Send in the clowns
A circus clown gave up his seat for me on the tube this afternoon.
Sadly this is not a euphemism, but a genuine record of the fact that a bloke who makes balloon animals, wears a rainbow wig and has as a life goal an intention to cram all of his mates into a mini took one look at me and felt enough pity to give me his seat.
Under normal circumstances someone handing over their seat is like passing the Olympic torch, ie infrequent and shared amongst only a select few. But when a circus clown, complete with full circus attire and make-up, gives up their seat the experience is immediately propelled into the basket of full moon white noise.
Allow me to explain. I attract white noise. Like metal fillings to magnetic north, lunatics love me and are inexplicably drawn to me. And during the full moon, when the tide and werewolves should be the only thing effected, you can be guaranteed that I will have a story to add to a mounting collection of insanity.
Two full moons ago, a posh sounding gentleman called me at work to ask if my organisation would be interested in sponsoring his idea to build an airport in Scotland, which was just part of his plans for economic re-growth in the UK. The other part included building a rail line to Scotland.
Having lived in Scotland as a child, I recall details of modern transportation infrastructure already in existence, which I relayed to my gentleman caller.
Not to be put off, he asked if I knew anyone else who might be interested in funding his not particularly New Deal, as clearly I knew people with cash to burn, and a “desire to travel”.
The month before that, I had a gentleman email me a photo of a “large bivalve” he had discovered in rocks near the coast line of his home, which he could not identify and so was asking if I could help. Bivalve is also not a euphemism. If I were a geologist or metamorphic expert this question may have not been out of place. However I work in PR!
And I once had my front lawn stolen during a new moon cycle. Yep, stolen. Dug up and moved somewhere else.
I know – it’s absurd. None of this can be true, right?
Well, it’s only 25 days to the next new moon, so let’s see what the clowns send in next month.
courtesy of http://www.magicalenterprises.com/images/200508020225500.TOBY-CIRCUS-BALLANTINE.jpg
Sadly this is not a euphemism, but a genuine record of the fact that a bloke who makes balloon animals, wears a rainbow wig and has as a life goal an intention to cram all of his mates into a mini took one look at me and felt enough pity to give me his seat.
Under normal circumstances someone handing over their seat is like passing the Olympic torch, ie infrequent and shared amongst only a select few. But when a circus clown, complete with full circus attire and make-up, gives up their seat the experience is immediately propelled into the basket of full moon white noise.
Allow me to explain. I attract white noise. Like metal fillings to magnetic north, lunatics love me and are inexplicably drawn to me. And during the full moon, when the tide and werewolves should be the only thing effected, you can be guaranteed that I will have a story to add to a mounting collection of insanity.
Two full moons ago, a posh sounding gentleman called me at work to ask if my organisation would be interested in sponsoring his idea to build an airport in Scotland, which was just part of his plans for economic re-growth in the UK. The other part included building a rail line to Scotland.
Having lived in Scotland as a child, I recall details of modern transportation infrastructure already in existence, which I relayed to my gentleman caller.
Not to be put off, he asked if I knew anyone else who might be interested in funding his not particularly New Deal, as clearly I knew people with cash to burn, and a “desire to travel”.
The month before that, I had a gentleman email me a photo of a “large bivalve” he had discovered in rocks near the coast line of his home, which he could not identify and so was asking if I could help. Bivalve is also not a euphemism. If I were a geologist or metamorphic expert this question may have not been out of place. However I work in PR!
And I once had my front lawn stolen during a new moon cycle. Yep, stolen. Dug up and moved somewhere else.
I know – it’s absurd. None of this can be true, right?
Well, it’s only 25 days to the next new moon, so let’s see what the clowns send in next month.
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