91Èȱ¬

Speaking of which, a lot of people have been asking for more information about the Lyriscope itself. And when I say 'a lot', I mean literally 'none'. Now, the inner workings of this near-magical device have long been a trade secret, a bit like the special spices in KFC, or the recipe for Coca-Cola. But I CAN show you what it looks like. See? It's over there ->

(click on the image for a bigger version. Please don't try and make one yourself though, some of the components are really sharp.)

So, here I am, awaiting this week's lyrical investigation, safe in the knowledge that it can't possibly be as hazardous a task as last we...

...hang on, that was a knock at the door, it must be the postman with my new assignment. One second, BRB...

...oh blimey. Kate Nash's 'Foundations'? Sheesh!

Been nice knowing ya. Here goes...

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Lyric: When I'm tellin' a story and you find it boring, you're thinking of something to say.
The first problem is how to find somewhere where people tell stories. I spent a fruitless hour wandering around town, thought about visiting the school, thought better of it (that cell was PERISHING), and flumped down on the sofa. Had a quick flick through the local paper, and saw an advert for a 'Storytelling Morning' the library. Now by this point I was a bit tired, but the Lyriscope is nothing if not a hard taskmistress, so off I went.

When I got to the library, there was a nice lady on a plastic chair, surrounded by children who were all sitting cross-legged on cushions, surrounded by a phalanx of mothers. She had just started reading the Three Little Pigs, and, as luck would have it, she didn't really do a very good job. I mean the kids all seemed fairly happy, but I know what happens already, and by the time she'd got through the house of straw and the house of sticks, well, I could feel the hair growing on my chinny-chin-chin.

So, I started thinking of something to say. I wanted to say either something dead clever about how boring it is to hear the same old story over and over again, or something dead clever about how stupid those pigs are (the first two, obv) and how the wolf would SO look for a wobbly window-catch before he climbed up to the chimney of the house of bricks.

What I actually said was "Cuh! Spupid Tigs, eh?".

The aftermath is a blur, but involved hard stares from all the mothers and a really loud "SHHH!" from a lady behind the desk. I left shortly afterwards.

LYRISCOPE READING: 3.9

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Lyric: It gives me thrills to wind you up.
I went to a toyshop and I bought a selection of clockwork toys, to find out which one had the most satisfying key-spring mechanism. But all of them shared an unsettling quality, where my big grown-up man-hands (or mands, as I like to call 'em) develop a variety of clockwork stage-fright. It's the fear of over-winding the spring, and then breaking it. It's all a bit nerve-wracking, and even on those toys where breaking the clockwork mechanism would actually improve the toy a thousand percent, the winding up bit is lacking in what I would call thrills.

Luckily a nearby antique shop has a grandfather clock with a VERY satisfactory coil on it. Almost thrilling, in fact. This seems a good time to take a reading.

LYRISCOPE READING: 4.1

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Lyric: You'll go along with it then drop it and humiliate me in front of our friends.
This was a tough one to set up, so I'll be brief. Suffice to say that if you trip up while carrying your sister's birthday cake at her party, and then fall face-first INTO the cake, and land in a big messy heap with your bum-crack on display just as everyone gets to the second "Happy birthday to you", she is never going to give you your CDs back.

LYRISCOPE READING: 2.9

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Lyric: My finger tips are holding onto the cracks in our foundation,
and I know that I should let go, but I can't.

Outside ChartBlog towers, I look for a crack in the brickwork. There's a bit of loose mortar, so that's where I squirt the superglue. As soon as my fingers are good and stuck, I realise that I'm hungry. Then, an hour later, I realise I need the loo. Then it starts raining. Then someone sneaks up behind me, pinches the superglue out of my back pockets, and somehow sticks my other hand to my jeans. Then he takes my wallet, and the keys to ChartBlog towers. If this is what Kate Nash had to go through in order to write her hit song, she deserves every penny. Not that I've any spare change...

LYRISCOPE READING: 4.8

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Lyric: "Intelligent input, darlin', why don't you just have another beer then?"
...said the barmaid, as I poured a bottle into my ear and down my front.

LYRISCOPE READING: 2.4

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Lyric: You said I must eat so many lemons 'cos I am so bitter.
I knew this one was coming. The lemon-scoff challenge. Urgh. And seeing as Kate very clearly says "lemons" and not "lemon drizzle cake" or "lemon squash", there's really no way around this. So, one quick trip to the green-grocers later, I've got my "so many" lemons (actually, a pack of five), and I'm about to eat them all.

(SOME TIME LATER)

*groans* Lor...that was enough to make anyone bitter. Oh! Do you think that's what she had in mind?

LYRISCOPE READING: 4.8

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Lyric: I said "I'd rather be with your friends mate 'cause they are much fitter."
Hanging about the gym, attempting to make small-talk while the treadmill takes its toll...well it's not the BEST way to make friends. Even the ones who aren't sweating too much are concentrating too hard on not falling off the back to listen to my brilliant tales and hilarious jokes. And I've a feeling some people are reading rather too much into my friendly demeanour too. Time to go!

LYRISCOPE READING: 1.6

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Lyric: Don't want to look at your face 'cause it's makin' me sick. You've gone and got sick on my trainers. I only got these yesterday.
A two-pronged Lyriscope attack. Finding someone whose face can induce nausea, and finding someone with one-day-old trainers. And then getting them both in the same place at the same time. This was proving to be quite a headache, so, a true scientist, I decided to think laterally.

Taking my cue from , I conditioned myself into auto-vomiting whenever I looked at the face of stage hypnotist Paul McKenna (using a photo of him and some prodding of my gag reflex*). I picked him, thinking that it may save me from ever being hypnotised into embarrassing myself onstage.

Thus armed, I went to the shops and waited outside the sports shop for someone with box-fresh trainers taking their mate in with them with the words "I'm SURE they'll have them in your size". This proved to be quite a specific requirement, so in the end I settled for a young lad with new trainers, and hoped it would be close enough.

Just as I pulled the pic of Paul out, and felt my stomach heave, the lad in question caught my eye, giggled, and said "alright? Managed to get the glue off, didja?". It was the boy who stole my wallet!

Ten seconds later, he went from being the boy who stole my wallet to being the boy with sick on his shoes in front of the girl in the sports shop who he was just about to ask out. This is called Lyriscope Karma, and it is MIGHTY!

LYRISCOPE READING: 5.0

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*Do NOT try this at home. It's a stupid thing to do.

PS: The 91Èȱ¬ Slink site got Kate Nash to play 'Bitter Or Fitter' with celebrity men (and Sooty). How do you think she got on? Well, like THIS...