Sho,

Alcomohol ish back on the menu, but im pretty shore I can handle it.
  
Perhapsh I was a teensy-weensy bit rong about the GraTe custard deluge.  All I can find traces of is an olde cushtard containerer in the back of the frige and it had bean there so long that when I opened it uP to hav a lok it tryd to attack me.
  
Shtill, lik all goood doomshday predicshons we jusht move the dates again and say that we red the shtars wrong because the sun was in uranush (hahahahaha - alwaysh makes me laugh).  Sho pack ur floaties, and a bowl and and shpoon,  for Februauruaury (shtupid word – doesn’t know when to end) 2013 when the world goes cushtarddddd!!!!!
  
Itsh jus possible that I went off on a prity strange tangent lasht month, and perhapsh, jus perhapsh, my use of religion to replace alcohol didn’t quite work out ash planned.  I’m shtarting to think that perhapsh a wee bit of alcohol ishn’t the worst thing when contemplating the universe.  Straight religion may jusht be a little too intoxicating.  I’ll probably get a shpanking for saying that – if I’m lucky – ahahahahaha.
  
My biggest problem now ish the freakin animals.  I mean, sure the manure for the garden ish great and the vegie patch hash gone wild but the aroma is sho storng you can actually shee is hanging there in a kind of green-brown haze. You can evun cut it into chunks.  I’ve wrapd some of these up and am going to send them to peeple that have caused me pain, for their burthdays.  The finance departmint are in for quite a sururprise (hehehehehe).
  
 We also had a tragedy in the vegies yeshsterday.  The beens had really shot up and this kid named Jack kept coming around and trying to clim one of them.  Well, he may have been a good climber but he wasn’t very observant and now, sadly, he’s contributing to the compost in his own little way, thanks to the 29 tigers.  The circle of life can be a bit of a bugga.
  
Shpeaking of witch, if you do happen to encounter a gristly bear around town that answers to the name of Cuddles, stay away from him, especshily if he wants you to tikle his belly.  He is a nasty piece of work.
  
Anyway, I seem to have survived leap year febfasht and I’m petty shure nobody notussed me going slightly off the railsh. I owe a great big thanksh to all those wonderful peeple who donated – you will go to the 29th haven (which ish the best one of corse).  Those who don’t donate will almost certainly end up in sum fiery hell, which sheems a bit rough reely. That leaves them two choyses, donate, or go out and rack up some reely naughty black marks (in for a penny in for a pound).  Actually the second one doesn’t sound toooo bad but it’s probably a better longturm investment to jst donate.
  
So, if you want to save your life, and change the life of other people why not hed to:

http://www.febfastfundraising.com.au/chris_jones_97
and make a contrbushion.
  
And that’s a wrap, or possubly a kebab.

I have been hearing the voices for some time.  Most of them saying things like “Just please go away you fruitcake”, but in recent days I have heard a deeper message.

I was out looking for a 29-leaf clover – less rewarding than I had hoped but, of course, my failures were surely just a test of my faith - when a voice spoke to me in 29 tongues.

And so now, here I am collecting 29 of every species waiting for the great deluge of custard that will sweep away the non-believers in a torrent of sticky yellow.
To be honest it’s been more than a little challenging.  The 29 tree frogs made short work of the 29 mosquitoes but their glory was cut short by the 29 diamond pythons.   And when it comes to larger animals, like buffalo, let’s just say that the impact of the total digestive process is enough to strip the lining out of you nostrils.  I am dreading the elephants.
And then there’s the really rare species.  I now have the last 29 yangtzee river dolphins in existence in an inflatable pool, a fact that has made me a person of interest to Interpol.  My collection of 29 fake moustaches has come in very handy.

Of course, it’s not just capturing the animals that’s the challenge, it’s housing them as well.  I have been working on my 29-level ark, but it’s progressing much slower than I had hoped.  The 29 termites (which rapidly grew to 29 thousand) polished off the first one and I’m now regretting collecting the 29 tigers so early.  They’ve taken over the second boat, and it turns out that having 29 tigers disagreeing with you when you try and move them on is pretty much a bowel-loosening experience.

So, I’ve got lemurs in the laundry, baboons in the bedroom, koalas in the kitchen and toucans in the toilet.  The noise is unbelievable, especially as it seems that whenever you put 29 of anything together at least half want to kill the other half, or mate with it as loudly as possible.

