Listing to Port

1. I once knew a bear - let me tell you her story
This bear was all grizzly and grumpy and growly and gory
She busied her bear days with scrumping and prey
And bearing about in a bear sort of way.
At dawn the bear got up for breakfast, all yawning,
Ate squirrels on sticks (which she kept for snacks in the morning)
And picked at her teeth with a suitable bone
And went to the woods for some bear time alone.

She beared right to the site of her favourite tree  
Where she found fifteen tourists, all shouting with glee:

There’s a bear! Where’s a bear? Over there! See that hair?
That’s a bear. Hello bear! (take a photo of its lair!)
Poke the bear, if you dare! Bear? Bear! Bear? Bear? Bear! Bear! Bear! There’s a bear!
And the bear rolled her eyes with a look of mild surprise
And beared back home again.

2. Oh well, thought the bear in a bear sort of way,
It seems that these woods are engaged for this part of the day.
There are other locations a bear can attend
To the needs that a bear has around the rear end.
Why, just up over the mountain (or so it is claimed)      
Lies the thickest of prickly forests with thickets untamed
All greeny and grim and with thorns overgrown
So I’ll go to that forest for bear time alone.

She found there a woodland as wild as was famed.
So had thirty-three hikers, who loudly exclaimed:

There’s a bear! Where’s a bear? Over there! See that hair?
That’s a bear. Hello bear! (take a photo of its lair!)
Poke the bear, if you dare! Bear? Bear! Bear? Bear? Bear! Bear! Bear! There’s a bear!
And the bear did a growl and a grumpy sort of scowl
And beared back home again.

3. Oh well, thought the bear in a state of some tension:
Wherever needs must a bear is a fount of invention.
I have here a passport, a hat and a beard
Which I’ve sheared from a hiker (now feared disappeared).
The bear repaired to an airport the following day
Where she furtively boarded a plane in a bear sort of way.
This bear through the air flew to pastures unknown
Save for suitable jungles for bear time alone.

I know about jungles - for bear time they’re better
Except for this bear, ‘cause that’s where I met her.
You wouldn’t believe all the photos I got!
There was quite a commotion, believe it or not.
Being trapped in a tree for a number of days
Makes one empathize with the bears and their ways.
I promised (with hope of avoiding a slaying)
I’d pass on in song to those thinking of saying:

There’s a bear! Where’s a bear? Over there! See that hair?
That’s a bear. Hello bear! (take a photo of its lair!)
Poke the bear, if you dare! Bear? Bear! Bear? Bear? Bear! Bear! Bear! There’s a bear!
That I think I’d advise that such actions are not wise:
You should go back home again!

1012 Maps
 -1012.1 Maps of real places
    –1012.11 Those that are healthily populated with contour lines
       —1012.111 Those so thick with unclimbable contours they function more as wanderlust porn
    –1012.12 Those that show cities
       —1012.121 Those that show things under cities
          —-1012.1211 Those that show the awful things under cities that should not be, in all their eldritch batrachian glory
          —-1012.1212 Those of subway systems
       —1012.122 Those with trap streets
       —1012.123 Maps of one city which can be used perfectly adequately to naviagte a different city, the result being that the navigator arrives at a tiny, mysterious theatre populated by mice instead of the central station
    –1012.13 Maps used by long-lost explorers
       —1012.131 Maps which were directly responsible for the explorers being long-lost
       —1012.132 Great crinkly maps used as bedsheets by the snoring, farting ghosts of long-lost explorers
    –1012.14 Those that have been used to stop a bullet, and consequently have a singed hole on each fold
    –1012.15 Those made of twigs and leaves, dissolving into chaos at the next rain
    –1012.16 Those written on skin
 -1012.2 Maps of imaginary places
    –1012.21 Containing the post-Tolkien regulated quotas of friendly small towns, cities at war, evil empires, great forests, blasted wastelands and so forth  
    –1012.22 Additionally being surrounded by conveniently impenetrable mountains and the shores of vast oceans, in a rectangular shape of roughly the same dimensions as a paperback book
    –1012.23 A mysteriously blank, safe no-mans-land area additionally existing perfectly half-way across the kingdom in around the place that the page break through the centre of the map falls; this being a place that the troubled inhabitants can gather for a bit of pipe weed untroubled by blasted goblins
    –1012.24 Those having an inn at a crossroads where one may purchase stew and get into a fight
    –1012.25 Maps of imaginary places without stories to accompany them, other than those stories that arise from looking at the map
       —1012.251 Those which do have stories, but are better off without them
 -1012.3 Maps of items, people or concepts
    –1012.31 Maps on items, people or concepts
 -1012.4 Maps of mysteries and unknown things
    –1012.41 Treasure maps
       —1012.411 Having the necessary quota of palm trees, sharks and crosses
    –1012.42 Those that form part of great games
    –1012.43 Those that lead to the buried heart of some great deathless rogue of the fairy kingdom

