The Winter Solstice Effect let up around ten minutes to midnight. The townsfolk began to slowly shake away the haziness and return to their senses, and the mist had all but disappeared. I quickly ran back to the stage and placed the guitar back in the band member’s arms, then dashed around to get the rope down. Now, more than ever I wished humans didn’t kill each other for no reason. I mean sure, it brought our side more souls, made the boss happy, bonuses all around, yada yada yada, but I was at a loss here. I was the first being in history to witness a Solstice survivor. Or rather, Solstice survivors. I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was wait and see.
Consciousness began to return to their eyes and I could see them looking around, wondering what happened. I expected them to break out into a hysterical frenzy as they tried to remember what they were doing and where they were, but they all just went back to singing and dancing and chatting.
The town’s grandfather clock, our own version of the Big Ben, chimed midnight and everyone cheered and toasted. Alex Simmons, a retired veteran who spends his days at the docks with his platoon, dragged me to toast with them. I always liked that man and his platoon being affected was the least surprising. War doesn’t generally create memories powerful enough for the Solstice, but I figured it could do the trick.
I allowed myself to be led to the group, still confused by how normal everyone was acting. They hadn’t realised they’d spent the last couple of hours as zombies instead of partying. I toasted with the town and laughed along merrily, but my mind was elsewhere. Oh, I just had to get into their minds.
After the toast, everyone shuffled back home murmuring things like “Well, got work in the morning”, “Damn, I wish the night didn’t have to end”, and “Time to hit the hay”. Rather predictably, I also caught word of an afterparty some nineteen-year-old home for the holidays was throwing. I went back to my place and waited patiently for dawn. Of course, I would much rather get on with my investigation right away, but the mind is more receptive to outside entries when it’s well-rested.
In the morning, I headed down to James McCoy’s. I was going to use his body anyway, so figured he was a natural start point. James is a rather old man who lives alone. He’s easily well past retirement age, but retirement doesn’t sit well with him. Needs something to keep him busy, he does.
His daughter is a bigshot consultant at some firm in New York – James can’t stop talking about her; he loves her to death – and she visits for the holidays from time to time. Other than that, it’s just him and his shop. Oddly enough, he never talks about his wife. All we know is that she died a long time ago, when Saddie was just a child.
A CLOSED sign hung at the entrance to the shop – probably taking the day off after the Solstice – so I went round the back and rapped on his front door. He took his time answering the door – human old age will do that to you – but I could hear him coming so I knew he was at home.
“Ah, Ferox! What a nice surprise.” Yeah, I picked Ferox as my fake name.
“Hey James. Have a nice time last night?”
“Oh yes, it was lovely. Saddie would have loved it. I told her about it this morning and she said so herself.” “Oh please, please, come in,” he said realising we’d been standing outside the entire time.
“Oh thanks, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure she would have. I mean who wouldn’t?” I said, laughing.
“Quite right, quite right.”
James led me into his living room and asked me to take a seat. “Want something to drink?”
“I’ll never turn down coffee, if you have it. Want me to get it?”
“Oh yes, thank you. There should be enough for two glasses left over in the pot I made this morning. I like to make extra in case I’m in the mood later on.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I get that. Be right back.”
I went into the kitchen and made sure I was out of view for this next part. My eyes rolled backwards until you couldn’t see them any longer; when they came back, the browns had been replaced by sparkling purples. Of course, I couldn’t actually see my eyes with no mirror around, but I knew it had happened. It does every time I switch from human-passing to demon.
See, contrary to popular belief, demons aren’t winged humanoids with horns and our bodies aren’t drenched in red. In fact, the easiest way to spot a human-passing demon is our eyes – most of us just forget to switch that little detail. As a result, you’ve got people walking around with pink eyes, red eyes, orange eyes, purple eyes – all manner of colours, really.
But I digress – back to the transformation. After the eyes, my body folded in on itself at the same time as my pupils grew. Then, altogether, everything dissipated into a mist of my own unique tinge of purple. Used properly, the demonic mist form can wreck mass havoc. But then again, used properly, it can also just be harmless fog; that is how I manifested in James’ kitchen.
I floated out into the living room – humans can’t see the mist – and levelled with his head. I took a deep breath (or whatever you take when you’re basically air) and pushed in, entering the mindscape once again.
I emerged into complete darkness, the only light in the area coming from my own mist. I morphed back into my humanoid form – I’m probably one of the only demons to prefer it over the mist – and a light flicked on across me.
My Benz. I smiled and sauntered across to it, eager to get behind the wheel again. There’s just something about the mindscape version that doesn’t quite translate into the one I have in the real world. This one had a better hum, it purred along the road more smoothly, and, well, it just felt more alive.
I got in and the door swung shut behind me. That’s another benefit of the mindscape Benz: it does the small things on its own. I twisted the key helpfully already in place and the engine hummed to life as I hit the button to roll the roof back. I actually like the smell of burning petrol (yeah, yeah, weird, I know), so I sat there for a couple more seconds, taking it in, then spurred the Benz on and began down the road, lights flickering on as I went.
Back in the real world, James hadn’t noticed I was missing. I could spend decades in his mind if I would so please, but no time would have actually lapsed in the real world: it’s as if everything I do takes but a second.
I drove past Screening, Seeding, and a few others, and turned right to Memories. The only exit beyond me was Controls, but I’d get to that later. The road led to an enormous vintage library; and when I say enormous, I mean gargantuan. That thing is huge. And well, rightly so. This library isn’t full of books and journals – it contains the memories of whoever I’ve inhabited.
The doors swung inwards on their own as I approached, and the lights blinked on instantly. Demon eyes don’t need time to adjust to lighting changes, so I continued forward unfazed. To the right of the entrance, there was a staircase leading up and another one right beside it leading down. The library ground floor contained neutral memories – neither happy nor sad. The upper level has happy memories and the lower level has sad ones. Most humans’ ground floors are the largest. By contrast, whales’, for example, upper floors are the largest. I don’t get why humans are always so unhappy. But hey, who am I to complain? It’s good business for me.