But what worries me most of all is that, as I pull yet another gerbil out of the cereal box, I may not have the faith to see this through.  I’m pretty sure I’m about a million species short of the mark, so the new world is just going to have to live without a heckofalot of lizards, ants, boring brown birds and any number of indistinguishable species of deer.  Not that the deer would last long with the tigers around anyway.
And so as the sun sets on my house full of roaring, snorting, screaming, coughing, croaking, squawking, defecating beasties – I cry to the heavens  “Bring on the custard!”

If you would like to help me in my final days please go to
http://www.febfastfundraising.com.au/chris_jones_97

and consider making a donation.  Sure the world is all going to end in yellow, but why not make somebody’s life a bit better while we’re waiting.

19 days without alcohol and I can safely say there have been no noticeable side effects.

The Believers of the Magical 29 is going from strength to strength, though admittedly finding other followers has been harder than I first thought  – and I have begun to notice a strange, inexplicable force at work.  I have been urging all my friends to join in the faith, again and again, and, mystery of mysteries, they seem to be disappearing!!!  When I ring them up the phone is answered but all is silent when I speak and the phone goes dead!!!  I have visited their houses and knocked on the door 29 times but no one answers – and yet there are cars in the driveway!!!!  Stranger still, some times I see the curtains moving as though some was in there!!!!

The answer came to me in a dream sent by 29 doves.  There is a force out there working again the Magical 29 –and  I know what it is – the Believers of the Awesome 28.  The poor misguided fools.  As if there was ever anything special about 28!!!  They really are just bunch of crackpots with a ludicrous belief system!!!  I have tracked the high priestess down to her chapel in Bungwahl and thrown 29 stones on her roof.  I have hidden three of her gnomes (ha – now she only has 25 – horror of horrors) and one her swans cut from car tyres will never been on this earthly plane again.  That should rattle her.

I have created a special lash with 29 tails to scourge any unbelievers, though I must confess there have been problems. The damn thing weighs a ton and the tails are always getting tangled, so it’s really more of a metaphorically scourging. Still, it’s the thought that counts.

Of course, dear reader, no doubt one great question must be preying on your mind – how can the Church of the Magical 29 only have one follower???  Never fear, my friend, that answer also came to me in a dream, carried by 29 hamsters.  I have created my own believers, out of cardboard.  Now, everywhere I go 28 cardboard cut-outs trail along behind, all connect by a sacred cord.  To be honest, it has made getting around fairly difficult and there was the tragic loss of Trevor the 15th, during the sudden downpour the other day.  His soggy and waterlogged passing will long be remembered, with a mixture of joy and sadness.  Still it has certainly caught people’s eye when I pass – they always point and whisper.  I think this hold promise for securing my first non-cardboard follower.

Perhaps it might be you???

I haven’t quite got the M29 website up a running yet, so in the meantime perhaps you’d like to donate to another worthy cause.  Simply head to:

http://www.febfastfundraising.com.au/chris_jones_97

and make whatever  contribution you can.  The cause is really worthwhile and I promise they won’t be ringing you 29 times a day to seek a donation.

I must find something to keep me sane.  I’ve read through last year’s febfast emails and it’s pretty clear that the wheel was spinning but the hamster was dead.
Of course, questions still plague me.  If people lose weight where does it go to?  Or are skinny people just really forgetful?  Why are items transported by ships called cargo and items transported by car called shipments?  Why is common sense so uncommon and who thought giving up alcohol was a good idea?????

I must not let these uncertainties take control and I need to avoid obsession.  This cannot happen again.
I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess.

For some reason I know I had to say that 29 times for it to work.
I’ve decided that the best way to survive this self-inflicted abstinence is to turn to religion.  After all religion and self-punishment have a rich, long-standing relationship.

I’m going to avoid all of the mainstream religions because none of them seem to mention the number 29 and I don’t think they’d appreciate me tinkering with things to make that magical number fit in.  It’s a funny thing – religions are usually all about loving thy neighbour but suggest that perhaps we could break bread using the left hand and suddenly it’s all vengeful smiting of the heretic. That’s humans for you.
Actually I think I might avoid other non-mainstream religions – woo wee are they fruitier than grandma’s fruit cake with extra fruit.  You think the world will be crushed by a giant serpent – there’s a belief structure for you.  The world was created from some god’s unmentionables – prayer meetings are held on Thursdays under the bridge.  Undergarments are sacred and must be worn on the outside – and high priest should wear theirs on their heads – dial 1300 NUTTER to find a local chapter.

Might just start my own.  Disappointingly, Religion for Dummies doesn’t have a chapter on do-it-yourself religion. There’s an opportunity for a lifestyle TV program – Religious Makeover in 60 minutes – or possibly Grand Designs.  Or how about un-reality TV – Survivor – Armageddon.
Anyway, I’m going to take the plunge.  After all, what could possibly go wrong?

