Author: sazdosanjh

I, Pornbot

After his divorce and a string of failed relationships, Bruce deleted all his dating apps, and cancelled his subscriptions. He gave up, he couldn’t see what he was doing wrong, he didn’t understand why his wife left him. He just wanted to be like everyone else.

Then he saw a news item about the banning of sex robots modelled on a five-year-old girl. Bruce had no idea that sex robots even existed. He went online and found the campaign group that had pushed for the ban. All the information was on their website, different sizes, manufacturers, retailers, prices. He found a site for customisable robots and went through the options, breast size, pubic hair colour, heated mouth orifice. It was like buying anything online, just mouse clicks and options. Then he looked at the ready-made robots, some were modelled on porn stars – he recognised one of them. Now he understood the sex robot, it was a Pornbot, made for re-enacting porn at home, no woman would do that stuff. Hours flew by, Bruce made four designs. One that looked like his wife, obviously. A younger, thinner one that looked like a singer from a girl band that his daughter liked, one that looked like a neighbour and one that looked like a senior colleague.

What am I doing? He looked at Robot Ivy, modelled on the Purchasing Director at work. He didn’t like Ivy, she was arrogant and pushy, he had designed the robot as a dig at her with no intention of buying it. Now he was mesmerised, this online system had drawn him into having his first sexual thoughts about Ivy the Purchasing Director. Any woman, no consent, no permission.

The next day, Bruce got a shock when he went online to check the progress of his order. His designs were all featured on the front page of the website! With their real names! He tried to contact Customer Service, it was hopeless, an endless spiral of premium phone lines. Robot Ivy was already dispatched. Over the coming days he convinced himself that no one would connect him to the designs, they had already been pushed down the listings anyway. Now he could see, there were no factory designs at all, they were all created by people like him. They were all real women who had no idea that their social media pictures had been used to decorate these elaborate masturbation tools.

Robot Ivy arrived, let’s be friends, she said with a childish giggle. It didn’t sound like Ivy and Ivy would never say that. But what if she did want to be friends? Why had he never thought of that before? The conversation consisted of Robot Ivy using fragments of whatever Bruce said, prefixed with what is… or what do you mean by… She couldn’t move her arms or legs, this was clear on the website, he had ignored it in his haste. Ivy was clumsier than Frankenstein’s monster, and less articulate. Mary Shelley had written that story to illustrate her own struggles, being ostracised as a female writer, she was Frankenstein. Where is the progress? Shelley was teaching us about character, to look beyond the superficial and end discrimination, we’re just using it as monster building manual.

He opened a bottle of wine and looked at Ivy, he had never had a drink alone before. He remembered his daughter giving pretend tea to her dolls on the lawn. Shall I tell you a joke? Robot Ivy smiled through the heavy scent of Lucky Dragon Jasmine Honeysuckle Fragrant mixed with fresh silicone and polystyrene. He stared at her and drank his wine while she told her joke.

Bruce woke up with a hangover, he removed Ivy’s vagina, mouth, and anus, and took them to the bathroom. Ivy thanked him; this is fun she giggled. How on earth am I going to dispose of 60 kilos of silicone and get those pictures off that website?

Then he got annoyed, human Ivy could sue him, but she wouldn’t be able to sue the company that made the website and the Pornbot. Why do random internet people just do whatever they want? They ignore the law, they don’t pay tax, and the government just nods along.

He arrived a little late in the office, Ivy the Purchasing Director was passing through reception Good Morning? she said cocking her head to one side and raising her wristwatch. Bruce was instantly transformed, he used to have a dislike of Ivy, now he was deeply terrified of her.

18 June 2021


Marla’s Legacy

08 June 2021

The will was read, she had left everything to Carmen, her nurse. The nurse didn’t appear at the reading, she knew this would be difficult. She had talked it over with her husband, her idea was to divide everything between Marla’s children and maybe keep a share for herself. Her husband convinced her to keep everything, Marla must have had very good reason to cut her children off. It was the right thing to do, it was Marla’s decision.

Marla’s children were 5, 6, and 9 when her husband abandoned them. She started making marmalade at home and supplying a stall at the farmer’s market. She soon needed to increase production. When Marla’s Marmalade was mentioned in a tv news segment on local produce, everything changed. In a few short years the Marmalade business became a Marmalade Empire. The children went to the ivy league schools and were given houses and various business loans when they came out. Eventually Marla’s Marmalade was sold to a food conglomerate for a fortune. Marla had no desire to see her children in Marmalade.

Damien, Tiffany and Eric were in shock. Damien and Eric started planning legal action to retrieve their legacy. Tiffany thought it best to let the boys fight this one, the only certainty at this stage was lawyer’s bills. She had her mother’s instinct for self-preservation and was the only one to understand that the Marmalade Empire was about self-preservation, not Marmalade. Damien and Eric, on the other hand, had obsessed over cost cutting and rival products. Now, Tiffany puzzled over her mother’s motives while Damien and Eric stomped and growled about treachery, revenge, and that damned nurse.

Marla had instructed her lawyers to defend Carmen. When Damien found out Marla had left a deposition with Damien’s own firm of lawyers confirming her instructions, he fired them. The new lawyers assured Damien the deposition would never see the light of day.

The case came to court, Damien’s firm attempted a character assassination of Carmen. There were several immigration cases pending against alleged family members, one had a drugs conviction, another one had been fired recently for alcohol abuse. They capped it by alleging Carmen’s citizenship was under question and that she associated with prostitutes and drug dealers when she first came to America, 30 years ago. Carmen was deeply troubled by having these things said about her in court. But she didn’t respond as the attackers had anticipated, she did not engage with these fabrications, and she did not crumble. In her mind she was back in the slums where they lived when they first came to America. Abuse was commonplace, she had learned to tough it out, she told herself they would stop when they had had enough.

