Am starting up a 60 second clip a day thing for social media. It’s gonna run for 90 days and will be a mix of standup, storytelling and skits. Social Media is the only game in town for getting slots for storytelling so that’s the motivation -not ideal for context.

The previous post takes the piss outta it a bit.

I’ll also be mangling the topic of social media in my upcoming live gigs (well, I say gigs …more like shouting to strangers at a bus stop but the process is more or less the same).

AI Process Parsemangle beeped, cycled, and repeated the output:

‘DECLARATION OF WAR’

114,873 outgoing Thermonuclear Rockets annihilated Venoccus.

‘Guys, you’re lucky I let United Earth use my AI’, explained entrepreneur/ podcaster Leon Extrovert, ‘that last communication from Venoccus was hashtag too long, like who wants to read: ‘Dearest Humans, we are about to celebrate our megaannum solar ejection with extraplanetary explosives, it is important you do not view this as a declaration of war.’

‘What the hell is order online!?’

‘It means your phone granny, what are you looking for?’

‘Yellow flowers.’

‘Okay, click here…

Then enter your first name,..

And your surname…

And create a username, something memorable like ‘firetruck’ is good,..

Then identify images containing giraffes from sixteen photographs…

What are the flowers for?’

‘To honour the sun before Bealtaine, and welcome new life into the world.’

‘No offence granny, but your old ways are daft.’

Flub Backstertoittle’s wife was unimpressed:

‘You took a shortcut through the Valottam hills!’

‘Yes.’

‘And yet you’re late, are you sure that shortcut didn’t involve the Happy Tavern?’

‘I wish. It involved eyes as black as coal, thirteen rumbular appeandages, a galottum the size of a wheelie bin, and a scare I’ll never forget.’

‘Liar, the Phananonchaíocht doesn’t have a galottum.’

‘How would you know?, you’ve never seen it.’

‘The Book of Bongerlon is very clear on what the Phanonchaíocht looks like, and it definitely doesn’t mention a galottum.’

‘Really?, then what the hell did I just run into.’

‘I’m not in the tree’, explained the intruder.

‘Are you for real mate?’ yelled Umbarlon.

• The job of guarding the Aldernon Crystal was the most prestigious security detail on Fenossus.
• Lieutenant Umbarlon Hydroxil was rightly proud to have been appointed Guard of the Aldernon Vestibule. 
• He found the stranger hiding in a tree just outside the door.

‘No, I told you, I don’t exist.’

Umbalon considered the reply. It was an unusual one. Unusual enough to make Umbarlon contemplate his place in the Universe.

Which, ironically, was exactly the same amount of time needed for the theft of a crystal.

‘What are you wearing?’ asked the waiter.

‘Oh, this, it’s an Andromedan intergalactic secret service uniform.’

‘Come again?’

‘An intergalactic secret service uniform.’

‘Really, what are those three symbols on the breast?’

‘They’re not symbols, they’re Andromedan script for ever camouflaged, ever disguised, ever incognito’

‘So you’re an extraterrestrial spy.’

‘Yes, my job is to secretly visit planets marked for colonization, and blend in before reporting back on how many natives there are, so we know how many there are to kill. The key is to go undetected’

‘Right so, then what’s with the uniform?’

‘I’m off duty this weekend.’

‘Excuse me’, said the traveller to three men repairing the path, ‘I’m lost, and looking for Seanleabapheistín.’

‘Seanleabapheistín?, never heard of it’, replied one.

‘It sounds familiar’, said another.

‘You two are too young to remember‘,  said the third, ‘but I know that name well. Seanleabapheistín was a familiar name back in the days of magic, when everything was shrouded in a mist of bewilderment. It was built on a hilltop. Facing away from this mortal realm into the endless potential of time.’

‘That’s it’, said the stranger, ‘do you know the way?’

‘Sorry, no, I forgot’, replied the man

Deputy Flunk was feeling frustrated.

‘We have constructed the invisible moat around Lóntuisteach’, he said.

‘Did you fill it with nothing like I requested?’

‘Yes Prime Minister.’

‘And did you add the invisible crocodiles?’

‘Yes Prime Minister.’

‘Liar, there’s no such thing as an invisible crocodile, now go get regular crocodiles and put them in the invisible moat.’

‘Are you sure that’s necessary Sir?’

‘Absolutely, an invisible enemy will easily swim an invisible moat undetected.’

‘Sir?’

‘What is it?’

‘Shouldn’t we do something about real enemies.’

‘Don’t be silly Flunkey, nobody cares about them -our greatest problem is the unknown.’

International podcast host Joseph Logan was empathising…

‘Yeah man, I lost myself once too…’

‘Oh, right, anyway Joe, I rode a bicycle to Kashmir to find myself.’

‘I was coming down from a six day Ayahuasca trip and said to the wife, “I can’t find myself, I better grab a bicycle and cycle up the Himalayas for a look”.’

‘Erm, aaanyway, Kashmir was where I first tried transcendental meditation.’

‘The wife said to me “Joe, you’ll go pure daft if ya don’t pack in the hallucinogens”.’

‘I’ve been practicing ever since.’

‘I know what ya mean, I’m tripping right now.’

‘

‘

‘Where are they?’

‘Who?’

‘Not who, what -my keys!’

‘Wherever you left them, it’s not my job to know where they are.’

‘It should be. You took a vow to honour and obey. Surely that includes helping me with the most basic of tasks.’

‘I don’t like your tone, I’m not your mother.’

‘Well I could do with a bit more help, did you put out the bins?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because they’re not due for collection till Wednesday. Sometimes I wonder about you skipper. The board at Starfleet must’ve been drunk when they gave you command of a Starship.’