Wednesday, February 25, 2015


I've invented a contraption. It's broken. When someone comes across the contraption they feel compelled to repair it but every attempt they make to fix it just breaks it more. It's addictive. The intrigue experienced when you try to repair the contraption becomes a compulsion. Soon you are muttering and moaning and growling in irritation but you won't give up. You'll stand up and walk around the contraption and consider it from all angles and you'll draw diagrams of it and make 3D models of it and perform mathematical equations based on it and even write poems about it, so fascinated by the contraption you will be. You will name it too. You'll give it all kinds of names. You'll name it after yourself. You'll name it after me. You'll name it after a country. Afghanistan maybe. Or perhaps you'll just call it 'life', after that other confusing thing you've been wrestling with and that the contraption provides distraction from. The contraption may be frustrating but at least it is not that other confusing thing.

And eventually, after you have grown weary and old and your mental capacity has diminished and your physical strength is sapped, you will look at the contraption and realise that you never even knew what it was for and you will wonder if it was even broken in the first place and then you'll come to understand that all you did was break it over and over and over again in new ways, each and every time until, finally, the contraption broke you.

Then you'll breathe your last and collapse and I'll take up your body and put it in a sack. I'll place you in the space under my stairs and then I'll wait and watch for the next person to come along and find the contraption and try, until dead, to right what's wrong.

Sunday, February 22, 2015


I'll steal your world from you and you'll rent it back. You'll appreciate it more because it has a price. You'll earn the money to pay for your keep by working for me. I'll pay you almost as much as you pay me. You can borrow the rest you need from me so you don't fall behind on the payments but you'll have to pay me interest. It's my world after all. You owe me, in perpetuity.

I'll do the same with your peace of mind. I'll rob your self-esteem and flog you placebos. I'll tell you that you are ill and sell you pills if you become fatigued. You are unwell. The world is well, that's why you pay for it. If you can't pay for it you are not fit for it. You are too weak to be part of the world. You are aberrant, a malcontent, a criminal, a skiver or sick. Take your pick.

I'll make you feel ashamed of being poor or poorly or too fat or too thin. I'll make you hate yourself, outside and in. I'll be the sole gatekeeper of your self-approval. I'll be your self-improver. I'll sell you books that tell you how to get by but they won't tell you how to get by so you'll have to buy more. Then I'll get you to pay me for an army and I'll send it to war against another army that you also paid for.

When the fighting is done, I'll charge you for reparations and get you to pay me to pay you to clean up the devastation. You'll pay me for the monuments that you'll build in my honour. If you died in my name, I'll say you were a martyr. I'll sell you a coffin and pass your debts to you kids. I'll be the one who decides where you spend the life after this. Heaven or Hell, I'll own you even in death and you'll thank me because it was too much responsibility to own yourself.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015


The following is a transcript of what I told the banking inquiry about the part Fugger played in the events leading to the blanket guarantee.

'Why did we guarantee the banks? Well that's quite a question. A fierce question altogether it must be said. Absolutely fierce hard to answer, but I'll give it a go and I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not going to make up some guff and pepper it with all the lingo like liquidity and all that. No. I'll be straight with you. I'll tell you the truth. The truth of it is that it's a mystery. A pure mystery. It's like a strange event. Life is full of strange and mysterious events isn't it? It is. And this is one of those events. Very much so. Very strange and mysterious. Fortean in nature, I'd even say. Truth is, we're not sure why we did it. It just kind of happened and to be honest we barely talk about it anymore. It upsets us. It was an extraordinary experience y'see and not in a good way. Not in a good way at all. It's like this, imagine if you and a few of your pals were on the way home from the pub one night, a night like any other night, or so you'd be thinking, but then a spaceship kind of thing appears and you get zapped up into it and there's aliens in there and they start sticking things up your hole for a bit and then they drop you back. Well, the whole guarantee thing was a bit like that. If aliens grabbed you off the road and started sticking mad science fiction objects up your arse you wouldn't talk about it would you? I mean, you'd be upset about it. You'd be kind of ashamed of it maybe and you might even wonder if it even happened. Well, that's what it was like for us, y'know. When I look back on that time, I usually can't really remember what happened at all. All that comes to mind is a beady eyed little monster fella sticking a mad yoke up my hole and that's my answer for you. That's what I have to say. We guaranteed the banks because it was like an alien putting something up your arse and it was very confusing and distressing and I don't want to talk about it anymore. So, we'll leave it there if that's alright with youse.