Anyway, what I was looking for wasn’t on any of these floors. And none of these staircases were going to help me. I crossed over the entire expanse of ground floor memories and opened a window on the other side. I climbed out into a garden almost as huge as the library itself and crossed it too. Juxtaposed with the library, the garden was startlingly plain. There were no flowers or trees, not even a squirrel skirting about. As you went further and further away from the library, the grass began to get more unruly. Weeds would start cropping up, maggots would cover the landscape, that sort of thing. But then that too stopped. Everything stopped.
At the very end of the garden, there was nothing but ash, everything enveloped in black carbon. It was here that I found what I sought. A small shed, painted an ugly shade of yellow, squatted at this end of the garden. Its door did not swing open for me and the lights didn’t turn on automatically. The door creaked and moaned after laying abandoned for all its life. The lights slowly heated up, emitting a low hum as they gradually came to life for the first time.
The library has a screening room where you can take a memory and view it on a cinema-level screen and surround sound system. I could have even heard James’ thoughts – they’d sort of echo all around me, all the speakers firing off simultaneously. Thank Satan I could use technology in here.
This shed had an old VCR and a cassette to go along with it. Yeah, that’s one thing I don’t miss from back in the day. There was no surround sound from what I could make out either. At least there was still a comfy armchair.
I slid the cassette in and settled into the chair, waving my arm to summon a notebook and pen to take notes for the retelling you’re reading right now and some nachos because, well, I like nachos.
Before I begin with the memory, let me explain how this works. I’ve already told you how to view a memory and how thoughts are heard, but there’s one important thing that I haven’t yet discussed – emotions. Perhaps the most uncomfortable part of the entire experience is understanding the emotions that are running through the memory. See, whoever designed this place didn’t want to leave anything ambiguous, so you share every one of the memory holder’s emotions. If you pick a happy memory, that’s great. Unfortunately for me though, these were Solstice memories, so I got ready for a world of pain.
Oh, and yes, I said whoever designed the place. It’s a well-known secret that the big guy didn’t actually make everything. Or even much. He just made one island in the middle of the sea – think they call it Singapore today – and outsourced the rest while he sipped fermented coconut water. Guess that’s another thing he created – alcohol. Go figure.
The last thing you need to know is that people’s names and their relation to the memory holder, while not explicitly stated, are somehow always known. Some kind of intrinsic knowledge system.
And that’s it! You’re all caught up. On to the memory.
The words ANNA, VERSION ONE flashed across the screen and I titled the page of my notebook. I’m assuming James has a memory called ANNA or ANNA, VERSION TWO, or something along those lines, but I didn’t bother investigating. It would just be a boring replacement memory anyway. Following that, the date February 16th, 1967 quickly flashed, and then made way for the memory to begin.
Four men faded into view. One of them I recognised as a younger James. They seemed to be in a meeting room of some sort, but the blinds were pulled down and as far as I could tell, the door was locked too. Jerry Cramer, a large man with a bright red moustache, was addressing them.
“Okay men, we have a problem,” he began. “The Swiss are backing out of the deal. Staying neutral as ever, those tricky bastards.”
“Of course they are,” Phil Digby chimed in. He was your run of the mill guy-in-a-suit and somehow managed to look annoying.
“God, what a kiss ass,” I heard James think. “Oh man, I so want to tell him he’s only here as a fall guy in case everything goes belly up.” I chuckled at the remark. Genius.
“Goes against who they are or some other crap probably,” Luke Kendrick barked through a cigarette. “Knew it was risky to go into business with them.”
“You’re not fooling anyone with that gangster façade. Still, at least you do your job,” thought James.
“Be that as it may,” Cramer said, regaining control of the room. “We’ve got to get this sorted out. James, I need you on the next flight to Switzerland. Talk to Meyer, get this sorted.”
“Fuck, you got me flying again?” James protested. “Kendrick. Kendrick will go, he’ll get it done. He knows the deal basically as well as I do. I am not getting on a plane again. I went when we started this thing. My flying is done.”
“Said it yourself, James – you started it. We need you to finish it. Basically as well isn’t the same as as well. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Just get there.”
“Fuck me, James sighed. “I’m flying first class and not paying for anything. The company’s paying for the entire trip.”
“Done,” Cramer said looking satisfied with himself.
A washout transition later, the screen slowly focused to a bedroom this time. James was angrily talking to his wife, Anna.
“Can’t believe I’ve got to go back. Damn Swiss need to learn how to finally pick a side.”
“Hey, hey, it won’t be that bad. Just get on the plane and try to go to sleep. You can’t be scared if you’re not awake,” Anna suggested.
“I don’t know.”
“Look, it’s not as if you’ve got much of a choice anyway. Best to just get it done and over with.”
James snorted but ultimately resigned to his fate.
“Good man. Call me when you land. And hey, remember to pack socks – you always forget to take them and end up with one pair for the entire trip.”
“Oh, good one. Thanks honey,” James said, breaking away from selecting a shirt to reach for his sock drawer.
“Oh, and take a few cigars from the bar – the good ones – for your meeting. You don’t want to show up to one of these things empty handed. They’ll chew you up and send you packing.”
James nodded, not stopping to question his wife’s advice for even a moment. I heard him trying to mentally reason out how Anna, someone without any sort of experience in the area other than his own retellings of his meetings, could give him advice that was always spot on. She was also a lot more confident and open than most women. She spoke her mind and she spoke frankly and didn’t give a damn about who knew.
“That’s why I love her,” James reminded himself, smiling silently.
He made a mental note to grab the cigars on his way out and headed into the bathroom to pack his toothbrush. I didn’t know why he wanted to pack a toothbrush, but hey, everyone has their eccentricities. He took it out of the cabinet and placed it in a small pouch, then cleared the rest of the cabinet out and took a step back. James took a deep breath, then quietly locked the door before turning back to face the cabinet once again, my heart pounding lightly in anticipation of what I was about to see.
