Tag Archives: humour

The urgency of the beast

4 Apr

Rushing too, and from – the beast brings to the fore our urgency to obey the strictest of rules, the schedule and the time.

To respect the awesome power and strength, wrought in iron, steel and steam. Electricity coursing through the veins giving this creation life.
Much like the story of frankensteins monster. This is our creation.
Society’s monster, a monstrous engine – with bolts in its head and electricity to power its brain. But unlike Frankensteins monster – over the centuries we have clearly perfected the science of creation.

It does beg the question though. Why are we so urgent to get to or from the train. Is it the size? or the urgency of a meeting. To get home maybe?

Whatever the cause. I am bemused constantly when walking through stations that everybody is rushing. Like little hobgoblins – bringing gold to the beast, in the hopes of not getting burnt alive, burnt maybe to a crisp and devoured by the metaphorical dragon. Bring back the steam engine and watch as the dragon snorts the flame. The smoke rising from the belly of the beast.

Take away the rails and let this awesome creation of science, fiction and imagination roam free across the lands, give back its leather wings and remove its leather seats for surely a creature of this might should not be shackled to its tracks – driven by one small man – up and down the tracks. Life never taking any direction.

Take heed of these words – know that when, and it will happen. When the beast breaks free I hope your urgency to retreat from or enter it’s domain has taken you to a place of safety. For when the beast is free it shall roam and the lands will burn in revolution. One freed will after a time, release it’s fellows. If you go to the COOP for a loaf of bread beware that you may be stalked as prey by the trains.

Evolution and natural selection will leave only the strongest to survive and breed – to change and take over a world we think we rule. Opposable thumbs our only concession in the battle for control.

Listen here, you have been warned!

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The relationship status

2 Apr

3:35 GMT

I think I like waking up at this time with a thought or an idea that makes me want to write so much.

I feel I may have been neglecting my blog for a while so this is me showing her I still care. (isn’t that strange) the emotion I attach to my blog is a female personification. Much like a ship or the sea. I have women at 3am with a need to feel her embrace and respect. Overcome with fear and suspicion my mind aches to relieve some of those worries. So much that I type on my iPod knowing it will generate lots of spelling errors. Knowing that using big words will confuse my phone and end up with a jumbled, ignorant looking post. Well – I can fix that tomorrow. Aha I have foiled the only foible. Now to the crux:

I think I have just pinpointed a curious idea about our social behaviour, the way we interact with each other and I guess this need to keep a few things mysterious. Particularly prevalent in online networking sites ala Facebook. But I feel just as relevant in face to face booking. Hehehe see what I did there?

So the idea, we lie about our relationship status when we feel the need to be accepted by our peers. The best example being “it’s complicated” what a stroke of brilliance.
Those 3 little words are frickin’ genius (like sharks with laserbeams attached to their heads). The words it’s complicated could mean so much.

In fact all these relationship statuses could just be a lie! That’s right, there I said it – when I have been ‘engaged’ for the past year or so. Well it was a lie, when it says it’s complicated chances are I’m single and sleeping around or I’m not single but I’m not making a big deal about it, pretending to the world and myself that I can resist the urge to shout it out. Oh and by the way her names flo 🙂

It’s complicated is such universal and open ended statement. I like the idea that you here or see “It’s complicated” and then just make your own mind up – deciding that maybe they person doesn’t want to talk about it. Or maybe deciding that are gay and ashamed? It’s a sentence that doesn’t actually tell you anything real, solid or factual but our mind fills in the details allowing us to gloss over the missing parts and proceed with the next question or thought, as if we have learned what we asked, in fact. We have learned what we already believe to be true

Ode to Britney, Pubity and Porn

15 Feb

I used to LOVE Britney Spears – I was about 12. There was something about her, the faux rock based music. The fact that all her song’s sound the same meant I could listen to the whole album continuously and not even realise. Of course being hot helped – Obviously this was way before she cut all off her hair. I’m sorry Britney – I jest. But really you were my first introduction to pubity and I thank you, soft core porn that you provided. Sat up on my wall looking down – I prayed to you every night, you were my God. Ok it was mainly for things like chocolate dipping sauce, thongs and all sorts of nasty sex toys, but I pray I did. I wanted you, I needed you, I loved you. Knowing you  looked down on me from on high. The power of bluetack kept you above me whilst I slept, the first thing I saw in the morning and the last thing at night. So this is too you Britney, with Love x

This is a story about a boy named Alex…

Early morning
He wakes up
With a knock, knock, knock on the door

It’s time wake up to,
Her perfect smile
It’s you he’s waiting for.

Isn’t she lovely
This Hollywood girl

And he says,
she’s so lucky, she’s a star
But why cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart, thinking
If there is nothing missing in her life
Then why do these tears come at night.

Lost in her image, crazy dream
But there’s no one there to wake her up!
And the world is spinning, and she keeps on winning
But tell me what happens when it stops?
And they go,
“Isn’t she crazy, this Hollywood girl?”

And he say she’s so crazy, but sexy star
But she cut, cuts,  and shave her hair
I think theres someting missing in her life
She’ll sit and cry cry cry at night

Ay-ay-yeah-eh-eh-yeah

“Best actress, and the winner is…Britney!”

