The Fractal Hall Journal

The Fractal Hall Journal Guide to Utilising Only 50% of Your Rear End Whilst Engaged in Everyday Tasks.

Drivers, don’t bother using your indicator lights on roundabouts. You’re so important everyone knows exactly where you’re going at every given moment.

Also, don’t allow yourself a realistic amount of time to get to your destination. Any further speed you may require can be generating during the journey by inserting yourself as far as possible up the backside of the vehicle in front of you.

And remember, for the best possible results perform the above in bad weather and/or low visibility conditions.

All you writers out there, don’t forget to use the phrase “…but I digress” as much as possible. It will instantly make you witty and self-effacing, even when the section you refer to isn’t actually a signifcant digression at all.

Comic book professionals, a couple for you: Firstly, you should go online and slag off both your co-workers and comic fans as much as possible. Why put the effort into aspiring to a level of professionalism most other jobs require?

Secondly, when writing dialogue in an alien language, it’s more than acceptable to tap your fingers over the same line of the keyboard a couple of times. You know, so you get “asdfasdfasdf”. Or “poiupoiuopoiu”. Something like that.

Politicians: Say the correct think-tank-approved words in the right order. That will get the stupid cattle off your back so you can do the important things, like taking money and gifts off rich people and big corporations.

Join us Monday, when I perform the surprising feat of climbing down off my high horse and up out of my wallowing-pool of bitterness simultaneously.

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Indiscreet Autobiography Exposure Anxiety

The ever-present worry that someone you know will figure out you’ve been writing inappropriate things about them on your blog.

Vocal Pre-Release Apprehension

The uncontrollable fanguish that flows from the realisation that a beloved programme/comic/toy from one’s childhood is being remade.

Post-Observation Capitulation

The calming acceptance that the remake isn’t as bad as it could have been/is actually quite good/is way better than the original which, while misremembered as a golden slice of genius, actually stinks to high heaven.

Divertisement Disclosure Disquietude

A reluctance to admit to work colleagues that you engage in socially unacceptable past times, i.e. comic convention attendance.

Temporal Obfuscation-related Disequilibrium

The dizzying terror experienced when you realise your boss has been subjecting your somewhat fudged timesheet to intense scrutiny

Interface Lethargia

The gap in processing speed between your super-slick home computing platform and the piece of shit Windows NT machine provided in the workplace.

Compulsive Frontal Lobe Palpation

The uncontrollable urge to pound your head against your desk.

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Last week, I ate a packet of Walkers Sunbites. The product, sharpshite, not the actual plastic packaging. On the back of said packaging was a typically toothgrinding blurb about, I don’t know, explosively wholegrainy goodness, and the patronising advertising language sent me off on a somewhat unbalanced rant. Luckily for you folks, I don’t recall the details. Unluckily, on the other hand, I’ve had another less than satisfactory taste sensation today, which I remember very well and am intent on telling you all about. And this time, the packaging is the least of it. Let’s start there anyway.

Brand new Walkers Chili and Lemon Crisps are contained in a packet delicately shaded in technicolour yellow vomit, nothing less than (to paraphrase This Is Spinal Tap) an Australian’s nightmare. The glurge on the back brightly informs us that, in some twisted, unknowable way, Walkers think this potato snack is breaking down cultural barriers all across the nation, if not the world. The product itself is not so much ‘crisps’ as ‘compact chemical weapon delivery devices’, insulting on several aesthetic levels at once. Visually, they exude a glowing orange hue not unlike a 60s B-movie interpretation of radioactive material. And in matters of taste, they possess a delicate lemon curd flavour immediately followed by the searing, tearing acid of what I can only assume to be chilis derived excusively from mammal-dissolving mutated killplants, the only creatures on Earth to naturally produce biowarfare contaminants.

And don’t worry if you feel a whole packet isn’t enough to fully savour this unique experience, as they will taint your palate for the rest of the day, adding an intrusive je-ne-sais-quoi to every single thing you subsequently consume.

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