notes from
the MUCK . . .

How does your garden grow? With muck, muck and more muck! I spent much of today finishing the final muck box and then shifting muck from one box to the next. The first box, which the Big Lad is enthusiastically pointing out, has been rotting down for two years now and once we’d removed the top quarter of unrotted material, we found we’d hit the pay dirt.

Monday, November 13, 2006

Reader's Muck

I got back from holiday sometime ago only to find that my computer no longer really liked me and had decided to break. I just paid through the nose to get it fixed and what can I say? I've a lot to catch up on.

Staffing the London/Europe office of NFTM is a lonely, if eventful task. I haven't seen my fellow Muckers for over a year. Some may think that this means we don't share much of a connection or are in some way emotionally estranged from one another.

You'd be very wrong to think this.

Every day we receive thousands of letters requesting we perform some kind of stunt or public service. We don't publish these letters, but please don't think for one second that we don't act on 99% of them. Why, in the past 12 months we've rescued trapped seal pups (nice one Jeff, I know you're hand was cramped for a week after), noogied a CEO (great headlock Matthew), and simultaneously jumped out cakes we baked ourselves to scare frat boys who'd paid a lot of money for strippers.

Well, I thought it time I broke the wall of silence on just how far we go for our readers. Every week,I will close my eyes and delve deep into the pile of reader's letters on my desk, and show you photographic evidence of us fulfilling that request.

We'll start with something simple. Barney, from Aldershot, has written in to tell us that he is desperate for one of us to fire a utilitarian looking machine gun into the dark which is so powerful (the gun, not the darkness) that a man has to stand behind you holding you tenderly, but not sexually.

Well, we did Vegas. We fired machine guns. We were held, often forcefully, sometimes loosely, seldom lovingly. As the desert dusk descended upon us we thought the call of the prawn cocktail buffet would defeat us. But then it happened, somewhere in the distance a one armed bandit paid off it's bounty to someone who actually deserved it yet didn't care, an inexplicable breeze ruffled through the Liberace wardrobe collection, and I became whole.

Till next time.




Finger pressed metal, lead bit through paper, flesh stroked acrylic nylon, tears did fall.