“19:10, 13 March 2006 Sikon blocked "User:Writer" with an expiry time of infinite (Writer's Block)”
A writer is someone who can't be bothered going to work, and instead sits at home all day drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes, scribbling down pointless and uninteresting strings of disjointed words. Some substitute cigarettes for a chocolate bar, though the use of coffee seems to remain a constant theme. Writers attempt to avoid contact with reality as much as possible, because facing the cold hard truth about their lack of worth only fills them with self-doubt and depresses them. Because of their promiscuous lifestyles, many writer's acquire a disease known as Writer's Block to which there is no cure. A fictionalized account of poor writer's living in New York with writer's block has been adapted into a musical called "Commission!" Their writings, often on the back of KitKat™ wrappers or Marlboro™ light cigarette packets commonly take the final shape of either a poem, a play, a novel, or a short story. An example of each is provided below:
bum to it all
i'm going to die
i'm going to cut off my
head and fry it in garlic
fry fry fry
then you will all see that
i am not
"Garlic head Death", Sylvia Plath, 1886.
Poetry has been outlawed in Britain since after the First World War, when it was discovered that Wilfred Owen, a soldier for the British army, was gay. Poetry then went underground, often hiding in caves and plague pits, emerging only to terrorise commuters on dimly lit tube stations. One particularly famous incident involved Winston Churchill, who was once on his way home after a good night out on the piss, and was notoriously verbally-bashed by two haikus and three ophaned couplets written in iambic pentameter, skulking about the shadows in Liverpool Street station. It wasn't until the Poetry Wars of 1987 that poetry was not only decriminalised, but was elected King of England to reign for three successive terms. This period is often seen as the Golden Age of British Poetry, and gave rise to such famous works as Philip Larkin's "My Gran's a C*nt" and The Sex Pistols' "I just want to grow a Daffodil".
Other famous poetry writers include Julie Birchill, Mumm-Ra and Kevin Keegan. Some people think that Andrew Motion and Wendy Cope are poets, but these people probably spend most of their time dribbling and thinking that McDonalds burgers are actual food.
For sooth! Again my friends, someone hath died
Were it not my lying uncle - that uncle that lied
Erk, I've been poisoned, that's saved us some time
The bar is still open, hurry, it's closing time
This type of writing is known a play, which is a bit like a poem in that bits of it rhyme, only you've got slightly more idea what it's all about. Not all plays have to rhyme, and indeed many modern written plays are discouraged from rhyming, ever since Simon Callow threw a legendary sulk on stage after having to recite a limerick and stormed off in the middle of a dress rehearsal.
Something else a writer might write is a novel. A novel is a very big amount of words that are always entirely true. Below is a classic example of a novel:
"Do you not like my hair," Ingladelle demanded of Dirk with a quizzical lilt to her voice.
"Why, of course!" Dirk ejaculated. "I find it advantageous! This hair is surely the best example of aristocracy I have seen!" She stared hard at him in the cold amber light of the nursery, the dim twinkle of the beads of dew dripping lovingly from the marijuana plants all around framing him in an accusing crowd.
"I don't believe you," she hissed. "You think my hair is rubbish don't you?"
"It's true!" he exploded.
She spent months picking his guts out of her hair.''
Other famous novelists include Linda La Plante, Kitty Kelley and Kevin Keegan. J.K. Rowling was recently voted most successful novelist of all time, for her series of books for elderly people entitled "Help! Help! I have no idea what I'm doing!"
Novels have also been employed since 1798 as a means of punishing evil doers. Famous examples of punishment by novel include Charles Manson's being sentenced to 20 years reading Great Expectations, and Hannibal Lecter's enforced rewriting of Jane Austen's collected works, where each word ending with an exclamation mark must have the entire contents of the novel written immediately before inserted after it. Jane Austen was also employed as a form of torture by the Nazis in the Clone Wars.
This is a part of writing that is beneficial to the mentally unsound. That includes everyone.
Meek, less assertive people (silent devil worshipers):
"Dear Satan, I promise to wear more black nail polish and eye liner if you kill that preppy, conceded, Hollister-wearing, pom-pom twirling cheerleader. PS. Good job with G. Bush. I don't know how you did it, but whatever it is with him is making the world slowly slip into a deep oblivion of darkness."
"Dear Diary, omg, like omg! I was at the mall with my BFF and we were at Starbucks buying fat-free, non-sugar, low-carb lattees and all of a sudden that really hot guy with the nice body came up to us and started talking to me. O...M...G... I was in total heaven when he asked for a sip of my drink! His ass was nice. Like super nice! Like NICE NICE. OMG OMG OMG OMG! And then he asked me out. Like on a date. And I said I'd have to think about it, cause I don't want to sound desperate. Like you know what I mean? Like yeah. But now I'm gunna call him and say yes! omg! I can't breath."
Short stories Edit
There has not been a short story published in the world in over 60 years, following their extinction in the 1950s, hunted by poachers for their valuable adverbs. Two short stories, both by Roald Dahl, were released back into the wild in 1948 in the hope that they would repopulate the species. Sadly both disappeared without a trace. A short story is almost identical to a novel, but is much shorter, a lot less boring to read, and often has black stripes running across its hump. The last known short story to have existed was "Yes! There shall be a herb garden!" by George Best, published in Ireland in 1941. An extract follows:
"So den I went o'er der, and der was nattin der, so den I went o'er heer, and der was nattin heer, so den I went back o'er der, but der was still nattin der, so den I came back o'er heer, but der was still nattin heer. I would've gan back o'er der agin, boot ma feet was tired, so I had a nice sit down o'er heer."
Throughout most of the twentieth century, there existed a race known as screenwriters. Their lot was to invent original stories for movies, to be misinterpreted by directors, actors, and audiences. Unfortunately, this unique group became fully extinct sometime around the end of the twentieth century.
He's in my dreams
I want to scream
It's him I see,
I have to pee,
I see him there
I have to stare
Oh my goodness an Angina,
The Phantom is coming for my vagina
from The Phantom of the Musical (written by Tim Rice after his split with Andrew Lloyd Webber, demonstrating his musical mastery)
It was originally suggested that some writers create musicals, but this was proven to be false by Bruce Willis in a philosophy article written in the nineteenth century. Musicals are in fact, so perfect that writers could not create them. Only God can create musicals. All else is blasphemy.
Because all writers are mentally ill, they are closely monitored by the Government, and assigned a Government Agent to make sure they do not cause themselves injury. It is the job of each agent to coax the troubled writer from their malaise by a systematic programme of ignoring them, swiftly alternated with encouragement in their self delusion (the word 'agent' comes from the Latin word 'agentio', meaning "I will not return your calls and I will drink lots of tea"). Sometimes a writer will not see his or her agent for up to two decades, but this is perfectly normal.
Agents send things writers have written to people called Publishers. Publishers are jolly, fun loving souls, who who see no greater joy in life than making paper aeroplanes. Agents will often send paper from their writer to these publishers, who will write back to the agent to let them know if they want to make a paper aeroplane out of it. If they do, they then pay the writer to send them paper, which the writer decorates by writing all over it.