Coming Soon from WordJam Publishing; P. G. Wodehouse's Jeeves Stories As You've Never Experienced Them Before...

The winds whistling and howling outside Berkeley Mansions were nothing compared to the cyclone brewing inside the Wooster heart that unseasonably bitter March morning. Indeed, one's fairly certain that if King Lear had felt like gloomy young Bertram that particular Wednesday AM he would have challenged the winds to blow and crack their cheeks while standing in the ornate streets of Mayfair, not some newt-infested piece of shrubland in Dartmoor. But then, if poor K.L. had access to the remarkable gizmo that was currently exercising B.W.'s fingers and thumbs he would have spared poor Edgar's ears the proverbial bashing. I paused my rage-fuelled activities on Twitter for a moment to consider what an eighth century iPhone would look like when I was shaken from my reverie by a polite cough. I looked up blinking to find Jeeves standing over the bed brandishing the old eggs and b.

    'Ah, Jeeves,' I said frostily, glaring at him with the annoyance one usually reserves for a child kicking the back of one's theatre seat. 'Am I to assume from the sickly aroma of fried pig carcass and boiled chicken ovulation currently invading the Wooster bedroom that my stern talk with you after returning from the Drones Club last night fell on disinterested ears?'

    'On the contrary, sir,' he replied with his customary, albeit measured, bonhomie. 'I recall yesterday evening's declaration with absolute perspicuity.'

    'Yes, well, perspicuous or not, Jeeves, I want to make it absolutely clear that not another piece of dead animal flesh shall pass these lips.'

    'No, sir?'

    'No, indeed, sir. When one thinks of those poor blighters couped up in pens no bigger than a snooker table I go quite weak'

    'May one enquire if the chief architect of sir's culinary volte face will be sharing in this herbivorous demagoguery?'

    'What, Bingo? Absolutely, Jeeves! Well, he doesn't have much choice, really, now he's once again a slave to the quixotic spirit of l'amour - or Tabitha Earthchild, to give her her nom de activisme. She who walks in beauty like the night, of cloudless what-not and etcetera. An intersectional feminist, no-less, Jeeves, engaged in the eternal struggle for social justice necessitating the dismantling of heteronormative, colonial-patriarchal values. Jolly good luck to the little woman, I say.'

    'And presumably sir has had time to reflect on the practicalities of this new-found lifestyle choice since he was put to bed last night in a state of advanced inebriation-?' 

    'Well, I've certainly 'educated myself' on the wider implications, if that's what you're driving at, Jeeves. Or rather, Bingo filled me in between Jägerbombs. Do you realise how much CS gas it generates transporting what's left of old Daisy, Mr. Porker and Tinkerbell to Smith's Butchers? Head-spinning stuff!'

    'Tinkerbell, sir?'

    'It struck me as a good name for a chicken, Jeeves. I was toying with Henry, but it seems rather disrespectful when one considers Agincourt, good old C. of E. and, of course, the motor car.'

    'If I may correct sir's entirely fallacious but wholly understandable blunder, the first automobile - or 'Fardier à vapeur', as it was then called - was in fact invented by a Nicolas-Joseph Cugnot in 1769, and not our colonial cousin Mr. Ford.'

    'A Frenchman, Jeeves?'

    'So his place of birth in the Void-Vacon region of north-eastern France would indicate, sir.'

    'Well, I never,' I said, trying to take in the enormity of this revelation. 'Just think, Jeeves - if Napoleon had used these F.V. contraptions at Tarutino or Waterloo the course of history would have been altered.'

    'Alas, sir, it took some time for Monsieur Cugnot's invention to catch on.'

    'Well, it's a bally shame it caught on at all!' I snapped, Jeeves' observation handily placing me back on my train of thought again. 'All these infernal motorcars filling the air with noxious gas - it's a crime against nature, Jeeves. Do you realise the Earth is boiling? That we've passed the point of no return? And unless we drastically reduce our cardboard emissions and adopt renewable energies all life on the planet will be wiped out in twelve years' time?'

    'I take it sir is referring to carbon emissions?'

    'Yes, those as well.'

    'Well, one need only point to the underreported phenomenon of global greening to see that the promise of a barren, uninhabitable, apocalyptic future is wildly exaggerated, sir.'

   'Global greening, Jeeves?'

    'Yes, sir. A remarkable occurrence which has led to areas of forest comparable to a continent approximately twice the size of the United States mainland emerging over the last thirty-three years. According to studies, this unprecedented increase in the growth of plants and trees is chiefly fuelled by carbon dioxide. The slight rise in CO₂ emissions over the last century from 0.03 per-cent to 0.04 per-cent has thus provided ready food access for plants while at the same time preventing them rapidly losing water from their stomata. As a consequence, greening appears to have spread to arid landscapes previously unable to support vegetation, such as Western Australia and the African Sahel.'

    I looked at him for a moment in bewilderment, wondering if he had finished his truly extraordinary recall of facts that were as alien to me as a camel is to a polar bear.

