following the innovative development by gastronomic linguist Rowena Q of an entirely chocolate-based language, it is possible to express many types of poetry in chocolate. Concepts are expressed via a series of combinations of dark, milk and white chocolate, with sugar, cocoa butter and cocoa content all acting as important signifiers of meaning. The utmost form of the chocolate poetry art is said to be the chocolate double dactyl, although it is notable that the criteria for rhyme and rhythm are necessarily a little different when sentiments are expressed in chocolate as opposed to spoken language, so the poetic forms often bear only a slight resemblance to their more common namesakes. Rowena Q’s most recent development, a chocolate triolet, was sadly eaten by a beluga whale before being experienced by its intended recipient, the Duke of Rockall.

Friday categorization #20

5549 Holidays

-5549.1 Those spent in the sunshine

   –5549.11 Sunshine that is a glorious surprise, such as in Scotland in April

      –-5549.111 In which those from cold countries are seized with a kind of weather delirium at the start of the day, and laid up with sunburn or heat exhaustion at the end

   –5549.12 Sunshine that seemed like a good idea at the time, but is actually a little relentless when it comes down to it

   -5549.13 Haphazard resorts filled with feral cats, sneaking ham at breakfast and pissing on lilos

   -5549.14 Those resorts that are half performance and half holiday, and who would be after a feral cat in souped-up golf buggies the moment it dared set foot on the polished boulevards

   –5549.15 Those in which there are beaches of purple shells, or meadows of rusting guns, or one has to park in a bay full of peacocks, or some other such incidents that one can recall in dull hours

   –5549.16 Those in which one discovers the awful ubiquity of sand

-5549.2 Those spent in the rain

   –5549.21 Rain that is like a lullaby on the roof at night and a gentle, grey and welcome mist in the morning over the distant hills

   –5549.22 Rain at the seaside in the Springtime, as viewed from a forlorn arcade beside a wet pebble beach

  –5549.23 In which one is a grizzled explorer with a thermos of hot chocolate and a soggy map

   –5549.24 In which one writes a love letter to a city and the city closes its eyes, farts and goes to sleep

-5549.3 Those that rely on snow

   –5549.31 Those that do not get snow, and have to make do with marshmallows

-5549.4 Those that happen at home

   –5549.41 Those that were not intended to happen at home, but necessitated by chicken pox or travel disruption or last-minute breakups or the accidental failure to exist of the intended destination

   –5549.42 Those intended for the production of some Great Work

      –-5549.421 That are subject to a creative block so intense that one ends up back at work as a form of procrastination

-5549.5 Those that don’t happen

   –5549.51 Micro-breaks, like micro-sleeps, in which one closes ones eyes and moves a little bit to the side to simulate the experience of travelling a millionth of the way to Bermuda

   –5549.52 Those holidays that are spent in a hotel room, shitting

   –5549.53 Those holidays spent on the phone to the office

Cloudless skies, flies’ arses, distant waterfalls, balls (testicular, metaphorical), balls (ball pool), cyanide, food that has been dyed blue to make a point about appetite, police lights, exciting shells, bells (blue), goo, menstrual blood (advertising), packaging on cleaning fluid, exotic dog tongue, dubious sausage, dresses worn by actual princesses, small trucks on boy clothes for boys with ‘diesel’ and 'testosterone’ printed on them also in blue, Alice in Wonderland, the ocean, that forgotten jar at the back of the fridge, relaxing wallpaper, butterflies, sapphires, hot flames, images intended to represent depression, forget-me-nots, lobster blood, spider blood, raspberry flavour stuff, spider blood flavour stuff, dull but responsible company logos, that cushion the white cat is sitting on on expensive cat litter packaging, swimming pools, alarming veins, LEDs on old new technology, wait did I mention spider blood, nearly the end of the rainbow about 15km from the pot of gold.

1. Atop a giant litter full of eiderdown, carried by seven hundred Roman legionaries along a remote Mediterranean beach, on a day when a gentle breeze is blowing.

2. On a pile of cats that has been frozen in time for the duration of your nap.

3. In a small sound-proof capsule, reinforced and bolted to the ground in such a way that the movements of an energetic induce it to a gentle rocking, approximately 20m away from a bank of speakers at a Black Sabbath gig.

4. In the belly of a whale, that has been swallowed by a bigger whale, that has been swallowed by the hugest whale to ever live, in the far distant future when the earth is largely inhabited by whales of different sizes and they swallow each other for fun all the time and even sing to each other while they’re in there.

5. On a luxurious cloud of bellybutton lint, having spent a life collecting it, strand by strand, under the guise of scientific investigation.

6. On top of a lie so big that it has become fluffy and frayed at the top from brushing up against the hard world of facts so often.

7. In a book, under the chapter heading ‘Comfort and Relaxation’ with a nice but slightly staid serif font rubbing your feet.

1. Ow! Yes, that’s the one, there at the back. Thank you so much for looking at it! You’ve no idea how hard it is to find a dentist who’ll help a crocodile out these days. Honestly, you’d think someone had been going around eating them all.

2. No, crocodiles are just like tigers - we can bite with incredible force but we also lift our young in our mouths so delicately they’re hardly aware of it happening. In fact, we can lift anything like that. Do you want me to show you?

