There are those who say I don't write enough about sex. Certainly they want more gossip about my girlfriends, but unfortunately, since becoming long term unemployed I can no longer afford them, and in any case, women aren't usually turned on by flirtacious old fogies unless they also happen to be filfthy rich. Despite continued investigations by the Department of Work & Pensions, it appears I'm just another poverty stricken claimant.

However, I shall not be daunted. Here then is the scandalous truth of what goes on behind the scenes at respectable museums...

Last night the museum crew gathered for our secret meeting to plot this years conspiracy against those members of the public who think museums are dull uninteresting places that cost too much to visit. I did suggest making a ring of exhibits and 'sacrificing' young maidens at the dead of night to the baleful god of entry fees, and although the boss heartily approved of my pagan initiatives, we did forsee a number of issues that might arise. Such is the extent of biscuit addiction among our members that radical action has been planned.

My boss has admitted to singing in a public place. I think someone called it karaoke or something, one those japanese imports that society doesn't need, like yet another small economical box-shaped car designed fior chic urban living.

"Don't know why I did that" He told me.

Could I suggest that alcohol was to blame?

"You think so?"

You learn these things in life.

"Maybe you're right. At one point, they tell me, I committed strange acts upon other people."

Exactly how much alcohol did you drink?

"Lots. But the sex was only simulated."

The best kind. No arrests, expensive by-products, and the museums reputation for being boring is preserved. I can imagine by now that readers of more austere and devout religious beliefs are probably frothing at the mouth, pointing their fingers, and dragging hordes of colleagues to view the evidence of decadancy in british culture. Fear not. No bunnies or chocolate biscuits were harmed in the making of this story.

Bunnies?

Talking about bunnies, one suggestion was made to introduce animals into the equation. What could attract families to paying an entry fee more than fluffy bunnies to oggle and pet? I looked around and told the young lady who suggested the brilliant idea that I look at her with new found respect. She declined the offer to loll across the front desk in a bid to attract new visitors. Probably a good thing. We'd never get any work done.

As it happens, I did know of something more attractive than fluffy bunnies.

"I was hoping you'd volunteer." Replied the boss, remembering my suggestion that we could stage a 'Love Your Computer' event on Valentines Night for nerds without girlfriends.

No no no. A few days back I was strolling past a farm and there were these baby shetland ponies. I mean, there is nothing, and I mean, absolutely positively completely without shadow of a doubt nothing more cute than a baby shetland pony.

"Couldn't you have obtained one or two for the museum?" Asked my boss, clearly disappointed at my lack of initiative.

Well, probably, but having lots of shotgun pellets inserted into my backside at fifty yards is not one of my ambitions.

Question

Hands up anyone who thinks working in a museum is dull and boring? You do? Okay, go back to the top of this blog entry and start reading again...

The Democratic Way

When we sent aircraft to bomb targets in Libya, the government assured everyone that this was in order to forestall attacks on civilians by forces loyal to Colonel Gaddafi. There was no intent to get involved in regime change, they told us. Gunboat diplomacy is seen as unfashionably imperialist these days and with moslem nations very senstitive to the military initiatives of the Geat Satans little brother, it's obviously very wise to inform the world that we're not gangsters or minions of evil, but instead responsible humanitarian aid workers with laser guided bombs.

Please don't think I'm knocking the armed services. They do a great job with all the wrong equipment. Let's be honest, the Gaddafi regime doesn't score very highly as a group of publicly spirited all round nice guys, do they? There will always be a case for saying we shouldn't intervene. That it's none of our business. However, if I was a civilian being attacked by my own government forces, I guess I'd be pretty happy to see infidels blowing them up.

Now I hear on the news that only the new National Council is recognised by the United Kingdom as the legitimate government of Libya. Diplomats of the former regime are sent home, and demonstrators gather outside the embassy to replace the green flag with that of the National Council.

I couldn't help laughing. No, we're not changing the regime, we're simply choosing to talk to the other one from this point forward. It's the democratic way.