John Martin

Here’s a sneak preview of the first scene of the book I’ve started writing. It’ll be the fourth and final instalment in my Funny Capers DownUnder series. I’m writing into the dark on this one, I haven’t even got a title and bear in mind what I’ve written thus far is very rough and ready,… Continue reading So it begins again

I am pretty sure they had music in the 1950s. At least, that is what I told a young woman I met at the CD stand in a budget store the other day. “Excuse me (middleaged gentleman),” asked the woman, who was just 17 or 18, as we browsed side-by-side. “Do you know when the… Continue reading Turn that funky music down, boy

‘NOW TELL me,’ said the psychiatrist after settling his patient down on the couch, ‘How long have you thought you were really Santa Claus?’ ‘Santa Claus? My name is George!’ The man lifted his head and scowled. ‘What makes you think I think I am Santa Claus?’ ‘Er, w-w-well. I don’t get a lot of… Continue reading Santa Claus contemplates his navel

This piece of funny flash fiction was inspired by an online spat I had with an American who insisted I was wrong when I said the moon landing happened for me on July 21, 1969. I fully accept the date for him was July 20 but I’m not sure he understood how time zones work.… Continue reading One small step for man, one giant leap backwards for photo processing

When I telephoned a local electrician’s home yesterday, a small child answered. I was taken aback. I needed an electrician to check out the wiring on some light fittings, and I had got that number from the telephone directory — E for Electricians. I was not expecting someone so young to answer. “Um … hello… Continue reading Strife of the sparkie

I can thank Bert Connell for teaching me to play lawn bowls in 1979. I am not sure if this was before or after the time he sent me on a botched mission to fetch his pipe from home. The reason I can’t remember this is I’ve killed a lot a brain cells with alcohol… Continue reading It’s a long way to the hops, Mr Connell

If scientists discover a fear-of-flying gene one day, does that mean that people like me will not be able to get travel insurance? My friend Orville says it is relatively safe to board a chunk of fuselage heavier than my house, defy gravity by taking off, go hurtling across the sky until it is time… Continue reading Message in a bottle from a washed-up nervous flyer