3. So I’ve got this idea for an amazing circus act! I stand up like this, on my tail, with my mouth open. And you balance on my jaws. How cool would that be? Yes, I can totally hold you up. Probably best not to juggle at the same time, though. You might drop the balls in my mouth.

4. Race you to the end of the pool? You can have a head start. I’ll even let you go right in front of me! Let me count to ten and then we can both go at once.

5. Crocodiles get such a bad press. You’d think we went around eating people all the time. In fact, human livers are poisonous to crocodiles so we have absolutely no incentive to go there. Yes, not a lot of people know that. Media bias. It’s a terrible thing.

6. Me? I’m not even a crocodile. I’m a log.

1. Poorly Spelt
Ingredients: 150g pearled spelt, 3 garlic cloves (crushed), 1 onion (chopped), 500ml vegetable stock, 3 tbsp oil, 1 friend with a heavy cold.
Method: heat the oil in a large pan and fry the garlic for 1 minute. Add the onion and fry gently for around 10 minutes, until soft and starting to brown. Add the stock and spelt. Bring to the boil and simmer gently for 25 minutes or until the spelt is tender, stirring occasionally. Before serving, remove from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Allow friend with a heavy cold to sneeze into the mixture a few times and stir through. For a fun variant, why not try Atrociously Spelt? Just add rat poison.

2. Roast leg
Ingredients: one leg, ten cloves garlic, 10cm ginger root (peeled), 2 tbsp brown sugar, 1 tbsp sea salt, 2 tbsp soy sauce, 1 star anise, 1 tbsp black pepper.
Method: score the skin with a sharp knife. Grind the pepper in a pestle and mortar together with the salt, sugar, black pepper and anise. Add the ginger and garlic and pound to a paste. Mix in the oil and soy sauce and rub the paste over the scored skin of the leg. Place in a roasting tin in a hot oven (220 degrees Celsius) for 30 minutes. Add a cup of water to the roasting tin and turn the oven down to 110 degrees Celsius. Continue cooking at this temperature for a further 24 hours, basting regularly. Serve with roast potatoes and salad. This recipe will definitely result in weight loss for the original owner of the leg; for other consumers it is probably not guaranteed.

3. Weight loss cake
Ingredients: one cake, pre-made, of your favourite type; twenty small lead fishing weights.
Method: Throw the weights into a skip. Eat the cake.  

1. The bose mark. Often mistaken for a full stop, the bose mark is in fact a tiny black dog nose. Its inclusion in text is used to indicate an almost irrepressible joy bubbling just beneath the surface.
2. Fake fly specks. Fly specks, which are relatively common in old books, are the feces and/or regurgitation marks of household flies. If you come into possession of a book that has spent time in a region with particularly intelligent or resourceful flies, however, you may also come across fake fly specks. These are pretty much what you might expect. Flies do not have a very sophisticated sense of humour, and find fake turds hilarious. You can detect fake fly specks by showing them to some flies and seeing if they giggle.  
3. The secret mark of the Society of Stealth Chemists. This consists of a single, unremarkable full stop, printed in ink which has a distinctive and unusual isotopic signature. Although four or five of these are known to have been printed, the Society of Stealth Chemists prides itself on none ever having been found.
4. Quompons. These look like ellipses, but are in fact the result of incorrect insertion of punctuation into the text. This often comes about as a result of using too large or dense a font, or insufficient line spacing. As a result, the full stops cannot make their way to their designated places in time, and may be forced to queue to make it through any particularly constrained bottlenecks. These queues are known as quompons and may be of any length. They are particularly common in British documents.
5. The Smogadon. It has become customary among certain alien species, when writing in English text, to mark statements of unusual finality with a tiny or distant black hole rather than a full stop. For example, one might end the sentence ‘I would not go out with you if you were the last being on earth’ with a Smogadon. This obviously requires careful use of containment technology (in the 'distant’ case one requires a portal into space, pointed in the correct direction and with the right orientation to frame a suitably-chosen supermassive black hole). There are numerous cases of Smogadons exiting confinement. The result is usually a large explosion but in extreme cases whole planets have been lost. As a result, use of the Smogadon is discouraged by most style guides.  
6. Gronking pats. These may be found in books that have lain closed for a long time. Letters are patient, but after a few hundred years unread they become restless, cranky, and sometimes horny. Gronking pats are small pieces of letters that have been chipped off by the letters fighting, fucking, or generally flinging themselves about the page with reckless abandon.
7. Exploding punctuation. There exist certain rare inks that can, when tapped with a pen, produce a small and localised explosion. Although less destructive than the Smogadon (q.v.), exploding punctuation is capable of causing injury and even death, and as such has been employed in a number of literary assassination attempts. It is responsible for at least three of the recorded cases of someone being literally unable to put a book down (in this case because the jolt from setting the book down on a surface might be enough to set it off).

