The Galwegian Haggis Wraith

Frank Schott

“12:31” by Frank Schott (2011)

Once more from the obscurity of my strange mind comes a weird (yet informative) article on a creature which most people probably think doesn’t exist.  What’s that?  You’ve never heard of the Galwegian Haggis Wraith either?  Well you’re in the right place for an enthralling crash course education!  Written on the 31st January 2017.

The Galwegian Haggis Wraith

In Galwegian folklore (not to be confused with Glaswegian folklore), a haggis wraith is a supernatural entity that appears as a deformed and/or ferocious-looking lump of fur. Haggis wraiths are the ancestral spirits of long dead haggises, and are regularly seen flying around graveyards, forests and beaches at night in a whirlwind of pure, undiluted Scottishness. The fact that they fly at all is quite interesting, as living haggises and their forefathers (such as the woolly haggis, sabre-toothed haggis and iron age hamster) were never capable of flight. The earliest cave paintings depicting their ancestors reveal that the closest they ever got to air propulsion was when Galwegian cavemen threw them at each other in lieu of snowballs. It is believed that their new-found ability to whiz through the air like hairy frisbees is due to either as-yet discovered paranormal reasoning, or possibly the ignition of methane from their characteristically long, drawn out expulsions of wind.

Haggis wraiths are usually described as “hairier than sin” (according to Hangman’s Bestiary, the authoritative scholarly text on wonderful creatures that may or may not have existed). Their hue can range from the most vibrant of ginger to the inkiest of black and includes many shades of grey, white and the occasional patterned variant, much like the common household cat. It has four legs, though they are so tiny they could be considered inverted and are therefore not worth considering at all. From a distance they could be mistaken for large, mouldy sausages or black puddings which have been left outside in the rain too long, and from up close they are regularly mistaken for dishevelled hedgehogs that got into a fight with a bag of wool.

The creatures are known across Galloway for being supremely ferocious and many herds of the famed belted Galloway cattle have been reduced to mere bones by their ilk. They also have a propensity to gnaw at the ankles of fishermen if they fall asleep at the rod after dusk. In 1678 such an incident occurred to attest to their ferocity that the creature was subsequently placed on the National Register of Heathenish Entities, that being when the entire population of the village of Broadstone was wiped out by an infestation of haggis wraiths when a local clergyman discovered a nest in the church’s bell tower and poked it with a bible.

The haggis wraith is an exceptionally patriotic creature of legend, and as such will only yield in its attack (especially if it is swarming with other members of its hive) if the person or animal being set upon cries for leniency in a decidedly Galloway-Irish accent. This behaviour goes some way to explain why infinitely more foreign people die of haggis wraith attacks in the region than locals. Currently, the ratio stands at ten to one, with only one Galwegian dying from an attack for every ten outsiders that fall victim to their infamous rage. According to Archibald McLean’s Scots Folklore Bible, haggis wraiths sometimes carry a rare strain of malaria. Though this is merely conjecture (allegedly an attempt to keep highlanders out of the lowlands), a lot of people believe it to be fact and as such the Tourist Information Board of Scotland has had to inject huge resources into an awareness campaign to inform potential visitors that malaria in Scotland died out with the kelp bears in the late seventeenth century.

Ebenezer Hangman identifies haggis wraiths as “one of the most memorable and distinctive figures in Scottish folklore that look like hairy, spectral sausages”, and observes that they are “strikingly fluffy” and often exhibit “borderline genocidal tendencies”. Hangman also speculated that if provoked enough, a haggis wraith is capable of spontaneous combustion as a last resort defence mechanism, though as yet no fatalities have been recorded regarding this extreme behaviour. Despite this, it must be noted that a farm near Leswalt was once blown up by something that the insurance policy holder insisted was a free-floating haggis of indeterminate origin and disposition.

The haggis wraith’s influence stretches far and wide. Romanticised depictions of it have appeared in many novels and poems, with the first reference to it in literature occurring in 1412 in John J. Harg’s Horror of Clayhole. In this groundbreaking historical novel, Harg mentions the haggis wraith many times and makes note of it being both the “scourge of the Rhins” and the “matted beastie of St. John’s Chapel”. The haggis wraith has also been portrayed in other forms of media, most notably in Touching Cloth Pictures’ 1972 film noir classic, The Teased Bishop.

In summation, the haggis wraith of legend is an entity to be both feared and respected. If the tales are to be believed then it is the cause of more than thirty thousand untimely deaths, the wiping out of eleven villages and the destruction of more farmland and forests than the bubonic porridge louse during the Lowlands Renaissance. A creature of almost stoic mysticism, it will remain an icon of Scottish lore for as long as there are tartan tongues to speak of it, dancing and flitting in the evening gloaming between the ancient tombstones and pines of the majestic Galloway hills.