1. High Security, 2055. Following the widespread legalisation of most intoxicants in Europe in the 2040s, High Security was a restaurant themed around smuggling drugs through airports. Patrons were thoroughly frisked and had their bags searched on entry, before being seated at a table in a small interrogation room and served one of a number of themed meals. Their pot brownies were particularly notable. High Security lasted all of three months before an incident in which a patron unfortunately assumed the small sachets of white powder on the table were salt, after which it was closed down. 

2. Wet Dog, 2077. Wet Dog was a place for connoisseurs of what the founders believed was the most underestimated smell/taste combination: wet dog. Serving a select range of whiskies, wines and cheeses, Wet Dog also featured a real-life dog smelling menu, where patrons could compare and contrast the gentle fug of a damp spaniel with the full-on stink of a sopping saint bernard. Wet Dog managed two years of operation before its supply of contrarian diners dried up. It was able to maintain its large dog collection by rebranding as a dog cafe, however.

3. Shark, 2028. Shark was a cross between a takeaway and restaurant service for people without enough free time to go out for food. Patrons would place an order on Shark’s website during the day; in the evening, a waiter would turn up in a van with a large box containing a table, chairs, and a number of large screens linked in to other shark patrons to give the impression of one very large restaurant. The waiter would serve the requested meal, and the patrons were free to nip out in the middle to perform important teleconferences or wipe the toddler. Shark was a victim of its own success, with demand growing faster than its its suppliers’ ability to provide its unique screen technology. The virtual restaurant went on hiatus in 2029 and became caught up in the great crash of 2030, finally declaring bankruptcy in 2032.

4. Banana, 2025. The place to go for lovers of curved fruit, Banana specialised in introducing interesting and unusual banana and plantain cultivars to the UK and serving them up with a nearly unbearable amount of single and double entendre. Patrons could also mark their preferred state of greenness and squishiness of the classic Cavendish banana on a large chart on the wall, and admire the unusual decor (bright yellow with a selection of cock jokes in expensive fonts). Banana was shut down in 2031 following a spate of incidents in which its distinctive takeaway containers were used to hide automatic weapons.

Grey cats, black cats, scabbed-up soppy tomcats, cats like fluff with eyes; those who sleep upside-down; cats who hate the rain and want you to stop it; cats who sleep all day and dance all night, who wriggle under duvets, who lick your armpits, cats who leap for toys, who lovingly bring you dead things, who sit by webcams licking their bottoms; cats who stare odd-eyed from circular windows; cats who once a year choose to shit in the bath, who triumphantly bring home half a pork pie, cats who mew at night and paw your face at 5am; cats who wriggle and twitch at the sight of a pigeon through glass; cats who walk up and down the piano, who cannot pass a box without going in; tortoiseshell cats; tiny neat cats, affectionate on their own terms; cats who spread out in the sun like furry puddles, who twist and roll in the dust; cats who belong to and are fed by a whole street; cats who dash up trees and awkwardly inch down, who sleep on your neck; cats seen like a shadow from a moving window; cats who awkwardly lick each other, who sit on chairs and bat underneath, who tolerate toddlers for the sake of training up the next generation; tiny kittens half-way up the curtains; cats who need your warmth on a winter night.