I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess. I must not obsess.

What were people thinking of when they decided leap years were a good idea?  I know - let’s stick an extra day on February every 4 years so that everything works just fine and dandy.  What a load of horse biscuits! And think about the poor sods that get born on 29 Feb – one birthday every four years – now if that’s not suck-central I don’t know what is.

Couldn’t we all have just agreed to a universal don’t-get-out-of-bed day, or just pretend it had happened or something?  But no – we decide create this ludicrous idea  – the one month when some sad souls are denying themselves alcohol!!!!!!

And what a dead loss 29 is anyway.  No other number wants to divide into so it’s pretty pathetic on the numerical front.  And it’s hardly something to aspire too. Woo hoo – I came 29th …. sad.  Hey, did you heard Trevor’s turning the big two nine – gotta celebrate that one … as if!!  If I’ve told you once I’ve told you 29 times….save your breath grandma!

So here I am in a freakin’ leap year, giving up alcohol for 29 days.  I must confess last year’s cunning idea to tackle the month proved to have some rather profound flaws. It turns out that trying to get so intoxicated on the 31 January that you can cruise through the month has some rather predictable downsides. And it turns out that, in the face of assurances given to me by drunken colleagues, alcohol does not make you funnier or increase your sex appeal.

I need to find something a little safer than the very thing I’m abstaining from.  This will take some serious thought - and neither of those word falls into my stronger suits.  Hmmm.

In the meantime perhaps you’d like to sponsor my self-inflicted abstinence.  Remember, the less you like the more reason to support this.  Think of it as money well spent.  And, of course, you’ll also be supporting some pretty awesome organisations tackle alcohol-abuse.  You can find out more just by visiting:

http://febfast.org.au/whereyourmoneygoes/

If you do feel like donating please and supporting overall goodness in the world then you could head straight to:

http://www.febfastfundraising.com.au/chris_jones_97

Yours in Abstinence

Chris Jones

   

All I have left for company are my thoughts and, honestly, I’m not sure if they’re really listening.

Do you know what’s faster than the speed of light?  Royalty.  Every time one of them dies a new one just pops up straight away.  It’s true.  “The king is dead, long live the king”.  See instantaneously there’s a new king.  Just like that.  On her day Queen Liz could beat Usain Bolt hands down.  They didn’t call her the Royal Flash for nothing (well, for that and the surprisingly revealing period of her life when she misinterpreted advice on getting a bit more public exposure – fine buxom lass she was though).

If wishes were horses I reckon we’d be facing a worldwide manure crisis.

Food worries me.  Do you think milk is mooed altering?  And what about four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie?  One right-royal, sadist, bird-hating @rsehole made that recipe up.

Speaking of food does anybody see anything wrong with this picture?  The same country that gets cookie monster to cut down on cookies for setting a bad dietary example has invented deep-fried coke (goes all stringy and crunchy and it’s packed with fatty goodness and sugar), and the turducken (a turkey stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a chicken – yep it really, really exists).

Do you know the hardest game to play by yourself?  Tug-o-war.  Doesn’t matter which side you’re on it still sucks.

Does the ability to realise you’re insane prove that you’re not?  I sure hope so.

As I wander along the water’s edge watching the fish dancing across the bottom of the lake (wearing little tap-shoes by the look of it – it turns out soles do have shoes) I can’t help feeling that though I have no real idea what this life and living thing is all about that my job here is done.

Captain James Tiberius Kirk signing off.

Live long and prosper.

Greetings Earthlings,

I have crossed the depths of space in my tinfoil ship driven by a great porpoise (who goes by the name of Trevor the Pretty Awesome) to “talk of many things: Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- Of cabbages--and kings.”

My constant companion has been my co-pilot Hans Solo.  I fear this long, long journey has taken its toll on him.  He has grown strangely quiet of late and seems to have shrunk to less than a foot long and turned to plastic (a lesser known side effect of near-light speed travel).  He also appears to be missing his trousers and, horror of horrors, his wedding tackle.  Princess Leia is in for a disappointment.  The royal line will be sadly short.

On my interstellar journey from my home planet of Febfastia I have pondered such questions as “If pods are for peas why aren’t dolphins green and round?”  Or why the gods or science decided that the brussel sprout was a good idea.  And what on earth is the point of the mosquito? And are Tony Abbott’s ears real and if so can he fly? What is so important about string that people keep asking how long it is?  And most important of all, if sense is so common why does dumb keep winning hand’s down?

