Mental, mental. Chicken Oriental.

I was going to do a much more in depth post about my Bi-annual Brain Audit, but I slightly ruined it by talking about before it was polished. Perhaps I will polish it and come back to you some time, or who knows, perhaps when my next one comes around I'll post about that.

But, I thought I would include their 'Final review' which is the title of the post.

What can I say, I'm quite pleased really. Mostly because I've gone down a bit from 'Coffee bean crazy'.

Instead I shall tell you about the recent resurgence in 'isting' I've been doing.

I am a motorcyclist, which means that I have a motorcycle upon which I ist. Its quite fun, or rather, it can be. Its almost as fun as watching the people on the E channel and trying to work out if they're real or just a computer simulation of excited American stereotypes.

'Ohh my gosh, I just love Angelina Jolie! I mean, I, like, love everything shes in, shes so talented. Did you know she won an Oscar? Shes going to name her next child that, oh my Gosh, she is just, like, so amazing!'

Quite.

So there I was isting my way home along one of the primary regional conveyance centres when I was almost killed, several million times. No, I am not exaggerating.

First there was a man in a car, then a woman in another car and then, horror of horrors, a man and a woman in another car! They have to be stopped, it can't go on like this anymore. Men and women in cars, whatever next!

I'll tell you what next (!), they'll be breaking the arbitrarily set speed limit, thats what! And theres me, trying to keep the limit when they speed up behind, desperate to overtake. Well I let them past and if I try to tuck in behind, its only to read their number plate so I can report them more accurately to the police, officer.

He didn't buy it, but I had something else which he bought from me. It was an autographed photo of Angelina Jolie, which is something you see everyday. Especially in my line of business.

'Oh really', he said 'whats your line of business?'

'Forging famous peoples signatures and putting them onto pictures of the correct famous people to sell to idiots down at the market, its a great way to make a quick profit. It goes towards paying all my speeding tickets.'

His smile slowly slipped lower and lower until I was forced to catch if for him.

'I think you dropped this.' I said pleasantly, handing back the poor mans smile. And thats when he cuffed me, your Honour.

Anyway, motorcycles have to go quite fast (I was out of court by this point, I'm telling you now, don't worry) they stay up due to the centrifugal force of the engine. Thats not to be confused with contrapuntal force which is what kept Bach up. Up at the top of the charts to be more precise.

I mean who can forget 'Now thats what I call Fugal 1737'?

Never mind the fact that it was almost entirely Bach from start to finish, he did a great job with it! In fact the only other composer on that record was a very young, pre-natal, Angelina Jolie. She was way ahead of her time.

Which is not the same as saying we wish she'd go away at the head of her time.

Well then, after all that excitement I had to have a sit down. Clearly what I didn't want was to be sidled up to by a philosophical giraffe.

Herbert, our philosophical giraffe, sidled up to me.

'How'd it go in court today?' He enquired, with quite the air of superiority in his voice.

'Fine, just fine thanks. I got 4 moths community service.'

'Don't you mean months?'

'No, I have to do my community service and also the duty for 4 moths who were caught spying on a lady whilst she was undressing. To be fair I think they were more interested in her light bulb, but the judge seem to have a different idea.'

'What do they want you to do then?' He was enjoying this, I could see it, even through his balaclava, which looked suspiciously like a sock.

'They've got me tickling all the orphans in town. Its like Dickens gone wrong!' I pouted, which I don't do very well. I looked like I'd got something stuck on my lips and was looking down my nose to see what it was.

'Oh well, at least you're not Angelina Jolie.' That made me smile and I cheered up no end.

'Ok,' I acquiesced 'what did you really come in to talk to me about?'

'Actually it concerns you're speeding, I was thinking about it, deeply.'

'Oh really, was it the fact that society has gone along with the randomly picked number of 70 miles per hour, that the government backs up it with the blatant propaganda that 'Speed Kills' - most astronauts seem to do pretty well. Was it that anyone who dares stray over this limit, limit of nothing really, is seen as an outcast, a pariah and yet most people do it regularly without thinking.'

'No.'

'Ahh, sorry about that, didn't mean to rant.'

'It wasn't exactly that, not in so many words. What I thought was this: Its not really my doing of the act, but your perception of me and the act I'm doing, relative to your own personal morals and ethics, that upsets.'

'Thats what I've been saying all along!'

'What?'

The poor fellow looked quite confused, I just had to let him have it.

'You need to update your act.'

He tutted and I laughed heartily, oh how I laughed!

Until next time readers and thanks to Wibble for the comment.