    'That's all very well, Jeeves,' I finally replied, falteringly at first but with renewed gusto as the Wooster brain kicked back to life. 'But haven't you forgotten something?'

    'Sir?'

    'Good grief, the animals, man! Surely the forests drawing in all that CO₂ is going to choke the poor little perishers? Never more shall we see the nimble-footed chimpanzee swing his plucky way through the jungle, or the delicate wood vole nesting in fallen twigs if all those horrid emissions are being sucked up by the trees.'

    'Quite the opposite, sir. The carbon absorption produces oxygen, sustaining life. With reforestation and conservation, tree coverage has increased by 2.24 million square kilometres over the last forty-two years, creating a stable home for our bestial friends. And while it is undeniable that human beings have regrettably brought about the extinction of a number of species, this trend is gradually reversing. Over the last five hundred years, Gregorian calendar notwithstanding, just nine species of birds and mammals have shuffled off this mortal coil. Overfishing of the oceans naturally remains a problem, as indeed is plastic pollution in the oceans, sewage spilling into rivers, habitats being fragmented by urban growth and so on, but with careful husbandry and increasing awareness these trends are happily proving reversible.'

    There was another brief pause, after which he added 'sir' as a much-welcomed full-stop. 

    'And the reliance on fossil fuels-?'

    'Far more efficient than wind turbines and solar panels, sir. And if one may expatiate upon this matter with one final but paramount observation, the fanatical scramble towards net zero in the Western world borders on redundancy compared to the consumption of coal, oil and gas in potential superpower countries such as India and China. While they will enjoy an ever-increasing standard of living, we will find our daily comfort at the mercy of barely functional heat pumps, power shortages and an accelerating cost of living crisis.' 

    'You surprise me, Jeeves,' I replied archly, doing up the top button on my pyjama collar to underline my quiet outrage. 'I wouldn't have expected climate denialism from a dashed clever chap such as yourself.'

    'I prefer to think of it as empirical scepticism, sir. I haven't discounted the rise in global temperature, however small - merely expressed a Pyrrhonic view that the narrative disseminated by government agencies and mainstream media outlets does not hold the monopoly on truth.'

    'Well, in future, perhaps you should pay less attention to what this Python fellow says and place just a dash more trust in the wisdom of your superiors and betters.'

    'Very good, sir.'

    'However, I will add on a conciliatory note that your argument about the conservation and, one assumes, protection of wildlife, has made me consider that the occasional rasher of bacon, poached egg, lamb cutlet or sirloin steak will do no harm. After all, I am but one man, Jeeves, and therefore unlikely to drive any of our dumb friends to extinction single-handed.'

    'I'll prepare a fresh breakfast for you, sir,' he replied, the faintest hint of a smile lighting up his fine, chiselled face.

Well, now we know what all that grinning was about...

Eight Classic Films, TV Dramas and Spoken Word Albums That Feel Painfully Relevant in 2024

[NB. In keeping with WordJam's house style, films are attributed to director and TV dramas to screenwriter.]

* * * * *

Privilege

(d. Peter Watkins: Universal, 1967)

Any of Peter Watkins' films could've made this list, but in an era where celebrity supposedly equals moral authority, Privilege seems to speak louder than ever. Set at an unspecified time in the (then) near-future, the film depicts a pop star being used by the government as both controlled rebellion and, later, an agent of social conformity. While Privilege isn't one of Watkins' best works (his unique faux-documentary style doesn't quite gel here), if you substitute the main character for, say, Taylor Swift, Megan Thee Stallion or Lizzo you'll find yourself gazing directly into the soulless, aspiration-driven void of contemporary pop culture. Incidentally, several sequences are recreated practically shot-for-shot in Stanley Kubrick's own dystopian classic A Clockwork Orange.

The Year of the Sex Olympics

(scr. Nigel Kneale: BBC, 1968)

Most critical analyses of The Year of the Sex Olympics tend to focus on how Nigel Kneale predicted reality television a good thirty years before it first hit our screens, but this tends to obscure other anticipations that are far more pertinent. In the authoritarian media-industrial complex depicted in the play, the masses are pacified with drugs and pornography to prevent population growth, everyone speaks in bastardised Americanese, entertainment is dumbed down to the absolute lowest common denominator, and any ideas that are deemed likely to elicit emotional responses are promptly stamped out to prevent personal discomfort and self-reflection. Sound familiar? 

The Devils

(d. Ken Russell: Warner Bros., 1971)

The late, great Ken Russell described The Devils as his one and only political film; in many ways, one roll of the dice was all he needed. Using the Loudon 'possessions' in 17th century France as its focal point, the film takes in a decadent and depraved ruling elite using repressive moral dogma to keep the rest of the populace in check, lawfare, moral panic, smear campaigns, social coercion and political theatre to show the abuse of power at its most abhorrent. "Don't look at me!" screams Father Grandier (Oliver Reed in a career-best performance) as he burns at the stake in the film's harrowing climax. "Look to your city! Your city is destroyed... Your freedom is destroyed also." Well, quite.