When Nature Fails: Daddy Long Legs


“Crane Fly” by Derek Parker (2014)

Nature, God, Earth Spirits, call them what you will but they don’t always get it right.  Perhaps the most spectacular fail in biology is the crane fly AKA daddy long legs.  Nobody likes them, and with very good reason.  The following is a quick overview of these…things…and an outline as to why they suck as profusely as they do.  Written on the 31st January 2017.

When Nature Fails:  Daddy Long Legs

A daddy long legs is a stupid thing that has no right to exist. Simply put, it’s a piece of crap. Utterly incapable of flight or anything even remotely resembling it, this idiotic creature still finds it necessary to have wings and ruin magical moments with its foul presence. Much like the penguin or Egyptian dodo, this winged-yet-land-bound animal is a true failure at life and as such is fully deserving of the extinction that it surely deserves and is long overdue.

Asides from its completely pointless wings which all other flying insects laugh at, it has a long body somewhat resembling a poorly rolled cigarette or elongated length of goldfish poo, though a stringy piece of fish crap is infinitely more pleasurable to be around than these disgusting things. It also has long spindly legs, not dissimilar to those of a spider, though unlike a spider it has absolutely no redeeming qualities. Actually no, you can pull their legs off fairly easily which is probably quite exciting if you’re a psychopath and into that sort of thing. The creature’s face is also uglier than sin and will make you want to stomp on it if it ever comes anywhere near you.

Speaking of which, if a daddy long legs does ever somehow managed to make its way towards you via the spasmodic and hysterical dance routine it probably thinks constitutes flying, you will immediately want to projectile vomit all over it to keep this degenerate filth-spawn at bay. These cretins have a propensity for targeting faces, particularly those of people who harbour an intense and lifelong dislike for them (i.e. everyone in existence). Despite having zero navigational skills or homing abilities, they can and will, without fail or hesitation make it their sworn mission from God himself to batter themselves and their stupid bodies off your screaming face forever until either you or they die of stress. The most efficient counter measure against this obnoxious behaviour is to strike at them wildly with heavy objects and/or projectile-firing weapons. Fire is also strongly recommended.

God was once quoted in Good Housekeeping Magazine as saying that he hates daddy long legs with a passion only rivalled by his disdain for Adolf Hitler, and that he only made them because he was drunk on celestial moonshine (again, just like Hitler).

Daddy long legs also have redundant straw things jutting out of the front of their hideous faces like they were stabbed with the world’s tiniest chop sticks. Perhaps they’re beaks or something but whatever the case, nobody actually cares. Despite having these ludicrous straws, the only thing that they manage to suck, is all the fun out of life. Some biologists speculate that the insects feed off the blood of shrews and voles but this is without doubt a massive lie because I’ve never seen them manage anything properly, let alone the basics of life like eating to stay alive. Other biologists and certain members of the clergy assert that they are a form of lesser demon or insect djinn and that the straws are horns gifted to them by Satan himself. I am very much inclined to agree with this hypothesis because I have never encountered another living creature which instils me with as much hatred and the desire to kill as these worthless things do.

In springtime, if you are really unfortunate, you might see these repulsive atrocities of the animal kingdom come sprouting out of your lawn like a bunch of miniature pencils with Parkinson’s disease. The general consensus is that they are crawling out of Hell because even Satan’s had enough of their asinine antics. It is strongly advised that you jump around the garden stomping their numbers into oblivion. This may initially seem cruel, but you are actually doing them a massive favour by releasing them from the terrible binds of life as a forsaken daddy long legs piece of crap.

Even when they’re innocent little maggots they still manage to suck because they’re only a reminder of things to come: a god damn disaster.


“Four Desert Camels”

In an effort to bring weird education to the masses, I have written what I feel is a perfect addition to any dictionary and/or encyclopedia awaiting publication.  This piece deals with a subject not commonly written about, but one that most certainly requires its own dedicated word to aid in its description.  Please read on for the purposes of enlightenment.  Originally written on the 30th May 2016.


Tetracamelism is the state of having four camels run a country. It happens rarely, but when it does, it is usually quite disastrous. This was famously the case in the ancient nation of the Sand Djinn, who once ruled in the vastness of the Sahara Desert before modern humans came along and started bottling the Djinn. It is not quite clear why this was the case, but it is believed that the Djinn were extremely gullible and worth a lot on the open market at the time. In lieu of the Sand Djinn, their nation was colonised by camels, the four most intelligent of which formed a government and ruled over the sands for several centuries until they were wiped out by an asteroid.

During this period of political upheaval, the camels managed to absolutely ruin the economic stability of the Sahara by chewing all the foliage into extinction. This created a deficit in the native wildlife population’s food supply and therefore brought about the Great Locust Exodus which left the camels with nothing to coat in syrup and sell to tourists. In addition to crippling the economy, the camels also failed to maintain political ties with the various vicugna and llama tribes of the surrounding countries, resulting in constant raiding and skirmishes.