Now, tell me, can a fella charge for expenses showing up at this thing?'

The End (of Irelend).

Wednesday, February 11, 2015


If there is one thing we at Hotel Fugger take pride in it is nothing at all. We at Hotel Fugger know we have nothing to be proud of but that's OK because we're not proud people.

You will love the food at Hotel Fugger because there isn't much of it so if you get your hands on it you will really value it. That is why we say that you will love the food at Hotel Fugger.

Do not drink the water at Hotel Fugger. It tastes bad. It all comes from the tank on the roof. There are dead bodies in the tank. We don't know how the bodies got in there as the tank's only aperture has a  diameter of nine inches. However, a suicidal troupe of contortionists from the Chinese State Circus were reported missing five years ago and it was around about that time that Hotel Fugger's water started to taste bad.

Many famous personalities stayed at Hotel Fugger but all of these famous personalities are dead and all of them died in Hotel Fugger. The circumstances of their deaths are considered so grim that no one talks about these famous personalities anymore. Hence, they are no longer famous.

When you book into Hotel Fugger we give you the directions to your room. 'It's at the end of the corridor', we say and you walk down the corridor toward the end but there is no end. The corridor just goes on and on and on and on and on. Eventually you give up and turn back. Then you realise that the corridor has no start either. There is just corridor, stretching out in both directions, forever. Doorless corridor. Endless corridor. The last corridor you will ever see. The corridor you will die in. This corridor is our little joke. We have to keep ourselves amused somehow. It's just something to lighten the mood here at Hotel Fugger. 

At Hotel Fugger we have face painting for the children but the children are all dead and the people painting their faces are the people who killed them. If it's any consolation, the face being painted on the children's faces is your face.

Hotel Fugger is heated by the collective unease of its guests.

The Devil came to stay at Hotel Fugger but was told there was only one bed left and that he'd have to share a room. The Devil agreed and we put him in a room with God. We locked the door from the outside and the two of them are trapped there to this day. If you put your ear to the door and listen you can hear the two of them arguing. Things can get pretty bitchy. Listening at their door is one of the chief attractions at Hotel Fugger.

A guest recently found a finger in his bed at Hotel Fugger. It turned out that it was his own finger and there was nothing to worry about because it was still attached to his hand. The guest thought he'd report it anyway because, as the guest said himself, 'you never know' and that is very true, you never do know. In fact, that is our motto here at Hotel Fugger. 'YOU NEVER KNOW.' You find those words on the heading of our stationary, embroidered into our towels and on the plaque that hangs over our entrance. These words are also written in the minds of our staff and guests alike, in letters standing one mile high and made from the bones of the hundreds of millions of men, women and children who died with the words 'you never know' on their lips.

Hotel Fugger has been completely refurbished. To be precise, Hotel Fugger has been utterly unfurbished. There are no longer walls at Hotel Fugger. Hotel Fugger no longer has doors or furnishings of any sort or even a roof. Hotel Fugger is just an idea. Hotel Fugger is not a good idea but it is an idea and you are stuck with the idea because I've just placed the idea of Hotel Fugger in your head.

Hotel Fugger – you're there right now.

Enjoy your stay.

You Never Know.

Monday, February 2, 2015


There were shops so Tarzan went to them. Have you ever been to shops? I bet you have. Most people have been to shops. Not Tarzan though. Tarzan had never been to shops before. Tarzan had no need for shops up to this time. Up to this time, Tarzan had been living in hedges at the ends of gardens and feeding on birds, squirrels and hedgehogs. Tarzan had everything Tarzan needed but people who are called 'The Authorities' told Tarzan to change Tarzan's ways or they would lock Tarzan in a room for the rest of Tarzan's life. Tarzan did not want to be locked in a room for the rest of Tarzan's life. That struck Tarzan as very constricting so Tarzan changed his ways.