Another deep breath later, he reached forward and carefully scaled the back of the cabinet, slowly covering every inch. A short moment later, he clicked his tongue in satisfaction and pulled down on a loose part of the back revealing a small compartment.
A passing thought of Anna and worry echoed quietly behind me. The kind of thought that you have when you’re talking to yourself but you’re not quite motivated enough to actually finish the thought. Nevertheless, I understood what he meant when I saw what he was hiding. Anna can never know. She would only worry.
James wiped the unconscious sweat starting to form on his temple, then reached for the 9mm. He checked to make sure the safety was on and that it wasn’t loaded, then placed it at the bottom of the pouch along with its clip. He replaced the false back and quickly restocked the cabinet, then sat down on the toilet seat.
James thought about why he took it with him every time he flew. Maybe it was because he wanted to go out on his own terms. If the plane was going down, he was damned if he was going to let the fire get him – he’d shoot himself and that would be the end of it. But then again, Anna always liked to point out that things are often more complicated than they seem; maybe there was some other reason he took it with him. Either way, the 9mm was James’ constant companion throughout his aerial adventures.
The screen cut to black and came up on a tarmac. James was dragging his suitcase behind him as he walked to the plane. I could hear the million alarms going off inside his head, but on the outside, he was doing a damn good job of giving off a don’t-fuck-with-me look.
He gingerly ascended the steps to the plane, pausing at the top and leaned against the frame, taking deep breathes to calm himself down.
An old man in line behind him tapped him on the shoulder, “Scared of flying?”
“Yep.”
“Me too. But my daughter’s getting married, so,” the man replied with a shrug.
“Congratulations,” came James’ warbled reply.
“Don’t worry, take your time. I get it.”
James gave the old man a smile from over his shoulder by way of reply. He took a few more deep breathes to steady himself, then entered the plane. He clambered over to his seat, helpfully in the front, and began furiously strapping himself in, tightening the seat belt as far as it would go. He clung nervously to both armrests, staring out of the window at the men loading the luggage into the cargo hold below.
He wondered what would happen to the poor soul who accidentally wound up stranded in the hold, perhaps adjusting a bag at the back or correcting the fastening on one he noticed on his way out, the others oblivious to his absence. The hold door would shut and he would scream and shout, trying to alert the others to the situation, but no one would hear him over the roar of the plane engines. Then the plane would take off and he would hold on to some strap, some bag, something, for a while, but his arms would eventually grow tired and he would succumb to his fate. He would be tossed around from side to side, smashing into the cargo as he went. When the plane finally lands, they’d find him dead in a pool of his own blood, his body and bones shattered beyond hope of creating even a semblance of the man before.
James shook his head clear; he mustn't think of such things. Especially when there was so much else that could much more easily go wrong. The plane could lose connection with ground control, their frequency could be hijacked, turbulence might toss them abou-
“No!” he cut himself off once more. I was glad he did because it was starting to get very uncomfortable for me in that chair. Discomfort or fright I could handle, but “afraid” didn’t even begin to describe James’ phobia of flying. My respect for the old man instantly doubled.
James decided to turn his attention to the other passengers and began making short mental notes on each of them. Naturally, first class was mostly solitary Swiss and Britons, most likely travelling for work. James could make out a banker by the way he was reading the business section of the newspaper and a lawyer who was working on the contents of a manilla file labelled HARVEY SAWYER VS KURT WAGNER. Other than that, it was anyone’s guess. There was one couple, but thankfully no child. James absolutely detested crying infants, and more so on planes. Their accents sounded like they were Polish, immigrants, probably. Oh, Poland – a tragedy if there ever was one. Bet no one saw that coming.
James caught himself drifting to death once again and decided there was nothing more he could do. He drained the small plastic bottle from the seat pocket in front of him and pulled his nightcap down. If things were going to go wrong, he'd rather he goes in his sleep, instead of having to face the danger head-on. With that in mind, he popped another one of Anna’s sleeping pills in, hoping he wouldn't hit the OD limit, and swallowed it dry.
I’d never stuck around to watch someone go to sleep, so this was an interesting first for me. The scene made way for TV static and I could vaguely discern clippings of sounds and voices drifting in and out of focus all around me.
Ten minutes later it didn’t seem like James was feeling any sleepier, for the screen gradually blinked back into focus. He reached for the Daily Mirror dutifully placed in front of him and glanced fleetingly at the date as if to confirm that he really was having to suffer through this nightmare.
“Yep, still real,” he sighed, flicking it open to read the front page.
Bad move.
The top story read "Eight Hours to Live" and was about the United States ice-skating team. Their plane crashed and exploded, killing all seventy-two passengers and crew. An uncomfortable sensation passed through me as James’ stomach tightened at the same time as the rest of his muscles loosened, almost as if his entire body was giving up in one fell swoop.
“They were just kids, none of them more than twenty years old,” he thought with a mixture of anger and fright. “Their entire lives ahead of them. But they had been snatched up by the brethren of the very thing I have entrusted my life to.”
When the sensation finally past and James’ body reverted back to normal, he got up to go to the bathroom, thinking a cold splash of water would help him. He picked out a small kit from his bag in the overhead compartment and made his way down the aisle.
He walked slowly, each step taken deliberately after due forethought. He was quivering with fright with half his body poised to jump right back into his seat at a moment’s notice the entire time.
James stood by the sink and gripped the edges with both hands, staring directly at his reflection. His eyes, while usually brown, were now a disorienting shade of red. The shock sent him back a few stumbled paces, knocking him into the toilet. He steadied himself with an outreached arm, leaning on the counter, once again staring at the red-eyed lookalike in front of him. I could see the veins popping out of his forehead, crossing over and under each other, pulsating dangerously hard, feeling like they were about to rip themselves out of his body. He shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold and wrapped his arms around his body tightly, trying to drown out the noise of the cabin and focus on his own breathing.
He doused his face with water and looked up again. His face seemed back to normal. No more red eyes. He took slow, deep breaths as he stood in the small, closet-like cabin in a contraption held together by nuts and bolts at a lethally scary height, desperately trying to forget the fact.