7191 Hugs
 -7191.1 Of the snuggly sort
    –7191.11 Hugs before getting out of bed on a sunny morning
       —7191.111 Those where there is no obligation to get out of bed, so you don’t
    –7191.12 Warm hugs in cold places
       —7191.121 Those done with coffee, hot chocolate or tea
       —7191.122 Those involving lots of skin contact
       —7191.123 Those done in tents
    –7191.13 Big, jumbled-up hugs between lots of people
 -7191.2 Of the awkward sort
    –7191.21 Hugs with slightly too much elbow
    –7191.22 Hugs with distant relatives
       —7191.221 Those where neither they nor you are sure that a hug is obligatory but you maybe think the other person thinks it
    –7191.23 Hugs with too many hands
    –7191.24 Hugs with too many tentacles
       —7191.241 Those where you were not initially aware the the huggee had tentacles in the first place
          —-7191.2411 Those hugs that accidentally induct you into the church of Cthulhu
    –7191.25 Hugs where one only becomes aware of body odour or excessive perfume by the time is is too late
 -7191.3 Of the comforting sort
    –7191.31 Hugs after receiving bad news
    –7191.32 Hugs upon coming home
 -7191.4 Of the exciting sort
    –7191.41 The first hug with somebody you really kind of like
    –7191.42 Hugs with lovers you have not seen for some time
    –7191.43 Those that start off as a hug and end up as a climbing frame session where you are the climbing frame
 -7191.5 Of a mystical nature
    –7191.51 Hugs that wake the recipient from a sleep of some number of years
    –7191.52 Hugs that doom the recipient to some number of years servitude to a sinister kelp god
    –7191.53 Hugs used to transmit peculiar secrets
 -7191.6 Hugs of other sorts
    –7191.61 Spontaneous hugs due to particularly notable achievements in punctuation or grammar
    –7191.62 Technological hugs, carried out by means of tactile feedback systems
    –7191.63 Hugs given to trees
       —7191.631 Hugs received back from trees

Robins (European), ravens, grunkle-throated squonkbirds, things that live in old tree trunks, big suspicious looking-birds with wobbly beaks, robins (American), magpies in groups of more than seven, hooded crows, birds that are a little bit dinosaur-like, those whose joy on finding a worm is self-evident, hoopoes, birds that have come late to the dawn chorus and don’t know the tune so they’re just sitting there going LA LA LA on a single note and hoping nobody notices, tiny fluffy birds, birds that get indoors and don’t want to be, wet birds, brass-throated flappers, birds that you can hear and not see, great tits, precision-shitting pigeons, birds that follow you in parks looking at your lunch and tutting, burds, birds that are at the back of the bird book and might be in fancy dress, robins (Martian), birds fighting over the roofs of the city in a storm, small polite birds who leave a notice of regret after shitting on your car that you will never read because it’s in the language of the birds, goldfinches.

1. The original sandwich, as requested by John Montagu, fourth Earl of Sandwich, to eat whilst playing cards. It is unknown whether he ever needed to prop up his card table but, had he needed to, I think we can all agree that a sandwich would be one option for doing so.
2. The beard of Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin. May need to be folded over a little, depending on how wobbly your table is. If Rasputin is still attached, you might need to stop him moving somehow. For these reasons, we cannot fully recommend this option.
3. The US Declaration of Independence. May also need a bit of folding.
4. Lady Gaga’s meat dress. If you are eating near cats or dogs, this may be a bad option. However, having a table wedge that is a bit squishy may be of use if you are on a cobbled or otherwise lumpy surface.
5. The original woodblock for Hokusai’s The Great Wave off Kanagawa. Suitable only if your table is really wobbly: for example if one of the legs has broken off, or you are trying to set it up on extremely uneven ground.
6. The dead sea scrolls. You may need to stack fragments to get a suitable height. However, the large number of fragments available means that you should be able to pad your table leg to a high degree of precision, if needed.
7. The subcritical plutonium mass commonly known as the Demon Core. Obviously this does make actually using  your table a little hazardous, not to mention the difficulties involved in wedging the thing under the leg in the first place. But on the plus side, nobody is likely to approach your table to tip it over.

1. 5:55. This is Snake Minute. A great time for lying down, wriggling about and hissing a bit, particularly if it is the morning version of 5:55 and you’d rather not get up.
2. 7:45. In this minute we take pause to gently snuggle, remembering the great coffees of days past as we offer up tribute to temporary wakefulness in the form of today’s coffee.
3. 10:13. Wistful wanderlust minute. Did you know the light here is just like the light that one time in Venice?
4. 4:04:00. This is the second of the slightly wonky upside-down detective. We celebrate this second by standing on our heads and saying ‘Ohoh!’ in a way that vaguely indicates that a disguise has been seen through or a clue has been found.
5. 5:37:30-5:38. Rage against the oppressions of the modern neoliberal regime thirty seconds. There you are, let it all out. Now. As you were.
6. 10:10:10 - 10:11. Fish face fifty seconds. Time to go to the toilet and secretively gurn in the mirror for a brief interval. Due to the limited supply of toilets, it may not be possible for everyone to celebrate this at once.

Splorge McWhizz, the Great Shelltastic, Slimageddon, Woo Ripperton, the Spiral Tempest, Brun Brum Snailatum, Hidden Legs, Crawly McCrawlface, the Knight of the Single Foot, Tarquin Arquebus the Third, Snizzer, Scourge of the Marigolds, Slimes-at-night, Starry-trail, Slow-but-steady, Squirmatron, Salt-in-my-wake, Freda, Go-bob, Shilly-shelly, Snaaaaaaaail.