Lemmings

(National Lampoon: Banana/Blue Thumb Records, 1973)

National Lampoon's merciless Woodstock parody began life as a stage production before being preserved for posterity on record. In addition to capturing a group of brilliant young comedians on the threshold of success (Christopher Guest, Chevy Chase, John Belushi et al), it chronicles a moment in time when alternative culture was becoming a grim, myopic parody of itself. There's nothing wrong with idealism, of course - but as Lemmings reminds us, when dreams of utopia wilfully ignore even the most basic realities it's not unreasonable for people looking in through the correct end of the telescope to call bullshit. 

A Very Peculiar Practice

(scr. Andrew Davies: BBC, 1986-88, 1992)

Inspired by Andrew Davies' experiences as a lecturer in English literature and creative writing at the University of Warwick, A Very Peculiar Practice was intended as both a satire on the egregious mismanagement in higher education during the 1980s and an exquisitely subtle state of the nation address. Far from being an artefact from another time, however, it pre-empts so many frontline issues in the present, seemingly never-ending culture war that it's now painfully obvious Davies was sounding the alarm long before the first shots were fired. Institutional capture; the unholy alliance between self-styled progressive ideologies and big pharma, big tech and the military-industrial machine; cancel culture (exemplified here as traditional academia vs. radical theory); deplatforming: at times, it feels like this brilliantly witty and truly unique series could've been written yesterday. Or tomorrow.

Holding On

(scr. Tony Marchant: BBC, 1997)

Tony Marchant's eight-part, Robert Altman-esque ensemble drama was broadcast shortly after the 1997 UK general election, and although its story of a seemingly unconnected group of Londoners brought together by an unmeditated murder may have been devised during the dying days of John Major's Conservative government, it strongly anticipates the Britain that would emerge in the shadow of Tony Blair's New Labour. This is a world where idealism and opportunity walk hand-in-hand, but promises mean nothing and no one acknowledges responsibility. Whatever your political stripe, Holding On speaks to that deeply human need to connect with others in a society that's forgotten the value of community.

Give Me Immortality or Give Me Death

(The Firesign Theatre: Rhino Records, 1998)

Often (glibly) referred to as America's answer to Monty Python, The Firesign Theatre produced some of the most innovative comedy albums of the 1960s and '70s: their idiosyncratic fusion of socio-political satire and surreal silliness forming the missing link between The Goons and Thomas Pynchon. In the late '90s, they regrouped to record their 'Millennium Trilogy', taking their last pot-shots at the madness of the 20th century before it expired. Give Me Immortality or Give Me Death is the first and finest of these albums, presented as the output of a major commercial radio station on New Year's Eve 1999. Alternative facts, gleeful doom-mongering, media overreach and rampant corporatism collide in a series of bizarre yet all too plausible vignettes that somehow seem to belong in a post-2016 world than the one depicted here. Laced throughout are a series of commercials for an all-purpose, BlackRock-style asset management company whose sales pitch becomes increasingly more sinister as the clock ticks down to midnight ("US Plus: We own the idea of America...").

Shoot the Messenger

(scr. Sharon Foster: BBC, 2006)

To my mind the last great television play produced by the BBC, Shoot the Messenger is an extraordinary meditation on race in 21st century Britain that shits all over the racist bilge propagated by grifters like Reni Eddo-Lodge and David Olusoga. Broadcast only once and subjected to a storm of entirely misplaced controversy, Sharon Foster's drama focuses on Joe, an IT consultant who becomes a teacher after reading that black students in inner-city schools are underperforming next to their white peers. When he finds himself dismissed from his job following an allegation of misconduct from a problem pupil, Joe enters a spiral of depression and homelessness which leads him to self-identify as white. Through direct-to-camera address, we follow his journey through multicultural Britain, exploring differing perceptions and facets of black culture. In a world where everyone's told to stay in their lane and categorised into eternal victims or perpetual oppressors, God knows we need intelligent, nuanced and - above all - fearless work like this now more than ever. 

Honourable Mention:

The Future

(Leonard Cohen: Columbia, 1992)

I wasn't going to include music in this list, but since Leonard Cohen's albums blur the line between music and the spoken word it would be remiss not to mention this late masterpiece. Written partially in response to the sweeping geopolitical changes of the early 1990s, The Future rejects the notion put forward by Francis Fukuyama that the 'triumph' of western liberal democracy marks both the end of history and the decline of tyranny in favour of a more cautious worldview: one where, as Cohen growls on the title track, "Things are gonna slide, slide in all directions / Won't be nothing / Nothing you can measure anymore." Elsewhere, tracks like "Democracy", "Closing Time" and "Anthem" appear to sense the disquiet to come with the sort of wry bemusement only someone who's made their way through the looking glass can muster. Indeed, listening to The Future now is an almost eerie experience: so many of our contemporary concerns, from forever wars to neo-secular death cults, seem to be presented here that the overall effect is akin to a kind of precognitive eulogy.

Manic Street Preachers' The Holy Bible @30: WordJam Exclusive!

To mark the 30th anniversary of their ground-breaking album The Holy Bible, the Manic Street Preachers are releasing a new single featuring lyrics from everyone's favourite missing person, Sylvia Plath wannabe, incompetent rhythm guitarist and razorblade enthusiast Richey Edwards! The track, "Gymnasium Charnel House", should drop on Spotify ...erm... soon, but in the meantime, WordJam readers can get an exclusive first-hand look at the lyrics themselves, found down the back of a radiator at Sound Space Studios in Cardiff:

Cut myself with a broken Coke bottle

Capitalism seeps thru

Caspar David Friedrich was German

And Bertolt Brecht too

Stand away from the gap at the station

Observe the max headroom

Your vodka tears are no sanctuary

They're just a tomb

Pay your rent

Pay your rent

Direct debit

Standing order

Neon chrome glitter an oxymoron

You should read Henry Theroux

The scansion is breaking apart now

And the coherency too

Arthur Rimbaud is fucking modernity

I've seen Betty Blue

All your anxieties summed up

By a pretentious word stew

Pay your rent

Pay your rent

Milton Friedman stole my ice cream

On 'Joy'

Just a question for anyone who's been following the 2024 Democratic National Convention: leaving aside the doublethink, hypocrisy and the sheer absurdity of it all, where exactly is this 'joy' we keep hearing so much about? 'Cos I've got to say, I'm not feeling it. And on a more practical level, I don't quite understand how it's going to jumpstart the US economy, resolve the situation at the border or deal with the fentanyl crisis. Will it reconcile the pro-life and pro-choice camps, or those who think biological sex is real and immutable with those who believe there's no such thing? Is it strong enough to end the carnage in Ukraine and Gaza, and perhaps make the world a safer, saner place? Or is this joy something only a select group of people who hold the 'correct' opinions and have bank balances equivalent to the GDP of Luxembourg are allowed to feel, while the rest of us, much like the workhouse orphans in Oliver Twist, look on with empty stomachs and sad, slobbering mouths, waiting for the bombs to fall?

The answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind. Possibly.

Ten Future Classics of World Cinema

If you're anything like me, you probably get fed-up with the same old, same old film recommendations from service providers and online platforms. True, there have been some fantastic films in recent years that more than hold their own against the classics of old (I'm convinced, for example, that Hell or High Water deserves to be ranked alongside Chinatown as a timeless masterpiece, and The Love Witch is a fully-fledged cult favourite waiting to happen), but I do get a little bit antsy constantly being told I should check out the usual, pseudo-serious Hollywood bilge like Manchester by the Sea, When a Star is Born and Oppenheimer as though these will somehow change my life. What about cinema further afield that is genuinely pushing in a different direction?

As such, I present a quick guide to ten world cinema films of the last fifteen years that I think deserve far greater exposure. Most of them should be on streaming services of one stripe or other, and there are at least two or three floating around on YouTube. Check 'em out: I promise they'll give you more to chew over than tripe like Barbie and Dune.

* * * * *

1.

Loveless

(Russia: d. Andrey Zvyagintsev, 2017)

A couple going through a bitter divorce argue over who gets custody of their 12-year-old son Alyosha. Both are in new relationships, however, and neither of them wants the responsibility. When Alyosha doesn't come home from school one day, they find themselves reluctantly drawn back together in their attempt to find him through a volunteer group. Bleak, stately and mature, this is filmmaking of the highest order.

2.

Hard to Be a God

(Russia/Czech Republic: d. Aleksei German, 2013)

On a distant planet identical to ours in its medieval period, a scientist from Earth posing as a nobleman observes the rituals and customs of a society trapped in barbarism and superstition. Tired of the seemingly never-ending purges of artisans and free-thinkers, he attempts to lead the people towards enlightenment - with horrific results. Truly visionary and painfully relevant.

3.

Phoenix

(Germany: d. Christian Petzold, 2014)

Recently released from Auschwitz, former nightclub singer Nelly Lenz (the ever-wonderful Nina Hoss) goes in search of husband Johnny in Berlin. When they finally meet, he doesn't recognise her due to the facial reconstructive surgery she's undergone as the result of a bullet wound, but considers her close enough in appearance to his wife to claim her inheritance. The tone is melancholic and measured, but when the emotion bursts through, boy does it hit.

4.

November

(Estonia: d. Rainer Sarnet, 2017)

A small village in 19th century Estonia is ravaged by the plague. A farmer makes a deal with the Devil to spare his son Hans and the girl he loves so his bloodline will continue. Unbeknownst to Hans, who lusts after the local Baron's daughter, a young woman called Liina has been practising some magic of her own to win his affections. Bursting with imaginative imagery, this is a lyrical feast for both the mind and the senses.

5.

The Salesman

(Iran: d. Asghar Farhadi, 2016)

A schoolteacher playing the lead role in an amateur production of Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman is horrified when he discovers his wife has been sexually assaulted in their apartment. After learning that the former occupant was a prostitute and the assailant one of her clients, his self-worth begins to unravel as he becomes obsessed with finding the man responsible. Bold and honest, this is an excellent meditation on sexual mores and bruised ego.