He opened his kit and pushed the toothbrush to the side, his hand curling around the 9mm. He sat on the toilet and stared at its pure black body gleaming in the drowsy yellow light of the cubicle.
“It would be so easy to just pull down on the little piece of metal and end this misery. I’d never have to fly again, never have to endure this twisted form of torture again,” he thought.
A faint mention of “family” faded away somewhere around me and James quickly shook his head clear and put the 9mm back.
The moment James returned to his seat, the seat belt sign lit up, and the captain's voice came crackling through the PA system, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We seem to be experiencing some mild turbulence. Nothing to be afraid of, but I'm going to have to ask you all to return to your seats and strap in, nevertheless.” Then, after a beep, “Cabin crew, please take your positions."
"Nothing to be afraid of..." James muttered under his breath. “I’ll decide that for myself, thank you very much.” He decided there was indeed something to be afraid of and tightened the seat belt until it was pressing into his stomach, set his seat upright, and pulled up the window shade all the way. His head lolled to the side, giving me a view of the sky; all sound was suddenly drawn out, replaced with a low incessant hum. Not too far flung from the kind I heard during the Effect, actually. His thoughts were now scattered all over the place and James did nothing to stop it, a brief mention of freedom crossing his mind.
For someone who carried himself with the seriousness that he did, James’ idle thoughts were quite amusing. He pictured purple bunnies and goo-green squirrels and boulder-sized lemons. He thought of birds relieving themselves on the kids who were mean to Saddie at the park and pondered the implications of deleting the number five from existence.
He was in the middle of wondering what would happen if a werewolf lived on the moon –super wolf or cruel experiment? – when the flash from a jolt of lightning snapped us both back to the present. He jerked his head towards the window and froze almost instantly. There was a man hanging onto the wing, clinging for his life. He swayed up and down and side to side, slamming into the wing over and over again. The man feverishly clawed his way forward, as if he saw the tiny window as some form of solace. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly but I couldn’t make out anything he was saying. Confusion layered the fright in James’ mind, telling me he couldn’t either.
James frantically called the air hostess over.
"Man...wing...lightning...window."
He had trouble forming full sentences, producing only fragments accompanied by frenzied arm movements. When the air hostess finally came to his side, the only thing there was to see outside the window were a few clouds, lazily drifting along the night sky. She looked at him with a mixture of concern and confusion and asked if James wanted anything.
"A gin and tonic,” he decided. “Four parts tonic."
Claudia brought it over promptly; James sipped it contently, calming down a smidge and finally allowing me to do the same. I uncurled a little in the shed’s armchair, but my respite was short lived. Lightning flashed outside again, and the figure had re-appeared. Only this time it wasn't the same person. He took a closer look at the figure in peril and paled when he realised who he was.
"Anna..." he breathed.
“No. No, it couldn’t be,” he fought. “Not my Anna.”
James inched closer to the window, hoping, praying, pleading it wasn't her. Oh, but it was.
“No, no it isn’t. It can’t be. She’s at home. At home with Saddie. She’s not here,” he reasoned. “It’s all just a figment of my imagination. Anna’s safe. Anna’s at home. I won’t call for help again. I won’t.”
James watched helplessly as Anna was tossed around like the man before her; he watched with desperation as she too tried to make her way forward. But the winds were not as merciful as last time; they did not allow her to make her way to the window as her predecessor had. The winds picked her up, bashed her against the body of the plane, and sent her downwards, barrelling towards the ground to grant her a fate much like the lost cargo man’s.
Desperately, James called for the air hostess again but didn't even try to offer an explanation this time. He just sat there, curled up in his seat, clinging to his sides. Claudia answered the call again and draped a blanket over him and brought him a warm cup of tea saying "It'll help with the nerves".
Needless to say, it didn't, but James fell asleep soon after that, his body finally buckling under the stress it had been handling.
Just under an hour later, Claudia gently woke James up from his pool of sweat and told him they were preparing for landing. He had made it, but felt like some part of him had died up there anyway.
James checked in at the reception and asked for his bag to be sent up to his room. He told the receptionist he was expecting someone by the name of Leon Meyer and to send him to the rooftop restaurant when he came, then headed there himself. On the way up he thought about these meetings-that-weren’t-really-meetings. He had been to loads of them, but never failed to enjoy one. He never really had a taste for boring board room meetings with drab presentations and subpar food. As soon as James hit the big leagues, he went exclusively to these ones at lavish restaurants with expensive champaign and caviar and clever segues into business deals.
“No clever segues this time,” he corrected himself. This meeting was purely about getting the Swiss back on board as soon as they could.
The lift dinged and opened right onto the restaurant, greeting James with the overwhelming scents of sausages, meatballs, pastas, and beers, which pleasantly made their way to my own nose too. It was a purposely small place, designed to look and feel ultra-exclusive, only five tables across. James was shown to the one he had reserved from back home, then began taking in his surroundings, repeating his exercise of making mental notes of who he was sharing a room with.
He decided to start at the far end of the restaurant and work his way towards himself, then beyond. At the very end, overlooking the city below, sat a man that looked like he belonged in a Roald Dahl book. A rather heavyset man, he was stirring a cup of tea with his left hand and riffling through a paper set on the table with the other. He boasted a thick moustache and gave his left hand the occasional break to twirl its end. James watched him for about five minutes but didn't once see him take a sip of the tea.
At the table next to him, sat a man of quite the opposite build. He was tall and wiry, as if the wind may carry him away at a moment's notice. He had a large pitcher next to him, but regarded it with a certain air of suspicion, as if he didn't trust the waiter that brought it to him. Instead, he focused his attention on the fish in front of him. James scowled at the appalling pairing.
The next table was him. He had arrived a bit earlier than their meeting time, but Meyer was now ten minutes late and he didn't particularly like his lack of professionalism. He noted this with some bitterness, then continued with his observations.
