They Never Met
An occasional series

Ellen MacArthur
A Hamster

You're pretty.

How long were you at sea?

Jim Kinloch

<meow> What I do? </meow>

I write comedy.


Yesterday's Newspaper, cigarette end, broken wine glass, a used teabag...sorry that was rubbish.


I was brought up by alcoholics.

My Mother was launched on the Clyde in 1942, originally commissioned as a Mine Sweeper with the Royal Navy. During her early career she transported whiskey, and sarcasm, to Murmansk. She ended up teaching drinking to young LADIES at a renowned public school stocked with daughters of the Persian bribing classes. She told many a story about daughters of dead writers and their urges to be outrageous and famous. But without being handicapped by talent, intelligence or the ability to match their shoes with their knickers.

My father was formed when a lorry containing marshmallow slurry ran into a feather cushion.


End all stupidity

Rid the world of evil

Stop writing about missions, walk out more and impale several media makers on the ends of their own egos.. Commit to caring, sharing sexual activities in various flavours, dwell in the Tao, that mother of all, fasten jokes, comedy, good will, warm smiles, hope, cheer (with a frisson of edge) to all I meet. What do you do?

For more about Jim, click here.