Tag Archives: PC

2504. Job interview

I’m sorry Doctor Okonkwo. You might have a doctorate in Aerodynamics and such qualifications would sometimes suit such a job as ours, but unfortunately we cannot discriminate on the basis of race, colour, religion, ancestry, national origin, sex, age, marital status, sexual orientation, gender identity, disability, or genetic information.

You seem to scream unsuitability in as much as you have a flat nose, are black, a follower of African animism, are not descended from cannibals, hail from Swaziland, identify as male, are over 30 years old, are unmarried, have dated women, pretend you’re not gay, identify yourself with unacceptable pronouns, have a sperm count that is far too high, are in a wheelchair, have DNA that doesn’t match the boss’s family tree, don’t purport to be descended from slaves, and refuse to get inoculated against chimpanzee pox. In such circumstances your invention that enables time travel through space worms to other dimensions is completely irrelevant.


I’m sorry Doctor von Eberhardt. You might have a doctorate in Compressible Flow and such qualifications would sometimes suit such a job as ours, but unfortunately we cannot discriminate on the basis of race, colour, religion, ancestry, national origin, sex, age, marital status, sexual orientation, gender identity, disability, or genetic information.

You seem to scream unsuitability in as much as you have a pointy nose, are white, an enthusiastic Protestant, are descended from the Lord of a medieval fiefdom, hail from a section of Germany that no one has ever heard of, identify as female, are under 40 years old, are married, have dated men, refuse to refer to yourself as a birthing assortment of mammary glands, identify yourself with unacceptable pronouns, are not in a wheelchair, have DNA that doesn’t match the boss’s family tree, don’t have slave owners in your ancestry so you can’t apologise, and refuse to get inoculated against orangutan pox. In such circumstances your invention that enables helicopters to fly in an alien sky that is utterly devoid of gas is completely irrelevant.


2393. Angel of mercy

(The stories are back! – albeit erratically. I shall restart with a story that some readers may not like!)

It was extraordinary. Drew was more than aware that he had died suddenly. He was sitting in his armchair early on a Friday morning. Next to his armchair was a little coffee table with his mug of coffee and a slice of marmalade on toast. He had just had his first bite of toast when next thing an angel was leading him towards the gates of Paradise.

What a lovely angel! So seraphic! So kind! The angel led Drew by the hand.

“We are heading towards the Gates,” said the angel. Drew could already feel the effects of Heaven emanating towards him.

“To quote Saint Paul,” said the angel, “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart the things that God has in store… You know the quotation I’m sure.”

 “Of course I do,” said Drew.

“You realize,” said the angel, “that if you hadn’t put so much salt in your food and into cooking that you could have extended your life on earth by almost two years.”

Drew hung his head in shame.

“You realize,” said the angel, “that if you had been more careful to eat only organically grown vegetables that you could have extended your life on earth by two further years.”

Drew hung his head further in shame.

“You realize,” said the angel, “that if you had bought an electric car instead of that beat-up old bomb you drove around in you’d be going through that gate there into Paradise and not through this door here where there is an eternity of weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

“The old bomb was all I could afford,” said Drew.

With that the angel opened the door and flung Drew in.

“Now who is next on the list?” asked the angel looking at her clipboard.

“How Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez got that job as the angel I have no idea,” said Drew as he disappeared into the nothing world.

1632. Predator control

(WARNING: Like at most rallies this speech contains obscenities).

I find your presence here in this auditorium stifling. There are four hundred and twenty-four of you present in this one room. Have you considered how overwhelming this is to those with autism? And you’re acting as if no one in the world suffers from claustrophobia. There are no windows in this auditorium. The air conditioning simply instils panic and alarm in sufferers. We must be attentive to the needs of others.

Excuse me. Yes. You. The lady in the pink cardigan. Would you mind not making little comments behind your hand to the person beside you. Not only are you spreading germs on your hand, but the hubbub of noise alarms those of us who are sensitive to unwanted noise. How can we concentrate on the speaker? To say nothing of the applause. Clapping must surely be one of the most insensitive mannerisms invented. Please simply wave your arms in silence. No? Yes you in the ripped jeans. When I say wave your arms I didn’t mean guns. Which should be banned. I would ask security to accompany you outside. With that attitude you should be lined up against a wall and shot.

I find it threatening that so many of you are sitting facing the stage. Turn around and face the back of the auditorium like civilized people. It’s male dominance which produces this obsession with having their penises face the speaker. Everything is to do with masculine in-your-face arrogance. The front the front the front. All males are to turn around and face the back! In fact, a nearby venue has been set up and I would request everyone move to the hall across the road so as not to be so intimidating and aggressive and toxic. We’ll have none of that cock and bull nonsense that’s been going on for centuries.

