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hi Maisie. for the prosetrist, read poem of the week. It's a cracker. Ta for reading Richard

Hi Sean, You're right. It's a vital skill, but requires so little for so much. Dropping pride's been a block since dot for me. I'm competitive, don't like to be shown up or look a fool, but in the end I did that to myself every day without fail. The artist was a big cokehead but it just doesn't do anything for him any more, so he gave that up. He's trying hard to give up the sauce but has binges, usually when depression (nd deadlines, of which he's fluffed about twenty, hit. I can't blame him and really I owe him alot because he's allowed me to practice tolerance and patience without getting angry and throwing all my toys out of the old pram. He's my favourite artist out there, so I know I'm exercising selfishness too, by keeping him on side, but it's been a revelation staying sober and working with an active alcy. My first thought when I woke up this morning was 'what's that sick twat doing to me?!' and then I remembered it's National 'Laugh at Yourself' Day, and as the pain slipped away, a wry little smile popped up on my face. Glad you've got over the booze. The quest for real life shines through in your writing. All the best Richard

Thanks for reading, Mark. I went to your blogspot and enjoyed some of your fine poems. All the best Richard

None of it's true, honest. There are spalshes of me but they've been peppered with the shameless antics of a pure rapscallion. Ta for reading

It was a draw but Man U usually bully a victory out of us. I've the last two to put on now and then it's the end.

I was hoping for a cherry on this baby cos it's been a while and I think I'm addicted to them now but your wee comment made my day. Off to read some of yours.

Hi Chuck. I wrestled with the wall bit, too.

It's a crazy habit, I know. Just wondered if anyone else did it. Hope you're well, Pia. Richard.

Hi Celticman, thanks for reading. Maybe that's where the term 'having kittens' comes from. I was also wondering if the term 'popping his clogs' came from the fact that the body swells as the body putrifies, forcing the clogs to 'pop'. Perhaps? My great granddad died like that, bless his cotton-picking socks.

Thanks for reading Maggy. As soon as I posted this, I watched the news and realised there's so much more to add. It's just a pinprick from an observer.

I know it's sad, but thanks for going the whole hog on this. It means a lot to me to have such a wise and thoughtful posse read it.

Thanks Pia. I really appreciate you reading and glad you like. It's new territory for me and I'm enjoying the terrain, so far. All the best Richard

Hi Jenny, Thanks for reading and for the encouragement. You always leave a very calming imprint on my mind when you post a comment. All the best Richard

Hi Pia, I made this up but it does express, to me at least, my hopes. Classical music seems to personify maturity/serenity. I've seen a few people converted by it but I'm still a ways away from relaxing enough to breathe it all in. Thanks for your comment on now or never, too. Encouragement does me the world of good and I appreciate your sentiment. Richard

I hear you, celticman, and I don't want to sound like a buck-passing boo-hoo blamester. My aim is show other gamblers, hopefully still early on in their addiction, that it won't get better without true help. I do think that our lives are shaped by the first five years and that we need to be taught right from wrong. Unless we nip it in the bud, life can become one big stumbling procession, as recalled in this story. As for the crooks in the arcades, they'll always be there to take our money.

thanks for sticking with it, Jenny.

Thanks for reading and commenting, Jenny. All the best Richard

Thanks very much for making this pick of the day. There's hope for me yet! Best wishes, Richard

you do spot a trend. It's unintended but it's nice to know people who actually read work and have a passion for it. I think you've already got past the stage of thinking that every one of your works is a masterpiece, constantly deaf to criticism, and I hoping I'm nearly there, too. I've had more feedback in the last week on abctales than I've encountered in over fifteen years sending work in to competitions, publishers and agents. I've wasted a lot of time but each has their path, I suppose.

Thanks. I changed those errors and elongated the concoction bit after more thought. Concoctions are hard to do; read the back of a soup can and you'll see the vast list of ingredients needed to make it. Alot are chemical preservation-enhancers. I wish the same could be said for the human race.

Thanks for reading these stories, Whatsername. I've a memory like a sieve and can't remember your real name. Yeah, this had me in floods, especially when I was slurring it down the pub to strangers because I couldn't see the kids. If you identify with Sticks and Stones then I pity you! Only joshing. I like what you've been posting recently. Keep up the scribe-vibe. Iz good.

Taking lice from the head of a child is painstaking and requires care and love. When I was at boarding school, lice sunk into my skull and spawned loads of the tikes, all because no one was there to take them out for me. Boo-hoo, I know, but that's why I liked it.

Thank you, Tony, for picking this and The Fast Lane. I was so happy to get story of the week for this one. You don't know what it means to me. Well done for putting the site together. I'm enjoying every minute and gaining in confidence as a result. All the best and thanks again for your support. Richard

Thought-provoking. Role reversal comes to mind. A co-dependent mother confusing matters/manipulating thought and a child surviving on/struggling with unconditional love? Some very good lines in here that set the mind free. Thank God for our imagination! How would we have got through these days without it? There are two typos; 'What else what I spend my time doing' and 'The dandelions brisk you face'. Great writing, and welcome to Abc. Love the username.

