For such a small country (Pop. 5.5 Million) Denmark has quite a high profile in the international media.
Frequently topping best places to live polls and best quality of life surveys, some see it as a land of milk and honey where contented citizens live in a socialist-inspired utopia.
Of all the animals that humans have learned to cherish and share their homes with, there is one that stands out above the rest. No not the giraffe, as lovable as they may be. I’m talking about those little whiskered troublemakers – cats.
From their apparent origins in ancient Egypt, the modern domesticated moggy has come a long way. Worshiped, at times reviled, but ultimately triumphant in winning a place in our hearts and homes, cats are here to stay. Although unlike dogs, getting them to stay is pretty much impossible.
For those feeling inspired by Procrastination Man’s recent adventures, I present the halfbananas guide to perfecting your procrastination.
Now you too can learn to supercharge your underachievement and take your avoidance skills to the next level.
(See Procrastination Man’s first adventure here, and the start of this adventure here)
As the flat door bursts open two dark figures rush in yelling and blasting away with automatic weapons. Having already broken the ceiling light with their earlier fusillade from across the street, the room’s darkness gives our hero and his visitor a slight advantage.
Crouched behind the sofa, PM steels himself and waits for Harry’s command as the bullets fly around them. He wonders briefly if a person can overdose on their own adrenaline.
Okay, one more dose of ‘humorous verse’, then I promise to inflict no further verbal vandalism upon an utterly disinterested world. For now anyway.
I will return to ‘normal service’, with more incoherent ramblings and disrespecting well-known art masterpieces.
There is also the nail-biting and completely miss-able final installment of the adventures of the world’s least helpful superhero – Procrastination Man.
I’ve never been a great one for poetry, cockney rhyming slang is probably the nearest I ever got to a couplet in my youth. But what about verse? Is there a big difference?
It seems real poetry is a deadly serious business, with strict rules and regs. It nobly aims to stir the soul and enrich the spirit.
Verse is, perhaps, its rather more lighthearted cousin, playful, sometimes a bit silly and therefore entirely appropriate here. So in a fit of possibly ill-conceived and hubristic folly, I scribbled down a few lines.
I may inflict more on an unsuspecting world, depending on the quantity of bribes or death threats I receive demanding that I cease and desist.
Halfbananas - humour, short fiction & verse 