Last night I left it late to post, so late that it was actually the next day. Or today. As usual, I get my timings hopelessly mixed.  So today I am getting off to a flying start by writing early. The problem with that, of course, is that I don’t have anything to write about concerning the events of today.

Pause . . .

Do you remember when you used to get a message that said “Buffering” when you were on the internet? It’s been replaced by the endlessly moving circle. I’m feeling a bit that way as I sit and think.  If I were a classically educated man I would now mention Ouroboros, the snake that eats its own tail. But I’m not. I didn’t encounter the concept until I watched an episode of Red Dwarf. I used to get a lot of science knowledge from sci-fi books and films. The trick is knowing what is true and what is made up. Imagine the results if you believed it all.

I thought it might make a good sci-fi film The President’s Father Must Be Sterilised, (working title – the final one will be much snappier) where a government department, faced with closures, mass unemployment and immense personal tragedy (I will weave in tales of a Mexican wife scheduled for deportation (with her children suitably caged), and a man selling a kidney to afford eggs to feed his dying father) uses all its resources to go back in time and administer a vasectomy to the father of Donald Trump.

Aha!

A title with a double meaning, though lacking subtlety – Trump’s Nuts.

And there we are, a post written, an hour I won’t get back again and a possible Netflix series about a doctor who time travels with a scalpel and a sense of social justice, causing mayhem and unexpected consequences throughout history.

But for now, in a return to reality, I must write poems.