Modern Comedy Show

A comedy show - a typical clever-dick all male line-up except for one hidden woman. They are all about the same age 30 to 35 with thick blond hair. The audience laughs hysterically as they gurn together.

I don't think they are funny - I just don't get it.

They have no bodies - it is as if they are all conjoined.

Am I My Own Double?

They have produced an exact Double of myself and are sending it/him into all my usual haunts as a way of discovering highly explosive secret information.

Creeping into my dark hotel room I wonder if he has been here.

It suddenly occurs to me:
WHAT IF I AM MY OWN DOUBLE AND HADN'T REALISED!

I wake up panicking.

Face Paint

As an "avant-garde" experiment I black up my face then sleep on it.
The next day I do the same with luminous yellow paint.

Despite being the only one to find it hilarious I am convinced this is radical progress.

Dying Twins

I work as a teacher in a school in Nazi Germany. While I am there two male technicians in their mid 60s die one after the other, blood and clear liquid spurting from mysterious wounds.

When Is A Monologue A Dialogue?

I am in a hotel room with the artist twins Jane and Louise Wilson. They are showing me their work- a dialogue in photos, collage and video- but which relates to all kinds of subject matter beyond themselves. It is both intensely personal and universal. My own little drawings pale into insignificance.
"I just feel like I am creating a series of monologues. I wish I were a twin like you."
They laugh because it is obviously not easy being a twin like them- it is fraught with little jealousies. "Yes I know that's nonsense," I add, "we are all capable of dialogues within and beyond ourselves." One jumps on top of me - she is now a curvaceous black woman- she hugs me suggesting we go for a drink. I go to hug the other thinking I should but she shrugs me off, "You don't have to treat us both the same. We are two separate people."

Russian Epic

This is told like a great nineteenth century Russian novel, so it's a bit longer than usual.
The protagonist (occasionally me) is a professor in his early 50's. As the last of his students leaves his dark study, one young beautiful man, Dmitri, remains. The professor gazes at him and somehow they end up making love. This of course is totally illegal.
Outside in the snow, a massive bearded man with an impossibly wide back, his head tiny in proportion, returns to his apartment - for this study is his room. Strange, he thinks, he can hear no music from within: Dmitri must be sleeping. Quietly he unlocks the front door with its folding inner panel, and then enters his flat. We next hear such shouting and then cut to an interior view where Dmitri, an older and darker man, hurls the professor from the bedroom into the cold. The poor man stands in -20 degrees with no shoes and socks on. "How can I travel to my conference tomorrow?" he sobs.
There is some confusion in the narrative here because he is now standing on the booted feet of young Dmitri, his arms around him. "I love you, Dmitri. You can never love me, but I just want you to be my fancy man."
After the commotion the author, a sensitive woman, appears in a walk-on role as a waitress. She leaves a small bill in neat handwriting for the flan that was consumed, adding as an aside, "Here I used one of my favourite french flans."

Death Of A Twin

Everyone else has left this modern low rise building but I remain. I look back at the death that I have caused but I am unable to really face it. This one man keeps on and on at me for help. I refuse - I don't know what I can do - he's beyond help. His twin screams at me and still I ignore him. Maybe I am even winding him up. Eventually he obviously dies and I wake up horrified, my heart pounding.

Young Boys Discovered With Heads Severed

J comes rushing into the crowded library/museum, her hair wild. "They've got him! They've got the second boy," she sobs and collapses in my arms.
A young boy of five has been found mutilated and despite his severed head, he was able to speak confirming how the last boy died. There is a huge commotion in the hall. I don't seem that bothered - I am searching for my jacket, a heavy puffed brown thing - ugly - so I can go for a walk with the family.