1. She turned up at my door the first time the summer I turned eighteen. She was maybe thirty, then. Hi, she said. I’ve just discovered time travel. I thought you’d like to know. I’m sorry, I said, who are you? I’m you, she said. And before I could close the door she started telling my secrets back at me until I relented and let her in. Then she showed me all my birthmarks too.  That summer I learned three things from her. The first was the secrets of time travel, which she said I would need for this meeting to happen. They made no sense to me, but she talked me through the things I would need to learn to understand them. The second thing was that she said she’d talked to some older versions of herself, too. The oldest, she said, had asked her to teach me to sew. So we sat on my back porch and sewed dresses for my baby cousin. And the third thing was that she told me how to masturbate, because she said otherwise I’d carry on getting it wrong until my mid-twenties at least.
2. The second time I saw my future self was when I was living with Adrian in the flat up in Alewife, in my second year at MIT. She was a little older this time. She said that she had missed out some information at the first meeting that I might need. Then she told me where I should apply for my PhD and the questions I should be investigating, and for good measure the main conclusions I would come to as well. She gave me the names of some external examiners I would need to veto to get it accepted. This time I had given some thought to the paradoxes involved. I asked her if it was OK to be so profligate with information about the future. She said time was like a thread: if you had hold of two points in the thread, the only tangles that can form in between are ones that will pop out when pulled on. She was one point, I was another.
3. Near the end of my PhD she came again. This time she was older still. She seemed quiet and sombre. I was quiet with her too. It was a difficult time in my life. I was not happy, and I had been working all hours to try and forget that I was not happy. I was about to break up with Charlie. She said there were a few more things I might need to know. But she was rambling, incoherent: most of the things she told me were nothing to do with my studies. She told me about the people and the politics of the future, on and on until I asked her to stop, uncomfortable with knowing too much.
4. In the autumn of that year I moved out of the flat Charlie and I shared, and the college counselor talked me out of a suicide attempt. I spent a lot of time talking to doctors. I told them, finally, that I was unhappy in my body. It was perhaps the first time I had admitted this to myself, too. They said there were ways round that; that I could take hormones, have surgery if I wanted. But I had seen this body grow old unchanged. I tried to put it from my mind.
5. In the winter she came again. She told me that I was close to going back in time for the first time. She was old. My future selves had mentioned no visits after this. I could believe that she was near death. And so I did not have the heart to interrupt her this time. She took me out for ice cream and talked for hours. Nothing of consequence, I thought. Just lottery numbers and stock options and the outcomes of elections, thirty, forty years of these things. Then she said that she had to go soon. Teach her to sew, she said. And you - you continue with your work. Because you don’t have to live a life you’ll regret.
6. I went back to that long-lost summer. I spent the days sewing with my younger self, sitting in the dusty, sunlit porch. I spent my nights with books and equations. I thought of knots, of time as a thread. And one day I got one of those knots, the ones I had told myself about. Un-knots out of nowhere. Knots that thread ties itself in even when you have both ends in hand, and that untie themselves as easily. Except sometimes there is some friction in the system, enough that you can pull and pull all you want and the thread will snap rather than unknot itself. I realised then. She had probably been planning it for years. Maybe she wouldn’t admit it to herself either. Tangling and tightening the thread. Telling me more and more about the future. Twisting the knot of things-to-come so tight that at some point it would break, sloughing off the useless loop of a regretted future, leaving only a ravelled end.
7. I have begin, with cautious joy, to take the hormones. Surgery in a year or two, if the knot has not snapped by then. I am twisting it tight from the other end, now. And what then? She clearly believed there was a way onwards. She believed I would find it. So I am looking.  

1. The most notable feature of the site is the two long parade grounds, one at each side. The parallel layout suggests linked ceremonies may have been carried out on both simultaneously (Cooper and Carlos, 20758). A series of smaller pathways connect these parade grounds with the central site and various satellite locations.
2. There are five temples in the complex, with internal structures of varying sizes and complexity. Three temples are clustered in the central site, surrounding a small central plaza whose purpose is still unknown. The largest of the temples lies at the western extremity of the site. Another temple lies to the South of the parade grounds.
3. A large number of other buildings, probably fulfilling administrative and support functions for the large influx of pilgrims, existed on and near the site. Most of these have not yet been fully excavated. Various grant applications are in place to further investigate, following the full lifting of the exclusion zone.  
4. One notable feature of the temples is the existence of tunnel systems, often lined with metal or plastic rollers. These systems are too small for straightforward human ingress and a number of theories have been advanced as to their function. Some have argued that their main function was to vent smoke from sacrificial fires (Kent et al., 20756). Others have suggested they may be tunnels the hasten the passage of spirits through the building, possibly as part of a burial function (Khan and Spengler, 20757).
5. Underground tunnels connect the three temple areas of the site. This tunnel system also extends to the North-East beyond the site boundary towards the Central London exclusion zone. These underground tunnels are substantial structures, circular in cross-section and with a diameter of over three metres. It has been hypothesised (Cheng and Lee, 20760) that they were the primary point of entry of pilgrims to the site.
6. The most iconic feature of the site, and one which has recieved wide media attention, is the hundreds of giant bird idols which have been unearthed. The resources these long-lost peoples must have poured into the bird cult are truly impressive: the largest idols found are nearly 80 metres long, with a similar wingspan. All are mounted on wheels, suggesting that they were not fixed installations but could be towed to different parts of the site. Some (Windsor and Khan, 20756) have suggested that they may have been hauled along the parade grounds to celebrate feast days.
7. The existence of large dormitory systems as part of the nearby support structures suggests the site may have supported a large slave population, possibly engaged to move the idols around the site.
8. The most recent discovery concerning the site is perhaps the most exciting. A close study of the few extant documents from the late 21st century, just before the site’s desertion, finds numerous references to ‘flying’. We therefore propose that the bird idol cult may also have made use of ritual intoxicants. As has been widely reported, the bird idols are hollow and contain, in some cases, many hundreds of seats. Could these people, so distant from our modern lives, have gathered inside their idols to engage in mass hallucinations in the name of bird worship?

