June 2002

I have done absolutely nothing in ages, writers block you see everyone has it look at Shakespeare he hasn’t written anything in years (well there are rumors he added material for The Brittas Empire). And as a result several pieces of work I started have been unconcluded the responsible thing to do would be to conclude such pieces and alleviate all my fans from the hellish world of pain inside their heads on what is going to happen, but we must remember I am not very responsible hence the ads in the Daily Mail for my Psycho baby-sitter service I suppose from hearing this you think one of two things;

1. Why was that ad on the sport page?
2. How did I get Jeremy Beadle to stick his name to it?

I also am desperate to achieve my promotion to senior executive writer, and Pobice said I would have to actually write to get this, which is quite frankly a ridiculous suggestion.

So the best thing to do is to revamp the report section and sell it in a different way with more original stories whilst keeping the same channel 5 qualities that we at Pobice (except the General; Living TV freak!) demand. So welcome to...

NEW BUSINESSMAN REPORT: Building a New Britain, a new dawn and new pies.

If I had a Hammer

Hammers are no doubt one of the greatest inventions of all time. Think where we would be without them. THINK DAMN YOU! No stop crying now we do have them, but as you see they are brilliant and have a wide array of uses; hitting knees to test reflexes, hitting knees for unpaid loans, attacking bees, cricket, fixing computers, and the unconventional things like nail removal and insertion.

Hammers of course have played a huge roll in history: Without hammers would the pyramids have been built? Would W G Grace have got a 104 not out innings at Kingston in 1899? Would MC Hammer have been called MC Hammer?

People have always known that hammers are good; look at the Soviet Union they even had a hammer on their flag. Were they ever wrong?

Timmy Mallet: - comedy genius he knew the potential of hammers and brightened many a day with his malle.......er hammerish antics.

It was from these conclusions that I concluded that I should realise my second ultimate dream, which in turn would lead to the first ultimate dream. As this is the respected format of the internet and not to be disgraced or set into depravity hen I can only hint at the first dream using three words; hammer, Jacuzzi and playboy (the and isn’t part of the dream it’s just a conjunctive) .

My second ultimate dream was to travel back in time and invent the hammer before Baron von Hammer thus getting all the credit and money and being worshipped like a God and I mean a real god like the Catholic one not like one of these crappy voodoo or Protestant ones. And thus I would become “KING OF THE HAMMERS” and earn the respect of other DIY appliance dignitaries like the Count de Monte Shovel and the Earl of Rotozip.

The first hurdle though was to build a Time Machine a feat that had been eluded by all the great geniuses (be prepared for the standard fare channel 5 sitcom esque joke of naming two renowned geniuses and one silly name at the end , in fact why don’t you try and do that at home and e-mail me your answers and the best one will win a small toffee hammer, anyway here it comes), yes great geniuses like Einstein, Newton and Tamzin Outhwaite. I would obviously need a group of science lackeys to help me build the contraption but lure them in a way that they would not know my evil plan. Yes I needed to fool them in to a challenge like TV show, one that supplied scrap that we could use to build the machine.........

So I got together Nash, Ball Cock and Pobice as of their technical minds and similar psychotic tendencies and we went on the TV show Ready Steady Cook, to cut a long story short my time pie did not work and for my likening it was too salty and how the hell the green peppers won I don’t know their wasn’t enough their to feed a nematode (< random insertion of biology their caused by university brainwashing).

So we then spent five months growing large amounts of facial hair and then went on Scrapheap Challenge on channel 4, and I cunningly fooled my team into building a time machine and despite the fact the other team appeared to be getting parts like rudders and boat motors they obliged, making the mighty temporal bending behemoth with a rusty Van der Graff generator, a old Morris Minor motor, and a swirly chair. I also had the idea of once getting the time machine going into the future when nelaxial nuclear flux reactors are invented and buy one then plant it in the scrapyard in 1997 so it’d have time to rust up a bit, then we could get it in 2002 to build my space twisting gravity bending device.

