Haven’t the Foggiest…


The telephone ring cut through the cacophony of noise emanating from Thing One in the front room. “NnnneeeerrrR… DOOF DOOF DOOF DOOF… NnnneeeerrrR…”

“Keep it down, Loob,” I implored politely of my child and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Have you looked out the window?” Thoughtful demanded by way of greeting. I hadn’t – it’s December and dark already; I hadn’t seen the point. Fortunately I didn’t need to. “Fucking fog!” he informed me.

I went to look anyway. A dense wall of white was revealed as I peeked through the blinds. “Jesus! That’s thick!” I confirmed into the receiver. “Who the hell would want to go out in this weather on New Year’s Eve Eve?”

“Not me,” Thoughtful Man said with the crackled sigh.

“Deadly! Deadly! Three O’Clock! NnnneeeerrrR… DOOF DOOF DOOF-”

“Loopy! Kindly shut the fuck up. I am on the phone!” I was sharper than I could have been but if I’d heard him call Deadly’s name once already, I’d heard it several dozen times. And I really didn’t need to hear it again at that precise moment. “How long you gonna stay out in this?” I asked Thoughtful Man tentatively.

I glanced at the TV screen showing smokey Battlefront skies as Loopy, now silent, zoomed through them, shooting at other WW1 airplanes…

*Oh is that what it sounds like? Thanks, Click. I usually only hear Looby’s voice…*


*Yeah he can have a problem with his volume control… Now stop interrupting… Where did I get to? Oh yeah, Thoughtful Man…*

“As long as I have to. I dunno, I’ll play it by ear, ” Thoughtful Man replied.

*Huh? He is not full of constant sorrow, Clicky… Okay, sometimes… mostly Fridays… /frowns… What day is it today?*



“Well, come home if it gets any worse,” I cooed down the receiver. “There’s no point you sitting around freezing your bollocks off, waiting for non-existent customers.”

Thoughtful Man huffed. “I’ll see how it goes. I’ll ring you later. Bye.”

“Okay then, bye. I love you,” I answered but he’d already rung off. I took one last look out the window, then turned back toward Thing One and ruffled his thick blonde locks. “Alright  arseache, I’m off the phone now. Carry on.”

I returned to my Library couch to continue perusing the news.


The United States Department of State gained the metonym “Foggy Bottom” when it moved its headquarters to the nearby Harry S Truman Building in 1947.

*Just think. There’s going to be ‘Trump’s ‘Foggy Bottom’, Clicky… /squints… Song to end?*



Stormy Whether or Knot…

Thoughtful Man just rang me from work.

“We’re gonna be hit by a storm tonight. It’s all over the news,” his voice crackled down the line.

Some light key tapping revealed the worst. “Oh, you’re not going to continue working in that are you?”

“Probably not. Hardly anyone out anyway. Pay day is a week away and then there’s Christmas to think about,” he said. He sounded cold and lonely; in these days of Uber-bollocks, hospitality business-busting smoking bans and a surfeit of surly fares on drug-fuelled jollies, a cabby’s lot is not a happy one.

“Okay, baby. If it gets too bad, just come home.”

Loopy looked at me intently, craning his neck away from his game as I finished the call. “What’s up with dad?”

“Nothing,” I reassured him, “apparently we’ve got a storm on the way.”

“A storm? Will the internet go down?” Nice to see Thing 1 has his priorities straight */rolls eyes…*


*Knot in the mood for much tonight, Clicky… slightly fucked off with others that really should know better… /sigh… Come, cheer me up…*

*/:D Ah you are a good assistant… /settles back and pats snout…*

Dear Reader… Have a Song…