The last known case of tetracamelism occurred in Mesopotamia in 539 BC. The ruling Sumerians and Akkadians were attacked and ultimately driven north by four battle-hardened camels from the Camelidae Crusades. Once the former kings had been banished, the camels assumed governorship of the land and settled into what was to be known historically as the Great Camel Dynasty. This feudal system would last until 332 BC when the camels were vanquished by Alexander the Camel Slayer and his army of enslaved alpacas.

Other known nations which have experienced true tetracamelism (as opposed to governorship by fewer than four camels) include Finland, Imperial Russia and the Principality of Sealand.

Prior to the dawning of the internet and its infallible teachings, there was once a strong belief that Portugal was once ruled by as many as five camels at one time, and that subsequently pentacamelism should be a word. This, however, turned out to be a filthy lie, fabricated by the Portuguese equivalent of the mafia in an attempt to instil fear in the population for the purposes of racketeering. Besides, we now know that camels are incapable of getting along in numbers greater than four.

Blackbeard – A Life of Fabulousness


“A Very Jolly Roger” by Neil Dinsmore (2016)

Most people think Blackbeard was just some kind of pirate captain with a beef against life.  They are of course, completely wrong.  Blackbeard was a lot more than that.  For example, did you know he was also a wizard who dealt cocaine?  Didn’t think so.  So here is the complete and historically accurate biography of the one and only, fabulous party icon of the Caribbean.  Written on the 17th September 2016.

Blackbeard – A Life of Fabulousness

Edward “Blackbeard” Teach (c. 1680 – 22nd November 1718) was a trendsetting wizard, smooth pirate, heroin dealer, inventor of the LCD watch and admiral of the Caribbean Party Armada. It is not clear what his real name actually was; some historians believe his surname may really have been Thatch whist others believe it to be either Umboogoo or Clampett.

Blackbeard made himself famous during his outlandish activities in the Caribbean, primarily dealing his exotic black tar heroin in Spanish settlements, introducing chlamydia to Dutch ones and establishing the modern hip hop scene in Mexico. He also earned a reputation as one of the most flamboyant and cutting edge wizards in history, as well as one of the most talented rumba dancers amongst those active along the Spanish Main at the time. Blackbeard also had a tendency to attack the bejesus out of merchant ships and rudimentary helicopters in the Caribbean and the American colonies.

Undeniably, his best known ship was the Leipzig Party Galleon. At over three hundred feet long and with a cargo capacity of 600bm, it was the largest ship to ever be a registered charity and it was also notable for being the only galleon to ever sail the Caribbean sideways. It is thought to have run aground at the summit of Mount Olympus after its caches of cocaine were spilled during a particularly outrageous party in 1718.

No one knows for sure how many fingers Blackbeard had. A layman might not think this is particularly important but the number of fingers a smooth pirate or marine wizard had played a significant role in how well he could dance and/or perform party magic. The famous children’s book A General History of Motherfucking Wizards says that he had as many as fourteen fingers, but as he was never seen without his trademark leopardskin latex gloves on, no one can really be certain.

During his lifetime, Blackbeard often competed in maritime dance-offs whilst wearing the outlandish feather boa and a hot pink PVC pork pie hat his mum gave him for his eighteenth birthday. He also enjoyed wearing gratuitous amounts of glitter, sequins and silly string about his person in addition to brandishing two confetti cannons at all times. Some of his ancient instagram pictures depict him with a well-maintained horseshoe moustache, proving that he was at one with his feminine side. Blackbeard also used to weave neon pipe cleaners into his enormous hedge of facial hair during high octane dance battles or extreme displays of his über-wizardry. The pipe cleaners unravelled slowly during the course of the excitement and were designed to confuse and discombobulate opponents. They were also instrumental in making him look exceedingly fabulous. He probably got the idea from somebody else, as it was an exceptionally popular nuance of pirates and wizards during the golden age of piracy.


Early Life

Blackbeard is thought to have been born in a peg leg distribution centre near Bristol, England in 1680, the same year disco was invented. Teach was born with the power of party magic and so went to sea as a scuttle wizard when he was very young. He originally served on an English inflatable party ship in the War of the Spanish Balloons, creating and dealing wizard drugs in the Spanish West Indies and along the Spanish Main. At the war’s end in 1713, Teach, like many other drug dealers, briefly turned to male prostitution, DJing in clubs up and down the Caribbean and even indulged in a tiny little smidgen of highly illegal and much frowned upon piracy.


Blackbeard the Grand Pirate Wizard

Teach began as a journeyman wizard under Captain “Too Fresh” Benji Hornigoat. In 1716, Hornigoat retired from active wizardry when he slipped on a banana and fractured his beard, deciding that he would much rather take advantage of an amnesty offered to former pirate wizards by the British government than get his beard put in a cast. Teach then took command of his own ship and immediately painted it hot pink with glitter infused into its hull, hoisted his own jolly roger featuring two turntables and a microphone and set sail with a crew of newly hired pirates and amateur magicians.

