Overcoming Self Obsession by Meditation

Crime Watch Extra called me onto a particularly difficult crime reconstruction. It required two elderly lady actors, an ugly brutish male actor and 4 litres of wall paper paste.

The main issue for the Producers was the over-riding fear that came from the 'stars' regarding our location. When I say 'stars' I mean the actors. (If I used the word 'Star' in it's true sense I would just be referring to myself.)

I tackled their 'artistic' phobia of being in this Cavern - which luckily was the actual location of the original crime - aka Crime Scene.

Getting the 3 actors to press their whole bodies onto the curved wet wall of the cavern they began a meditation chant - you can hear this chant on my audio book 'Overcoming Self Obsession by Meditation' and read the chant words in my book ''Overcoming Self Obsession by Meditation pt 2' [Self Publication]

Once the actors had stop whimpering and were calmly breathing from their stamens the real fun began (of course I had predicted this turn of events however the catering truck staff were shocked into screaming like orphaned pups!!) .

Well as I took a large bite from a Fromage Baguette the spirits of the real Victims entered me in a whirlwind of choking dust and spit. My assistant described them as 'the singing embodiment of Macbeth's Weird Sisters - frothing at mouth, railing and raking. These granny demons sung maniacal hymns.

"...As surely as night follows day...." these two ladies who had been murdered - now brutally slaughtered these Holiest of songs.

- Ugly was keeping himself occupied with the Wallpaper paste - enjoying the variable viscosity/height differentiation of paste. An innocent pleasure that offered crew the gentle counter-balance to the horror of Killer Cavern and the Screaming granny Witches.

Half an hour after the Spirits tirade had stopped, and I was enjoying a good sup of tea - the Producers and I agreed - these women kind of asked for their brutal sleighing. Harsh perhaps. But if you'd heard their rendition of 'Little Donkey' you would understand.

Once again I have proved supreme - both in life and the after laugh.

Dear Lover No.9

Dear Lover No.9,

I have admired you from afar. Last night that Afar turned into Amen.

How lucky and how beautiful am I? Yes Lover - i'm that lucky and i'm that beautiful.

Adieu,

O

Is it me?

Terry Wogan's Togs may have coined the phrase 'is it me?' to describe the realisation that most people are smarter than the plebians in authority - however i'm talking about myself.

Is it me? Is it me? Is it me?

The answer dear reader.... No.

Singing Springstein Spirt is in an it's... i'm not going.

Confused dear reader? Well join the club. Ask yourselves punk... are you feeling lucky and 'Is it me?'.

It all began last night after an Ivy dinner. Sat with Russian Billionhairass - Plobdiv Sarah Shernburg and her crew... ooohhhh BORN IN THE USA, I WAS - BOOOORN IN THE USA

Credit Crunch - My £rse!

I'm richer than normal - in every sense - including my hair.

Just finished reading Dr Dot's self-help book; "I'm Great, What's Your Problem??" and it rang so many bells.

It all began last night at the Ritz Carlton, where I performed for a small private group in the Louis XIV suite.

After being forced out of a Reggae Chanter by King Solomon - just as Solomon was recanting what Porac Burat (Host's 'Lover') should do with a baby to determine paternal ownership.... yes Solomon was slightly contradictory on what he had suggested 'back-in-the-day'...

Jennifer Jeezer shook my shoulders and screamed... "But the Banks will only secure £50,000 and i'm a millionairess... with expenses... Where should I put my money? What should I do? WHAT SAYETH THE SPIRITS?”

Well I couldn't feel sympathy... she smelt of Gin and obviously enjoys the pleasure of loose morals.

So I took a deep thought, pressed my temple and 'Huka'ed' her. Māori Moment. Straight from Ranji.

Translated into Pidgeon English she was informed that Credit Crunch 'Don Fect' soul, but ‘Now Soul is Red For Cept Mor' (basically invest more in enriching your life/soul with Knowledge and Wisdom)

The upshot was - She gave me 10,000 shares in Microsoft and a 5 year contract with 6 figures to give her a monthly sing-a-long-a-longally session.