Next to him sat a couple on their honeymoon by the looks of it. I guessed either rich parents or incredible luck, or perhaps some combination of the two. James was personally a bit more cynical and veered towards the former. They ate out of each other’s plates and settled in an eternal embrace that they didn't seem to be coming out of any time soon.
Finally, with a view of the other end of the city, sat two men thoroughly engrossed in their conversation. They spoke in hushed tones and had barely touched the food in front of them; by the looks of it, weren't planning on at all.
James had just made this last observation when Leon Meyer finally walked in. Dressed in a crisp blue suit, he walked quickly, maintaining his air of bravado nonetheless. James saw him and waved him over.
"Sorry I'm late, James. There was a mess at the office I had to deal with."
James mentally rolled his eyes and called upon the ancient art of fake politesse. "No problem, Leon." Then, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, "Gave these a little more time to mature," he said, placing a wooden cigar box engraved with his initials on the table.
Meyer gave James a look of appreciation and eagerly took one, chopping the end off with the cutter also from the box, and produced a lighter from his pocket for the two of them.
"Look, Leon," James began. "I respect you and your company enough to skip the usual formalities and just get right to it. What's the problem with the deal? We drafted it after weeks of meetings and made it beneficial to both companies. Yours actually stands to benefit more than ours." Most of what he said wasn't true, but James saw no harm in slipping the little details in. Anything to tip the scales.
"James, I like you. I do. But the boss changed his mind. Here," he said, opening his briefcase and pulling out a file. "We've drafted another deal." He pushed the folder across the table.
James took it and pulled a pen out from his coat, ready to amend the document. They went back and forth for a while, each cancelling out the other's changes until they reached a mutually agreeable middle ground.
I suppose the technical term for what conspired would be “price fixing”, but James presented it as simply allowing British products complete freedom in the British market. They celebrated their new agreement with expensive champaign and admittedly fantastic lobster.
“Thank God the company's paying for everything,” James thought.
The deal had been in the works for a few months now and James hadn't been sleeping all too well. It was all below the board so no one could know anything about their operations - he hadn't even told Anna; she just knew they were working on something big and that he couldn't talk about it. It didn't help that the stakes were as high as they were. If this deal had gone sideways, they could have lost the entire English market. Oh, and there was the small matter of going to jail if they were ever found out. But that night, with the deal finally closed, James slept soundly and without worry. Even the looming threat of yet another flight didn't dare disturb the serenity of his blissful unconsciousness.
In the morning, James checked out before breakfast, thinking he'll grab something to eat at the airport lounge. He had one leg in the taxi when something occurred to him and he doubled back to the reception.
"Hi, sorry. Do you have anything that could knock me unconscious?" he asked, not wanting to suffer through hell again. "Sleeping pill of some sort? Not too keen on flying, see."
The hotelier gave him the kind of smile that only hoteliers can, the kind they give you when you’ve asked for something they can’t do. It’s always the exact same smile too – it’s like they take a class or something. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. We’re not allowed to procure drugs without a prescription.”
“Oh right, of course,” James said, unfazed, expecting that response. “Let me just get that out for you.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a fifty, then slid it discreetly across.
The hotelier stared at him for a moment, then looked now. “Ah yes, thank you, sir. This will do. Please take a seat and I’ll be with you soon.”
James nodded and went to the sitting area in the hotel’s landing. The hotelier tapped his shoulder a few moments later and handed him a small box. "This should do the trick within about five minutes or so, sir."
James took it and thanked her. He didn't bother asking what it was. He didn't really care as long as it would do the trick.
​
Part 1 | Part 2.2

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It thoroughly can be stated that in Southeast Asia, Singapore is an uncommon kingdom that lets in players to utilize real cash to wager gambling golf equipment. People right here in addition to travelers can uninhibitedly step into the membership, play, and produce in cash from various kinds of wagering. There are moreover a wide range of varieties of gambling golf equipment, from full-size to little, from social event spots to castles, or inns with gambling golf equipment. Unused there, Singapore is a created kingdom, so it even goes up even in media stores. Players can determine to visit a niche that may be a conventional playing membership, and can likewise get their phone and sign in to enroll in an online gambling club. Common club are tremendous in fashion, online gambling golf equipment are modern-day and incredibly nice.
Regardless of what form of betting business it is, each paintings impeccably. Players in reality need to set up their stakes, make their very own record and begin the easy game. The greater on hand and nimble a participant is, the higher opportunity of winning the guess. Besides, there are various other wagering alternatives. It's something however tough to usher in cash at Singapore gambling golf equipment. check out link
Numerous superb on line bookmakers in Singapore, yet there are additionally phishing channels. Players need to be careful in discovering strong and exquisite bookmakers. There are numerous elements that parent out what a respectable dealer is, extending from licenses, duties, video games, security, terms, duties, rewards, ...
When a player utilizes any vendor administration, that player will cherish the kingdom for the exquisite matters Singapore gives them.
Why play club with real coins in Singapore
Try now not to pass up on any possibility to visit a club in Singapore, as it may not disillusion gamers. Online playing clubs are an answer for players who don't need to move head to head. What's more, those players need a reducing facet club like an regular gambling membership, they are able to likewise join each time anywhere. More than that, players want a club that allows players to consume coins in Singapore and play as a lot as they want.
Great possibilities:
The successful fee at a web membership is always higher than that of a customary playing club. For example, players taking an interest at Bet88sg have nine: 1 chances. That is, at the off hazard that a participant takes part in 10 preparations of wagers, at that factor at any price one in shape will dominate. Each participant needs themselves to win so there's no explanation they deny a first rate placed right down to guess and get an possibility of triumphing.
Gambling club percentage is good sized as it famous the membership's established order via the participant enjoy. While membership are a type of enterprise and enterprise ought to be beneficial, there is at any charge an enthusiasm for the players. These online playing clubs permit gamers to win reasonable. Nine: 1 possibilities have become the same old in the wagering business and help players with coming across bookmakers with extra stable possibilities than exclusive bookmakers.