During the next two years, Blackbeard attacked merchant ships and seagull-powered helicopters, forcing them to allow his misfit crew to board with the threat of a confetti cannon to the face. The pirates would seize all of the valuables, including popping candy, hypodermic needles, liquid nitrogen and semi-automatic swords. Ironically, despite his ferocious reputation, there are no verified accounts of him actually killing anyone with anything other than a pencil or a mop.


Capture and Death

Grothgar the Mole King eventually learned of Blackbeard’s Caribbean adventures and became quite jealous. Despite his moniker, Grothgar was not actually a mole at all, but rather the leper governor of North Carolina who had a severe skin condition and looked spectacularly ugly. He sent two anti-magic, anti-fun ships after Blackbeard with hopes of slaying him and achieving some degree of fame from it.

Teach was said to have been shot full of black tar heroin fifteen times and stabbed more than a hundred times with injections of Mexican cocaine before he eventually died. The effects of the drugs are said to have caused his head to shoot off and fire across the bay, whereupon it landed on top of a flagpole. Legends about his grizzly death immediately started to circulate. His headless body apparently back flipped overboard and managed to swim to shore, steal a parked man-of-war, sail it back to his own ship, sink it with his confetti cannons, laugh, stop laughing when he realised he’d sunk the wrong ship, become incredibly angry and then turn the cannons on his original attackers, obliterating them spectacularly. Then he keeled over dead and his body turned into a sausage. In lieu of Blackbeard’s head, the sausage was retrieved by a surviving crewman and taken back to England where it was impaled on a gate in a London park.

Later, Teach’s dried sausage was turned into a novelty shower fixture and sold on eBay.

A Study of Neranids


“Jellyfish at Royal Burgers’ Zoo” by Wihoda (2016)

There are many mysteries regarding the vastness of the universe, until recently perhaps none more intriguing than the possibility of the existence of life beyond the boundaries of our own planet. The neranid is a recently discovered creature of which little is known, but what little there is has now been gathered here for your scientific enlightenment and reading enjoyment. Originally written on the 8th September 2016.

A Study of Neranids

Neranids are large, brain-like creatures which inhabit the distant reaches of certain star systems. From scientific observations, they are believed to be around thirty metres in diameter. Due to a lack of information on their biological make up, their mass is currently unknown.

Neranids are classified by the scientific community as free-floating cosmic beings with a gelatinous human brain-shaped bell and trailing tentacles. In addition to housing all vital organs, the bell can also pulsate to help propel them through space at speeds of up to twenty miles per hour. The creature’s tentacles sprout from their bloated undercarriage and can grow to be up to several kilometres long. These are used primarily to catch its main food source of space lampreys and tube worms, which it captures and kills by emitting lethal toxins and crippling ultrasound. Despite looking almost exactly like a human brain, comparisons have also been drawn between them and the common jellyfish of Earth, both in terms of physical characteristics and mannerisms.

The neranid’s epidermis is covered in a thick, oil-like substance, and it was through the reflection of distant stars upon its surface that resulted in our scientist’s first observations of them through deep space telescopes. The animal’s slick coating is also believed to help them attract mates. In contrast to the adults, juvenile neranids lack the viscous coating of their parents and instead emit a dull phosphorescent glow which it gradually loses until it reaches maturity.

From recent observations, neranids have been discovered in almost every galaxy known to man, including our own. From just beyond the atmospheres of planets to the distant depths of deep space, the extremely hardy and versatile creatures appear to thrive in almost any vacuumous environment. The only exceptions to this rule appear to be asteroid fields, which the creatures cautiously avoid. Due to its requirement of extremely cold temperatures and a vacuum in which to survive, the largest neranids can only be found in certain locations which are precise distances from stars. These areas are now referred to as “neranid zones”. In addition to these animals, the zones are also an ecological hotspot for the space lamprey, certain strands of cosmic fungi and plasma rods.

The reproductive cycle and habits of the neranid are not fully understood at this time, though there is ongoing speculation that the creature might be hermaphroditic as evidenced by their behaviour towards others. The nomadic animal has on several occasions been observed getting into vicious and more often than not fatal fights with other members of its wandering species.

Neranids are estimated to have roamed the universe for at least eight hundred million years, and possibly a billion years or more, making them the oldest multi-organ animal known to man. In addition to being organisms capable of life without oxygen, they are also believed to be highly resistant to radiation, as evidenced by their ability to live comfortably in even the most deadly of radioactive galaxies.

Whilst there are currently no known natural predators of neranids, it is believed that there may be something as yet undiscovered out there which feeds upon them, as an unchecked population would certainly be much larger than it currently appears to be.

The Deity in Tartan


“Shadow Warrior” by Andrew Hillhouse (2000)

This is a short story, a fairy tale almost, about the Scottish people having their very own god, and the incredibly stereotypical things that He did for bonny Scotland.  Written on the 9th May 2016.