Everyone's a winner.

BBC Employment - 'yes' - it's that good.

Miss Orla... you've surprised yourself! A rare feat for a Psychic!

Acquiring a 1 month BBC contract - commissioned by BBC Executives to channel 'others' to inspire and teach.... them.. well - i'm godsmacked.

TVC (Television Centre) is a maze of 1970's inspired grey/brownness. None of your 80/90/Noughties attempt at slick/glamour. Yet it exudes glamour, entertainment, quality beliefs.

I'm hidden on the 3rd floor - in the Entertaiment corridor. Ok toilet/kitchen is the same thing and water/damp stains decorate the walls, floor and ceiling - holey building trinity... But i'm soaking up atmosphere - excitment- the past dreams and successes of so many people/souls - aiming to teach and entertain and inspire the masses - regardless of war, recession, life stuff...

Now i'm part of it/them... well i've always been, in this and my 'other' lives.

The commune of the place - everyone milling around, together - talent/workers/techies/suits.

I'm one of them - I aim to straddle them all,

Must dash - Singing Pyschics are anathenema to R&R (acronyms are law here)

Bob Hoskins - Not as small as you think

Well it happened again. I was amazing.

As depicted in Ghost Busters, the spirits erupted from me in a multicolour rainbow of good and evil.

Was I scared? No! Of course not. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I became the conduit for the ‘Other’.

Perhaps the spirit world was getting slightly rowdy after receiving its latest soul.

Bob Hoskins had organised a private function – everyone was masked – so who knows what greats and good gods were milling around.

The 'stage' was in the round – A dirty big hole 6ft deep. I stood alone – being bear'ed down on. Entering the trance was a relief.

Like hundreds of Opera Phantoms – the crowds chanted my favourite arcane sutra. ‘A string of Pearls from the mouths of damned love’ - the literal translation from the Egyptian Saite (never fails to trigger my ‘Other’. Bob had done as instructed and ensured everyone knew the Saite tune).

Carol – my trusted aide – tells me I became Blakey from the Buses. Through that human creation ‘killed’ off by TV execs I moved through spirit rainbow, meeting and fleetingly entered by Gengis Khan, Bo Derek, Jarvis Cocker, Mr Coca Cola and Mary Magdalene.

The personal revelations cannot for be specified – due to the bounding contract. However ‘Blakey’ singing Funk warned CERN enthusiasts to stay away, not to try the experiment and the next eclipse will be advent.

To book me for Wakes and Work Functions/Outings - contact the usual address.

Singing Food

Hannah Glasse, the first Domestic Goddess - came to me.

What a frightfully aggressive woman. She forced me to sing Rock.

I was asked by Diane Abbott to an ‘Organic Food in East London’ seminar. I was the ‘After Dinner Speaker’ to over 400 delegates.

On finishing this so called ‘Organic’ ‘Dinner’ I was sucked into a Hannah Glasse trance (of course unbeknownst to me until exiting said trance).

Hannah Glasse was a Victorian cookbook writer – she wrote a cookbook that could be used by normal people (ie Middle Classes).

However on this evening Hannah Glasse had a vehement message – I was informed that the song Hannah Glasse got me to sing can be most likened to a mix of Def Leopard and Guns’n’Roses with a heavy dose of Gordon Ramsey.

Hanna’s anger seems to stem from her disappointment at our lack of decent food in this country – no doubt triggered by that evenings rawness of the vegetables, the complete lack of tasty offal, dry burnt steak, dreariness of pudding, burnt coffee, dried old cheddar and COMPLETE LACK of a good Claret or even Ale.

Only on finding myself in M&S 24hr being charged £29 for a slither of Salmon, bottle of Claret and Macadamia honeyed nuts did Hanna Glasse exit me.

I had my agent send Hanna Glasse’s apologies to Diane Abbott – who subsequently booked me for Boris Johnson’s ‘Welcome to Hackney’ party.

Spirits Enter me – Come and See – Try it for youself.