6.

Stations of the Cross

(Germany: d. Dietrich Brüggemann, 2014)

14-year-old devout Catholic Maria prays to God every night in the hope that He will cure her younger brother's autism. When her prayers go unanswered, she offers herself as a sacrificial figura christi, taking on the sins of all around her. Harrowing and compelling in equal measure, theme and form are harmonised to such a degree that not a single shot is wasted.

7.

On Body and Soul

(Hungary: d. Ildikó Enyedi, 2017)

Abattoir workers Endre and Maria share a recurring dream they are a pair of deer in a forest. They become lovers, but soon discover the real world is no match for the mythical land that haunts their dreams. By turns tender and emotionally charged, On Body and Soul is a fascinating journey into the depths of desire and yearning that never short-changes the intellect.

8.

White Tiger

(Russia: d. Karen Shakhnazarov, 2012)

A Russian tank commander who miraculously survives death at the hands of a ghostly, seemingly indestructible German tank finds himself pursuing his would-be executioner through the bombed-out plains of the Eastern Front. Soundtracked by Richard Wagner and containing a number of allusions to Arthurian mythology and Moby Dick, White Tiger is a complex, beguiling masterpiece of magic realism that rewards repeat viewing.

9.

The Wall

(Austria/Germany: d. Julian Pölsler, 2011)

The terrific Martina Gedeck (The Lives of Others) delivers a career-defining performance as a writer on a retreat in the Austrian Alps who soon discovers she's separated from the outside world by an invisible barrier. Haunting and astonishingly beautiful, The Wall is a visual hymn to the fortitude of the human spirit and a truly mesmerising experience.

10.

The Extraordinary Adventures of Adèle Blanc-Sec

(France: d. Luc Besson, 2010)

The joker in the pack, The Extraordinary Adventures of Adèle Blanc-Sec is an unapologetically irreverent and loopy romp that makes Raiders of the Lost Ark look like a wilfully pretentious student film. Louise Bourgoin lights up the screen as the titular adventuress battling pterodactyls, Egyptian mummies and the occult in Paris at the turn of the last century. After this, you'll never look at a hatpin the same way again.

Joe Biden Drops Out of the US Presidential Race

Yeah, sorry; cheap shot, but I couldn't resist.

The Wages of Fear

"There's no place in America for this kind of violence [...] It's sick. It's one of the reasons we have to unite this country."

So said Joe Biden in his surprisingly coherent reaction to the attempted assassination of Donald Trump while the latter was speaking at a campaign rally in Pennsylvania.

No one can say they didn't see this coming. Oh, they can pretend - as I'm sure many liberal media outlets will in the days to come, especially now we know Trump's safe and well - but you have to be approaching Tommy-levels of deaf, dumb and blind to miss where all the post-2016 toxicity of the American political landscape has been heading. What's more, you need to be a bloody good actor to make trite statements about uniting a divided country sound remotely convincing or sincere when you've spent the last four years smearing half the population as bigots and potential insurrectionists. And for what: finding your opponent's policy positions fairer and more sensible than yours?

But then, honesty requires reflection - and I somehow doubt in the aftermath of today's events there'll be much of that from Biden, the Democrats or their sock puppets in the media, heartily cheering on every anti-Trump calumny their masters have put their way while casually inventing several of their own for good measure.

Regardless of who was behind this (and I'm keeping an open mind on that), for many this will be the last straw: conclusive proof of Trump's near-martyrdom at the hands of Permanent Washington and their backers.

And who can blame them?

Keir Starmer Becomes Prime Minister of the United Kingdom

Click to enlarge.

The Singing Detective 2024 (In Memory of Dennis Potter)

Click to enlarge.

Google Content Warning

I received a notification from Google this evening informing me that a post I wrote six years ago concerning the Skripal poisonings and their subsequent aftermath has been reported to their service and placed behind a 'sensitive content warning interstitial'. Naturally, as the piece falls under the category of satire and artistic expression, I've appealed this decision. No reason was given how or why the article violates community guidelines, but I doubt the use of strong language had anything to do with it; if that were the case, there are plenty of other posts on WordJam that would be under sanction. This leads me to assume that exception was taken to some of the details and/or speculations contained within the article. If this is so, I'd like to make it clear there is absolutely nothing libellous about any of the claims made against specific individuals (all information regarding financial transactions, public statements, etc was accurate at the time of publication), and the article does not promote hatred or incite criminal acts. I don't know if this blog is actively monitored by Google, but I feel it's in my readers' interests to know when undue action and/or interference is taken against its content as clarity is, of course, an essential component of creative expression.

High falutin' language aside, I don't mind telling you I'm pretty miffed.

Update [31st May]:

Still no explanation why it was targeted, though.