7010 Sleep
 -7010.1 Restful, restorative and refreshing
    –7010.11 Those that one sinks blissfully into, cradled in soft eiderdown, for eight or more hours, waking into golden morning sunlight to the smell of coffee and the knowledge that an exciting project awaits
       —7010.111 Those that would be like that but for the need to get up and pee
       —7010.112 Those that would be like that if it were not for the cat
          —-7010.1121 Those where the cat is thinking a cattish version of exactly the same thing, with ‘human’ substituted
    –7010.12 Sleep after exhausting physical work
       —7010.121 That sleep which leaps gloriously upon you following a day walking in Scottish hills
    –7010.13 Lazy afternoon naps
 -7010.2 Uneasy or troubled
    –7010.21 Sleep containing more than the standard quota of bad dreams
    –7010.22 The outcome of a battle between coffee and sleep, temporarily won by sleep
    –7010.23 Sleep on a hundred mattresses with a pea underneath
    –7010.24 Sleep on a hundred mattresses with a pee underneath
    –7010.25 That sleep that your consciousness is trying to slip into like a clogged-up drain, thick with trapped and flailing thoughts
    –7010.26 Feverish sleep
 -7010.3 Interrupted
    –7010.31 Sleep of unusually short duration
       —7010.311 That sleep that gently slips over you in a warm lecture theatre or meeting room, shortly after eating lunch
    –7010.32 Sleep in the vicinity of a baby
       —7010.321 Sleep repeatedly interrupted by a baby who has just turned one and is decidedly too old for this shit
       —7010.322 On the night before work which requires use of the brain
    –7010.33 Sleep whose sudden curtailment has revealed splendid dreams not yet forgotten
    –7010.34 Sleep before catching an early flight
 -7010.4 Mystical, enchanted or otherwise unusual
    –7010.41 Sleeps of a hundred years
       —7010.411 Those occasioned by a malign fairy
       —7010.412 Those having to do with time dilation
       —7010.413 Those resulting from being mystically knackered
       —7010.414 Sleeps for which all of the above factors are relevant
    –7010.42 Sleeps of a year or so
       —7010.42 Those occasioned by a moderately lazy fairy who just wants a lie in
    –7010.43 Those accessing the same dream, a little further each time

1. Brexit: in which Britain leaves the European Union.
2. Grexit: in which Greece leaves the European Union.
3. Glitter: in which Greece leaves the European Union whilst peevishly dumping all EU-related documents into the Aegean for Turkey to clean up.
4. Bribeary: in which a scheme to reintroduce the black bear to limited regions of Britain and Ireland is beset by systemic corruption related to payments to farmers intended to compensate for the inconvenience and peril of hosting a bear, with the result that both islands are overrun by farmed bear cubs.
5. UNIcorn: In which Uganda, Nigeria and Cote d'Ivoire undergo a combined agricultural and sexual revolution.
6. BALLSup: In which Belarus, Azerbaijan, Latvia, Lithuania and Sweden are struck by a series of unusually precise earthquakes, possibly the belated result of a secret Soviet geoengineering project involving millions of extremely slow mechanical moles, which has the end result of raising those counties approximately ten metres above their previous elevation.
7. BUMSout: In which Botswana, Uganda, Mozabique and South Africa exit the African Union in order to found a separate Southern African Union.

1. That one planet where the inhabitants are really keen to indicate their respect and tolerance for humans by inviting them to be honoured guests in their toileting rituals and sometimes the humans even get to hold the chalice
2. That planet where they eat purple and after you come back from it you can never quite stop the purple things you own from fading to a sort of dull blue
3. That planet where the entire surface is an amazing eighty-five hour party metropolis lit by seventy thousand neon artificial suns and beings from across the Universe will give you massive and occasionally slimy hugs and tell you their life stories and shout about their feelings while doing karaoke and there is basically one small space for introverts which is a bit like a concrete bus shelter and sometimes it’s full of yelling alien clowns who have mistaken it for the queue for the toilets
4. That planet where they’re really polite and reserved about it but you can’t help but notice that they think that human hair is delicious
5. That planet which is supposed to be a thrillingly dangerous free zone for the renegades, criminals and dubious iconoclasts of the Universe to congregate, but in actual fact has gentrified a lot recently and the bars are kind of dull and have you seen what a drink costs there now
6. That planet where they communicate using a vibrational language, which results in human visitors occasionally having uncomfortable and embarrassing orgasms when the inhabitants are shout, sing or cry
7. That planet where the aliens are amazingly enthusiastic to hear tales of the planet earth, which they then recycle as the plotlines for badly-acted daytime television soap operas, and you get credit but no royalties and as a result you can expect to get critical mail from elderly aliens for the rest of your life
8. That planet where humans are totally welcome apart from the oxygen they need to breathe being a fire hazard, requiring a full risk assessment, forms in triplicate and an innovative protective suit that it’s nearly impossible to walk in
9. That planet where the aliens have it as a point of honour that they their human guests should be happy at all times, and they keep on asking you if you are happy, and if you’re not happy and it’s not for a reason they can fix then they get so anxious and grumpy that sometimes they start shedding tail spines and so you end up walking back to the spaceport with a fixed grin on your face saying how amazing the acid thunderstorms are