Numerous video games:
A big range of wagering games are trusting that players will be a part of. The games here are deliberately chosen, planned and delivered by the administrators. Significantly, these games offer an full-size prize pool for the those who win. Gadgets, as an example, sound, pics or designs don't must stress in mild of the fact that right here the entirety is ensured to the customer.
Players can uninhibitedly pick the games they like. Deciding for yourself a dependable club game and taking component in web primarily based wagering in my opinion is every other method to encounter the sport greater.
Get genuine cash:
The maximum desirable aspect at the club is that gamers can get actual cash rewards. Despite the game, no matter whether it is games wagering or a playing gadget, within the occasion that you win, you can get proper cash. Honestly, gamers can pull returned the praise add as much as their own bank at that point money it and use it as indicated with the aid of their playing.
Motivations to wager for actual cash at Bet88sg:
Among the innumerable on the web and disconnected playing clubs in Singapore, if gamers are confounded and don't know which membership to visit, don't pressure excessively. Bet88sg is one of the maximum lofty gambling golf equipment in Singapore, it would be reality to come back and enjoy this playing membership as soon as.
There is a complete scope of wagering games for players to browse sports activities wagering to live playing membership, along with horse hustling or gaming machines. There is a huge determination of games that players can appreciate right here. Portable form was conceived, gamers just want to possess a telephone or pill with net affiliation with bet at Bet88sg wherever.
Something that any player thinks about is the installment method. Bet88sg is related to maximum neighborhood banks. Start the sport, players really want to top up by means of their file, subsequent to prevailing, truely give records to check that the participant can pull back coins and the change time is amazingly quick. . Besides, the participant would not pay any extra prices for the above exchanges, just for not anything.
What a participant will do if there is an difficulty or problem in the sport. Try now not to pressure an extra of considering the client care organization as of now exists at Bet88sg. Players must right away signal into the primary web page of Bet88sg and pick out the letter box to contact management workforce. Our institution is expertly organized, operating every minute of each day, always prepared to assist gamers every time. Try not to strain excessively and feature some top times!
To wrap matters up is Bet88sg online club for all players. Regardless of whether they may be a amateur or an ace. Regardless of whether that is a protracted-term membership or a set up kowis, the whole lot invites players. Additionally, the club works legitimately, has a allow to enlist and has explicit terms for the two players and providers.
End:
There are lots of highlights for gamers not to overlook a web club in Singapore. Online gambling clubs here are regarded as acclaimed gambling clubs drawing in gamers around the globe. The administrations here are altogether incredible permitting players to have many fascinating encounters. While now not the main gambling club to have an established order in the net primarily based wagering enterprise, Bet88sg just as exceptional membership in Singapore are constantly endeavoring to expand to an ever increasing quantity.

I’m this guy https://m.imgur.com/a/ziss17e from progresspics. You can’t make text posts there, so I came here.
This is my original post.
People were awesome and wanted to know in detail what I did to lose all the weight. So here, in way too many words, is what I did. I hope you can find something to help you with your goals.
A year ago, things were bad. I was in an unhealthy relationship with my ex and more importantly, a toxic relationship with myself.
I knew I needed a change from everything. So what did I do?
I moved to Vietnam.
The first couple months there were rough. I was still trying to clear a lot of mental clutter. It also didn’t help that I got into a motorbike accident and shattered my kneecap. It seemed my big weight loss goals would once again be put on hold. I’m sure you know how that is. You’re eating healthy leading up to your vacation so you can eat all the bad food you want when you’re there. And then when you come back home you’re still eating all the bad food. Or you’re trying to lose weight and then something happens like an injury and you wonder why you’re even trying in the first place.
So I decided to take a look at that. Why was I trying to lose weight? Three other times I had lost over 100 pounds, only to gain it all back every time. Maybe I WAS the overweight guy. Was it time to embrace that?
(Yes — I’ve gained and lost over 100 pounds four times in the last ten years. This post only details the 112 pounds I lost in the last ten months, hopefully the last time I’ll do that to myself.)
Since Vietnam had all the snacks and delicious food, it was sure looking like I was embracing being the overweight guy. And in a very accepting country like Vietnam, I didn’t feel bad about that. People liked me. Yes, I know it was mostly because I’m a white American male, but it made me feel good. It gave me the smallest boost of confidence, which was entirely depleted at that time. I only highlight this because you never know the impact of your kindness on strangers.
So after I started realizing, “Hey, you know what? I’m not that bad!” and after I had tried every new snack at least once, the only thing left to do was eat healthy.
Or at least healthier. Which for such an overweight guy wasn’t that hard. In Los Angeles, part of my weight gain could be entirely contributed to eating a gallon of cookie dough ice cream EVERY night. In Vietnam, ice cream like that is super expensive. So when I’d want ice cream in Vietnam I’d have to go get a chocolate-dipped cone from KFC. Also delicious, but MUCH smaller and WAY LESS calories than a whole gallon of ice cream. Even when I’d go to KFC three times a day for these treats, I was still consuming less calories that I was in LA.
And when that happens — even small changes like that — you WILL lose weight. I did.
At first, what worked for me was the thought of just eating like a regular person.
Who was a regular person to me? Just a typical 200 pound dude. (I’m not trying to fat-shame or debate what it means to be a “regular” person. But I was clearly eating for three or four people, not one.)
Egg baguettes (banh mi trung op las) and tuna sandwiches with extra mayo and white bread and no tuna don’t seem like the healthiest food. But they were “real” food and they were a start. Because I was so heavy, you’re damn right I started losing weight like that.
For at least the first three months, my diet was relatively the same every day. Although, I’d experiment and try new Vietnamese food any chance I got. But even then, I don’t think anything was loaded with calories like it would be here in the US. Also, it’s what I considered “real” food. Not junk food like ice cream or chocolate. So at the end of the day even if I was making a choice between real food and junk food, I was winning. And I’d still be losing weight.
So right of the bat I lost a significant amount of weight without even managing my diet. I just started easy, eating a little better than I had before.
Somewhere along the way I got into nature’s energy bar, bananas. I’d pop a few of these a day when I wanted a snack. They even lost me my phone.