Once the laws of physics mocking mechanism was made I then quickly jumped upon the device, laughing at the fools, “HA HA HA you fools”, I said and they were all angry and I was was like, “Whatever” and Robert Lllewellyn was like wetting himself with anger at the mockery I had made of him and he was like “Curses!” and I was like “So what?! Your hand shaking park keeper like anger is so last season!”

And thus I set the machine off and the world around me seemed to bend like it was dancing to the tunes of Hawkwind, I was propelled into a tunnel and purple light seemed to swirl around and around, as I ripped through the spacial web of space.

I then arrived at my desired date BC 747 and preceded to create the county of Hammerceistershire, so I could become the Duke of Hammerceistershire and thus the hammer that I would invent would still be called “the hammer” and it would also wrap up any loopholes in the story for you continuity freaks. Inventing the hammer was harder than I thought, whether it was my memory had been effected by the transportation at several times over the speed of light snaking through numerous dimensions or the smell.

The problems didn’t end their though once the hammer was made the Hammerceistershire oiks where shocked and left bemused by “my” creation and it’s infinite possibilities. Once they had seen me dispatch a nest of bombus ruderatus’s they immediately thought that I was a witch, and wanted me burned in a large wicker gerbil. The case never held up though in my trial as I proved that I had never had red hair and was much more a connoisseur of violin chicanery than the demonic flute renderings of a witch. The suggestion to the Judge to use a hammer to keep order in the court was also much appreciated, and he took much pleasure in beating the foreheads of the plebeians who rattled their bags of wine gums and donkey’s noses, into their necks. The Judge’s name was Gavel (take that continuity bastards!)

I stayed for a while to reap the glory and see over my subjects as they reveled in my new invention. I became a darling of the elite as the upper classes ordered gold and jewel encrusted plated hammers for their many needs; snuff application, writing prog rock and suppressing the working classes.

What about women I here you say? (Well except some of you saying “What about men? And you know I’m not here to judge, but I’m not into that thing, no matter what the Lord of the Hinge may say about finding me and Frederick at that party in Derby; that was purely innocent, just a poker game that got out of hand) Anyway I had my choice of the birds (Yes I said birds! Don’t worry no feminists read this crap and if I find they do well I put a picture of a burning bra or a pie recipe or something for them) from haybarn romps with buxom broads to les liaison dangereux in chateux’s de haye with posh Swedish bints.

But soon I longed for the simpler time of the 21st century, I missed the pies, TV and the penicillin. So I set about collecting some of my prized possessions (jewels,gold etc.) and prepared paper work so I could pass my self of as the 38th Duke Of Hammerceistershire and continue to have the glory of the hammer in the digital age, and then I could pull the chicks of this time, maybe that Holly Valance girl (Have you seen her video it’s really clever; light covers up her rude bits! HAHAHAHA AWWWW GENIUS!)

So I got in my machine of time and flung myself into the void of the quantum singularity, phasar binary reality of magnetic time and extraterrestrialism. I came back to the year 2002 with a bump, which I hoped the penicillin could help; furthermore I had landed quite roughly, and found myself in a bizarre twisted world. A world where super intelligent hammers ruled over an enslaved mankind, in a orwellian totalitarian, and other scary big words society. The mighty hammer regime ruled over humans forcing them to their evil bidding or else they would hit them and knock cricket balls at them. The hammer society was controlled by the mighty Emperor Simon a 3lb (1.3608kg for you eurolapdogs) sledge hammer with high visibility fiberglass handle, designed for use with chisels, punches, stardrills & hardened nails. He was a wise and ruthless leader, with war, homosapien suffering and education being his key policies (yes a bit like Tony Blair). The hammers main goal was to build (or the human scum as they affectionately called them would) rocket powered hammers that good go into space and seek out new worlds and civilisations and to boldly hammer them into the ground. I was left to ponder how on earth this had all occurred when I had created the hammer just like von Hammer. Then I remembered when I had created the hammer I had not et out the same guidelines and warnings that von Hammer had in order to make sure the people were ready for the hammer.