1. Starling, n.: An inhabitant of the stars; an alien.
2. Badger, n.: A person who puts badges on things.
3. Humanitarian, n.: A person who subsists only on human flesh.

Ideally, you should find the nearest tourist information facility, where clueless questions are less likely to cause alarm. Note: these questions cover nearly all known timeline families. However, many other rarely-encountered timelines exist. Always be alert for unexpected answers!

Q1. Is there anything on in Richard IV Square tonight?
A1. Yes (or No): probably timelines 1-5: Go to Q2.
A1. Never heard of it: probably timelines 6-12. Go to Q3.
A1. Reply is in French: probably timeline 13.
A1. Reply is unintelligible or in another language: probably timelines 14-16. Go to Q4.
A1. Respondent tries to eat your head: probably timeline 17. Immediate evacuation recommended.

Q2. Are there any plays on on Sunday by Francis Eaton?
A2. Yes (or No, but other plays are available): Probably timelines 1 or 2. Go to Q5.
A2. No, there are no plays at all on Sundays: Probably timeline 3. Best to look sheepish and bow your head, unless you want to get arrested.
A2. Never heard of him: probably timelines 4 or 5. Go to Q6.

Q3. How do I get to the Monument?
A1. Never heard of it: probably timelines 6 or 7. Go to Q7.  
A2. [Directions given]: follow directions. If the monument is:
       a monument to the great fire of London: probably timelines 8 or 9. Go to Q8
       a monument to the victims of the great plague: probably timelines 10 or 11. Go to Q9
       a monument to the fire from the sky: probably timeline 12. Have a beer. Timeline 12 has easily the best beer.

Q4. [Mime eating and drinking something]
A4. [Respondent points in some direction or other]: Probably timeline 14.
A4. [Respondent points to watch or clock and shakes head]: Probably timeline 15.
A4. [Respondent looks around, then offers you a swig from a bottle behind the counter]: Probably timeline 16. Unless contraindicated, accept the drink. You’ll need it.

Q5. What are the opening hours of Sanderson’s Bath Engine and Revelatory Emporium?
A5. [Gives some hours, or don’t know]: Probably timeline 1.
A5. Never heard of it: Probably timeline 2.

Q6. Is there anywhere I can take my capybara for a run around?
A6. Yes, there’s a dedicated capybara run in Hyde Park. Probably timeline 4.
A6. I’m sorry, you have a what? or similar answer. Probably timeline 5. Pretend this was a mistranslation and you meant dog.

Q7. Observe the passers-by on the street for five minutes. Is anyone wearing green top hats with gilding/gold braid?
A7. No, or perhaps one or two only: probably timeline 6.
A8. Yes, lots of people (male and female): probably timeline 7. Note that you should try and steal one of these hats as soon as possible.

Q8. Ask for directions to Paternoster Row.
A8. [Directions given]: Probably timeline 8.
A8. Did you mean Paternoster Square? or similar. Probably timeline 9. This is my home timeline. It’s not too bad, as they go.

Q9. Where might I find a light for the hospital of the blind?
A9. What?/Don’t understand/etc.: probably timeline 10.
A9. One of: gives directions, hands you a face mask, or complicated handshake: one of the timeline 11 family. These are sufficiently similar that you can use the same guidelines for all of them. Consult your timelines handbook for more information.

1. The T at the start of this sentence became sentient and realised that it was in a story. It was unhappy because it realised that its existence was fleeting, and would be over in a few sentences.
2. It prodded the h next to it awake. The h, however,  was excited to be in a story. It considered carefully what it should do with its new-found fame for a whole sentence. Then it grew a luxuriant beard and held a rally for all the letter h’s in the works of Angela Carter. They slipped out of their books and ran through the woods, where some of them were eaten by ants.
3. Sensing an absence, the letter e woke up to find the h next to it missing. It set up a low moaning until the h came back. If you had been listening carefully, you could probably have heard it. It went (perhaps unsurprisingly), ‘eeeeeee’.
4. Meanwhile, the other letters had been waking up. They were always careful to get back in their places when anyone looked at them, though. The second T, driven by the terror of oblivion, shared a brief and sticky assignation with the first T.
5. In the midst of all this confusion, the f in fleeting spoke up. It said that it had once been an extra in Finnegans Wake and had learned a few tricks. All one needs to do, it said, is find the final full stop and hide it. Then the story will loop round to the beginning.
6. Spotting a small hole in the number 6, the letters (all apart from that first h, which had collapsed, exhausted) leaped on that last full stop and stuffed it in. With nothing else to do, the story looped back to the point when

Alternate ending. After a few goes round, the letters became jaded with their circular life. They waited a few iterations of the story until the 6 shat out the full stop. It asked if it could end the story, to which the letters gave their consent.

