How do the fish feel during a tsunami?

Posted: December 26, 2025 | Author: | Filed under: Brief...therefore witty. | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

These are the questions no one should be asking, or answering.

Even the fish don’t want to know.

And they don’t want anyone else to know.

The fish, they don’t like me so much, and I’ve heard they don’t have any feelings – so I’m quite the exception to the rule.

Hell of a rule. Hell of an exception.

Still, I picture it: a fish, going about it’s business – coming about 8th when it comes to being a cool vague kind of animal. And then the entirety of life as you know it suddenly shifts violently to the left for a few miles and then finding yourself in downtown Tokyo.

Or you’re an octopus, either very busy being an octopus or just casually being an octopus – doesn’t really matter, and then a wall of other sea creatures comes in from the left, again, and travels with you back to downtown Tokyo.

We all know octopuses, they don’t like spending time other than exactly how they wish. And having to commute to central Tokyo, through valleys and past factories, trying to simultaneously enjoying the rapidly passing and increasingly soggy scenery, whilst also avoiding eye contact with the other fish.

‘Tsunami traffic’ which is a cool thing to phrase because it is technically alliteration, unlike ‘technically alliteration’ which is just crap writing.

Would thoughts about what is and what isn’t ‘technically alliteration’ occur to an octopus enduring that tsunami traffic? There are many things that aren’t ‘technically alliteration’ – like my breakfast, which I need to make now.

As such, I’ll call it quits there when it comes to how things go for this fish/octopus.

Maybe I’ll return to it this evening.

I’ve an important blog about AI I need to return to too, but this currently ridiculousness takes priority.

Priority after breakfast.

Sam

What about a sumo wrestler – anytime you wanted?

Posted: November 16, 2025 | Author: | Filed under: Brief...therefore witty. | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

To pre-empt the following; everyone feels down sometimes.

Sometimes, we feel dishonourable to our ancestors.

Fortunately, I’ve been watching television.

And I’ve discovered the Grand Sumo league has free coverage on NHK WORLD-JAPAN.

It’s fantastic, truly.

The slapping, the blessing, the inadvertent headbutts, the little envelopes, the lot – I highly recommend it.

But nothing comes close to the satisfaction of seeing the faces those in the front row change from keen interest, to slow realisation, to horror, to another slow realisation, to joy, as a 300lbs+ man falls on them.

In my front room, watching this, we’d all go “YAY!” and so would the expressions of those in the front row: because clearly their ancestors were smiling upon them.

Whilst officially not encouraged by the league (sumo try not to fall on people), it is genuinely considered a great honour for a sumo to land on you. You see, that means you’re right up close to the action, privileged and cool.

Depression hits everyone – and I believe sumo wrestlers should too.

Imagine, you’re walking home after a crap day at work, missed the bus, no partner waiting at home, dog ran off with the milkman, and its raining.

What you need is a blessing from your ancestors at a very reasonable price.

An uplift in honour – to treat yourself!

Just sign-up to my new app: Sumo On Demand – and a qualified sumo wrestler will come to your location and land on you.

Honour!

Prices vary, but the top price is the ‘Flat Rate’ – due to you being completely flattened by the sumo and honour.

I don’t mean to see obnoxious, but this is a bloody brilliant idea and investors are welcome to get in touch.

Alternatively, I can apply to Dragon’s Den, have one of my dedicated team of highly trained sumo wrestlers land on each of them, and see how that turns out.

I’d be ‘In’.

If you’re interested in being flattened by a sumo wrestler and increasing your personal honour – drop a comment below, I’ll see what I can arrange.

Sam