Agony Hour IV: Return of the Living Dread

Can you believe it's been six years since WordJam last took up the mantle of Agony Uncle and offered advice to the lost, lonely, loveless and desperate? Six long, happy years, dear reader. But all the while, my inbox has been bursting with the usual cries for help and guidance from those less well off than myself - and what sort of man would I be if I just dumped them all in the trash folder without a second thought? (Again.) So prepare yourselves once more for a deep-dive into the mire of emotional despair as I attempt to make sense of the follies and foibles that blight the human condition. No problem too big, no pain too personal and, as ever, no major credit cards that won't be accepted: WordJam is here to ease the burden...

* * * * *

Dear Richard,

When I break wind in public I like to accompany it with an amusing comment like "More tea, vicar?" or "That's a spicy meatball!", which never fails to elicit a shocked but boisterous laugh from the people caught in the blast zone. In recent months, however, the quality of my witticisms has gone into a decline and I just can't seem to generate the same level of mirth I once did. What can I do to rekindle my flair for this cheap but limitless source of hilarity?

- Despondent, Windsor (aged 9)

Richard says...

Any comedian will tell you the secret to being funny is knowing how to work the room. You've got to make your audience feel as though they're participants on your journey into the absurd, not just by-standers whose job is to laugh at every well-placed quip you throw their way. I suggest the next time you feel like cutting the cheese in public you select someone at random or, even better, an acquaintance you have very little respect for and blame it on them. Of course, the people around you will know full well where the alimentary rumble originated, but the brazenness of this ludicrous act of projection will cause them to suspend moral judgements and make them putty in your hands. Trust me, in no time at all the sound of laughter will be ringing in your ears again and you'll be blowing off to your heart's content. I should stress, though, that you must use this stratagem responsibly. If you're in familiar company, make sure you're mixing up culpability instead of picking on the same person all the time. I learned this the hard way when I made a particular work colleague the butt of my gastro-intestinal pranking. It escalated to the point that the company let him go, his wife left him, he lost custody of his kids, his house was repossessed and he threw himself in the canal. To this day, I deeply regret it - if only because I loaned him my copy of This is Spinal Tap and never got it back.

* * * * *

Dear Richard,

I'm disgusted by this blog's apparent lack of interest in environmental issues. The climate crisis is the greatest existential threat the world has yet faced, making your continued non-engagement with the subject both dangerous and irresponsible. As a gesture of goodwill, perhaps you could consider starting an awareness campaign connected to the initiative I set up last year, 'Plant a Tree in '23'?

- Pious, Islington

Richard says...

How about 'Buy a Saw in '24'?

* * * * *

Dear Richard,

I have a terrible problem that's on my mind all day and giving me sleepless nights. If train A leaves the station going at 50 miles an hour, and train B leaves the station one hour later at 70 miles an hour, how many miles will it take for train B to catch up with train A?

- Clueless, Swansea

Richard says...

Perhaps the thing that's really worrying you is what this time differential represents. Do you feel that life is passing you by, or that things are happening more rapidly for other people than they are for you? It's interesting that this problem involves trains - a well-known sexual symbol - rather than another, less psychologically loaded form of transport like bicycles or toboggans. I can tell you the answer (3.5 miles), but you're going to have to look deep inside yourself to find how we arrive at that conclusion and what it means to you.

* * * * *

Dear Richard,

My dog really has got no nose, and I'm fed up with people cracking jokes about it. What's more, I work on a free-range chicken farm next to a busy highway, so you can imagine the shit I get about that, too. I tell you, there's nothing funny about scraping their flattened carcasses off the road.

- Pissed, Milwaukee

Richard says...

I understand your frustration and I sympathise. I once had a girlfriend from Leeds who swallowed a packet of seeds; when I tell people this they instantly assume that within half an hour her tits were in flower and her fanny was covered in weeds, when in fact there was no change to her physical appearance whatsoever. I could get annoyed at hearing the same response over and over again whenever I tell this anecdote, but why should I let other people's ignorance of biological processes bother me? Life's too short for that. Actually, my Uncle Vic has a very empowering approach to this problem. A few years ago he was involved in a serious car accident which resulted in the steering wheel being permanently fused to his groin. When people attempt the old "Does it drive you nuts?" routine he replies, "Not when I've got turbo steering in my pants". It doesn't make any sense, but he's very popular at parties. Perhaps the next time someone makes light of your dog's impairment by asking how he smells you could retort with some blithe whimsy such as "With great difficulty-!", or even something caustic like "He wouldn't want to with you around, shithead". Whatever works for you, really. God knows, there's no mileage in walking round like a humourless sourpuss the rest of your life.

* * * * *

Dear Richard,

If all things are made up of atoms, which in turn were formed from quarks released a millionth of a second after the Big Bang over 13 billion years ago, does this mean I'm related to Scarlett Johansson? Just wondering as it might impact my masturbation regimen somewhat.

- Philosophical, Sydney

Richard says...

Be honest, it's not really going to stop you, is it?

* * * * *

Dear Richard,

Who exactly is Rick Astley referring to in his 1987 hit "Never Gonna Give You Up"? It can't be me because I've never met him.