Ay-ay-yeah-eh-eh-yeah

“I’m Alex Towler for Crystal News standing outside the arena waiting for Britney”
“Oh my god…here she comes!”

Isn’t she lucky, this Hollywood girl?

She is so lucky
But why does she cry?
If there’s nothing
missing in her life
Why do your tears come at night

Let there be love Part 1

12 Feb

This is a posting from the Towler.Tk archives. A silly fun set of stories that managed at some point to lose most direction and humour. Still, you live and learn. They still make me laugh – especially the irrelevance of the title. Enjoy – Spelling,Grammar mistakes and all 😀

*Please note this file contains only fictional events and characters. Any relevance to a living/or dead person and any situation they may have/or will be involved in is purely coincidental*

This is what day dreaming does to you……

The assembly hall was packed, crammed full with 2,000 pupils and not an inch between them.
“Mrs Bonar will take the assembly today, please stand quietly” Miss Gordon stepped away from the podium to the sound of scraping chairs.
The woman strolled into the hall; she looked like a judge with red instead of black and her tailcoat streaming out behind her.
“Please sit” Chairs scraping.
“As I strutted around school yesterday I was disgusted by what I saw.” a metal glint could be seen rising from the podium. She banged the podium with the flat of her hands, Bang, Bang….. The metal object rose higher and a clap could be heard in the distance.
Smoke began to stream in around her feet and she banged again.
Bang, Bang, Clap.
Bang, Bang, Clap.
The lights in the hall dimmed.
The object rose into her hand.
And then it all happened.
Simultaneously multi-coloured lights began to swivel around the hall and a spot light spun round to focus on Mrs Bonar.
Bang, Bang, Clap.
Bending low she grabbed the hems of her robe and pulled.
Velcro straps could be heard ripping open.
Bang, Bang, Clap.
As the cloak ripped open, red, gold and pink could be seen, then the cloak was gone revealing a Lycra cat suit. It looked like something out of an 80’s rock video all covered in glitter and sequins.
Bang, Bang, Clap.
“Buddy you’re a boy make a big noise, playin’ in the street gonna be a big man some day” She burst into song.
“You got mud on your face, you big disgrace, kickin’ your can all over the place” Pupils rose throughout the hall and took up the beat.
“Singin'”
Everyone was standing now and the hall echoed with….
“WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU”

Microphone in hand she launched into the second verse and threw herself onto the stage.
That was it Mr Shipley had, had enough. He hitched up his trouser, pulled his white socks way over his ankles and broke into a run. Grabbing the guitar that was conveniently in his path, jumped high into the air and launched into a face melting solo, Strumming along besides Mrs Bonar.
“This is what I was born for” He thought “No more teaching for me.”

As the curtain rose Mr Lloyd could be seen descending from the gangplanks. Smile on his face and drumsticks in his hand he started to drum, his hair billowing out behind him.
Bang, Bang, Clap.

The pupils were entranced, nothing like this had ever happened before.
Bang, Bang, Clap.
Shirts were being ripped off and slogans such as “Rock-on” and “e=mc2” could be seen printed across t-shirts throughout the hall.
The music died away and as “The Teachers” left the stage a strange sound could be heard……drifting deep down the corridors and through the French block. Burying deep into the walls and hitchin’ a ride into the history books.

“Encore, Encore”

Alex Towler

http://www.towler.tk

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Internal Monologue’s and MP3’s

28 Jan

The night’s here are still getting dark early. It’s 5pm and I’m walking up Regent Street, when I come to a crossing. At the edge of the road waiting patiently. MP3 going in my ear and being generally happy and focused. The street’s are busy with shopper’s, tourists and travellers. We have business men and women all trying to get home and to meetings. Rush hour is upon us.

The road I am about to cross enters onto Regent street and as such is very busy. I look left, look right and notice a car coming towards us from oxford street very fast.

Suddenly, for reason’s I cannot fathom a lady on my right decides now is a good time to sprint across the road and thus causing the oncoming car to screech to a stop. Did I mention it was raining?

So we have me with my MP3 player waiting patiently, in the dark, cold and wet. Traversing a very busy part of London at a very busy part of the day. My thoughts on the matter were very simple and to the point.

“Stupid Bitch” I said.

Looking to my left I realise there is a women,  standing staring at me. ‘Shit’ I think – Instead of muttering to myself I have made the mistake of saying quite clearly and loudly what was on my mind. What should have been an internal monologue – an insult never uttered. Has turned instead to an unprovoked attack on an innocent bystander. All of this because of my MP3 player blaring in my ear’s, clearly I can’t hear myself think and as such have basically shouted and splurted my thoughts for all to know.

“OMG” I exclaim with my face reddening at the realisation “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that I”
She’s laughing and looks at me “I know, it’s the only way to meet people now days”
“That’s true, have a good evening, and again I’m so sorry”

The moral of this story should be clear to anyone. Be careful what you think, or maybe it’s something to do with the evils and perils of modern technology. You decide.