I bring answers as well as questions.  Do shoes have soles you ask?  Of course they do – they are in touch with their inner fish.

And you can stop looking for black holes – they’re all around you.  After all what is a black hole but something that sucks everything into, even time itself, and gives nothing back?  You invented them years ago and called them committees.

But I digress.  Trevor tells me not to forget my porpoise.  If you wish to make a difference and bring peas to the dolphins please visit:

http://www.febfastfundraising.com.au/chris_jones_3

Nanu nanu.

So long and thanks for all the fish.

Bartislaartfast(Senior Porpoise Wrangler)

It’s gone.  I put my sanity down somewhere and I just can’t find it.

 Thought walking the dog would keep me sane.  Walked  him 37 times this week.  The little bugg3r gave out after the first twenty.  Dragged him around for the next ten walks.  Felt guilty.  Swapped him for an old star wars toy that looked vaguely dog-like and took it for 7 more drags.  People have started staring, especially when we play fetch.  Seems pretty rude.

Thank god for tinfoil.  A couple of days ago I realised that I was being attacked by electromagnetic waves aimed at my brain – probably by ASIO.  Fortunately, I was ahead of the game and I now wear a tinfoil hat that keeps me safe.  People stare at that too.  Fools.  They should all be wearing one.

I’ve had a breakthrough on the toilet paper front – all thanks to tinfoil.  Once the mind-altering rays had gone I saw things as they really are.  There’s a world-wide conspiracy by Kleenex to steal all the toilet paper and only leave behind a few sheets to throw us off the scent.  I have tried to tell people in the street about this but they just walk past.  Perhaps it's Kleenex or Sorbent who are controlling the brain rays?  This requires further investigation! 

If shoes have souls then do they go to Heaven?  I hope so because they have to put up with smelly feet.  I did have a pair once though that I really hope ended up in Hell.

Old McDonald was a bad farmer.  He just didn't know when to stop.  Specialise man - who wants all those different animals on the place?  Must make a godawful racket too with all the mooing and baaing and clucking and neighing.

And don't believe that rubbish about carrots improving the eyesight!!  At best they just make the world go dark at worst they give you a nasty poke in the eye.

I'm beginning to wonder if I'm getting a little off track.  I'm sure I had a purpose.  Or was it a porpoise?  Maybe it's a metaphor.  What's a meta for?  No idea.  I think I had one as a pet but it died and we buried it under the rosemary bush.

If you want to help me and a good cause (I think it's something to do with dolphins - heavens knows they could do with a little help) please visit:

http://www.febfastfundraising.com.au/chris_jones_3

Omgomgomgomgomgwtfomgomgomgomgomg

    Still there are tougher gigs.  Like being leader of NSW Labour.  Or Tony Abbott’s ethics advisor.

    You think I’m joking?  Stop reading this email, turn around and take a good hard look at the person near you.  Not some namby pamby happy smiley thing but a good hard stare.

Yes, exactly.  Bladder-loosening terror.  And you’re probably no better looking yourself.  Welcome to my world.

It will only get worse.  Perhaps I’ll walk the dog.

And what’s with toilet paper?  How come there only ever seems to be a sad 3 or 4 sheets on the roll?  This requires further investigation!

Dear god – let me hold on to my sanity.  I hope I don’t start wearing tinfoil hats.

If you haven’t donated to the  febfast cause why not think about it: 

Sho,
 
Thish is how it workhs.  I'm stupid enough to do this febfast thing nagain and i hopping that ur generus kind harted peopl who kno a good cause.  See febfasht is about some poor tsssser (me) going wivout alcomohol for a month (thath's right a hole freaky munth) and getting peopl to sposnor them.
 
Sho, why don't yu doing somethinging for a goood cause (check them out at http://febfast.org.au/ if you doubt my credibibility - thou perhaps yu should dout it anyway).
 
Thish yeaer i have a cuning plan. lasht night i picklid myself solid (or liqid hahahaha) and i'm hopping that wil get me through the full 28 daze.  i do have a nagging fear there may be consequenshshes (boy doesh that word make you have to wipe down the monitor shcreen) to this approach but beeeer logik cant find them.
 
if yu do want to supppoty a gr8 corrs then visit the following link:
 
http://www.febfastfundraising.com.au/chris_jones_3 
and go 4 it (how sad is that - i only get to be no.3 Chrish Joness)
 
Thankshs bucketloadshs
 
cant even shay cheers any more so "See ya"