- Confounded, Bromley

Richard says...

I have a similar response whenever I hear Frank Sinatra's "My Way". He never specifies what his way actually is, so how do we know it's so bloody unique to him? His way could be exactly the same as my way - or yours, even. Then again, I've never slept with Mia Farrow, Elizabeth Taylor or Marlene Dietrich, so maybe his way does differ from mine in some respects. But getting back to your question, my showbiz sources reliably inform me Astley was in fact referring to Liberal Party leader David Steel, who, alongside Social Democratic Party leader David Owen, was roundly trounced at the 1987 UK general election in his bid to establish the SDP-Liberal Alliance as Britain's second major political party. The follow-up single, a cover of O'Chi Brown's "Whenever You Need Somebody", saw Astley explicitly offering his services as a pop emissary for the Liberal cause, while 1988's "Together Forever" marks the singer's euphoria at the formal merger of the Liberal and Social Democratic parties, who renamed themselves the Liberal Democrats the following year. By 1991's "Cry for Help", however, Astley was clearly starting to lose faith in the party under new leader Paddy Ashdown, resulting in the angry ballad "Move Right Out". Unfortunately, the Lib Dems' success at the local elections that year resulted in the single failing to reach the top 20, marking the start of Astley's decline. After years in the pop wilderness, the singer bounced back in 2010 with the soft rock lament "Lights Out", which openly criticised the Conservative and Lib Dem coalition government under David Cameron and Nick Clegg. Since then, his career has gone from strength to strength, with hit singles endorsing the Remain campaign in the 2016 EU referendum ("Angels on My Side"), criticising Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn ("Unwanted") and describing his sexual adventures with middle-aged groupies ("Dippin' My Feet"). So in a way, regardless of your politics, Astley is singing about you: he's singing about all of us - our hopes, fears, yearnings and aspirations. God bless you, Rick Astley.

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...And I'm afraid we have to leave today's open surgery there, folks. Until next time, keep smiling - and try not to piss each other off too much, okay?

Scotland's Hate Crime and Public Order Act Explained

Hullo, WordJammers! Sergeant Etchasketch (he/him) here from Police Scotland. You'll have had your tea. Now, you may've heard that Scotland's Hate Crime and Public Order Act 2021 comes into force this week, and no doubt you'll have some questions as to what this means. Well, let me just clarify right off the bat this is not an attempt to curtail free speech. Supreme Lead- ah, First Minister Humza Yousaf has been very clear about that. Peace be upon Him. The object is to cut down on hate speech. Put simply, this is verbal, written or electronic communication liable to cause offence and/or incite hatred towards a particular group. 'Course, if you're wondering who decides what's offensive and what isn't, chances are you're the sort of person we'll be visiting very soon.

But let's assume for a moment you're not a straight white male or J.K. Rowling and you'd like to play your part in helping stamp out hatred in Scotland. The best thing you can do is be vigilant. Take this tweet, for instance, that recently came to our attention:

Now, you may ask what's so hateful about that; after all, the wee las- ah, 'person with a vagina' who posted this is simply expressing an opinion. But this opinion may be triggering to someone who thinks people with tadgers should be allowed into women's spaces - like this stunning and brave person, for example:

As someone with protected characteristics, FemmeBoi would be well within their rights to report Emma if her tweet caused them offence. However, regardless of where you sit on the intersectional spectrum, it's your job as a responsible citizen to put the work in, too! If you hear anybody expressing problematic views, whether it's on social media, in the street or even in your own home, you must pass the details onto us without delay so we can nail the bastards. We may not always have grounds to pursue legal action, but we can put it down on their record as a Non-Crime Hate Incident, potentially hampering future employment prospects. That'll teach 'em for stepping outside the ever-shifting Overton Window. And don't worry about wasting our time with minor cases, either: now we've effectively downgraded theft, burglary and mugging from serious offences to misdemeanours that don't even warrant investigation, we've got ample time to look into hurt feelings and soothe bruised egos. 

'Course, this doesn't stop at public discourse. Oh, no! We've got the arts sewn up, as well. Imagine you're at the theatre watching a play - let's say, for argument's sake, Dennis Potter's Brimstone and Treacle - when you're confronted with a scene like this: 

© BBC

It doesn't matter in this case that the father character's sympathy for far-right politics is informed by the self-loathing and moral outrage he feels after his daughter has been left severely brain-damaged from a car accident, or that the young man - who it's strongly implied throughout the drama may actually be the Devil - plays on these anxieties as part of an elaborate psychological ruse to inveigle his way into the household for his own ends: if you object to the use of words like 'paddy' and 'picaninnies', or seemingly favourable references to the National Front  and concentration camps, regardless of context, then it is your right - nay, your duty - to report the production to us so we can start rolling-out the prosecutions. Unfortunately at this time the new law doesn't allow us to exhume dead authors and place their carcasses on trial, but until then we'll just have to make do with comedians, actors and directors. Personally, I'd like to see wee stoater Kelly Macdonald get banged up the slammer, but not in the judicial sense.

