Difficult Mouse-Mats – A Stream of Unconsciousness

Try Our Whole Range of New Difficult MouseMats

Try Our Whole Range of ‘Difficult MouseMats’  ©

I woke up with difficult mouse-mats on the brain.

Got up, fell into some clothes and fucked my mouth with a toothbrush for 97 seconds. Spat minty, pink suds into the basin and headed towards the patent office. The streets bustled like a packed carriage on the tube, ideas were obviously the catch of the day. Evangelical rappers spouted left-wing rhetoric at the queue of amateur inventors to pass the time, the queue wove through town like a salacious serpent with a thousand volts running through it!

You can turn a blind eye to lavish traditions but they’ll always fuck you in the end, let’s try Science children!

Finally I entered the patent office ushering Spinoza diatribe before me to a stunned but quietly scientific crowd. “Quick” said Dara O’Brian as he passed gas in the hall, “The shutter only works at this speed, we can’t get enough exposure!” You tardy little fuck, I thought. What a latecomer, what a fucking party pooping shenanigan wrapped in an Irish cream fuck.

I left the Intellectual Property office casting my eyes loosely towards collective, spiritual belief systems and misguided morally obnoxious doctrines instead.


I lick other people as a sign of affection. I can’t shake hands as it’s against my religion to rub palms but my tongue has always been the Devil’s so there’s no sense letting it go to waste. I’m an Alfresconarian, I worship being on balconies. It’s not as daft as you think, we each scry for each other and then decide where to dine next. It comes naturally after a while. We also remember the time of Denis Bergkamp and diadems on Tuesdays, it helps draw in numbers for the tea kitty.

No! Religion hurts, I’ll try nostalgia.

Remember The Beatles? We openly waltzed in their shadow for nearly all our lives but then found meaning in the term, ‘Baby Boomers’. We are the great washed. We have everything and yet discuss nothing.

This is ridiculous, all I’ve got left now is green fingered eco worship, well here goes.

I bought a pack of tealights the other day and realised I was probably burning the foetuses of a colony of bees. Tea lights, the Pro-Choice way of lighting a dinner table. “Hey Sugar, why don’t I cook you Roast Tumeric & Shallot Paste with a bottle of Rouge Blanc & some Bumblebee period?” Never have abortions been so seductive. Fuck dating sites, this always frickin’ works… Trust. 


The day you make Captain is the day I type. That time is right now, it’s today. Are you Captain yet? Have you got your stripes? One year we went on holiday to Yosemite and the Ben & Jerry’s had stripes going through it, it was like raspberry ripple B&J but i’ve never seen it again after that. Maybe they only have it in America like with that First Amendment shit. Wasn’t there a film called ‘Stripes’ I think it had Steve Martin or Bill Murray in it… or maybe it was John Candy? Definitely a Harold Ramis type film though, I remember it being quite funny. What were we talking about? Oh yeah, when are you going to make Captain you shit?


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