mousehands : ask philip

Time is a rancid old man, sitting at a cold, green metal table in a freezing park, playing chess against someone only he can see. Time is a cake, half eaten and left to go moldy in the baking summer sun. Time is a pompous game show host with hours left to live, failing to realise his wasted years.

Naturally, I am at one with time.

The same way you deal with evil spirits, for instance, the terrible demon Ranchar, Scented Fiend Who Lurks In Shadows. Draw a 2m circle and pentagram in fresh owl’s blood and place a lit candle at each corner. Turn off all other sources of light, such as Mick Leigh or rotten milk. Now chant the Rick Astley song “Strong Strong Man” backwards, three times. By morning, your problem should be solved.

There is a limit to what one person can achieve in this life, and it is both my gift and curse that I am the one to judge this. After the big haired, aviator glassed marvel that was Knightrider, seedy crooning German rock star and large chested fest of Baywatch, I felt some one else deserved the highlife. Consider poor S. Guttenburg, living in a Moscow gutter since Coocoon: The Return, thinking of past glories and damning his decision not to “star” in Short Circuit 2. Now, it’s his turn. But fear not, you’ll be invited to the ceremony where he is due to be crowned Earl of Swindon.

Yes and no. But not necessarily in that order.

It’s just Jack Straw’s son William, but he’s at Eton now, so he can be safely declared as Harmless.

*** Update: Drug fan Will is no longer at Eton.

That’s not my house. I live at number 59, remember? Write it on your hand next time, just below the useful note “must buy milk.”

I wouldn’t say so. While it is true that the next generation of humans are due soon, the older versions have a very useful role in this thing we amusingly call society. Uses such as, erm, moaning that people were more friendly in the war, telling us that today’s music is nothing but a noise and using the world’s blue rinse supply up at an alarming rate.

Page 10,593. As it bloody well should be, just after Jedd (who didn’t turn up for Jade’s wedding only to marry Jane a short time later after she left Jake, who’s fiancé Jill died in a sudden jowl based illness) finally finished his monologue on the benefits of a first past the post voting system over proportional representation.

That handbag is far too small to fit in all the useful information regarding policy choices for him to sell insurance effectively.