The Friday Irregular

Volume 3, Number 25
4 May 2001

Edited by and copyright ©2001 Simon Lamont

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Here at Lamont Towers we are in the process of scanning all the print issues of The Lamont Times, The Lamont Times: The Next Publication and The Irregular for inclusion on a CD-ROM of the complete archive (together with various other files), and you might be able to help! Although archaeological excavation work in the junk room(s) is ongoing, we are still missing a few issues. If you have any of the following and would be able to lend them to us, we would be very grateful:

For the latest news on the project, and updates to the wanted list, check the progress page at



You can also read TFIr in its enhanced online version, with links and graphics where appropriate. The latest online version will always be available at - part of the Irregular site at

Who is the Editor? So far as we know there's no Malkovichian portal into his brain, but there is the recently-revised FAQ and the UndeadCam:.




Friday 4 May   -   Manhattan Island sold for $24 in cloth and buttons, 1626
Saturday 5 May   -   First McDonalds opened, in Pittsburg, 1968.
Sunday 6 May   -   The Hindenburg airship exploded while landing at New Jersey, 1937. Oh the humanity!
Monday 7 May   -   The Lusitania was sunk by a U-Boat, 1915
Tuesday 8 May   -   Microsoft shipped Word 5.0 for the PC; Novell announced NetWare 386, 1989
Wednesday 9 May   -   Howard Carter, discoverer of Tutankhamen's tomb, born, 1873
Thursday 10 May   -   US Transcontinental railroad completed, 1869


This week's guest speaker: Brooke Shields

Smoking kills. And if you're killed, you've lost a very important part of your life.



As this issue is going out to RRS Charles Darwin somewhere on the Indian Ocean this week's quotations come from films set - at least partly - on seagoing vessels. Answers next week or from the usual address.

Last week's John Landis films were:



Strange stories from around the world, some of which might be true...

After Romanian Culture Ministry official Ion Antonescu was photographed at the Bucharest launch of a men's magazine leering at the camera while a g-stringed stripper gave him a lap dance, as presidential advisor Eugen Mihaescu fondled her breasts, Prime Minister Adrian Nastase turned down Antonescu's proffered resignation, deciding instead to make the embarrassed official draft a new anti-pornography law to ban indecent images from public spaces. Mihaescu, yet to be disciplined for his role in "breaching the decency expected of a public figure," told a newspaper that he had no regrets, and there were far more serious issues like corruption to worry about.

When his Beswick, Illinois, neighbours complained about the excessive loudness of his surround-sound stereo system, trainee electrical engineer Steve Woolf got angry and turned the volume up to it's highest setting. Unfortunately his tinkering with the system over the previous months resulted in a short-circuit which led to the device blowing up, taking two of his fingers with it. The fingers were later reattached, but the stereo was a write-off.

From the unrepealed dumb law files: It's illegal to... buy any kind of meat or a mattress on a Sunday in Washington state; wear a mask in Germany; kiss a woman in public if you're a man with a moustache in Iowa; fail to check under your car for children before driving away in Denmark, and you may not drive your car in reverse gear in Glendale, Arizona.

Lance Glendinning, arrested for aggravated burglary and assault in West Weaver, Australia, pleaded his innocence right up until police put him in an identification line-up. When the victim requested that each "suspect" shout "Hand over your bag, lady, or I'll kill you" Glendinning exploded with rage and yelled "That's not what I said! I said 'stab' not 'kill!'" On advice from his lawyer he subsequently pleaded guilty and received a custodial sentence.

A skateboarding mugger got more than he bargained for when he snatched a paper bag from a woman on Hampstead Heath, London. She was on her way to dump the bag in a designated bin as it contained dog mess from her pet poodle.



Here at Lamont Towers we like political satire and doctored photographs and we don't much care for any politicians, but especially not George W Bush, so we just loved the GWBush Art Gallery (apart from the annoying Geocities popup ads)...



