Friday, August 6, 2010

The Pocket Hadron Collider

Remember clackers?

Those lethal duo-balls marketed at kids in the 70s?

That hospitalised hundreds, and left a trail of false teeth and removable cranial prosthetics in their wake?

Well, I have a pair, right here, right now. In my mind’s eye, at least.


From one string dangles a thumping big plot idea for my next project.

Next to it, an entirely different thumping big plot idea; a separate wodge of solid plastic nothingstuff.

Connecting the two is a slender slip of nylon twine, and in a moment, when I begin thrashing my hand in the air, those big ole balls of plot are going to SMACK SMACK SMACK against one another till I can smell the friction burns on every single collision-kissed particle of mutilation-friendly 70s chic...



9 comments:

fairyhedgehog said...

I hope you have a productive clacking today.

Old Kitty said...

Mind you don't hurt yourself, metaphorically speaking of course!

Take care
x

Whirlochre said...

A good afternoon's clacking — though my wrist hurts.

May move on to yoyos or those funny fluorescent tube things you whizzed round your head, whatever they were called...

fairyhedgehog said...

You want to watch out for that wrist strain, Whirl.

Whirlochre said...

I had planned to do a wanking joke in the main body of the post, but decided to leave it as I just knew someone would pick up on it.

fairyhedgehog said...

All that subtlety suddenly abandoned!

It's having sons that does it.

Robin B. said...

Ooh, a new prod coing along, eh??

writtenwyrdd said...

I remember those things. I bought one and Madre took it away faster than I could clack it. The *danger* was half the fun.

writtenwyrdd said...

I thought I'd pretend not to get it, but I can see that you Brits are going to bring it up anyhow. Now wonder I like you. ;)