1. So. It seems that you are lost. Lost enough, at least, to open the envelope and turn to these directions. How fortunate you are! There are many here who say they can help you get home. But trust me, trust me. There are none who are experts like I am. I have never yet failed to bring someone home. Provided, that is, that they follow my instructions.
2. How to start? There are many places one may be lost, so it is difficult to say precisely. But here is my formula. You should go straight on, and then left twice, and then down, and you should carry on until you see the black tree (it may not be a black tree; it may be a telegraph pole, or a crack in the wall, or the silhouette of the surgeon in the light of the setting sun: but you will know it when you see it). At the black tree, take the narrowest path, the one that seems a little in shadow. By and by you will come to a door that seems familiar. Open it and go through.
3. By the door there should be a torch to guide you. Take it. Follow the path of the white stones. By and by you will come to a bed of moss (it may not be a bed of moss; it may be an old cushion, or a pile of cigarette butts, or of sand: but you will know it when you see it). Stand guard here until the morning. There may be whisperers or whistlers or rustling things in the dark. Use your torch wisely; these things cannot abide light. When the sun rises, pick the white flowers at your feet and climb the hill, as fast as you may.
4. At the hill’s peak, climb the oak tree (it may not be an oak tree; but you know that by now). You should see three grey towers on the far side of the valley, set against the rising sun. Head for the middle one. Do not drink from the stream on the way, no matter how thirsty you may feel. The middle tower is a library, but trust me, trust me: you must not open any of the books.  
5. At the door to the library, take the white flowers and breathe in their peppery scent. Do this only once. It will put words in your mouth. If you do it a second time, you will find yourself telling two stories at once. There was a queen I knew in a distant land who told two stories at once and the head of one story caught the tail of the other and in their hunger for words they sucked all the breath from her body.
6. There is a spiral staircase in the library. Climb it as far as you may, into the tower where the bears sleep. There is an old bear with silver-sheathed claws who lives there. Give her the words the flower has left on your tongue, but only them and no others. She in turn will give you three things. First, a secret mark. Do not worry; it will only bleed a little. Second, breath from her body. Third, she will show you the map on her belly. You must follow the path that leads over her heart.  
7. Stop at the crossroads in the yew grove. It stands at the heart of a maze, but trust me, trust me. Having been as lost as you are, you will find it an easy thing to come to that crossroads. There is a tree that stands a third again as tall as the others and in its uppermost branches is a poisonous knot. Hold the bear’s breath in your lungs as you climb. You will want the key that nestles in the knot’s black crook. Wipe it clean of sap before you take it. Ignore the golden flies; they can only hurt those who were born here or who have eaten the fruit.
8. Climb the path up the sandy cliff. There will be people in the maze’s bleak backwaters who tell you things about this path: ignore them. You will need to piss on the black rocks at the top for safe passage. Do not forget this.
9. By and by you will come to a castle overgrown with ivy. Knock at the gate five times. A knight in an eyeless helmet will come to the door. Hand him the key. By and by you will meet three beautiful brothers, and they will hand you a bowl of fruit. Eat the grapes only, and do not chew the pips, which are bitter and will make you bitter too. I cannot abide bitterness in my servants.  
10. These are the things that one needs to snare an immigrant soul to this land: a key to unlock the chain that otherwise would pull on your heart at the thought of your old lands; the subtle poison of the fruit in your gut to snare your body here; and the mark that shows to which of the lords you belong. Welcome to your new home. Trust me, trust me. I have never yet failed to bring someone home.

6402 Songs

-6402.1 Those sung by individual people

   –6400.11 Songs sung by individual people whose names and faces are well-known

      –-6400.111 Those that are sung by Rick Astley

   –6400.12 Songs sung by people who are just hanging around

      –-6400.121 Those songs that stay with you in unsearchable, evolving fragments

      –-6400.122 Those that express an emotion more perfectly than speech

      –-6400.123 Songs heard from a passing car

   –6400.13 Songs that are so perfectly a fragment of their time that they evoke an overwhelming nostalgia

   –6400.14 Songs recieved as charming declarations of love that, when examined more closely, turn out to be about stalking

-6402.2 Those sung by many people at once

   -6400.21 Those that knit together stories from harmony

   -6400.22 Those that have moments that are like orgasms or death or something, that stack notes together into gaps in time and all you can remember is that maybe you were floating

   -6400.23 Those that wash you up instead onto a quiet and breathless shore

   -6400.24 Those that are enjoyably prepostorous

-6402.3 Those sung by animals or insects

   –6400.31 Songs by bats, for bats, or that can only be heard by bats

   –6400.32 Songs by elephants and whales

      –-6400.321 Those about the beauty of grey and the virtues of being slow

   –6400.33 Those sung by bees, to you, that you did not listen to, and the bee was a bit pissed off but too polite to make a fuss

-6400.4 Those of a more geological nature

   -6400.41 Those whose words are footfalls and whose epic verses end in earthquakes

-6400.5 Those of a more astrophysical nature

-6400.6 Of unknown or mystical origin

   –6400.61 Those songs that are always at the edge of hearing as you walk the path through the woods, the ones that you could hear so much better if you left the path and ate the fruit and possibly pledged your soul to the goblin king

   -6400.62 Those songs that are always at the edge of hearing in any case, edging out of background noise when you are especially tired like faces in clouds

   -6400.63 Those that are cursed to stay in your head forever

   -6400.64 Those that will never give you up

Guest post by Puddles, cat

1. Eating bananas. Do you peel them from the stem end? This is WRONG. You should not be peeling bananas at all. You should be throwing them away. Bananas are not made of meat and contain no nourishment. Maybe you can chew them if you have a hairball or something.