Such words like, “Wir viel Gebrauch der Hammer weise, als es mächtiges Werkzeug ist, das, wenn richtig sie nicht verwaltet hat, superintelligent und Regel würde über der uns und dann Kraftwork nicht existieren könnten werden.”

So I had made a bit of a doo-doo.

Of course none of this actually happened, and is merely a report written to get senior executive status and I applied for it to be made into a BBC sitcom, but they wanted to cast Martin Kemp as King Simon and Dawn French as the love interest so I refused.

So instead it’s going to be put on channel 5 (hooray). I just have to add some tasteful key to the story love scenes and a saxophone based soundtrack. And then I’ll be rolling in the money. So look out for “Hammer me baby” which will be starting after La Femme Nikita on Tuesday nights. La Femme Nikita is also a good show, I don’t always watch it you know, but when I have it’s pretty good. Peta Wilson is alright looking but you know I think I prefer Madeline...yes the glamorous older woman maybe she’d take in me hand and show me the way.

Well that’s what university education does to you.

You Can contact me at businessman@pobice.co.uk

AND TO RESPOND TO JUNE 2002 BUSINESSMAN REPORT:
GENERAL E. GOOD - OUR CHIEF CRITIC

From: General E Good, Earth Force Command

Here begins my new tale, not a fickle business report but a layered story in the old style, here is part one.............

LORD OF THE THINGS

In the time before time was invented, the great deity was holding a cosmic jumble sale, to it he invited all his friends and neighbours and there was plentiful rejoicing and consuming of weak lemon drinks. At the end the great one made gifts of some of the things he had left over to the people of the newly formed Earth.

To the wise and generally blonde Elves he gave three such things, he also gave seven things to the dwarves and their first great leader Neil of the Kinnock. But to the race of man he gave nine things, mainly because they kept showing up in different hats and claimed he had missed them. And so it was the great jumble sale was a success, raising much petty cash for the scouts and town hall. However not all was well...

In the dark land of Mordoom the evil dark lord was very upset at not been invited to the sale, he had seen a nice wicker chair he really fancied and was a great fan of weak lemon drink. In a fit of rage he called upon all his dark power to create a thing of his own, more evil and corrupting than anything else, and so it was born, in the shape of a remote control for any T.V.

Word soon spread and a great army of elves and men came to claim the remote for their great T.V, it was after all nearly world cup time. The dark lord raised his own army of mutant killer zombie ninjas of death and a great and terrible battle commenced. In the course of the battle the dark lord put down his remote and forgot about it. He realised his mistake and desperately searched for it, as he was stood wondering where he saw it last the great elven warrior Otrod cut off his head, which really wasn't very helpful. The lack of a head seriously hindered his efforts to find the remote, it is well known that not having a head is the second greatest problem to overcome in looking for something, the greatest being death which coincidently also befell the dark lord at this point.

Although the battle was won the victors could not find the remote either and so it remained lost for five thousand years, and for that time the T.V in the dark lords house remained fixed to endless repeats of neighbours on U.K gold, laying waste to the realm of Mordoom. But all this was about to change............


A very long way away from anything remotely dangerous lay the pleasant little town of Slothville. As the name suggests very little ever happened here and the towns folk led quiet lazy lives. They were not however people as you or I would understand it, they were in fact a race called Gobbits (Legal note-it is a G, not a H) who were small but with large hairy hands and a serious aversion to work. Our tale will follow one such Gobbit called Tom Ne'erwork, he was about to receive a great shock.

That afternoon Tom woke as usually and ate his microwave meal, he then went to his chair and settled for the day, and there he would have stayed had it not been for a knock at the door

''Confound and blast!'' he uttered, ''be gone beggar!''

Still the knocking continued until after fifteen minutes Tom could take no more and laboriously extricated himself from his great chair. He slowly waded through the litter to his front door and yanked it open.

