Hello?

The old door creaked as I pushed it open. Nothing moved inside. Light from the doorway illuminated an old table covered in dust.

'Hello?' I called out.

Silence.

I stepped inside, making sure the door was propped open. Something about that house creeped me out. I tried to tell myself the stories weren't true, but every tiny bump set my pulse galloping.

'Hello?' I said again.

Nothing.

'Hello?' I peered into the old drawing room, but found it empty.

'Hello?'

'Hello?'

'Hello?'

'HELLO?'

'HELLO?'

'HELLO?'

'HELLO?'

This short story was taken from my forthcoming book - 'Breaking into Old Houses and saying 'Hello.''

My Inspirational Ballad

Up until now, my songwriting talents have gone largely unnoticed by the general public. I don't know why this is. Could it be that the great unwashed aren't ready for my Afro-punk-folk-bluegrass jams? Or can the liberal elite not come to terms with my uncompromising racial lyrics? Who knows?

The point is, I can no longer afford to stick to my principles. I've got too many mouths to feed. Seriously, just mouths. I have a family of disembodied mouths living in my house, and they're always hungry. Even though they have no digestive system. What I'm trying to say is, I spend every waking hour cleaning chewed-up food from off my floor.

Anyway, upon watching the Olympic coverage on the BBC, it occurred to me that it might be an idea to record a song that can be played over inspirational montages of athletes winning things in slow motion. A song I could sell to every broadcaster for them to play and play and play, until everyone just wishes they were dead. That's right; I'm going after the elusive Snow Patrol dollar.

So now, in the spirit of Olympic goodwill, I am sharing the lyrics to my brand new inspiration ballad; Winning.

Winning by Jah Mash-up (Ben Davids)

I can see the finish line,

Looming up ahead.

Will I get to it in time,

Or will I end up dead?

It doesn't matter where you're from,

Your colour or your creed.

All that matters is that you can run,

You can run at a decent speed.

Chorus

We are winning,

You and I,

Forever winning,

Throw your hands in the sky.

The world could stop,

The moon could shrink,

But we're winners.

What do you think?

I've seen you running,

Running around the park.

I think you are stunning,

Now you've run off with my heart.

It doesn't matter if you're a big man,

Or a girly midget.

Because, baby I'm the can,

And you're my plastic widget. (Nothing else rhymes)

Chorus

We are winning,

You and I,

Forever winning,

Throw your hands in the sky.

The world could stop,

The moon could shrink,

But we're winners.

What do you think?

Instrumental

A soaring orchestral swell, accompanied by a guitar solo that sounds a bit like the one Slash does when he walks out of that church and stands in the middle of the desert with his legs really far apart.

Chorus (In a higher key and accompanied by a gospel choir)

We are winning,

You and I,

Forever winning,

Throw your hands in the sky.

The world could stop,

The moon could shrink,

But we're winners.

What do you think?

We are winning,

You and I,

Forever winning,

Throw your hands in the sky.

The world could stop,

The moon could shrink,

But we're winners,

Just like Nigel Spink.

Just like Nigel Spink.

Just like Nigel Spink.

(Oooooooh, yeah)

Just like Nigel Spink.

(Baby, baby, baby)

Just like Nigel Spink,

(Owwwww fuck!)

Just like Nigel Spink.

We are winning,

What do you think?

My new stand-up routine

As I am getting nowhere fast with this one-liner malarkey, I have decided to change my act to make it more attractive to audiences, industry people and the Head of Comedy at Channel 5 (is there one? Someone look into that for me)

Hey guys! Now, I know what you're thinking; he is the bastard lovechild of Julia Somerville who used to read the news, and backbench Tory MP Christopher Pincher. (Pause for laughter and applause)

You know, I'm having some problems in my relationship recently. What it is, is that my partner doesn't want to be with me anymore because of my debilitating coke habit! (Pause for more laughter)

So she threw me out of the house, and I was walking down the road, when a man went past me on a bike, whilst wearing a karate outfit! What could that mean? Do you think he was maybe cycling to karate club, or something a bit more wacky?

"Hey, Bruce Lee!" I yelled at him, but he had already cycled at quite a pace and was out of earshot. See, the thing you should know about me is, I am actually a racist. (Pause for 'Oh my God, I can't believe what I'm hearing' laughter)

Yeah, I am actually a member of the Ku Klux Klan. (Carry on quickly so no wiseguys can point put that we don't have a KKK in this country) And I kind of embarrassed myself! I put my red undies in the wash with my robe! I know, I know! It was so embarrassing! I forgot to separate the whites!

It is at this point that I pause to allow for the MASSIVE laughs this punchline would create in the audience, who are by now so into my performance that they would all marry me. But then, I toy with their affections and play with their expectations of what stand-up comedy should be as I begin to deconstruct the art form.

So yeah, I'm standing here on stage, telling jokes. In my trousers. Telling those jokes in my trousers. Standing on this stage; wearing these trousers telling these jokes. Wearing my joke trousers. That's what I call them, because I wear them whilst telling jokes. And standing on stage. My stage joke trousers. That's what I call them because I wear them whilst standing on stage and telling jokes. In a comedy club. My stage joke comedy club trousers. That's what I call them because I wear them whilst standing on stage, telling jokes in a comedy club.