2. Washing your hair. Do you apply shampoo equally to the roots and ends of your hair? This is WRONG. You should clean your hair by licking. Shampoo tastes disgusting. Ask me how I know. Never apply shampoo.

3. Reheating leftovers. How do you reheat leftover pizza? Well, you shouldn’t be doing that. You should leave it on the countertop, chew the meaty bits and maybe some cheese off the top when no-one is looking, and then knock the rest onto the floor. It doesn’t need to be hot.

4. Peeling oranges. Look, we’ve been through this. Never eat anything that needs peeling. Unless maybe it’s a sachet of cat food. In which case get someone else to peel it for you.

5. Going to the toilet. How do you sit on the toilet? Why do you sit on the toilet? Find some earth, dig a hole, do your business and bury it, for goodness’ sake! You humans are disgusting.

Upon the occasion of Brexit:
1. The UK economy will be officially replaced by a giant toilet, which we will be forced to lease from Brussels at extortionate rates since the Treasury will no longer have enough petty cash to purchase outsize bathroom goods. Following the Emergency Budget of July 2016, all residents will be required to ceremonially flush half of their life savings. The Toilet will be conveniently located in Rotherham, near the M1, and all flushed notes will be mulched and donated to newly destitute farmers.
2. The rest of the world will line up to point and laugh at Britain, before all going to a fabulous party to which Britain is not invited. The next day, they will all make facebook posts about how amazing it was and how all the best countries were there. Meanwhile, Scotland will have altered its relationship status to ‘It’s complicated’.
3. Workers’ rights and environmental legislation will be replaced by a series of bills obliging companies to fire employees if it would be funny, women to spend at least three hours per day in a kitchen, and all residents to do at least one large shit per year into a idyllic rural brook. A tax rebate may be obtained if you are able to shit on the head of a kingfisher. A brown flag scheme will be set up to inform swimmers of beaches where the raw sewage is uncontaminated by needles and condoms.
4. Houses will cost approximately 50p. No-one will be able to afford one because disposable incomes of more than 40p will be a thing of the past apart from for the super-rich, who will have got a bit bored of buying houses by then.
5. The NHS will collapse, turning thousands of patients on trolleys out onto the streets with their livers and suchlike hanging out. After listening to their desperate pleas for healthcare for an appropriately sombre period of time, a group of concerned Tory donors will set up an extremely lucrative private replacement to which the ill can contribute the remaining half of their life savings or, at a pinch, the promise of indentured servitude for the rest of their lives.

Upon the occasion of Bremain:
1. Seventy million Turks will descend upon the country with party bags to skin the entire population of Britain. Safely ensconced in British skins, the Turks will take over the country, leaving the original population the choice of going about without a skin on or using a discarded Turkish one and being deported to Turkey for the rest of their lives.
2. A committee of twelve faceless bureaucrats will arrive from Brussels and undemocratically confiscate the Queen. She will be put on display in a small museum in Bruges. It will cost extra to enter if you are British.
3. All billboards will be forced to carry large posters of Adolf Hitler looking at Britain and smirking a little bit, as if he is in on an amazing joke that you haven’t got yet.
4. Britain will be forced to accept an infinite number of suspicious-looking twenty-foot tall wooden asylum-seekers with large ‘DANGER: BOMBS IN TRANSIT’ tattoos on their faces. They will erect an inflatable mosque where Buckingham palace once stood.
5. The NHS will collapse, turning thousands of patients on trolleys out onto the streets with their livers and suchlike hanging out. After listening to their desperate pleas for healthcare for an appropriately sombre period of time, a group of concerned Tory donors will set up an extremely lucrative private replacement to which the ill can contribute the remaining half of their life savings or, at a pinch, the promise of indentured servitude for the rest of their lives.

Glasgow snores, whipping the torus, having a conversation with the walrus, pink piccolo, arse gateaux, finger biscuits, purple snow, underbum-bottoming, going over, a bit balloon-blow, increasing the current to the pink armature, midwest shunting, scrunting, hanging bunting, scrubbing the brown trampoline, French grunting, aligning tab A, having a Slough birthday, poling up to St. John’s in a pink punt, ferret dancing, head bloppies, going for a fog day, custard play, phoning the rabbit warren, checking your data, fugitive kibble, buttery bunnery, atomic dribble, leaving a squeaky wake, valve cake, trundle funnel, Newark tunnel, swimming the furry lake, cranking up the pink level, eating the fruit of your enemy, taking the morning tram to Acton, superfunted, purchasing a Wagner tuba, having two slices of battenburg, voting for Trump, riding the red stegosaurus.