1. Yes, that was embarrassing. But you know what? No-one remembers it apart from you.
2. I like the hair. It’s eccentric, but so what? No-one ever started a fashion by looking like everyone else.
3. You are so much better off without the Great Astoundarch, Unraveller of Mysteries, Leader of the Hordes of the Northern Wastes and Crusher of the Innocent in your life. Never trust a man who doesn’t tip and who hangs his enemies by their elbows over a piranha tank.
4. Everything is not OK, but there are people who love you and they have your back.
5. Yes, it is unusual for fish to do that, but even so there are a lot of more likely explanations than some kind of zombie virus.
6. It was a mistake anyone could have made, and manatees have short memories anyway.
7. I’ve always found the uncertainty of not knowing when the end of humanity will come rather hard to bear, so in a way it’s kind of a relief.
8. Like the pope hasn’t seen worse.
9. I would have left that window open, too. There are people you can call to get rid of bees.
10. For better or worse, it will be over by this time next week.
11. It does rather look like you’ve sold your aunt to the Painted Queen of Rookbeak Haunt, but you can probably buy her back.
12. It’s OK to mourn the life you could have had, and no-one should think badly of you for it.
13. Frankly, anyone could have turned left there. And if you hadn’t turned left, you’d have never found the mystical City of the Bears, which is objectively amazing, and in any case they probably won’t eat the other leg.
14. You know what? You did your best and I and humanity are so proud of you. There’s always a plan B. That’s what humans are like. We have people working on the oxygen problem.    
15. It’s going to be alright.

1. There once was a curiously-carved four-poster bed in Bishop’s Stortford that became known as the Great Bed of Where, after that other great bed some ten miles to the West. The Bed of Where was large, but not unusually so. Instead, it had another interesting property; every so often, perhaps once a fortnight, the centre of the bed would collapse, forming a mysterious hole. Any occupants would find themselves tumbling down an earthy tunnel, usually still wrapped in the bedsheets. Reports of what was at the bottom of the hole vary. Most typically, the bed’s occupants found themselves in a strange, twilit cavern with a mossy floor, and numerous gnomelike people sitting around on cushions reading books and frowning at the disturbance. No-one was ever able to communicate with the denizens of the cavern, and the one book that was brought back up the tunnel self-combusted on exposure to sunlight. A new owner in 1870 reinforced the bed’s base with extra planking, after which the collapses ceased.
2. There was a farmer’s wife in the 1960s near Sydney who came into possession of a bed which seemed to generate exceptionally dull dreams. One could not spend a night in it without lengthy, sepia-toned visions of queuing, or scrubbing floors, or picking up gravel from one pile and putting it down in another. Sensing an opportunity, she entered into a partnership with a local doctor. As an initial experiment they hired the bed out for a nightly fee to one of her patients, an insomniac who was delighted to find that under the bed’s influence he spent sixteen hours shelling peas in a state of blissful sleep. The bed disappeared in 1977, along with five patients who had been hiring it and the farmer’s truck.
3. It is a little-known fact that Wilhelm Reich and Wernher von Braun briefly collaborated on the design of a bed-based rocket in the 1940s. Based on the concept of orgone energy, the rocket would have been entirely powered by the exertions of some sixteen copulating couples, who would be gently jettisoned post-climax in their small, parachute-equipped bed-chambers. A prototype is believed to have been developed by an unnamed country, but was abandoned when it was discovered that many of the participants had trouble achieving orgasm.  
4. There was a bedmaker in West Sussex who visited Walter Potter’s museum at Bramber in 1920. The museum invoked a kind of temporary insanity in him; two months later, he came to to find that he had constructed an elaborate homage to Potter in the form of a bed constructed entirely from taxidermied pigs. The bed had thirty-six legs, each still with a trotter on the end, and soft sheets of porcine leather. At each corner the bedpost was formed from the wide belly of a huge sow, still topped by a glassy-eyed head looking down at the pillow end, and with front legs extended trotter-to-trotter with the sows on the other posts. Needless to say, the pig bed was not a great success, and it languished in an outhouse for thirty years. Sometime in the 1950s it was sold to a hotel in London, which offered it as part of a specialised experience involving a large, sausage-based breakfast and a little light whipping.
5. There was a consortium of bed companies in the 1980s who managed to come up with perhaps the world’s most comfortable bed. It was a delightful confection of a sleeping-place; like sleeping on a cloud. Trials of the bed were dramatically halted in 1982, however, when the developers realised that the bed had become extraordinarily hard to get out of. At least ten bed testers became stuck, having to give up their day jobs and requiring regular deliveries of food and bedpans. Eventually the bed company installed a motor and wheels to allow the testers some measure of freedom. The testers responded by taking the bed out on the road and inviting bystanders to get in, in the hope of being ejected from the bed by sheer mass of occupants. At least five managed to make their escape in this manner, at the expense of thirteen local residents who became trapped in turn. It is believed that the bed is still on the road somewhere, probably having had several changes of occupants. Needless to say, if you encounter an overfull bed trundling down a public road, do not get in.

