“You alright?”

“Nah, bad shit. Send a picture. Try it but it’ll be the last one.”

“Okay. Let’s leave it for now.”

“You not got a picture?”

“There’s this one that we didn’t do ages ago… But leave it. We’ve done 52. Leave it on 52 for a while.”

“There’s no a while, buddy. This is it — Goodbye — For the photo. Works. One word.”


It’s a funny word.

What is?

Yet.

Why?

I mean, you have ‘not yet’. But you don’t have just ‘yet’. On its own.

Yeah you do. Yet he was still in the shot, ruining my photo. Yet the Idiot with the red trousers wouldn’t move.

That’s a different yet. That one means… yet. But, like, ‘not yet’. You say ‘not yet’. Then when it wasn’t ‘not yet’ it should be ‘yes yet’.

I suppose.

You don’t shout, ‘yet!’

No.

What makes a man wear red trousers?

Dunno.

Must get to a certain age and think, I’ll get some red trousers.


I actually enjoyed the new Ghostbusters. Let me start with that, but today, even though it’s cold, I’m wearing a running vest. I’m not playing. I hope steam comes off me when I stop because that looks cool. I check my Garmin 630 running watch. I’m roughly on schedule. When I get home the watch will automatically upload the data from my run to Strava.

Strava is a website that sucks all the fun out of physical activity.

I’m trying to beat this Strava segment record. Only about a mile. Clearly not a popular route. …


Is that car on the right side of the road or am I on the wrong side? Didn’t matter. He couldn’t lose his licence again. He could probably ramp over it. He squinted. Where was he? And what the hell was that smell?

Oh yeah, he was covered in vomit. Oh yeah.

“Compels!” he shouted in the dark street. He remembered the word now! He laughed. It was funny how that happened. When you were trying to think of a word but couldn’t.

“The power of Christ…” he’d said over the vomit covered bed but he couldn’t think of the…


Am I a racist? Of course not but damn, those Asians sure were taking a lot of photos. Nah, that’s not racism. It’s stereotyping people. Still bad. I’ve got to stop doing that. I put the copy of the Daily Mail I’d been reading back on the pile.

Outside the shop they were laughing. They have a terrific sense of humour, surprisingly. Check out Shaolin Soccer if you don’t believe me.

I went to the door.

“You want me to take a photo of all of you?” I asked the girl. Even though I knew she could speak English, because…


Lazarus Beaumont is wearing his new watch.

It cost him nearly £9000 because it is made of gold in Switzerland and it has diamonds on the numbers. The shop he bought it from had a doorman.

He is watching the presentation but he doesn’t really understand the presentation. He can’t even remember the brief he gave but he doesn’t think that this fits it. He will tell them to do it again. He will tell them to make it punchier. Lazarus Beaumont likes things punchier. And he likes his new watch. Lazarus Beaumont doesn’t like dress down Friday.

It’s Friday…


“Get up and walk around in a circle!” Shouted Dom Joly through the megaphone.

Some did as told but most of the people who had found a seat didn’t move because the joke, if that’s what it was, had worn as thin as the slick of sweat which coated Dom’s face.

“Dom, come on, we’ve got enough. It was funny.”

“You’re a comedy genius are you?” he asked her.

“No.”

“No, so shut up, Claire!” barked Dom Joly. He turned on the music. It was The Birdie Song. Claire backed away. The camera had run out of memory anyway. …


Claire stared at the golden lumps.

Japanese mackerel. I mean, it’s gonna be smelly. With the hot oil. But the way her friends had grimaced when they arrived. Claire apologised that the food she was cooking smelled of cooking food.

It was Bob, the paralysed-from-the-waist-down comedian who had actually first refused to eat it. “Bit fishy,” he’d said. Claire had tried to explain that it didn’t actually taste that fishy. I mean, it was a fish but…

He wouldn’t even try it. Why have a friendly Come Dine with Me competition if you’re not prepared to even taste it? The…


Ben stopped his rushing past. Three times in his life he’d gone down this route to his new flat and he now realised each time the old guy had been there. He looked around then approached.

“Hello,” he said. He was waiting for one of two reactions. Either the old man would start snarling and swearing or he’d break out into a smile. Ben held his hand out to show he wasn’t a threat. The old man broke out into a smile. “You okay, fella?” Ben asked.

“Oh, fine yes. Hello.”

“What are you up to?”

“I’m, erm, just… just…


Craig looked down. Jesus, he was covered but that had been… WOW!

I spunked! He texted. After pressing send he immediately regretted the exclamation mark. Sounded weird. Too excited. Ah well. While his heart began winding down he waited for Amanda to confirm that she too was having a massive orgasm. And why wouldn’t she be? He’d been sexting some pretty racy stuff.

When she hadn’t replied for a minute a new less sexy image filled his mind. What if she wasn’t alone in the hotel room like she said?

Craig’s chest prickled. Amanda had gone to Paris with her…

Great Photo Story

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