Saigon had a great banana shortage during their new year holiday called Tet and on my journey to find just one single banana somewhere in the city and going to well over fifty stores, I got my phone snatched by motorbike thieves.
I still love you bananas.
Then one day I heard white rice is good for you on a podcast. So I switched from bread to white rice and would have Tuna Onigiris. And I stopped eating egg baguettes, cutting out bready carbs. I just felt like my body didn’t need those anymore.
I still allowed myself to try whatever I wanted. But without realizing it, I was slowly changing my relationship with food entirely.
I also realized that I was, in fact, emotionally eating.
I’d known that I’d eat when I was happy (I deserve this snack!) or sad (this donut will make me feel better) — but I had an epiphany:
Boredom is an emotion.
How many times are you eating just because you’re bored? Before making the connection that boredom was an emotion, I didn’t think I was an emotional eater. But wow. Most every time I’m eating is connected to an emotion, and not because my body actually needed food.
So anytime I felt the urge to eat something, I questioned myself. Why do I want to eat right now?
Was it because I was actually hungry and my body needed fuel? Or was it because I was bored? Or sad? Or happy?
And if it was emotionally based, I wouldn’t let myself eat. I’d start chugging a soda water instead. The bubbles give me life. I would pretty much only drink soda water and Vietnamese iced coffees, with extra condensed milk.
But as you’re beginning to see, a lot of my gains came from inside my own mind.
What were my workouts like?
I started with walks and podcasts. Exercising while feeding my mind, not my stomach.
When the weight melted off I automatically felt strong and FELT like I wanted to lift some weights. It wasn’t a thing that I was being forced to do. It was something that naturally became something my body wanted to do.
Even for lifting at the gym, I tried to be as easy as possible. 5x5. Strong guy. Whatever that’s called. That was pretty easy to do, so I’d feel good about doing it. And then since I was already at the gym, I’d be more likely to do more. But usually my routine consisted of only thirty minute workouts.
Then around 215 I started playing basketball again. Which was something.
Here’s another wrinkle in my story —
I was coming off tearing my plantar fascia.
And then when I moved to Vietnam I got into a motorbike accident and broke my kneecap. So me being 215 and playing basketball filled me with so much gratitude. A year earlier I could barely walk and was overweight. And now I could run up and down the court, albeit slowly. And I sucked at basketball. I could only focus on offense or defense. One at a time per game. And usually defense, because nobody wants to play defense.
But it was fun.
And that kept me going.
If a tree falls in the woods and no one’s around to hear it, does it fall? If an intense workout is fun, is it still an intense workout?
Lightly lifting weights and playing basketball, combined with eating decently dropped me to 200.
I thought I was done. I felt great. I thought I looked great.
But I just kept going living this newly acquired healthy lifestyle.
I started intermittent fasting around 200 pounds.
I listen to podcasts voraciously, so I’ve been well-aware of fasting for quite some time. It seems all the most successful people on the planet participate in some sort of fast. But it wasn’t until I befriended a French traveler in Bangkok for Songkran that I decided to really give it a try. He was the first person I met in the wild who was actually fasting. Weight loss benefits aside, I asked him how it made him FEEL. He said great and that answer convinced me to give it a try.
Fasting had also been on my mind because I thought it’d be easy for me. I never had an appetite when I woke up in the morning, so waiting four hours to eat something was not a big deal. And something I often did anyway. Hell, sometimes I wouldn’t eat all day and then after my serving shift gorge on all the food. So basically I had been an OMAD faster without realizing it. And without realizing that 5000 calories was not the proper way to eat one meal a day. It took another month to really convince myself. I was afraid of getting headaches, mostly. So I decided to take it slow. I’d eat anything I’d want, during certain 4-8 windows. I was also going to be in Singapore. Have you ever had Indian paratha and chicken curry? The most delicious meal on the planet. But since I knew I was having bread, I decided to go one meal a day as I walked around Singapore. Around 6, I would feast on two parathas and a heaping bowl of chicken curry. By the time I got back to Vietnam I was a fasting pro.
I had started playing basketball at this time two or three times a week. We’d play from 8-10 at night so I had to plan my fasts around that. Playing basketball in Vietnam is like playing on a professional NBA length court if it were also in a sauna. After those two hours, you’d probably had guessed I jumped in a pool with all my clothes on, not just finished playing pickup basketball.
(They were very organized about their basketball games. Games up to 15 by 1s and 2s, or 12 minutes per game. In those two hours, we’d play 5 games. So exactly an hour of basketball workout. Combined with the sauna aspect, I’m sure I was burning loads of calories.)
There were some nights after basketball that I’d get Vietnamese McDonalds at midnight because it was open and I knew my body needed the calories. What a switch from knowing my body definitely did NOT need calories from another midnight McDonald’s run, but doing it anyway.
When I knew I’d be getting late-night McDonalds, I’d still be fasting. I wouldn’t have eaten until 4pm that day. And if I ended eating around midnight, that means I couldn’t eat until 4 the next day. But that next day would only be a 4 hour window so the NEXT day I could be back in a 12-8 fast. (In a span of three days: 16:8 - 20:4 - 16:8.)
So the beginning of May 2019 is when I started fasting. I was hovering around 200 pounds. Plateaued. Fasting helped me pretty quickly get down to 182.
Which I thought was great.
And from there I just kept on doing it because I felt great. Fasting had truly become a lifestyle.
Now? I’m 163 pounds and more importantly — maintaining.
What do my days look like now?
I’m back in Los Angeles.
I still walk at least thirty minutes a day. I don’t even force myself to do it. I enjoy it, and I genuinely look forward to it every day as a treat. And that’s a complete mindset shift.
I play basketball and boulder three times a week. These are high intensity workouts and guess what? I never feel like I’m working out, because they’re fun.
I lift weights once or twice a week, usually after a basketball or bouldering session. And the exercises I do are geared towards become a better climber.
