Friday, January 01, 2010

Meanwhile on beautiful Tattoine

Larrikin's End by Pants

New Year's greetings from Tatt City in rural Victoria. Rather like a young Luke Skywalker, I feel like I've been deposited on an obscure world with a bunch of people to whom I'm very obviously not genetically linked. That's country Victoria for you. I've checked in all the seediest dives in Larrikin's End, (believe you me there are plenty), and I can find no evidence of a sackclothed Obi-Wan shaped saviour arriving to whisk me away to a more salubrious setting.

Barney, (who was spookily in each and every one of the seediest dives in Larrikin's End I checked - how does he do that?), has turned rather eerily Yodaish since his elevation to internationally renowned Voligarch (don't ask). It seems like only yesterday that he was an owlet-kitten fresh from a Petri dish in Silicon Valley. He looked so innocent curled up in his vacuum pack in a state of cryogenic suspension awaiting his life-giving turbo-adrenaline shot. I often wonder what direction my life might have taken had I chosen to follow my initial instinct to preserve him in that blessed state propped up on the sofa. Even on the big salary I was then drawing, £4,000 was a lot to pay for a scatter cushion. I can hardly complain, it seems likely that I will be living on the little bugger's largesse into the future which looks bleaker than a wookie's wedding at present. What can I tell you - we live in the kind of world where a hypoallergenic designer pet can rise to the top in business with no more than a couple of spare lives and a gift for deception. Perhaps I should have called him Putin Boots. Well he does make a mean vodka cocktail and there is little else to look forward to here on Planet Pants as the advancing years bring declining opportunities.

The Pants family Christmas went off smoothly. I was introduced to the marketing phenomenon of similar to as seen on TV. What does this mean? That my new pedicure set resembles a Jamie Oliver fry-up or one of those blobby things that regularly devours half the cast of Torchwood? I'm careful to remove the batteries at night just in case it ups and gets a job on Spooks and shops me to the Russians. The indignity of having your ransom paid in alcopops just doesn't bear thinking about. Barney held the fort down here. His suite of vodka bars (Goblet of Fires East, West and Central) are dotted along The Esplanade like diamond-encrusted skull-n-crossbones charms on a pirate's Pandora bracelet. He recently had the bright idea of installing tattoo booths in the rear of his establishments on the off chance that some of his patrons can find a spare square inch that isn't already engraved with pretty barbed wire and spider's web motifs. If I can't get a job after my art course at the Larrikin's End Institute of Fine Art and Advanced Macrame ends, Barney's head tattooist Scar d'Flife (funny name - he's from a galaxy far, far away judging by the unorthodox arrangement of his body parts and facial features), has offered me an apprenticeship. Any port in a storm.

I've been working hard on keeping my New Year's resolution,

No more zombies, Joe, no more zombies.

Easier said than done. If Copenhagen was the best the collective intelligence of Planet Earth could do, we've all got reason to reach for the garlic and silver bullets or at the very least, our Milky Way A-Zs. It's a while since I watched Shaun of the Dead but I seem to remember zombies bite your neck or scratch your arm or something and before you can say, 'hang on a mo, I'll just finish this chapter of Le Temps Retrouve', you're heading off to buy an iPhone in the middle of the night.

Never one to let a business prospect escape his claws, Barney is working on a paper for the next Climate Change Summit. He will propose that we all significantly increase our vodka intake. We will clearly save loads on energy as you use very little when you're unconscious. Barney is speculating that vodka will be the only stable currency in the future. I hope he's right as he has enough of it to literally float a global economy. His theory is based on the principle that because vodka doesn't freeze, it can't possibly melt down. You've got to hand it to the little bugger, he's smart.

Best wishes for the year ahead. I was going to end this piece with one of Barney's little wisdoms but I've found something even better. For your amusement I present The top 278 Star Wars quotes improved by replacing a word with 'pants' from the lovely people at Keepers of Lists. Enjoy...