Now, I can tell that you're all looking at my trousers. Because after all, they are my stage joke comedy club trousers. And some of you are checking that my flies are done up. Which they are. I would never be so careless with my stage joke comedy club trousers. And you're probably thinking it would be funny if for some reason, my genitals were to be exposed. You're probably thinking that in your little brains. Your little brains that bob around in your skulls. In some kind of fluid. That's where you're thinking that.

And I think the fact that you're thinking that, in your tiny little brains that bob around in your skulls, in some kind of fluid, is the reason why most modern comedy is rubbish.

Thank you and good night!

I leave the stage to a standing ovation. Some audience members are openly weeping after all their narrow preconceptions of stand-up comedy were brutally torn asunder by the power of my intellect. I stand at the back of the room, basking in the love of the crowd, when a man comes up to me, gives me his card and tells me to call him. I look down at the card, and it says 'Head of Comedy at Channel 5' on it. This is initially very exciting, but then I turn it over and written on that side it says 'Cleaner at Channel 5', which isn't quite as glamorous. But then, it does come in handy when he springs into action, mopping up all the tears the crowd have shed due to my brilliance. And my trousers. My stage joke comedy club making everyone cry trousers.

A World War One poem by Siegfried Sissy

Mud.
Mud everywhere.
Honestly, I can't get over how muddy it is.

I'm covered.


In the stuff.

Mother sent some clean socks,
But I accidentally dropped them in the mud.

I bloody hate mud.

An excerpt from an action movie I'm writing

Dr Shazam:      Games up, O'Malley. All exits are sealed and the bomb will go off in two minutes. You're finished.

O'Malley:         What?

(The film is called O'Malley the Deaf Assassin.)

Like a broken record

People always tell me I’m like a broken record,
Because I keep telling them about my collection of broken records.
I wonder if I’ve broken a record,
For the biggest collection of broken records.
I asked them at the office of broken records,
If there was a record for the biggest collection of broken records,
And they said there was already a broken record,
For the biggest collection of broken records.
A man in America has ten thousand broken records,
Which has broken my record,
Because I have only three hundred broken records,
And if I want to achieve a broken record,
I’d need to get a lot more broken records.
So I’m always on the lookout for broken records,
To add to my collection of broken records,
And maybe one day I’ll have a broken record,
For the biggest collection of broken records,
But first, I need to find nine thousand seven hundred and one broken records,
And add them to my three hundred broken records,
If I’m ever to get my own broken record,
For the biggest collection of broken records,
And maybe then I’ll stop sounding like a broken record.

Idea for a horror film.

A man wakes up in the woods. He can't remember how he got there, but knows that he has to find his way home. Throughout the night he is pursued by demons and monsters, but he eventually reaches a clearing, where he finds his old van. He gets in, starts the engine and drives away, breathing a sigh of relief. It's then , in the film's final scene that he looks in his rear view mirror and sees a monster sitting in his back seat.

The lights in the auditorium go up and your eyes adjust as the credits roll. you think about leaving but then you look down and OH MY GOD! YOU'VE SPILLED POPCORN ALL OVER YOUR TROUSERS!

Some story ideas

Two lovers stroll along the beach, under the moonlight. The man picks up a stick and draws their names in the sand, with a big heart in the middle. He turns to his love and he says, 'Although the tides will wash this away, our love, like the ocean itself, will be eternal.'
The next day, another man, whose marriage has just broken down, happens upon the faded drawing and is heartened by its youthful optimism. His happiness is shortlived however, as when he gets back to his car, he finds that it has been clamped.

A man runs a failing greengrocers, and on the last day of business, watches as his unsold stock rots. This reminds him of the fragility of life and his own mortality, and as he closes the shutters for the last time, he vows to live life to the full.
A week later, he falls off a mountain whilst rock climbing and dies, but just before he expires he thinks, 'Well, what a load of balls that was.'

A woman is awoke by a noise in her house and gets up to investigate. The next thing she knows, she in unconscious and wakes up in a room she doesn't recognise. Then, as her eyes focus, she realises that she actually does recognise the room, and that she has fallen over her brass pig ornament again.
The next day, she thinks about throwing the ornament out, but then remembers that her Aunty Betty gave it to her before she died, so instead, she sells it on eBay, where it fetches £12.50.

A couple go to a ballet. the woman enjoys it, but the man doesn't and is visibly bored. When they arrive home, they bicker and argue, but the next day they are both dead from carbon monoxide poisoning.

A man buys a brass pig ornament on eBay and is disappointed as it's smaller than it looked on the website. He thinks about leaving neutral feedback, but then leaves positive, because he doesn't want to cause a fuss.
Later, his payslip arrives and when he realises that his employer has overpaid him, has a sly chuckle to himself about how things always seem to even themselves out.

Idea for a play...

Act One sees two well dressed men debating the virtues of the European Union Fisheries Commission. As the scene progresses, the debate becomes more heated and the two men can only resolve their differences with a sword(fish) fight. The sceptical man wins, but his victory is a Pyrrhic one because he is dying of bovine tuberculosis.

The curtain comes down for an interval, during which the audience can only buy heavily-salted snacks and no beverages.

Act Two is like Act One but funnier.