This Is Not A
I very rarely get creative ideas. You may have noticed.
My period of maximum inventiveness was between the ages of 16 and
22. After that, my creativity seems to have emigrated.
Just occasionally, though, the odd part of my decaying mind fires
Back in the Spring of this year, just as the illegal invasion of
Iraq was starting, I woke up one Sunday morning with a
almost-fully-formed parody in my head. It was quite a scary feeling.
I put it out on Usenet (most notably alt.fan.pratchett and later on
rec.music.dementia), and even sent it to Dr. Demento, possibly in the hope
that someone would want to record it, and I could quit my day
job. Then someone said that he seemed to remember someone doing
something quite similar at the time of the first Gulf War. As I
don't have the resources for a copyright battle, I withdrew it from the
market. Nonetheless, you can read it here.
Then, back in early June, as I was indulging an another desperate
attempt to subdue the garden (a doomed enterprise at the best of
times), I was leaning on my rake when I saw a white pick-up truck go
by. On the side of it, it said:
For a few moments, I wondered idly what Gilbert & Sullivan
would have done if they'd had a gardening business on the side. Then it
came to me. You can read that here.