''Hello there good Tom'' said the stranger, he was old with a long grey beard, tall hat and a staff
''What do you want!'' asked a very annoyed Tom
''I have a great adventure! A chance for fame, and....''
SLAM. Tom angrily threw the door closed
‘‘...and wealth''
Slowly the door reopened
''I would like to explain it to you,'' continued the stranger, ''may I come in?''
Tom warily invited him in, and offered him a seat, but no food
''Who are you then?'' asked Tom
''I am Rudalf, the GREAT WIZARD'' he said in a thunderous voice
''Never heard of you''
''Of course not, you are but a student''
''Are you suggesting there's something wrong with being a student?''
''Of course not'' Rudalf answered, ''but not after eight years''
''Its a hard subject!'' came the well practiced excuse
''Any way, about the adventure'' Continued Rudalf
''Ah yes, the wealth, please go on''
''I plan to gather a party and go on a great quest in search of a priceless artifact, lost for millenia, and I want you in this team''
''Why me?'' asked Tom puzzled
''You will see, am I not a GREAT WIZARD!''
''I dunno,'' said Tom suddenly suspicious, ''show me a spell''
''Errr...a spell, yes of course, hahaha, errrrr...watch''
With that Rudalf closed his eyes and his nose suddenly began glowing red
''Incredible!'' exclaimed Tom, ''another one!''
''Behold!'' and with that his nose glowed red.
''But that....'' began Tom
''And this!'' continued Rudalf, and his nose glowed red
''You are the worst....''
He was cut off by a knock at the door
''Ah they've arrived'' said Rudalf running for the door
''Wait a minute!’ yelled Tom trying to get from his chair, by the time he had his room was full of strangers
''This is the rest of our party, please introduce yourselves''
First up walked a small rotund fellow. ''I am Clarky of the town of shoesbury, I offer my services''
Then there stepped a rather thin fellow, ''I am strings'' he announced
Next came a tall fellow, ''I am Ball Cock, the great fixer''
And finally there was a wild looking fellow in a coat. ''I am Green, the Alchemist''
Rudalf stepped up ''And so our group assembles! Let us drink heartily and listen to great tales''
''Drink?'' said Tom, ''wait a...''
But it was too late, all his alcohol was rapidly found and hoarded by the party, and thus began a great partaking of drink and Rudalf told the tale of the jumble sale and the dark lord and the remote.
''A great tale,'' said Ball finally, ''but how do we know it still exists?''
''Wait,'' said Tom, ''do you smell something?''
''Oh it exists,'' answered Rudalf, ''but getting to it is far from easy, it requires a great journey across the mountains of DOOM, across the great DOOM wastelands, through the forest of DOOM and finally to castle maxi-DOOM in the land of morDOOM''
''Sounds like doom, doom and more doom'' said Tom, greatly pleased with himself
The rest of the crowd simply sighed
''What?'' he responded
''There is one more thing'' continued Rudalf, ''the great T.V of the dark lord has been left showing Neighbours over and over. The surrounding land has been devastated by this, it is most unfriendly, even the dark lord was driven mad''
''But isn't he dead?'' piped up Clarky
Rudalf sat back and pondered that for a moment before calmly responding
''If you speak to me again I will set you on fire''
That prompted much merriment
''Fear not!'' said strings, ''for I shall happily piss on you!''
''Errrr.........great?''
Then there was a final tapping at the door
''Ahhhh'' said Rudalf merrily,''our final guest''
He opened the door to reveal Galloway. Everyone noticed his smell (which Tom commented on earlier) and his bloated belly, but of more interest was that he was floating above the ground, a useful asset.
They spent a merry night drinking and the following morning prepared for their journey
''Take only what you need'' Rudalf advised, which Tom disliked, he looked at his Britney of Spears records, his well worn microwave and of course his chair
''Rudalf,'' began Tom, ''Can you cast a spell so my possessions can come along like in bedknobs and broomsticks?''
''No''
''But...''
''Its not that I can't'' he responded a little too defensively, ''but I am so powerful they would likely gallop off over the hill. Yeah, yeah that’s the reason''
And so began the great quest to find the great remote control, and it promises to be great.

generalegood@pobice.co.uk