The Deformed Clone

A wealthy Chinese man has had a clone made of himself. The clone however is shrivelled and ugly, a deformed twin. Despite his proclaimed heterosexuality, the man describes their sex as fantastic because his twin knows him inside out. I am disgusted by the idea and can't understand how he can find pleasure in this way. I meet him in a bar in China where he works - he seems now like a conventional English gay man and as he talks I wonder which twin's voice I have been listening to.

Who Wrote Alma's Book???

It is the end of a conference in a large European city. I am with redhaired Alma and a large friendly man. I am keen to say goodbye to blonde Alma with whom I have spent a lot of time. She tells me I have some red hot issues to deal with here because I am still in love with X. She gives me a book of short stories she has written - one is particularly relevant. I return to the others.
"Look Blonde Alma gave me her book," I say. "Or did you write it?" I ask Red Alma.
The man laughs - "I wrote it!"
"But it has to be written by a woman and its all about Alma - look at the bit about Alma pudding! and all that stuff about her young lover!"
"So happy you liked it," he says.


(had completely forgotten I had any knowledge at all of Alma pudding but there it is in Mrs Beeton's cookbook)

Catboy Twins

Wonderful dreams tonight - more journeys to exotic places. We pass through a shop/museum showing a collection of intriguing artefacts from around the world. Mum loves it and wants to stay longer. At the end I see two beautiful men with cats' ears, dressed in cat suits. They are young and nimble and carry a large drawing board.


(The men make me think of the amazing artist /tightrope walker Phillipe Petit.)

Square Peg In A Round Hole

Two arrogant twins, who shift between sexes and racial background, have just attended a conference but shown no interest in it. They had been allowed in purely as observers - we were wrong to push them towards something that was unsuitable but recognise that they fit another unforeseen role perfectly. The ease with which their new function materialises is compared to drawing a street lamp lighting the branches of a tree, where all the twigs unexpectedly arrange themselves in concentric patterns.

Water Water Everywhere

It is a cold grey day by the sea and one of the twins from the 80's boyband Bros turns up in a sports car heading to the beach for his regular swim. I decide to go for a swim too - I haven't been for a while. The sea is too cold even for a Bros twin, and he goes into the swimming pool instead. I go downstairs into the basement to the changing rooms. They seem empty and waterlogged. "Is it open?" I ask one sleepy guy. He nods pointing to an unmanned cash desk.

Twins In The Basement

Two male twins from somewhere like Srylanka are down in the basement looking for a Nuffield book of plans. They haven't seen me in a long while and acknowledge me with a smile. "Is it in your space?" they ask me. "I haven't seen it," I reply, "but it's possible." The twins' eyes merge together- it is difficult to tell which one I am looking at.

Attack By Kelvin MacKenzie

Kelvin MacKenzie and a seductive female teacher are on the verge of trying to kill me and my female counterpart. The woman is so good at concealing her violent nature, that there is no chance for us to kick her. Mackenzie is leaving the building but he wants to get us both first. He has already had a heart attack so we thought he was about to die but no he picks himself up and his renewed assault becomes more deadly. Now he is spraying me with poisonous purple car paint. So much hate and stupidity. I will have to escape into the dark forest outside.

Gibberish Hides Real Message

I have just appeared in a play where I forgot my lines and made up a load of crazy nonsense - something about Pender's Gate. I am reminded that I should be more aware of other's entrances and exits. I know that my talking gibberish completely masked the play's message which is to show how reality lies in rural landscape and we play only a tiny part of that. An old etching presents itself depicting two male faces concealed within a traditional landscape of trees and a cliff.

Money Spouting Boys

Obviously feeling that he can act exactly as he pleases, Richard Branson deliberately falls against Tor. I say something cutting to him about his aggressive flirting with women. "Look," he berates me," I am just giving my two boys a good time. So don't show me in a bad light." Far too much money streams out of the boys' mouths. They push past us rudely.

Nurture not Nature

Two identical girls - in fact they are the same girl - but one they say lives in Christ, the other is a devil child. They beat the devil child severely. You treat someone badly they end up bad, is what I say.