Hi David, Thanks for commenting. I'll repost this as a poem. Yes, you're probably right about the title. I was playing with google to collect more nuggets of doom to feed my depression with and typed in eu catastrophe. The eucatstrophe is, as you know and I didn't before I googled it, Tolkien's coining of a story which ends in tragic/meaningful victory, like Jesus in the bible. I think you'd be able to explain the meaning better though, and would be interested to hear your take on it. Of course there was nothing on google about eu catastrophe because the EU is a happy family with absolutely no problems at all. I added apocalpyticus as an attempt to make it sound like a flower (eucalyptus?) in the throes of extinction. On a more cheery note, Lavadis has written a poem on a similar theme, but his is much more beautiful, more accessible, better written and gloriously shorter. You really should read it. It was cherrypicked yesterday or the day before. Now that's what I call poetry. All the best Richard

Great poem, Jennifer. Gritty and insular. 'Ready for to pounce'; take out the for maybe.

Not at all patronising, and thanks for reading.

I think it's because they've been on for such a very long time, which makes the title 'most read' quite irrelevant. I haven't read them but I'm sure a saucy title provides a potential reader with more reason to look. Sex is important, unless impotent.

Thanks for reading, Rachel. I must have a warped sense of humour because this is supposed to be a comedy piece. Oh well, at least I might get to rustle a few snotty feathers. Thanks also for your truly scrumptious take on life. It's so easy to sit about in bed watching telly with a hand nestled in curly pubes and a snarled-up lip on a face full of disgust, muttering shite to newsreaders for telling me what I really don't need to know. Actually, I've had my hand hovering over the 'fuck it all' button for the last week but it's probably because I was a year clean and sober on Thursday. What a way to celebrate a birthday! What I need is a kick up the bum and a bit of gratitude for all the beauty out there. Have a lovely weekend and keep the buzz going. You're a cheery and spirited sort and I really enjoy writing to you and hearing from you. All the big bad best Richard

Hi Maggy, Thanks for reading. I wrote this about six months ago so it's been brought up to date, ie. it hasn't changed in the slightest. Roll on our true reality. All the best Richard

I wonder who this is aimed at. Govt or God or someone closer? I'd call this a respectful request, not a rant.

Thanks Peskmeister. It's about time I got off that wall. It's got anti-climb on it but I just can't resist. Some reckon depression's the illness of the strong and while it may be so, it's also the illness of the self-piteous, and I've been soaking up the stuff for too long. Bollocktics really swipes my peace of mind but shit goes on and I can't be looking away all the time. Gaddafi's dead! (saves on lawyers' fees although the missing billions may never be found, unless they can make the slimy sons squeal. The Americans would probably prefer that it remained unfound but it belongs to the Libyan people so I hope they don't kill them before extracting the money's whereabouts from the tikes). Politics? Sorry. I've never said thanks to the cherrymeisters because I always thought people might think I was being crawly bumlick but it's been a while since I got one, so wholesome thanks to the editors is in order. All the best Richard

I was young when I wrote this; angry and young. The story's supposed to be in defence of a happy-go-lucky man beset with guilt from the past who comes up against traditional values that have frayed at the edges and lost their meaning, abused by their benefactors for what they can get and not what they have to offer, a bit like the economy now; it's false, we know it but are unable to do anything about it, because we have been woven into it. Thanks for sticking with it, Margharita.

Affectionately dubbed God's waiting room, I've spent time in Wetherspoon's. The smell I can conjure in a moment and the tired, listless, resentful eyes of the patients, or punters, I don't miss. Get out of there, Spartacad, it's one way ticket to oblivion. Plus it's a glorious day.

Sorry. I pressed post comment twice trying to leave the desk!

Sir Paul's been sacked and Rebekah's been arrested! The News of The World would have had a heyday. Oldpesky and Lordy, Thanks for giving me your views on this seedy affair. Fortunately I've given footy watching a wide berth (in sobriety, I see it as a depressing and childish game for sad losers). I'm an Arsenal fan and have watched the game become as trite and boring as a Commons debate. I need to be useful now, having spent most my life on the lash, and I'm enjoying the ride of reality. Looking forward to a revolution as always. All the best Richard

Just doodling but thanks for reading, Tina.

Mimi's a very popular girl's name at the mo. 'Me me me- my favourite subject,' says the cross-legged, pony-tailed, pen-sucking college grad-slut as she inspects a stray hair on the collar of her therapist, whom she pays in extracted semen. Thought I'd get that off my chest.