That’s better. Now that we have an empty hall I can get on with my speech. Need I remind you, if there are any questions, that you are not to use any sexist pronouns? We must be welcoming here to all. We are not racist or homophobic or xenophobic like those horrible fucking inhospitable bastards who do nothing but instil fucking hatred in society. They should be shot along with every other white supremacist on the planet who refuse to piss in a transgender bathroom because of the fucking hostility they hold to those who are not like them.

Now can we continue? The chairperson of the National Poultry Association has asked me to speak at this convention on Predator Control When Raising Chickens.

1172. Presumably nit free

Hi Caregivers

Welcome to the third newsletter this year from the Little Albert Einsteins’ Kindergarten! We have some exciting news with a touch of not-so-exciting news!

First the not-so-exciting news: We have discovered a case of nits. Please check your child’s hair and make sure it is nit free. In the meantime, you’ll be thrilled to know, we have commissioned an artist to create a picture of Albert Einstein with his hair shaved off. This will hang in the front foyer and replace the more traditional one, so that any child with nits will feel welcome and appreciated.

This brings me to our next point – the really exciting one!

We are changing our name! First of all we are removing the word “Little” from the name because it is demeaning to children. It implies that they are worthless. It’s the old adage, isn’t it, that children should be seen and not heard? So “Little” has disappeared.

Secondly, “Albert” is divisive and exclusive, so we are changing to “Alberta” which includes both the masculine and feminine forms of the name. Hopefully this way no toddler will feel left out because of their sexual preference.

The name “Einstein” has created a headache. “Ein” sounds like “iron”. It’s as if to say we expect the girls to grow up and stand at the ironing board in a subservient position. So after much discussion, we are replacing “Ein” with “Wrinkle-resistant”.

The “Stein” part of the name created a stigma for those who don’t like science, or are no good at it. So we are using “Steinway” instead, which is a brand of piano and thus it becomes all-inclusive for both scientists and those whose interests may waver from the scientific.

So here we are! Welcome to the Alberta Wrinkle-resistant Steinway Kindergarten!

Oh dear! I’ve had complaints already. Ms Olivia Brackenbury, who is eighty, brought in her great-grandchild and complained that the Wrinkle-resistant aspect was a typical case of ageism. Silly wizened-up woman.

Sarah Spriggon just pointed out that the word “Kindergarten” is a reinforcement of the rampant Nazism which is crawling into every aspect of life in this country. She felt ostracised from the community. We shall work on that next.

Oh but the artist has just arrived with the portrait of a shaven Einstein. It’s wonderful! It looks like the French artist Degas! Mon dieu! Someone just said that Degas was abusive to his models. Another thing to tidy up.

More news next week, as we forge ahead. And remember the motto drawn up by our staff: Inklusivität für alle und keine Duldung derer, die anders denken, which is roughly translated, I believe, as It’s best to bash up those who don’t agree with you.

838. Dear Miss Munyard


Miss Munyard, although she was called May by her colleagues, was in charge of the little children new to the school. She got the children to form a circle holding hands. They danced around singing:

Three blind mice, three blind mice,
See how they run, see how they run,
They all ran after the farmer’s wife
Who cut off their tails with the carving knife,
Did you ever see such a thing in your life as
Three blind mice?

Dear Miss Munyard,
I was amazed when Nola came home singing Three Blind Mice. The method of numeracy you apparently espouse has no bearing whatsoever on the modern mathematics that should be taught. Three mice is definitive. It’s the working out of the problem that’s important; not the answer. There could have been ten mice. It wouldn’t have mattered.
Zita Codfish

Dear Miss Munyard,
Andrew came home having had bad and dated attitudes towards blindness shoved down his throat. It’s not the way he has been brought up. Making fun of blindness while dancing around in circles is hardly the value we’re trying to instil in our young people.
Maureen and Petros Stifleburg

Dear Miss Munyard,
It’s pedagogical methods such as yours that enhance attitudes toward the world’s creatures that ultimately cause extinction. There’s nothing wrong with mice. People have them as pets. Other people trap them cruelly, or even cut off, as the rhyme Nigel came home singing said, their tails. These attitudes foster violence and lack of caring for our planet. His father gave him a good beating to try and instil better values into him than the ones you promote.
Lorna Bridgewater

Dear Ms Munyard,
That’s right, have the unnamed woman in the ditty Carolynne came home singing, have her stand at the sink and get her identity from her husband. She’s just a “farmer’s wife”. No wonder we haven’t moved on from the emancipation of the 19th century. Try and drag yourself into the 21st century. Or better still; throw yourself under a race horse and liberate a few people.
Melinda Beveridge

Dear May,
Jonathan came home from school on a high. He loves the songs you teach. He especially loved the one about the three blind mice. You certainly know how to relate to children. Jonathan worships you! I wondered if you were free again next Saturday evening?
Harry Wattleworth

To listen to the story being read click HERE!