Der Böögg

"I realised at that moment that all my girlfriends have been mental or using me as a distraction from their upcoming exams. The bad dreams always come on Fridays. They are always about girls I like. They are repetitive in nature. I wake feeling inadequate and disorientated - write that down, disorientated - and the day passes and I wait for sleep." I drew circles on the table with my index finger. "You are lucky your English is bad, because when you dream in English, your dreams are neither vivid nor escapable."

"Is this going to be in the exam?"

"What exam?"

"The exam we are studying for." Students. Exams. Whatever. Better than dreaming.

"Oh, that. Don't worry about it," I sighed. "I'm good at exams and I don't get stressed about them. Just relax and you'll be fine. Let's talk about something important. I want to know why I have Monday off."

"Monday? Oh, it's because of Der Böögg," said a student.

I looked up. "Excuse me?"

"Der Böögg. You must know about Der Böögg. No? Well, he's a snowman. And once a year we burn him on a big fire and his head explodes."

"You burn... a snowman?"

"At six o'clock. It's important because he tells us how long summer will be. If it takes a long time for his head to pop, summer will be bad. And, ipso facto, vice versa."

"Is this still a dream? Where's my ...?"

"Look, it's simple. In the olden days, the rich people of Zurich used to take a peasant and put him on a big fire and he'd scream how long the summer would last and then the explosives strapped to his head would explode." My student gestured a messy explosion. "Then the bankers would buy or sell wheat futures and corn derivatives and make a ton of money. Zurich is the only canton in Switzerland with this tradition and it is by far the richest. Coincidence? Impossible."

Another student spoke up. "When the head exploded, the brains would splatter on nearby poormen, and the one with the most brain on his coat would be Der Böögg the next year. For one year he'd be the toast of the town, and then his head would explode lucratively."

The first student took up the story once more. "But over time it became unseemly to explode a poor person so frankly. Political correctness and that. So in the late seventies, they were encased within a snowman and the explosives replaced with fireworks. It's better for the kids, and costs less in psychiatry. So that's why you have a day off."

Valentine's Day Poem

The Seduction

"I have an itchy neck" she sings
"It's scratchy and annoying
It makes me think of snakes and stings
And dust and heat and poison things"

"Whoa, take a breath", he says
"You've got your head all stupid
Think softer thoughts like ocean waves
A sandy beach and cupid"

"No it hurts" she says "it hurts a lot
Not pain but discomfort which is worse
It itches underneath the skin
It itches underneath the nerves"

"Shh, listen, quiet, calm
I'll whisper in your ear a psalm
A verse of soothing moving smoothing
Auditory rhyming balm"

"Okay I'm listening but check my neck
It must be full of spots and specks
And flecks of dirt and nits and lice
Atomic cats, protonic mice"

"Is it here?" "No down a bit
So make a start on kissing it
That feels quite nice I must admit
I'm still not cured so don't yet quit"

"I have a plan that could well work
I think I'll nibble at your ear
I'll nibble at your ear and then
Your itch will disappear"

"It's worth a try I guess, go ahead
Mmm - oh yes that's right" she said
"One itch is gone but now instead
I have an itch to go to bed"
.

A Tower of Bagel

Breakfast

Morning worshippers fill the aisles. Fluorescent candles, holy sparkling water, stained glass stain remover. Little wire baskets which symbolise the suffering of the saints. This is our globalised religion. All the faithful must be departed by ten pm, eight on Sundays, because Sundays are more holy than other days.

There is an ache inside of me. A longing. All the life and activity of the city has been condensed into this place and this moment. I am hungry; I am in a supermarket. The world does not get any more primal than this. Time expands and contracts mystically.

I am approaching the dairy section. It's colder there, like in space. My eyes can already feel the chill. If I buy a bagel I will want soft cheese, but if I pick up the soft cheese now and there aren't any bagels left, I will have to walk all the way back here and return the soft cheese to the shelf. My dilemma threatens to freeze me in an endless logic loop, like in a 1980s computer programming language.

10 If breakfast = bagel THEN goto 20
20 buy softcheese
30 If bagel = soldout THEN goto 40
40 return softcheese
50 goto 10

RUN

RUNTIME ERROR!


I decide to risk it, and if they don't have bagels in stock, I'll take the soft cheese home now and I'll come back later for the bagel.