1. Death is nothing if not reasonable. If you believe you have been hard done by by your inevitable end, if you feel that you are particularly busy or particularly important or your life’s work particularly monumental, there is a place you can go to register a complaint. Maybe get an extension. I know because my neighbour went down there. Only thing is, it’s best to go early. There’s a bit of a queue.
2. It’s a grey tower block, a bit brutalist. Fred the Grocer, whose wife headed out there in 1970, says it was built 1963 when the facility moved from a place out of town. But Death is nothing if not reasonable. Can’t have a head office you can’t get to without a car.
3. Then there’s Mina. I know Mina through bridge. She’s had a hard life, wants a few years of joy at the end to balance things out. Anyway, she went up last Thursday, been sending me texts. They weren’t lying about the queue. The whole bottom floor, it’s one big waiting area. Like an airport. Low ceilings and fluorescent lights and those elastic barriers you can’t lean on. But they do have a tea cart that comes around every few hours and there’s a ticket system for leaving your place to go to the toilet. Like I said. Death is nothing if not reasonable.
4. I forgot to mention Ed from Accounts, who went up last year. He’s just got onto the second floor. Still in the queue. I mean, it’s not the fastest. But he says they keep you busy. Death is nothing if not reasonable and the meal trolley’s pretty good. Not much reception on the second floor but he’s been writing letters. He’s still working on the preparatory paperwork. Special case, he’s worked out that his magnum opus will need to be a million pages long. Need a lot of time for that. Anyhow, they have to be thorough. Imagine if you snared immortality for someone else by mistake!
5. Not really heard much from those at the end of the queue. They say they shuffle them around a bit. Can’t have them going in in the wrong order. And by that time the queuers are a bit querulous; some are forgetful, a lot of them can’t walk and nearly everyone is in pain. They do provide wheelchairs, of course. Death is nothing if not reasonable. But I mean, some of them have been queueing sixty, seventy years. Some of them were brought in from the old building.  
6. Like I said, Death is nothing. Everyone gets a go. No-one ever comes out of the exit door.

1. So it all started at the local shop. You know the sort of thing. Stacking shelves and stuff. Complicated by the fact that payroll had messed up my contract so thoroughly that I ended up paying the top rate of tax, child support to a fifteenth cousin in the Shetland Isles and interest payments towards an outstanding parking fine incurred in 1875 near my place of birth. So my take-home pay was 1p. It is OK to discuss pay, isn’t it? Modern age and all that. Fortunately that was in the days when 1p sweets existed, so at least I got to go home with a banana duck once in a while. Anyway, one of our customers used to hand over his cash with his fingers twisted up like this, and one day I was a bit bored so I did the same thing back, and he said how surprised he was to meet a fellow Hughes-Fotherwell alumnus here, and did I need a better job?
2. So of course I said yes, and the next thing I know I’m up at the big house buffing the crockery. Serious crockery. I mean, I’d never used a butter dish before. And this guy has, like, a scallop turntable and I have to know how to get the sauce out. Polish the camembert crank. Pre-stretch the celery flange. Grease the cocktail slide. Then one day I put two fingers in his asparagus launcher. Bad idea. There was going to be a lawsuit, but word got out that International Crockery Magazine was sending a correspondent to smear both sides and nobody had the heart to continue after that.
3. Needless to say, I wasn’t sold on going back to domestic service. There was a bit of a payoff after the crockery incident, so I used it to set up a small business as an importer of banana ducks. Branched out into duck bananas after a while - confit duck in a crisp banana-shaped sugar shell, since you ask. Only my duck supplier was problematic. Eventually I got on the ferry to go and see what was up, and it turned out the ducks had revolted. Which obviously put a dent in my supply chain. Anyhow, the ducks tied me to an enormous slice of bread and floated me out on this lake full of ravenous gulls and geese and swans and emus and whatnot.
4. Adrenaline is a wonderful thing. Under the influence of sheer terror, I managed to paddle and hump that bread all the way to the Canal du Midi and thence out to sea. There I bumped into some pirates who had been shipwrecked. They were pretty glad to get bread, I can tell you, even if it was a bit soggy. Offered me a job straight away. But I couldn’t countenance a life of crime. After some discussion, we rebranded as providers of piracy experiences instead. You know the sort of thing - jump on board the yachts of the super-rich with your eyepatch on, sing a few Gilbert and Sullivan numbers and send a hat around. I made some fascinating contacts and nearly nobody tried to kill me. Started hiring myself out as a consultant in adventure, but it wasn’t really a secure profession. I remember telling this guy on this giant purple yacht about this and he said he could sort something.
5. It must have worked because the next thing I know I was being headhunted by a NASA subcontractor for a mission to Mars. Literally headhunted - they just wanted the head. They had this system, see, you plop the head in, tiny little rocket which doesn’t need much fuel, sleep until Mars and then pootle around in this little rover with spider legs. Obviously wouldn’t go down too well with the public so there was a cover story. The main camera was going to be broken. Helmetcam pictures only, head shots, all rockets filmed from long distance. They thought the camera thing might become a meme. They’d even invested in an app that did helmetcam-style pictures with a red filter: ‘Nancycam’. I was going to be called Nancy for this project, you see, after Nancy Reagan. Anyhow, they hadn’t quite got ethical approval yet but they were pretty sure about it. So there I was on the operating table, knife poised, when there was a power cut. Kind of lucky, because by the time the electric company got it sorted word had come down from on high that they wanted a nice white space dude with a little bit of stubble and could we see his hands too. So I was out of a job again.  
6. I was a bit off the idea of government agencies by then. Thought I’d go for academia instead. Obviously a bit challenging with my employment history but I put in a few speculative applications to see if I could wing it and lo and behold, I got an interview for the new Professorship of Bollocks at the University of West Wittering. Totally truthful at the interview and they didn’t believe a word of it. So of course they offered me the post straight away. Only thing was, someone had made a terrible mistake. It was actually a Professorship of real bollocks. Sponsored by a major dog company. They wanted to make a brand of treat biscuits with a testicle-licking sort of taste for the discerning canine bachelor. So I spent three months supervising students swabbing dog balls. Bit disappointing. I decided it was time to move on.  
7. What I’m trying to say is, I’ve tried all the other options, more or less, and they don’t work for me. You will not have a more loyal library assistant. Seriously. Also, I can get the library a great deal on banana ducks.

9077 Systems of Government
 -9077.1 Government by random people
    –9077.11 Those whose parents also did the governing
       —9077.111 Somehow the populace are on board with this
    –9077.12 Those who have been appointed by some mystical authority
    –9077.13 Those who just sort of wandered in and started governing
 -9077.2 Government by whoever is best at shooting people
 -9077.3 Government by people who were actually voted for
    –9077.31 People who were voted for once and have managed to turn this into a perpetual mandate
    –9077.32 People who were voted for under a one party official, ten thousand votes system
    –9077.33 People who were voted for entirely legitimately on the basis of policies aimed at making the next electoral term awesome at the expense of the entire rest of the future
    –9077.34 People who were voted for entirely legitimately on the basis of policies aimed at making life awesome for the small number of people who bothered or were able to vote, at the expense of everyone else
    –9077.35 Governments genuinely interested in optimising welfare
       —9077.351 Engaged in perpetual arguments about the definition of optimising and the components of welfare
 -9077.4 Government by perpetual crisis
    –9077.41 In which democracy will totally be resumed as soon as the crisis is over
    –9077.42 In which democracy is still in place, but who would trust a country in crisis to those other people?
    –9077.43 In which the timing and winner of elections is largely governed by who has been impeached most recently
 -9077.5 Government by those who did a revolution
    –9077.51 In which democracy will totally be resumed after we’ve finished renaming streets, airports and cocktails after the date, heroes and symbols of the revolution
 -9077.6 Government by those who have the most stuff
    –9077.61 Additionally optimised towards making sure that more stuff goes to people who already have a lot of stuff
 -9077.7 Evanescent government by the beautiful and doomed
 -9077.8 Government by cats

Down the back of the sofa, in the attic, behind the radiator, in your other trousers, should we get the cat x-rayed, it’s stuck to the ceiling, under the sofa, was it real to start with or just a concept, did you eat it, did I eat it, left it at the shops, it’s inside the big bag of other bags, disintegrated into dust, in the undergrowth, in the toilet, under your hat, it’s where you left it, you’ll find out when the postcard arrives, let’s retrace our route, in the fruit bowl, where the ransom note says it is, try your coat pocket, behind the bookcase, in your suitcase, in the baby, stolen, sold it, you’re holding it, in the freezer, behind the cheese, have you seen youtube it’s now in Greece, look in the first place you looked again, have you tried phoning it, it’s behind your ear.