Madame Jennifer, our in-house psychic predicts the following numbers will be lucky:

11, 21, 22, 27, 41, 42



Chapter 4 - Into the City

After many hours' walking without seeing another person or house Edmund and Lucy came to a fork in the road. There was no signpost but the left-hand track looked more worn so they decided to follow it.

Three hours later, as the sun was dropping towards the horizon in front of them, Edmund noticed something and stopped. "Look, Lu, over there," he pointed towards a rocky outcrop half-a-mile away, "I thought I saw a light."

"Maybe it was just a reflection from the sun," Lucy suggested.

"Maybe, but we need to find somewhere for the night anyway," Edmund said, stepping off the track. Lucy opened her mouth to argue that they should stay by the road, but decided against it, and hurried after her brother. A little later she hid her smugness when they found no signs of a settlement by the rocks.

They camped underneath an overhang for the night, sleeping under a couple of blankets Elvis had given them. The night air was dry and quiet, and after a day's walking the children slept soundly, waking up to find the sun already high in the sky. "Edmund, look!" Lucy shook her brother into full consciousness, "There's someone on the road!"

As they walked nearer they saw that standing in the middle of the road was the familiar cloaked figure of The Writer. Beside him was what at first appeared to be a sky-blue Citroen 2CV, but on closer inspection they noticed that instead of wheels an orange haze shimmered underneath the chassis. "Like the car?" The Writer asked, making notes in a battered old Filofax, "I thought I'd make some modifications."

"It's super," Lucy said, "But why are you here? We're following the plot aren't we?"

"Oh yes," The Writer smiled, "Don't worry, you're not in trouble this time. I just thought I'd help you through this lengthy travel section. Jump in!"

They all piled into the 2CV and The Writer flicked a button. The car lurched, the engine roared, and everything dropped several inches to land with a metallic thud on the ground. "Sorry, wrong control," The Writer apologised, fiddling frantically with a control stick that emerged from the middle of the dashboard. After a few seconds the car lifted back into the air and sped forwards, the landscape blurring around them.


Later that afternoon they arrived in a large modern city. The Writer had been silent almost the whole journey, refusing to answer questions about the plot, or about Peter and Susan, Edmund and Lucy's older siblings. As The Writer sped off leaving them standing on a street corner, Edmund and Lucy watched a woman dressed in black leather and dark glasses run round the corner past them and dash into a public lavatory screaming "Get me out of here!" Almost immediately a lorry careered round the corner heading for the small brick and wood structure.

"Stop!" Lucy and Edmund shouted, but it was too late. The lorry smashed into the building sending debris flying all over the place. Something hit Lucy on the back of the head. She turned round and picked up a pair of familiar-looking dark glasses, their frames twisted horribly..

"This is too much," Lucy said, "Let's go over to that cafe and get some food." They sat down, ordered chocolate milk shakes and pizza, and watched as the emergency services cleared up the accident scene. Then Edmund noticed a small child, bald and dressed in white robes sitting at the next table. He was dipping his finger into a small bowl of ice cream and licking it off. "Why are you doing that?" Edmund asked.

"There is no spoon," the boy grinned in reply.

"This just gets weirder," Lucy sighed.

"Here you go, kid, use this one," Edmund tossed a teaspoon onto the boy's table. be continued



There was a lawyer, a judge and a secretary sitting together in a train carriage. Suddenly the train went through a tunnel and as it was an old style train there were no lights in the carriages so it went completely dark.

Suddenly there was a kissing noise and the sound of a really loud slap. When the train came out of the tunnel, the secretary and the judge were sitting as if nothing had happened and the lawyer had his hand against his face as if he had been slapped there.

The lawyer was thinking: "That judge must have kissed the secretary and she missed him and slapped me instead."

The secretary was thinking: "The lawyer must have tried to kiss me and actually kissed the judge and got slapped for it."

The judge was thinking: "This is great! The next time the train goes through a tunnel I'll make another kissing noise and slap that idiot lawyer again."

...end of line