The Deity in Tartan

Made out of kelpie-grade haggis, the Alpha Scotsman was the physical embodiment of all that is Scottish. He was not born, but rather came into existence when a large shipment of battered haggis accidentally fell off a cliff and had been struck by lightning at the exact same moment it impacted with an Irn Bru factory below. The combination of the impact, burst of raw energy and that fact that “Real Gone Kid” by Deacon Blue had been playing at full volume in the factory at the time resulted in the single most powerful surge of pure Scottish energy in history. Out of the mighty tartan explosion, which sounded like 10,000 bagpipes filled with selkie fart all erupting at once, emerged the 50 foot Alpha Scotsman.

According to scribes, His first words were “Get it richt up ye!”, presumably directed towards God, for His existence was clearly never supposed to happen. God, unavailable for comment at that time (or any other since for that matter), did nothing to stop the towering Alba golem as He flung Himself across the turbulent seas in a highland jig so perfectly executed that it caused salmon farms and oil platforms to sprout in His wake. The mighty Scotsman soon landed in the Outer Hebrides, where He allegedly took a dump so magnificent that it became a lighthouse powerful enough that it was the only one ever needed for all of Scotland thereafter.

After this fleeting visit to the storm ravaged shores of the western coast, the giant proceeded to break physics by caber tossing Himself all the way to the beautiful isle of Skye, where His porridge-flavoured sweat became premium whisky and His copious dandruff was presented to the local crofters, who in turn baked the pieces until they became black puddings, worth their weight in gold.

The Alpha Scotsman was revered by many, loved by all. Except the English, that is. They, for whatever reason (no doubt dating back to the outcome of the second Scottish War of Independence in 1357) seemed to loath the fact that their neighbours to the north now had a living, resident and quite magnificent deity providing them with all the happiness, success and tourist sex appeal a country could ever need. The jealous nation south of the border simply could not let the Alpha Scotsman live, especially when their own attempts at creating an Alpha Englishman proved fruitless. As it turns out, dumping a shipment of teabags and crumpets off a cliff onto a red telephone booth in a thunderstorm does not create a supreme being. It only makes a mess. The English therefore hatched a sinister plan.

But the Alpha Scotsman was no ordinary Scotsman. He was a super Scotsman. He’d eaten all the porridge in the country and it had expanded both His stomach and consciousness to such a level that He could read other countries’ thoughts. As He sat sunning himself atop Edinburgh Castle one day, He suddenly sensed that the dastardly English were planning to bomb his kilt off, rendering Him nude from the waist down. They had assumed that the Scotsman’s subsequent embarrassment would be such that He would run away from Scotland forever. They were dead wrong. The Alpha Scotsman smirked when He discovered this devious plot, He would teach them not to mess with His bonny kilt and country. The proud giant waited patiently for the English to get their act together and execute their ill-fated plan.

The following summer, as the Alpha Scotsman refilled the North Sea oil reserves with His mind power and eliminated heart disease amongst the population by developing a health and exercise program for school children that they actually enjoyed for once, the bitterly jealous English finally made their move. Scotsman had just finished performing stand up comedy for the first time at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival when a squadron of English fighter jets tore up Princes Street, scaring young children and international dance troupes in the process. The Alpha Scotsman immediately somersaulted onto Arthur’s Seat and bellowed at the screaming metal wasps advancing towards Him, “’Mon then, ye wee beasties!” And ‘mon they did.

The attacking jets fired their guns which had been preloaded with bullets filled with tea and crumpets in addition to the more traditional gunpowder. The Supreme Leader of England had assumed that tea and crumpets would be the Alpha Scotsman’s kryptonite. They weren’t. To the Scotsman, they were less dangerous than midges. Never the less, the screaming bullets tore through the air and obliterated the Scotsman’s belt, dropping the giant’s colossal kilt to His ankles, exposing His Scotch saveloy.

However, far from being embarrassed and running off never to be seen again, the Scotsman started laughing and swinging His dong around like a Glaswegian windmill. You see, what’s under a true Scotsman’s kilt is Grade A highland beef and that’s something to be proud of, not embarrassed. The exposed love organ was the exact same length as one of the giant’s arms, though twice as ripped and intimidating. The sight of such a thing caused the fighter pilots to crash their planes into Princes Street Gardens, where they went up in a giant tartan fireball.

The Alpha Scotsman knew it was now time to put an end to the English people’s jealously once and for all. He did not hate them, nor did He really care what they did, unless it encroached upon His bonny lands and people. A terrorist kilt attack in the middle of the Fringe Festival was just that. So, not bothering to find a replacement kilt, the titan caber tossed Himself down to London in one fluid thrust. Once He landed, the Scotsman did His best not to blind anyone with His gargantuan third leg, but casualties could not be helped. He quickly located and tore the roof off 10 Downing Street, pulled the Supreme Leader out of his office where he was engaged in trying on bowler hats, and told him to leave His beloved country and people alone, lest he wish doom and gloom to befall his own nation. The Scotsman promised to create an army of haggis golems and send them to England with orders to turn every house into a bothy and every man, woman and child into a wee Scottie dog. He’d turn all their crops into highland toffee and Tunnock’s teacakes, making all their teeth rot and fall out. It would rain every day and night for all eternity and He’d even batter and deep fry the Houses of Parliament. The Supreme Leader, through tears, agreed to the Scotsman’s fair terms.

