First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more-no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it.

Somewhere, a long way away, people are doing sensible things like mowing lawns and digging gardens.

I am restless. I don't mind leaving this comfortable, static life. I could live a year on my own in a remote village.

Contrary to what the politicians and religious leaders would like us to believe, the world won't be made safer by creating barriers between people.

Now, what sort of person would write a scene where a young man stumbles upon a castle full only of beautiful young women? Answer: ME!

Once the travel bug bites there is no known antidote, and I know that I shall be happily infected until the end of my life

As I work in the afternoon on committing to paper some of my morning's thoughts, I find myself just about to close on the knotty question of whether or not I believe in God. In fact I am about to type, 'I do not believe in God', when the sky goes black as ink, there is a thunderclap and a huge crash of thunder and a downpour of epic proportions. I never do complete the sentence.