Tarzan was told that Tarzan needed proper clothes and other things called accoutrements and that Tarzan would get them from shops so Tarzan went to shops. Then a man in a shop told Tarzan that Tarzan had to hand over money if Tarzan wanted to take away the items Tarzan needed. Tarzan asked the man in the shop what money was and the man in the shop showed Tarzan bits of paper and some small pieces of metal. Tarzan realised that Tarzan did not have any money. Tarzan asked the man in the shop if he would take pebbles and litter instead of money and the man in the shop said that he would not. Tarzan told the man in the shop that Tarzan needed money and asked the man in the shop to give Tarzan some. The man in the shop told Tarzan that Tarzan would get money in the bank and told Tarzan where the bank was so Tarzan went there and asked the lady in the bank for money. The lady in the bank told Tarzan that Tarzan could only take money away from the bank if Tarzan put money in the bank. Tarzan did not think that this made sense. Why would Tarzan need something Tarzan already had and if Tarzan had something why would Tarzan give it to someone else to give back to Tarzan? Tarzan told the lady in the bank that she was wasting Tarzan's time. Tarzan left the bank.

As Tarzan was leaving the bank, the lady in the bank told Tarzan that Tarzan should put some clothes on. Tarzan told the lady in the bank that the world was Tarzan's clothes and walked out the door, putting one foot into the world just like most people put one foot through the leg of their trousers every morning.

Tarzan asked a man on the street if he knew where Tarzan could get money and the man on the street told Tarzan that Tarzan could earn it by working so Tarzan went looking for a job. Tarzan asked people if there was a job that Tarzan could do for them in exchange for money and they told Tarzan that Tarzan needed qualifications before Tarzan could get a job. Tarzan asked them where Tarzan could get qualifications and they said the college so Tarzan went to the college and the people at the college told Tarzan that they would only give Tarzan qualifications if Tarzan gave them money. Tarzan told the people at the college that Tarzan had no money and they told Tarzan to get a job.

Tarzan was beginning to get very confused. Tarzan was confused and hungry. Tarzan saw a small dog but Tarzan did not eat it because Tarzan did not want to be locked in a room for the rest of Tarzan's life by The Authorities.

Tarzan wandered the streets naked and a man pointed at Tarzan's penis and said 'cover that up or I will call The Authorities'. Everyone seemed to be disgusted by Tarzan's penis. The men all had their penises covered up by clothes and the ladies had their breasts and vaginas covered up too. Lots more of their bodies were covered up by clothes. Only their heads and hands were showing. They had hidden themselves from themselves because they found themselves disgusting. Tarzan realised that Tarzan better find Tarzan disgusting too or Tarzan would be locked in a room for the rest of Tarzan's life so Tarzan practised being disgusted by Tarzan and to go around thinking about the money all the time. 'Tarzan needs money, Tarzan needs money', said Tarzan to Tarzan all the time and Tarzan's hungry belly agreed with a growl.

Tarzan never got any money. The once mighty Tarzan got weak and skinny and Tarzan still had no clothes. An old lady saw Tarzan and said 'you should be ashamed' so Tarzan became ashamed. Tarzan became ashamed of Tarzan's nudity and Tarzan's poverty. Tarzan had never felt shame before.

The shame hung around Tarzan. Even though Tarzan could not see the shame, Tarzan knew that the shame was there because Tarzan felt the shame. Tarzan could no longer see the world because of the shame. Something Tarzan could not see was stopping Tarzan from seeing. 'Tarzan is blind yet Tarzan has eyes!' exclaimed the confused and miserable Tarzan.

Tarzan tried to hide from the shame but the shame found Tarzan wherever Tarzan went so Tarzan went to the only place the shame could not follow. Tarzan went to death. Tarzan dived from the top of a big shop and landed on the pavement. Splat. The shame was gone but Tarzan's skinny naked body remained, crumpled on the path. Tarzan's body was left there. No one would clear it away because of a thing called an industrial dispute. The men who clear away dead bodies wanted more money and the people who gave them money to clear away dead bodies did not want to give them more money. So, Tarzan's body rotted where it was and those who passed by it said it was a shame. 'What kind of world is this at all?', one lady asked. Tarzan could not answer her because Tarzan was dead but she did not want Tarzan to answer because she did not want to know. She already did. Deep down, she just wished she didn't.