But now that the soft cheese is in my hand, I realise that I must have a bagel. Leaving the supermarket without a bagel would be the worst thing I could possibly do in the next ten minutes. The city must provide a bagel. That's what cities are for. I put up with their shit because I know there will be a bagel for me when I need one. And boy, do I need one now. Picking up the soft cheese got my brain pumping chemicals faster than being in love, or scoring a goal. I'm almost frantic in anticipation of the bagel - cut in half, lightly heated in the microwave, smeared with soft cheese, washed down with a healthy swallow of Earl Grey.

I walk with head bowed in the direction of the bread products section of the church. It smells like hot fresh bread and sweet sacred incense. It fills up my senses. My tongue licks the edges of my lips. My throat feels warm already. The mantra-prayer brings some relief:

I must have bagel. Bagel is the wheat-giver. Bagel is the little snack which brings total satisfaction. I will eat my bagel.

And behold! The city has provided a multitute of bagel! A legion of bagel! A tower of bagel! And although within a few hours I'll hate the city more than ever, it will be a regretful hate, for the city has given me what I wanted. It always gives me what I want, though never what I need.

I pay at the altar, and tap my stomach. This is my body.
.

French Horoscope

(Translated from Friday's Le Monde International Edition)

March 21 - April 19
Gateaux
Word of the day: Moisture

Just as red sea crabs fight epic underwater battles against blue crabs, so you must battle - against your own complacency.

April 20 - May 20
Flambee
Soup of the day: Disguised Onion

A talentless pretentious obnoxious so-called film so-called director will sit at a table near you trying to flirt with a Japanese woman in bad English. A cute guy on the table next to you will flirt with the waitress you like and she will smile at him. The gay waiter will be the only one who smiles at you. Do you still want to go to the restaurant?

May 21 - May 25
Boutonnière
Match of the day: Harlequins vs Wirral

The out of work actor is lying to you. He is paid handsomely to appear in sauce commercials. If you had a TV you'd know that.

May 26 - July 18
Martinet
Your gemstone: Charcoal

Today is an auspicious day to read the book you bought when it was raining and you'd spent so long in the bookshop you felt you had to buy something. Start on page 8 and you'll enjoy it more.

July 19 - September 31
Décolletage
Your lucky cellphone: Nokia 3310

Don't try to commit suicide using electricity. Voltage is not fatal to you today.

October 1 - October 8
Au Gratin
Your lucky crab: Red

Confucious said, 'The child is the father of the man.' So don't call the police when you see an 8 year old spanking a 40-year old.

October 9
Gourmand
Your lucky number: Slevin

You will make a discovery. Not, like, gravity, or America. Something like 'your grandfather met Hitler' or 'red wine doesn't clean white wine.'

October 10 - December 31
Nouveau Gauche
Your lucky dead language: Latin

You are spending too much mental energy blaming your parents. Sure, you wanted to become a supermarket manager, but your parents were right to send you to mime school. It's time to pull on your tight black and white-striped sweater and pretend to be in a box.

January 1 - March 21
Corsage
Your lucky ancient civilisation: Mayan

Plants can't grow without attention. Have you watered your relationships recently? Do it in the shower so your partner can rinse off.

March 22 - April 22
Fête Noire
Your lucky day: Yes

Finally, you will meet the man who has been writing about you. He's nice.
.

English Rose vs French Femme Fatale

Part two of an extensive investigation into English attitudes towards France and the French.


My research into the differences between English and French women took to me Hleb Industrial Park in Devon, home of the National Stereotypes Union. "Tell me what to think," I said to a deskwoman. She picked up a leaflet, licked it erotically, and handed it to me.

It was a simple questionnaire, which I reprint here in part.


Anglo-Frenchal Female Characteristics Binary, version 2

1)
You are hungry. There is an orange. How do you eat it?
a) Peel it first.
b) Leave the peel on and eat it like an apple.

2)
Complete the sentence. "You can never have too many..."
a) condiments.
b) boyfriends.

3)
wipe; stress; montage; blasphemy; pompous
Which word is the odd one out?
a) pompous
b) stress

4)
Carrying your cat to the park is
a) vaguely sociopathic.
b) probably something the cat would enjoy.


5)
Does the word 'artichoke' make you think about sex?
a) Yes.
b) No.

6)
"Men seldom make passes..."
a) at girls who wear glasses.
b) at girls with fat asses.

7)
When you were a girl, you wanted to be...
a) the Queen of France.
b) the Queen of England.


The test continues for three pages, and ends with:

If you chose mostly (a) you are English.
If you chose mostly (b) you are French.
If you chose an (a) and (b) equally, you are bad at maths. There are 31 questions. Think about it.