The economic crash in Europe came about because of Germany's insane need to unify it. Germany likes things to run smoothly but the fact is that every one of the other European countries aren't as efficient, driven and (for want of a better word) anal. Show me the passion of a Latino in one German and I'll show you Jurgen Klinnsmann. And look at who's 'failed' in Europe. Greece, Italy, Spain and Portugal (forget Ireland, just for a second). All these countries run along the same latitude and endure blistering heat in the summer, which is OK for donkeys (and that's not a racial attack on donkeys), but how does Germany suppose these sun drenched people work effectively, pounding out slick cars and teddy bears, when the heat is only good for a mid-afternoon siesta in the shade? These Latin countries aren't interested in how a fuckin' cog can save them 0.001 second. They have life, and they know how to enjoy it, which is more than can be said for northern Europe (Britain included, obviously). The art of doing nothing is what we need to learn if we don't want our brains to fry in the spiritual batter of capitalism. Why does Germany have to make everyone do things their way when they know others can't compete? Can't they just drop the Euro and let everyone get back to sorting themselves out? No, and therein lies the problem the rest of the world will have to face once the wrath of a defeated bully is let loose. Having said that, the Euro collapse was probably orchestrated to justify the power elite's depopulation of the world on a massive scale. I know, I know, another paranoid twat on a delusional mission..but it's alright, I'm off to the funny farm now.

I'm the same. Writers are prickly creatures, as tcook put it. We know when someone's trying to pull a fast one. Like you say, fatboy, it seems to be turning into a bit of a modish shortcut, but there aren't any shortcuts in life apart from death.

Now that's what I call feedback. Thing is, I'm apolitical, I think, so any of these guttersnipes are about as much use as the other. Someone else told me I may have made a mistake with MMeacher. Still, they're all the same, aren't they, so what diff? All I can think of doing to change things is ask Brian Haw if I can crash at his and wave a flag for all politicians to go to hell. Seriously though, I'm sorry you didn't like it or my stand. can't please all

I'm just a poor boy from a poor family, sharing his life with this monstrosity.

Hi Alylonna, Thanks for your comment on 3. Couldn't agree more about cherries vs comments on work. It's all about expression. Recognition comes after. This piece I found equally well written and it held well. 'How early the seeds were sown..' I think it was only natural for you to want to please your Mum, even when she threw it back in your face. That you persevered just shows how strong you are and were then, wanting to help her out of her own shit, but much may be drawn from how this unrequited love, (from the most important person in your life, and that which bled into your adult life), allowed you to sleepwalk yourself into choosing this man so grotesque that he mirrored the past so perfectly. I'm sooo glad you're through this git and still alive. Many haven't made it through to the other side yet, and they're the ones who'd do well to read this work. I'll be reading more, and stick with it. I sometimes find that I get so drained when I'm writing deeply personal stuff that I stop and lose the thread. I'm sure it's more rewarding to carry it through. Big cheers.

Crikey. Only one other comment for this great piece? Either competition's rife on the site or no one's around right now. Well done on story of the week. A worthy winner. I hope you do more like this, but different.

what a great idea. I always forget when they are and which ones I liked the look of. Just looked at your site quickly. It's easy to digest but one thing; I couldn't read the names of the comps very easily as they're shadowed. Found the names at the side or bottom. All the best with it. I'll be referring to it for sure. Richard

It's not on the site. It's by Random House (UK) and was first published by Bantam Dell (USA) in 2003. It's actually about Munchausen by proxy (which is an illness carried by a primary carer, usually the mother, in which she seeks ailments from her offspring, going from doctor to doctor to find out what's wrong with the child, when there's nothing what wrong with the little mite). It's harrowing, but well worth a read. It deals with the 'secret' especially well, and how the truth is not uncovered for fear of even worse consequences. Books that deal with the aftermath; there are plenty out there but one must become diligently investigative to get to the core. I'm searching for the sake of my own children, who I can't see at the moment. Sometimes I feel right on the edge, but the human spirit is strong, especially when it asks for help. Sounds like you may have found it with God. Human beings are generally too self-centred to give help. They feel there will be reprisals against them, and it's so sad. I do hope you keep writing on this. I think it's a two-way win situation, and not a draw.

A powerful examination of acceptance of self and loved ones. The volcano that is family life seems to have settled into a bubbly mass. Only you can keep it from exploding. It won't harm you if you don't let it. Growing up is well in your grasp and what you're doing is admirable and very, very worthwhile. I blocked my adolescent confusion with drugs the moment my parents finally divorced when I was sixteen, but this mental blockage only caused the trouble in me to fester like a dirty U-bend. My emotional development was arrested the moment I had my first spliff. Much later in life, I became so desperate to get to know myself and to be happy for life that I had to re-evaluate literally everything and start again, which, while I've done many wild and whacky things that most people can only dream of, has made me realise what I could have done without drink, drugs and gambling. I hope that you don't need to go down that same path. Writing is great but action is the definer. All the best Richard

Careful, Hadley. Anyone who didn't know how outrageously detached you were from outrage might take the outrageous view that you yourself actually watched telly and were prone to outrage at the sheer lack of outrage generated by the media for purposes of jaw-dropping outrage, eg.dog-abandoning outside old people's homes, cat-stroking and dumping into wheelie-bins, and people actually looking at each other without unknowingly raising one side of their upper-lip. The jury's out, but that would be an outrage.

Wow, I just posted back and it went into thin air. So here goes again. Thanks for reading and I'm glad you liked the humour. If you don't laugh.., and all that. You must have some tales from your homelessness team days.

This is probably meant to be funny, and I'm sure there are people who might find it so, but Romans would probably be right in thinking that this too is best left to the Americans.

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