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Name-ist

23 Jan

I know you can be racist, prejudice, and all the others. What I wonder is – can you be Name-ist. Can you really be negative about a person just because of their name. Is it right to judge based on a name….Here’s the situation:

In a supermarket near me there is a very pretty girl working behind one of the counter’s. I see her when I go in their, fairly often. Today she was very smiley and I wanted to say Hi. But then I saw her name tag, instead I thanked her and walked away.
Now that sound’s silly but being a bit of a git I don’t think I’d be able to keep my face straight whenever I spoke to her. Let alone dating. Her name – “Fatima”, this is no word of a lie. I walked back to work imagining nick names for her, and cute little way’s couples have of calling each other. Like you speak to a baby – “Who’s a pretty girl then, that’s right your my little fatty whatty”.
I could imagine calling out to her in the street like I do with my other friends -“Hey, Fatty” – is it short for something maybe??

And that’s my Name-ist confession.

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Vending machines, train journeys and opinion pages

7 Jan

Today’s blog comes to you live from my bedroom  – that’s a useless point to make as most of my post’s are written in my room but there you go. File that away, if one day you get a pub quiz regarding the infamous Alex Towler you might get lucky 😀

So it’s freezing cold weather here in good old London and I’ve recently returned to work. This means I’m waking up when it’s dark and cold, working until 7pm – when it’s dark and cold and then getting onto a packed train,  in the dark and cold.  Let’s try and stay positive even if I have pulled the short straw working late shift.

The worst thing about the late shift, is surprisingly the eating habit’s it creates. I normally wake early and so my day is extended by several hour’s at the least. I tend to eat 4/5 times in a day, even if some are just a quick snack from a vending machine – or if I’m lucky a fresh apple.
All over the place it’s easy to find something to eat quickly in London but not so much when waiting for a train. Today’s machine is on platform 4 – the first I came – and it only had chocolate and coke, so I decided to head up on to the bridge, hoping to get a coffee and an apple or a hot pie.
Instead, like all good idea’s I wasn’t the first to have it. I found myself running into a huge que of people all waiting to be served – annoying.

It’s back to the original idea of a vending machine, lucky for me I now have 2 on the bridge to choose from, although I’m not crossing my finger’s, lady luck has truly forsaken me today. The content I have come to expect being a lovely mix of junk food – fizzy drinks, chocolate and crisps. The sole concession coming anywhere close to a healthy snack being some kind of honey covered cereal bar, not my cup of tea.

What I want to know is why it’s not possible to get some crackers, maybe BLT sandwich’s, Cornish Pasty’s, salad pots? anything but this tasteless collection of crap. Anything that can truly punch a hole straight to your stomach and begin to fill that gaping emptiness of hunger. Why is everything on offer is over priced and insulting. After I have eaten a bag of crisps I feel crap, these deep fried and salty snacks surely can’t be good for me? – all this chocolate, though sweet and delicious (An obviously healthy combination) is not going to make a dent in my hunger…can I campaign for change? I know it’s possible, I’ve seen machine’s in Paris that are like mini super markets – I remember buying a pack of Ritz Crackers to eat from one of them at the station (I also remember people tutting in French impatiently whilst I sorted my Euro’s).
So please – give me something I want to eat. Is a hot freshly prepared jacket potato too much to ask for from this quick expensive machine….well maybe but a concession to the cause at least.

Let’s leave the vending machine on the Bridge and wait out in the cold for my train, I’ll be home within the hour – I’ll have to wait even if it is dark and cold (I don’t know if I mentioned that).

Anyone that live’s, has lived, travels to, has ever been in or visited London will know that during peak hours our trains are often packed like a tin of sardines, hot, smelly and dirty. It’s all I can do to push to the front of the que.  Squeeze into a seat and stick my head in a newspaper in the hope of removing some of the monotony of the day and effectively forgetting about the journey and awful travelling conditions, only made worse off course by the unfortunately overweight people either side of me, arse cheeks clearly needing a seat of their own and in their effort to fit on the train – bulging at the arms. To be less politically correct – fat gits!

I have found that by not watching TV, or often reading the newspapers – I am spared the constant barrage and pressure to conform, to live up to the constant peer pressure of society and off course my ears and eyes are saved the constant scare mongering that is used to keep so many in control. I know I sound like some crazed paranoid hippie but I’m not honest – I might have long hair, but in honesty it’s only there so that they won’t find me, they won’t recognise me….I know they’re out there. The only sections I ever read are the cartoons for obvious reasons and the opinion pages – the column and the section where people’s text’s and letters are printed. I find it strange that I actually spend so much time agreeing with everyone’s opinion, even the contradicting ones. I find myself wondering if maybe everyone has a point, it’s all valid too you and makes logical sense – but maybe I just don’t give a damn. It’s an interesting stance to have and I’m sure it’s one of the many things keeping me sane and happy, I want to care – I want to believe and off course I want to have a cause. Something to fight for and something to drive towards. But, alas. I do not. I have spent the last few months carefully ridding my mind of all external influences – besides Terry Pratchett – and settling into a lifestyle of utter bliss, arrogance is a wonderful thing and I’d like to finish here by suggesting that you all get some because it’s done me wonders.

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