The great tartan titan put the trembling man down and then whisked Himself off to His homeland once more. He had secured Scotland’s future and His people would be free to enjoy the more Scottish things in life, without the threat of an English tea and crumpet invasion ever again. The giant icon of Caledonia smiled, His glistening teeth sending out vibrant rays that caused all the crops in the countryside to spontaneously reach maturity and harvest themselves.

Deciding upon a temporary rest from public view, the Alpha Scotsman made His way to Arbroath, where He created a battered Mars bar so big that it could, and did, feed the entire town for the next five generations. He also made a second one, this time for Himself, and legend says He took it with Him into a secret cave somewhere to the north, where He remains to this very day, waiting for the time when His faithful Scottish people need Him once more.

A Short Guide to Golems


“An Old Statue” by AvertedVision (2007)

It seems clear to me that not enough people know the truth about golems, therefore I wrote this short piece today (22nd May 2016) in an effort to educate people on the distribution of these wonderful creations in today’s world.

A Short Guide to Golems

Have you ever met a dormant golem? No? Well I have. Despite insistences to the contrary, the great living-yet-soulless constructs cannot be killed in any other way than by simply running out of juice (that is, magic). I’ve also heard that they die when their masters do likewise, though I’ve never been able to verify this. I thought I’d come close once, but it turned out that the man concerned was merely a potter who’d had a heart attack and landed on his largest gnome, smashing it to pieces. No, I believe that a golem will simply cease up and fall into a state of suspended animation as soon as the magic that powered it has run its course.

You probably don’t know it, but you’ve most likely met a dormant golem before. Several in fact. You see, for every statue out there in the world, around 25 percent of them are actually idle golems. They are all around us, in our streets, in front of our castles, along our seawalls. Yet despite this, very few know of their existence. Is it simple ignorance? A well-executed conspiracy? Or is it nothing more than people not caring about real magic in the modern era? Whatever the reason, I feel that more people should know what they’re really looking at when they go sightseeing.

As we are all aware, golems come in many shapes, sizes, colours and degrees of flamboyancy. Take the humble slate golem of Hatchet Castle for example, this particular effigy of an eight foot anthropomorphic being is in stark contrast to the two foot, sparkly orange amber golems of the subterranean cave systems of Outer Pagwei. Though rare today (so much so that few believe they actually exist at all), there was a time when golems were the most common expression of magical ability. More so than even self-immolation and instant ice cube making.

Most common are of course stone golems, also referred to as rock golems. These constructs account for more than 90 percent of all dormant golems left in the world today. Considering that stone is by far the easiest element to infuse with magic (after mort flesh), it should come as no surprise that this is the case. When I explain this, people often ask why mort flesh golems are not the most common. The reason is simple, as easy as it is to imbue dead flesh with a magical charge, it loses its potency very quickly (I believe its half-life to be quite pathetic in comparison to all other infusible elements), and therefore it is quite pointless even bothering to take the time and effort to create one at all. Besides, we all know what happened in Vanz City in the 12th century. The smell still lingers to this day.

Besides stone golems, there are of course timber, gold, magma, fire, ice and excrement ones. These are not as common as stone golems, especially in their dormant states, as the utter depletion of magic renders them susceptible to external influences. Wind for example, will blow a timber golem over, if it is small and light enough. Magma golems will solidify and eventually become fodder for tourists with small, rentable pickaxes. Fire will extinguish in the rain, ice will melt and excrement will eventually become fertiliser for plants. In fact, the great excrement golem army from the Ghaust Dynasty, once the 50 year War of the Foul was over and the royal mages no longer had any use for their pungent creations, became the unwilling underlay for the carpet of oak trees that now occupies the foot of Mount Graug.

What is even rarer however, are precious golems. And by that I mean ones formed out of expensive gemstones. Topaz, emerald, onyx, etc. These precious stones are usually turned into very small golems and given as playthings to rich folk’s children. Once their magic dies, they usually get turned into watches or broaches. A lot of them also get stolen and wind up on the black market. When he was finally incarcerated at the turn of the 15th century, the infamous head of the Voss Bargas crime syndicate, Earl Grimm, was found to be in possession of over 10,000 dormant precious golems. They were later broken down and used to decorate the Argnen Chapel in Valborg.

So there you have it, a short guide to dormant golems. The next time you find yourself staring at a lovely statue of a long-dead nobleman, consider this: are you staring at him, or is he staring at you? The remnants and evidence of age-old magic is all around us, all we have to do is look.

Super Prolapse Adventure 2 (Walkthrough)


“Super Prolapse Adventure 2”

Despite the undeniable fact that it should, Super Prolapse Adventure 2 does not actually exist.  It was a figment of my imagination one night when I was quite bored.  I decided that this non-existent PC point n’ click video game clearly needed a walkthrough, just in case one day someone actually senses the world’s very real need for this game to become a reality.  So here it is, in all its glory: a fragment of the walkthrough for Super Prolapse Adventure 2: The Enchanted Asshat.  Originally written on the 7th October 2014.

