I was nostalgically reading over some old comedy sets I wrote years ago this week, for no apparent reason. I came across the following. To the best of my knowledge I never performed this, published it or used it for anything. The state I found it in suggests I wrote it very quickly, but to be honest I have no memory of ever doing any such thing. I present it here for your... enjoyment? Whatever. Take it, if you will, as a testament to what it's like to live in my head sometimes.


This town ain’t big enough for the both of us, McKlinson. I’m running you out of town.

The town would be a lot bigger if you’d just approve my construction permit for a granny flat out the back of Ol’ Murphy’s smithy.

You ain’t listening McKlinson – this ain’t a town for no flat grannies. I’m’a give you to the count of three before I riddle you so full of holes you’ll think a slice of Swiss cheese has enviable structural integrity.

Mighty tough talk there Sheriff, but have you got the stones to back them up with bullets or are you just a low-down, up-high, over-the-shoulder soufflé dispenser?

I’ve bullets a-plenty for both of us. You just name the time and the place.

The time: 8 o’clock, the twelfth of March, 1863. The place, Rue de Saint Martin, on the West side of the Champs Elysée. There’s a bakery there that does the most amazing buttered croissants. I do my killing before breakfast.

The only butter you’ll be killing is your own grave, McKlinson. And I’ll be there to spread it thick.

Well, then what do you say we skip the trip to France and have this out, right here right now.

I’m game if you are.

Sayanara, sucker

Au revoir, mon ami

(They shoot each other)

We’ll always have Paris


Make of that what you will


Garry with 2 Rs

This week I found myself preaching on Jeremiah 29. It has some great and important things to say about God’s faithfulness through calamitous disaster and the formative role that cataclysm plays in our lives, but it’s hard to get at that with the giant neon sign pointing out the memory verse at verse 11.

Read more: Powerful Imagery

I swore I wasn’t going to do this. So I didn’t.

But then I swore I was going to write more, and then I also didn’t do that.

The thing is that the reason I don’t write much any more is because of the thing that I swore I wasn’t going to make this blog be about.

Perhaps it’s inevitable.

Read more: Anything but that

Fathering a toddler with whom this blog has nothing to do has meant I haven’t had much room in my life for community theatre. But when a good friend of mine put out a casting call for my favourite Shakespeare with a vacancy for one of my favourite characters, I had to come out of reclusion for a few weeks.

Read more: Much Ado About Nothing

Hasn't been one of these for a while: Have a contextless plug for a community theatre show.

Read more: A Spider's Web

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