So that's our new Hate Crime and Public Order Act in a nutshell. Now there are some bampots out there who think this legislation is not only poorly thought out but open to abuse - charges we at Police Scotland take very seriously. For anyone concerned about both the enforcement of this bill and the significant overreach it gives to officers of the law, I can only say whit the fuck ye oan aboot, Jim? Scotland's as free and healthy a country as any other to live right now. Unless you're a hater, in which case yer tea's oot, ye wee sleekit, timorous bawbags - an' this cunt's ready tae fuck some cunt.

Well, guid nicht all. And dinnae have nightmares...

WordJam Presents an Exciting New Investment Opportunity!

We all know the ongoing and deeply lamentable war in Ukraine could have been prevented if the United States hadn't insisted on pushing NATO further into Eastern Europe Russia wasn't governed by a paranoid gangster with a pathological hatred for democracy. But as C.S. Lewis once observed, "hardships often prepare people for an extraordinary destiny" - which neatly brings us on to the Ukrainian Redevelopment Project: an exciting, once-in-a-lifetime investment opportunity brought to you exclusively by WordJam and our partner companies.

Put simply, the Ukrainian Redevelopment Project allows public and private investors outside Ukraine to participate in the country's post-war recovery and, in turn, claim a sizeable dividend from that reconstruction. Consider this bombed-out apartment block in Kiev, for example:

With your help, we could transform this building into a luxury condominium-cum-conference centre for visiting foreign dignitaries, international financiers, media executives and oligarchs: a development that will not only stand as a testament to Ukraine's new-found status as a beacon of capitalism, but also serve as a handy nest egg for western investors with expensive tastes and an aversion to getting out of bed for less than half a rock. And who knows? Perhaps that well-invested capital will yield surprisingly fruitful results when trying to convince representatives of supranational bodies that your vision of Ukraine's future trumps that of its elected officials - especially when they see the size of the swimming pool.

For those with a penchant for asset-stripping, however, there's Ukraine's agricultural market to consider. Home to roughly one-quarter of the world's Chernozem ("black earth"), a highly fertile soil, Ukraine is among the biggest producers of wheat, corn and sunflower meal on the planet - and with millions of hectares of Ukraine's farmland already having been bought up by US and Western European agrobusinesses, you'd be a bloody fool not to get in on the action. By staking your claim to the lifeblood of Ukraine's economy, you too can reap the rewards of her vast agricultural wealth without even having to leave your home. The Ukrainian Rural Development Network can bleat all it likes about foreign investors and their oligarch beneficiaries marginalising smallholder farmers and severing them from their most valuable resource, but with Uncle Sam's help, the Ukrainian Redevelopment Project has a secret weapon up its sleeve to safeguard your assets:

Speaking of the U-S-of-A, by supporting the Ukrainian Redevelopment Project you can also do your bit to help the Land of the Free™ keep those pesky Russkies from threatening the territorial integrity of Western Europe. Investing in Ukraine's infrastructure won't just propel you into the top-tier of venture capitalists, it'll also grant you considerable weight in ensuring the country's security arrangements - and what better way to protect your interests than lobbying for NATO membership and the chance to point a few of these bad boys at the Kremlin:

Of course, weaponry is nothing without the manpower to back it up, and given the current death toll on the frontlines it's unlikely there'll be much of a fighting force left when post-war reconstruction starts. To this end, you might want to consider using your influence to transform educational establishments into a training ground for the next generation of cannon fodder. Through your efforts, we can say goodbye to traditional teaching environments like this-

-and usher in an exciting new era of military academies where young conscripts will be taught the basics of soldiering, from polishing boots and making beds to learning how to shoot prisoners of war in the kneecap and still make them talk. Just look at these two budding Coлдатів, all tooled-up and ready to go:

You've got to admit that's heart-warming, especially when you remember they're heading straight for the meat-grinder to defend your stake in their country's economy. That's how much they believe in your investment in Ukraine's future - and if they don't, the Ukrainian Redevelopment Project can damn well make them.

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So now you've had a glimpse at some of the exciting possibilities that await you investing in Ukraine's post-war recovery, why delay? It doesn't matter if you're a first-time financier or a seasoned venture capitalist, simply follow this link and in no time at all you could be doing your bit to strengthen Ukraine's market economy, reform state-owned enterprise, cement Euro-Atlantic integration and help yourself to a great big slice of the pie.

All investors will receive a shares certificate hastily signed by my secretary during her lunch hour: 

And in due course, a great wodge of this:

So don't delay: invest in the Ukrainian Redevelopment Project today!

This offer brought to you by:

In association with:

[Disclaimer: WordJam bears no responsibility for the loss of any monies received, either as a result of theft, embezzlement, poor financial advice or the outbreak of nuclear war. Investors are reminded that nobody made them sink their hard-earned money into such an amoral, risky and barely legal enterprise, so don't bitch to us about fraudulent practice when all you're left with is a gaping hole in your bank balance and a glorified receipt with your name on it.]