The Horse-Caravan-Grandma-Orb story

Now, you know I’d never leave you with just one day of Chat because that would be cruel. Here’s the second installment of brilliance from our favourite magazine.

The story I’ve saved for today is going to blow your socks off.  Get ready for what I’m calling The Horse-Caravan-Grandma-Orb story. It’s epic. The story is as follows.

• Guy gives his yo-yo to a medium at a spiritualist church and she tells him he has The Gift then draws him a picture of a lady. He recognises the lady cause she ‘keeps him safe at night’.

• He becomes a medium when he is 18.

• Someone gives him a photo of his great grandma and it’s the lady from the drawing. They also give him a green crystal ball that used to belong to her. “I know she’d have wanted you to have it,” they say.

• He dreams about a caravan. Then he sees it. He asks the owner if he can buy it. The owner of the caravan actually says, according to him, “Lots of people have asked me that but I think I’ve been waiting for you.” He can’t explain why, apparently. It’s a feeling.

• Now I need a horse, he thinks. So he buys a horse. Obvious next step, right?

• Next, he’s helping his mum move house and gets a feeling that something has happened to the horse. When they finish everything, he sits down and suddenly “hundreds of orbs” are floating around.

• Gets home.  Note on the doormat from the farmer where the horse is being kept says, “Your mare’s dead.” He’s terribly eloquent, that farmer.  Don’t you think?

• Farmer acts shifty when questioned. Police are called but there’s no proof.

• He feels that the horse is living on a farm somewhere working hard and is safe and well.

• He misses the horse.

Now, I would just like to ask you, reader, if that is a story? Is it?

“A medium drew a picture of a woman. It was my great grandma. I bought a caravan and a horse. I think the horse was stolen. I miss the horse.” Wheres my beginning, middle and end? Where’s my restored equilibrium? Where’s the happy/unhappy ending? ‘I miss the horse’ is not, I fear, an ending.

We also need to look at the ‘evidence’ here. Below is the sketch and photo of the great grandma.


Now, that picture on the left is apparently a sketch done in a few minutes by a medium. Correct me if I’m wrong but she either took a long time with paint, or that’s a photo.  The straight lines of the shirt and the eyes were no way drawn in a few minutes by a woman with a pencil and pad.

Next bit of ‘evidence.’ His friend came to him with a photo after the horse went missing. He gasps. There is a ghostly image of a horse floating above her shoulder.  Check it out.


Ok, everybody looking at me. I need your attention for a minute. Right, I’d like you to raise your hand if you think a ghostly image of a horse is floating above her shoulder. And next I’d like you to raise your hand if you think it looks like a woman holding a photo up by her shoulder and tucking her fingers out of sight. It’s terribly square for a ghostly image, wouldn’t you say? Square like a photo?

Last but not least, I have a problem with his advert poster board thing.


I’m sorry, your name is “Omar”? Like that? Not Omar. Why is it “Omar”? Is your name a colloquialism? Like “Maccies” for McDonald’s or “totes” for totally. I think, “Omar”, that you should “learn” how to use “speech marks” before you start “tucking” them around things and making yourself look like an “uneducated fool.”

O wait, it didn’t take the speech marks to do that.


4 responses to this post.

  1. oh dear….that is all!


  2. Posted by Alex Jones on October 19, 2013 at 20:50

    Chat is a great medium of the inane. This post lifted my spirits.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: