The Stone of Prosperity

Legend has it that there is a magical stone that can give the possessor unlimited wealth. Centuries ago the stone was owned by a cars salesman named Edward who came across the artefact while replacing a faulty gear box. Almost instantaneously he experienced wealth beyond imagination. Eddie’s Engines soon became the well known business Kwik Fit and he was so rich he bought a place in the Royal Family becoming Edward VIII. Unfortunately he lost the stone while using it as a substitute for a lost curling stone whilst playing the sport with his royal stewards. The stones whereabouts have been unknown ever since and the stone has become less then a myth.

Roy George had closed for lunch, he ran a museum in his own home. He lived in a cramped bungalow in the quiet town of Chichester. He collected precious artefacts from all over the world, his collection included that of the Urn of Youth and the Cup of Confusion, the truth was that none of these items held any power or magic whatsoever but Roy enjoyed retelling the stories of old to his attentive visitors. Roy had once been told the tale of a Stone that could turn rock in to diamond by his mate Debbie. But he dismissed the story as being pure nonsense. The fact of the matter was that Roy’s spark for history was fading fast and as he stood in his small yet adequate MFI kitchen making himself a salami baguette, he began to reminisce over the times when he fronted the famous sixties rock band Herman’s Hermits. Roy missed those days of sex, drugs and rock and roll and longed to become a rock legend one more time. He plays every Saturdays at his local pub The Baby’s Head, coincidentally this is where this particular story begins…

The Baby’s Head was a typical English pub; it had everything an average pub had. It had a one armed bandit; it had every flavoured pie imaginable and it was stocked to the rafters with beer. It was a Saturday and Roy had just finished his weekly gig, exhausted and disgustingly sweaty he strolled over to the bar slumping himself on to a stool and ordered a much needed pint. Hours passed as did Roy’s soberness, sometime throughout the night Roy was visited by a mysterious looking woman wearing a sparkly turquoise veil. She sat straight on her stool peering in to Roy’s wandering eyes. “You’re drunk” whispered the mysterious woman. “I know…sssssh!” Replied Roy.

The mysterious woman sighed but nevertheless began to speak. “I understand that you know of the Stone of Prosperity?” Roy lifted his head from the bar to look up at the mysterious woman “no, should I?” The mysterious woman let out another sigh “Yes you do Roy, I would know because I told you!” The mysterious woman pulled off her veil… “DEBBIE!” Roy screamed in surprise.

Roy stumbled in to his flat knocking the Pot of Poverty to the floor. He collapsed on to his bed falling asleep instantly. That night Debbie had explained to Roy that she’d been carrying out extensive research on Google Earth for many weeks previously and discovered the whereabouts of the Stone of Prosperity. The stone was situated on the Isle of Boyy just of Liverpool. As Roy had had a few, he had promised Debbie he would take the next ferry to the island to find the Stone. Roy had many questions swimming around his intoxicated head such as, does the stone really exist? What will he do once he finds it? And should he really have had that last pint?

Roy woke up with a banging head ache, after Roy’s hangover subsided he thought long and hard about the stones proposed powers, the very thought of the stone made him feel a million dollars.  Maybe the stone wasn’t a hoax; maybe the stone could really turn rock in to diamond. Roy had sweaty palms and he knew this only meant one thing, he was excited. With a deep breath Roy grabbed his suede coat and left his bungalow, possibly forever.

Brief History of the Mannequin

We all know life as a mannequin can be pretty tough at the best of times. Constantly having to pose in shop windows or do some other digni-frying activity. The TV programme Brainiac supplies a large amount of jobs for the mannequin folk but this job is often hazardous. A fact that a lot of people aren’t aware of is that humans actually evolved from mannequins hence the name man taken from the ancestral name of man-nequin. Some believe that Jesus was of the mannequin race. He wasn’t sent down by God to advertise Christianity, no no, he was sent to publicise his Mannequeriam beliefs, his agent had set him up to appear on several chat shows including Parkinson which he failed to attend due to some crucifixion malarkey.

The mannequin downfall of the 80s was a serious turning point for mannequins in terms of being the dominant race. In 1983 humans began to revolt against the mannequins, hollering at them for taking all the decent jobs or taking too long in public toilets. Mannequins would agree to work for next to nothing and were efficient and trust worthy workers. The first noted mannequin killing was in the spring of 84 but was also the last. Mannequins hate violence and due to their slow reaction time they’re not Jackie Chans by any means. To stop any further confrontation they shied away from humans, parent mannequins brought up their mannequin children to be reserved and not to be too spontaneous. Speak only when spoken to etcetera etcetera...

What's Your Flava?

Crisps. The humble petite snack, effortlessly pop in to mouth for instant gratification. A flamboyant yet distinctive flavour will force your tongue to do double or even triple back flips. As a successful crisp pioneer I hold the tantalising treat close to my heart yet not to my mouth as that would be literally eating in to my profits. I bet all you crisp-goers are all wondering the same question “What is the famous Crispman’s favourite flavour of crisp?” And unfortunately the answer isn’t as half as exciting as you would expect, it’s a quarter. My relationship with crisps is not the same as yours; I see them as a business partner, an acquaintance. If any further feelings developed it would be most unprofessional not to mention hazardous, of course I have my preferences but power coincides hand in hand with the crisp industry and with great power comes great responsibility – Spiderman. It’s the same ethic as religion, RE teachers are told time and time again not to influence their student’s beliefs. And I will not influence my loyal consumers by tainting their minds to what is the greatest of all crisp flavours.

If people failed to have an individual opinion what type of world would we live in? We would live in a ditto type world (yes ditto is a Pokémon); it’d be like Noah divided by two. Here is an example; there would only be one supermarket; Tesco. There would be a sole dictator; Chuck Norris. There would be only one sex… There would be only one flavour of crisps; McCoy’s Mexican Chilli.

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