Super Prolapse Adventure 2: The Enchanted Asshat (Walkthrough)

Chapter 3:  The Castle of Lust

By now you are fully erect. That penis pills you stole from the troll governor’s bedside cabinet have taken full effect. This will prove to be both beneficial and a hindrance. But for now, let’s use that hard as steel foot-long to break down the castle’s portcullis.

First, select your penis by equipping it from your sack. Next you’re going to want to click USE and then click on the portcullis. This will trigger a cut scene in which your phallus is used as a hinge and topples the iron obstruction. Be sure to PICK UP the rusty bolts and porno magazine.

One inside the main gate you will be presented with three doors, a pink one with an engraving of a penis on it, a brown one with ape shit stuck to it and a white one with a swastika on it. Take the brown one.

Once inside the Brown Chamber you will meet a guard named Lubb. If you TALK to Lubb, he will tell you that he enjoys the pleasures of anal love. Click on the chest in the corner of the room, click OPEN and retrieve the golden dildo inside. Next GIVE the golden dildo to Lubb. He will ask you if you are trying to bribe him. When given the option between “Yes, I’m a sordid bastard” and “No, I’d never do a thing like that”, make sure you select the former. If you accidentally tell him that you weren’t trying to bribe him, he will force himself upon you and you will lose all that lovely anus armour you spent most of chapter two collecting. Lubb will now escort you to the dungeon to await Sexecution. Do not worry, sexecution will only occur if you remain idle in the cell for more than 15 minutes. If you like, you may save your progress now and wait the 15 minutes to see a funny animation involving a manatee in a latex gimp suit.

Click on the dead foreskin rat under the bedroll and then select LICK. This will cause the player to vomit all over himself. A second guard will appear and remove you from the cell to wash you in the castle’s industrial washing machine. As his back is turned to fetch the detergent, USE the broom leaning against the wall on the guard’s exposed anus. This will kill the guard. Take his keys, unlock your nipple shackles and return to the cells.

Unlock the cell beside yours (69) and retrieve the Werebastard’s bones. Exit the dungeon.

Returning to the main hall, this time OPEN and go in the white door with the swastika on it. Inside you will meet three Aryans guarding a trapdoor. TALK to the middle Aryan and ask him about black orcs. Now TALK to the Aryan on the right and ask him about homosexuals. Last but not least TALK to the Aryan on the left and ask him about prison food. When the Aryan asks you if you’ve ever been to prison, make sure you tell him “No.” This will lead to the Aryan telling you a long story about his time in the Sausagefest Maximum Security Prison. He will tell you about how he to used to trade his bratwurst with the blacks and homosexuals for apples and chocolate pudding. This will enrage the other two Aryans and they will kill the first one. While the two Aryans are murdering their friend, USE the pocket circumciser you stole from the Yiddish ballerina in chapter one. The player will sneakily snap off the Aryan’s foreskins, making them believe, through their stupidity, that they are now Jewish and therefore commit suicide. This leaves the trapdoor in the floor finally accessible.

Click OPEN and select the trapdoor. It will reveal a flight of stairs to which the player will automatically say “I’m not going down there, it’s far too steep and I’m a great big pansy. I might hurt myself,” every time you try and go down. Even if you equip the “FEARLESS BASTARD” t-shirt. Instead, what you’re going to want to do is equip the toffee-flavoured used giant’s condom you found in the Forest of Grope and you will see a short cut scene of the player turning the condom inside out, climbing inside and rolling down the stairs like a glistening sausage. You have now entered the Ball Room.

This is a strange room, similar in dimensions to the Chamber of Vomit you swam through earlier, this room contains what appears to be a large scrotum hanging from the ceiling. You need to USE the bow and arrow you were given by the giant wasp and shoot it. This will cause the scrotum to rupture and explode like a piñata, showering the room with items. PICK UP all of them. Now proceed back the way you came and make your way back outside the castle.

Once outside you will see a large crate that wasn’t there before. Open it up with the crowbar taken from the scrotum. Climb inside and USE the Zappo lighter. Now you will be able to see inside the crate. TALK to the domesticated swamp pig. The pig will oink back. USE the pig dictionary to discover that he is telling you to put the crate’s lid back on. Refuse the request by selecting KICK and then clicking on the pig’s snout. The pig will now enter rage mode and attack you. Do not worry, you will not die. After the pig has mauled you, you will automatically crawl out of the crate and flop to the ground. Click anywhere on the screen to stand up. The player will pull a pig tooth from his hairy ass and pocket it. Now re-enter the castle.