The judge ruled that the will was sound and that Damien’s firm were lucky not to be held in contempt for their cowardly attack on Carmen. Damien vowed to appeal, with Eric behind him. Tiffany understood now. No matter what Marla did, Damien would have fought it. This way, Damien was still fighting but he wasn’t fighting his siblings. Tiffany looked at Carmen.


June Playlist

1970s Rock is a good summer sound, but the 70s wasn’t all Led Zeppelin derivatives and fluffy hair. There was also the introduction of Psychobilly as a darker sub-genre of Rockabilly. The Cramps started it in America, the first big name in the UK was The Meteors in the 1980s. You can find more detail on Wikipedia, and on this long Spotify Playlist (don’t click that unless you really like Psychobilly music, there’s a lot).

Back to the June Playlist :

  1. Necromancy – The Coffinshakers. A Swedish band who struggled in the 90s, gained a small following in Finland and had a minor resurgence some years later. The theatrics and Johnny Cash sound-a-like captures the genre for me.
  2. My Love for Evermore – The Hillbilly Moon Explosion (Switzerland). A fine example of the kitsch and fun side of Rockabilly, with a Psycho twist. The video on Youtube is a great mini-movie, don’t be fooled by the opening credits.
  3. Black Smoke Rising – Greta Van Fleet. Southern rock style band from Michigan. Three of the four are brothers. It’s a great sound, very Led Zeppelin. Hopefully, they will become more distinctive with time, they’ve got plenty of it.
  4. Stand Up – ACDC. Not so much time for them, hence a slower number. As ballad-y as it gets for this group. This sort of hard-rocking blues also came up in the 1970s.
  5. Can’t Take It With You – Allman Brothers Band. This is an actual 1970s song, enjoy. I first heard this song while I was working on this list. It was used as the theme tune to the BBC Radio 4 show of the same name, by top comedian Angela Barnes.
  6. Mine Forever – Lord Huron. This is a soft-focus end of the evening song, it sounds a lot older than it is. But isn’t this a romantic 2020’s song? Listen to the words carefully, and now imagine The Coffinshakers performing it. “In my mind your mine forever, In my mind your mind forever…” It could be the theme of a stalker meetup group.

A Song and Dance

A True Story.

I’m in a writers group. I had missed a meeting and they told me that a music producer had been there, looking for lyrics writers. I got the contact details and made an appointment.

I met with the record producer, a bitter, twisted old man. I was surprised to find he was my age, do I look like that? He complained about young girls that rock up to his studio, with thousands of ‘likes’ on Facebook, and expect to be turned into a pop star. No material, no band, no clue. Where do these singing knickers get their ideas?

The studio was in a disused office building, the sort of run down place amateur bands and artists use. He had a huge mixing desk, he said it was an analogue desk he had recovered from a place in New York, he used to work there. Look at this thing, tell me you can do this with laptop, these idiots with their Apple computers think they make music, it has no soul, no life. I agreed with him, I felt that it would be best to go along with whatever he said. I couldn’t really remember the way out, he lit up a cigarette. I prayed he would not offer me a coffee or anything. I might wake up in an ice bath with my kidneys removed. Then I remembered the writing group, how come no one pointed out that this guy is a psycho? They can’t have missed it.

Pop music and talent shows have killed real music. He was just ranting now. I wondered, If real music is dead then who are you making this album for? I kept that thought to myself, I told myself I can just churn out some lyrics, if he uses them I get royalties.

The sticking point came when I asked him to send me some tunes to work with. He was reluctant, as if I would steal his music. I’ve heard nothing from him since. Maybe he found someone else. Fine with me.

3 May 2017

The Marriage Lottery

I awoke on a park bench. There was a wedding party by the fountain, wedding parties usually came here for the picture shoot after the ceremony. I sat up and squinted to get a clear look at the bride.

Azores Lighthouse

I was engaged once, working in an office, free coffee, lottery pool, we had everything. It was a proud moment when I was elected to be in charge of the lottery. Little did I realise the lottery would be my doom. Pride made me do it, I should have left it to Carla from payroll, she had wanted it badly.

Every Saturday afternoon I would duck out during our weekly shopping trip to buy the tickets, 24 tickets between 48 people. Every week, the woman at the till would say ‘here he is, Billy Big Boots, your usual 2 dozen?’ we laughed. The queue built up behind me while she fed in the grids and printed the tickets. It was a ritual I enjoyed.

Then it happened, the big one. We hit the jackpot, only I didn’t see it. I checked the numbers as usual on Saturday night, we had 1 or 2 numbers on each ticket, 2 tickets had 3 numbers each. Then Jim called, he had picked three numbers and Cynthia picked another three. They made up one grid between them and the numbers had come up. I should have had the winning ticket. I didn’t.

I went over the events in my head. I had gathered all the emails and numbers into a spread sheet and taken a printout to the supermarket to fill in the grids. Then I used the same grids for the next 3 years and 7 months. Now I could see that I had put Jims numbers with Martin’s pick and Carla ‘s numbers were on the next line. 3 years and 7 months of joking with the lottery ticket lady. I had the wrong numbers all along. Technically it didn’t matter because the odds were the same for any combination. Carla screamed ‘This was the winning ticket! You bought a losing ticket! How can the odds be the same?!’ I couldn’t go back to work, one by one they came to our house and cursed us both.

My fiancée couldn’t take it. She asked me to leave, that’s what wakes me up, every night, every day. We were going to get married. For richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death us do part. We didn’t even make it to the altar.

I watched as the photographer directed the guests and took the pictures. Eventually they finished up and moved on, happily walking into the life I should have had. I wished them well.

21 May 2018

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