Category: Guest Authors

Andrew sent me this one a few days ago about some drunk British politician or something. I’m a little drunk from Kennealy’s and four pints, so pardon me if I just step out of the way and wake up tomorrow to fix the code for this…

Charles Kennedy is fond of the bottle; unfortunately he was fond of being leader of the Liberal Democrats as well. He refused to admit he was addicted to Whisky so he has lost his party’s top job in Westminster. He never admitted he was alcoholic to himself, to his party or his voters. They all found out they were duped and turned on him sharply. His leadership was stumbling towards disaster and his end was inevitable. Now the party has to decide a new leader exposing the fact that Social Democrats and Liberals shouldn’t really be in the same party.

I really need a nap, but the bird keeps singing outside my window, dammit!

Sort of a diary entry in 100 words from Andrew Ian Dodge today…

It started out as a kind offer from a rock band friend of Growing Old Disgracefully. We were to have our official live debut playing a few tunes acoustically as “special guests”. It would be a great way to dip our musical toes in the live scene. The dipping seems to have become a plunge. The opening band has pulled out and we are now the openers. We will play as many as we can get rehearsed. I, for one, can’t wait to get out there; getting stage fright afterwards as I always do. So Stripes Bar here we come!

I’m hoping for bootleg recordings.

I’m going to need to set up a category for Andrew, I think.
Here’s his latest, which is kind of a poem and a song, too…

That glow you have
Like from my nano
Lights up my days
Lettin’ me know, I ain’t alone
You’re there as a lead
Through my life’s toils
Standing me in good stead
Helping me through my many foils
Like the iPod’s many tunes
You are a soundtrack to my life
Guiding me through the dunes
Helping things through strife
You plugged into my heart
A line of power to my soul
Getting to me like a sharp dart
Music to my hurting ears
One that technology can’t provide
There to prevent all those tears
Letting me know where to hide

And if any of you out there have your own stories you’d like to start publishing here or elsewhere, let me know and I’ll be glad to pass the word along to the tiny sliver of the world that listens to my little feed.

It’s a hard-hitting rant in 100 words by Andrew Ian Dodge for your enlightenment and concern today…

In the country called Venezuela they have a leader who continues to echo one from the past.
This leader came from Austria and led a greater Germany; his evil is legendary. His politics were socialist in a nationalist way, and he believed Jews were the greatest enemy to all mankind.
Despite his crimes, there are leaders who ape his policies.
Mr Chavez is one such man. He likes to think he is the new Che; but in fact he is closer to the new Fuhrer.
First Venezuela, now Bolivia and where to next?
Oh never-mind nothing to worry about right?

Technically, he calls them the “Christ-killers” in his speech.
I didn’t realize the Romans controlled the world these days. Did you?
Anyway, now that Andrew’s going to be a regular feature here, I’ve added a section there on the right margin to list his many projects and sites. Just scroll down a bit past the wiggly Cthulhu icon thing.

Another fine tale from Andrew Ian Dodge, inspired by the shutdown of the London Transit System over New Year’s.

There was a group of men who thought they were clever; by shutting down the London Underground on New Years Eve. They ruined the night for many of their fellow Londoners; but probably expected sympathy. And annoyed a few more with their heartless smugness. In the coming year they will suffer much abuse and no doubt wonder why.
And those people who would normally be upset seeing an RMT member verbally abused will probably look away. There will no doubt even be some cheers.
The union member will probably not realise what they have wrought with their heartless holiday endeavor.

A young man sat cowering in his London flat, fearing for his life.

You see, he was a thrusting blogger who took his belief in free speech just a mite too far. For some.

The lad use his newfound voice, having been a a bit sheepish before to launch into a scathing critique of Islam and Mohammed.

His rants grew more biting, until he recorded a nice little kitty about the Quran.

He was praised all over, from New Zealand to Russia. His admirers however would not protect him from the angry mob outside, the ones yelling Allah Ackbhar!

There are those who spout utter crap and claim it to be true fact. Left or right it does not matter just as it long as it causes the media to natter. There are those who spend their time trying to correct this rubbish day after day. The end facts do matter don’t they?
Whether its something minor or major about war or your odd neighbour. The facts are what matter because they are what is the truth. Lies beget lies and can lead to lots of bother. I hope that I am in the group that pursues the latter.

Trevor began reading out the words before him; clearly and precisely. He worded it as it was meant to be read. The room began to vibrate and the air became musty. The flames grew higher and higher as they turned blood red. Trevor concentrated on the script for all he was worth. His concentration meant he didn’t see what rose from the altar. The tentacle rose to full length before it focused on Trevor. He didn’t notice when it wrapped round him and pulled him towards the altar. By the time he noticed it was too late; he was gone.

There once was a young Tory guy who wanted to be an MP. He worked very hard for the party, became a counsellor, went to all the right conferences and followed the party line. Then one day a bright young Tory leader came along and told our hero was no longer needed. You see he was born white, straight and male; all things bad in the modern Conservative Party. Of course this is not a tale of fantasy or fiction but ever so true. Count yourself lucky you are this poor soul. What a terrible waste of a young life.