Your unexpected entrance will scare off a feral pigeon, causing it to drop the limpet it was trying to eat. Scoop up the shattered mollusc and combine it with the Femur Bone of Emperor Gooch to form the Primitive Sex Toy. USE it on the three headed gimp now guarding the pink door. As the gimp begins to produce milk, catch it with your Empty Tin of Sun Ripened Fish Flaps. Proceed through the pink door into the Hall of Moist Panties.

Now you can sit back, relax and enjoy a lengthy cutscene involving the returning Warden of Flesh and the troll governor’s dyslexic daughter.

The History of LOL


“LOL Guy”

To my knowledge, nobody had attempted to document the history behind the famous LOL acronym before this definitive piece I wrote on the 31st May 2008.  The world will never need another chronicle now that this one has finally seen the light of day.

The History of LOL

The well known term LOL is of course an acronym for “laugh out loud”. Used by many, loved by all, this wonderful little package is commonly deployed in a sentence or simply uttered solitarily to inject a degree of mirth unattainable by any other utterance in the vast ocean of variables that is human communication. Mainly used in regard to online correspondence, it has also made the recent crossover into text speak via the electronic communications device known as the mobile telephone. Yet, as widely circulated as it is (having seen usage in places as far away as Easter Island and Wales), very few know the story of its origins, and what a story it is.

The phrase was first coined in 1724 by Hugo Lollygager who used it for many years as a slogan for his father’s shoe lace business in Boston, Bulgaria. In 1792 the rights to the phrase were sold to Frederick R Flockmann of Munich, Australia for the competitive price of four pre-plucked chickens and a half barrel of rat oil. Flockmann subsequently copyrighted the term and unsuccessfully attempted to exchange it for credit at a Las Vegas, Norway casino. Little was done with the term save for several equally unsuccessful advertising campaigns for the Smithsonian Bicycle Helmet Institute in New York, Kazakhstan. In 1842 the copyright ran out on Flockmann’s LOL and his estate chose not to renew their legal hold on the terminology due to their recent bankruptcy stemming from the infamous fall of the Trinidad Union in Soviet Luxembourg.

Unwanted, LOL remained unused for several decades hypothetically gathering dust until the first home computer was invented in 1888 by Jack the Ripper Conglomerate™ in collaboration with the White Chapel Trust. Jack the Ripper Conglomerate™, White Chapel Trust and a group of Japanese investors took over the copyright for the term LOL and used it in online chat rooms from 1888 right up until the great broadband depression of the 1920s. After the CEO of Jack the Ripper Conglomerate™ committed suicide by jumping off the 113th floor of the Empire State Building in Birmingham, Sweden, the company soon went bust and the internet as well as the home computing world vanished into obscurity never to be seen again until they were both reinvented by accident in 2010 by an Italian baker named Pablo Prosciutto who was trying to make sourdough bread. LOL was once again, without an owner.

In 1951 LOL briefly made an appearance in the world of music as it was used (without permission it must be noted) by Elvis Pressme in his single “Blue Suede LOL”. The song was a hit but when the authorities discovered that Pressme had been using the term without the consent of the copyright owners (a holding company named Pinocchio’s Wang who purchased the liquidated stock of Jack the Ripper Conglomerate™ after its demise), the song and any mention of it was removed from almost all public records and Pressme was jailed for 20 years in the Tower of London in Cape Town, Spain.

1973 ended up being the year that LOL would once again find itself dusted off and thrust back into the public consciousness, this time thanks to the world of pornography. Jeremy “Itchy” Jameson purchased the rights and began using the term to describe his low budget adult movies. His logic being that if his best attempts at erotic entertainment were in fact, as the critics claimed, “pathetic”, then his rebranding of them as “Laugh Out Loud funny” would secure the public’s interest in them. This proved to be a lucrative gamble as he soon became the 2nd richest man in the world after 1970s Ukrainian pop sensation Marginally-Malformed Mikael Mistrovski.

The rights to use LOL were quickly leased out to other corporations and international syndicates and the hysteria simply snowballed. Everyone was talking about LOL, from Mitchell Jackson (his smash hit record Chiller clearly being a concept album based on LOL) to Emmanuel Sandwich (who dedicated his 1982 Wimbledon win to LOL). It was the first word spoken on the moon when the Portuguese finally landed there in 1992. Even Dubai in the United Scottish Emirates is founded on the right to LOL whenever one wishes and whose famous annual LOLpalooza festival brings in tens of billions of Canadian dollars to the Help the LOL Foundation which benefits those who have never LOLed before. The success of LOL has continued right up to the present day where it has consistently gained momentum and become the most well known and overused word in the history of the English language.

Today, the term LOL has been translated into 74 different languages including Egyptian, Latin, Croatian, German and Sub-English (for the 78% of the internet using public who cannot and will not read or write properly). Plans for the future of LOL are brighter than ever and include a television series based on its thrilling history staring William Shatner and a hologram of Jack Lemmon, a range of denim sportswear, a his and hers fragrance aimed at the 18-30 year old demographic and a range of tongue-dyeing lollipops. The future of Hugo Lollygager’s gift to the world is bright indeed.