Return Of The Blogging Jedi

So last week I felt a tremor in the Force; you know that weird mystical energy that binds all blogs together, that flows through and around them? It’s called the internet or something...

Anyway, it gave me bad dreams, nightmares, a strange prescience of the blogging world that is to come. My master told me to quieten my mind and accept what I saw, to let go of my blogging attachments. “The Future it is that you see in your mind. Your fears let go of you must. In the Force trust you may.”

I told him to go and get stuffed. I don’t know about you but I don’t take orders or advice from someone who looks like a talking sprout and talks like a Norwegian exchange student.

It was possibly the worst move I ever made. I can see that now.

I was wholly unprepared for what happened next.

Out of the technological darkness came a dark shape. All in black. A cape. A mask. That anonymous heavy breathing that I normally only hear on the phone at 4am in the morning. We fought. Our light sabers clashing and humming like vibrators at a Hugh Hefner private video party.

I confess, I got cocky. I thought I was already a Jedi and could do anything, that I was unassailable. But I slipped. I fell. I found myself on my butt, on a gantry suspended thousands of feet above a man-made electronic chasm.

A black gloved hand reached out to me.

“Steve, Steve, the blogging Force is strong in you. Join with me and we can overthrow the rulers of the bloggosphere.”

“No!” I cried. “I’ll never join you!” I tried to raise my vibrator saber again but the battery was flat.

The mask spoke again. “Obi Wan never told you the truth about the blogging world...”

“He told me enough!” I snarled. “He said that you corrupted all the mummy bloggers! That you destroyed them all!”

“No, Steve.” The mask shook its head and thrust its gloved hand towards me one more time. “I am your mummy blogger. Join me, we can rule the internet mummy blogger and... er... daddy blogger.”

“Noooooooooo!”

What could I do? What was left to do?

I hurled myself screaming and nauseous from the gantry and after a fall of what seemed like aeons I found myself back in the garbage dump where I’d originally started – surrounded by all the usual stuff I write about: crap times at work, poor finances, all the women I fancy off the telly and all the drunks and oddballs of Leamington Spa.

And a cat in hell’s chance of ever being offered the chance to endorse the latest Nestle breast pump or Palitoy home liposuction kit.

God it’s good to be back.

A Harmless Idiocy

I'm probably going to regret this but... well, what the hell, surely I can't be the only one. Yes, it's confession time again folks. Time to 'fess up to some idiocy that I desperately hope I share with other people in a pathetic attempt to normalise it in the first place.

Picture the scene. You're alone in an elevator. The floor you want is approaching. You know the doors are going to shush open any minute. You're all alone. Unobserved. It can't hurt, can it? Just to... you know, wave your hand in front of the door as if you were a Jedi and then have the door magically open before you. I mean, it's not like I pull my hoody up and speak in a weirdly stilted Alec Guinness voice at the same time. I don't have Star Wars posters on my bedroom wall. I don't have my religion recorded at the passport office as "Jedi" as some idiots do.

I just, you know, every now and then, get overtaken with the urge to pretend to open automatic doors purely by mind control.

It's a harmless thing really. I bet everybody does it. Or at least has done it at least once. Haven't you? Come on, admit it.

It's not a sign of illness or anything. I'm perfectly sane. Really. I never take it too far.

Well, not since my attempts to control my boss's thought processes failed miserably and I didn't get the outrageously high payrise I was asking for.

Me: "Steve is an excellent worker and deserves a payrise of monumental proportions..."

My Boss: "Steve, why are you waving you hand at me and speaking in that weird voice?"

Me: "You feel the need to give me monetary remuneration for all the crap I have to deal with at work..."

My Boss: "Do you need to speak to a first aider?"

Me (sighing): "Oh never mind. Forget I said anything."

My Boss (under his breath): "Your pathetic Jedi mind tricks won't work on me, boy..."

Ho hum. Like I said. Harmless.