I write a lot. Usually my walks are to Starbucks, where I indulge in a Trenta Berry Hibiscus, followed by a Trenta Cold Brew in which I put french vanilla creamer. And yes, I carry around vanilla creamer.
I go through ten cans of soda water a day. I LOVE soda water. The bubbles are so refreshing. I used to love Coke. And Sprite when I quit that. And then I discovered I got the same satisfaction from soda water because it was always about the bubbles. The more carbonation the better. Kroger brand Lemon-Lime for the win. (And I’ve tried them all.)
My lifestyle is about getting everything I really want and cutting everything else out. To get to this point I had to be really honest with what I really wanted. And I’m still figuring that out.
I still fast. Usually I eat from 12pm to 8pm.
I eat too many ThinkThin bars. Brownie crunch, to be exact. These taste like candy bars and have a low GI, so they help cravings. Although, I’m in the process of cutting these out for real food. I like the convenience of bars. I’m trying to substitute hard boiled eggs for these bars. I eat one or two bananas a day.
And then the rest of my diet is largely based around what’s on sale at Ralph’s. I’m a big sale guy. And a big convenience guy. So I often find snack packs of cheese, fruit, and nuts 50% off. I also find salad bags or sautéed veggie bags for 75% off. I get a lot of those and then add in some sort of meat, like tuna, chicken, or salmon depending on — you guessed it! — what’s on sale.
I don’t eat many processed carbs at all right now. But if I was given some bread I’d eat it. I just don’t crave it anymore.
More importantly, I promise you I eat whatever I want. But since my relationship with food has changed, so has my appetite and cravings. I got hummus the other week because it was on sale. But then I needed something to dip in the hummus. I was thinking I should go with a veggie because I love veggies now, and green beans happened to be on sale. So, for the next week my snack was dipping raw green beans in hummus and it was delicious. I’d actually crave it. Also, when your body is using food properly as fuel, a little bit of food goes a long way. I’ve never been into nuts, but now I love almonds and even a few of those give me such energy. It’s amazing.
I had free Pizza Hut last week because the Chargers made an interception. And you better believe I tried the new Cheese-It thing. But I also shared and didn’t eat the whole thing. I try to have an abundance mentality now. I don’t need to eat all of something right now. It’s not now or never. If I want more, I can always get it again.
This is what I ate for lunch today:
https://m.imgur.com/gallery/51CGUPo
Told you I eat what’s on sale haha.
Key takeaways and general thoughts:
80-20 principle.
Apply this to your life to figure out what you really want. And then to figure out what is holding you back. If you’re like me — and I bet a lot of you are — it’s our weight that holds us down. Literally. So if we dedicate complete focus to that and make it a priority, EVERYTHING else in our lives will get better. Our weight produces the most pain to our relationships with ourselves and others. I want to be a successful screenwriter. I think I’m a very good writer because I know I work at it and I write movies I’d love to see in theaters. But people wouldn’t know because I don’t put my work out there. I don’t put myself out there because I was ashamed of my weight.
Perfectionism.
Things are never going to be perfect. How many times have you said you were going to start dieting today and have the perfect plan in your head but one little thing goes off and then you tell yourself you’ll start tomorrow?
Me. Too.
But you know what? That doesn’t help. All your ducks don’t have to be in a row. Just start. And I GUARANTEE one day you’ll end up looking back and realizing holy quackamole, all my ducks are in a row!
Podcasts and walks!
Two of my favorite things right now. Walks are scientifically proven to do all sorts of things for your mind and depression. And podcasts help you learn and grow and just generally a good voice to have in your head, instead of the one you currently have that keeps you eating when you’re bored or happy or sad.
Patience is key.
Time is going to pass anyways. If you’re so lucky, you’ll be alive in six months anyway. Would you rather be right where you are or somewhere new, wether physically or mentally?
Somewhere along the way I learned to stop discouraging myself. I realized it was no longer helpful. For instance, when I returned from Vietnam I went back home to Boston. I made a list in my Notes app of everything I couldn’t wait to eat. And I was ok with it. I accepted it. So I ate it all. But I kept fasting while doing it. And when I got something like a pizza, instead of eating the whole thing like I wanted to, I shared it. Still tasted just as good and half a pizza makes you feel just as full as a whole pizza, without the added calories and sickness that accompanies it. By the time I got to Maine I was eating Whoopie Pies. Even those, I’d have half and share the rest with my sister. I genuinely just wanted to savor them. By practicing such a healthy lifestyle for so many months I had finally got rid of that pesky pest Gluttony. And it felt good.
Did I gain some weight? Of course I did. About ten pounds.
More importantly did it set me back? No. I got right back on the horse. And it felt great. Traditionally, this is where I messed up. Vacations were always about food. What delicious things could I overeat? Even if I had lost significant amounts of weight before a vacation, the act of eating such bad food on my trip would send the seesaw back the other way and when I got back from vacation I’d keep up my vacation eating habits. There was no balance. I was all in, whether it was eating well or eating poorly.
This time was different. I accepted that I chose to eat a bit poorly during my trip. And with that acceptance I knew I could get right back on the saddle.
And how did I know this?
Because I faced my fears. Which fear? The scale.
Before, anytime something like this would happen I’d never actually weight myself to see the damage. What I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me. This time, I wanted to know.
I gained ten pounds.
Wow. Not bad over three weeks. Could’ve been way worse.
But I also knew that wasn’t the direction I wanted to be heading, so immediately started eating right again. And since then and without much thought, I lost everything I had gained including an additional seven pounds.
I realized that before I was sabotaging myself, so now it’s something I am mindful of. Is this really something I want, or is this an act of self-sabotage?
And even now, I still sabotage myself. Remember my love of soda waters? I drink them right before bed. So instead of falling asleep peacefully, my bladder keeps me awake the next two hours. As someone who’s struggled with insomnia, that’s a bit of self-sabotage. But I don’t beat myself up about it, and that helps. All things considered, I’m doing pretty well.
I’m most proud of going back home for three weeks — and eating all my hometown food that I’ve craved for years — and not letting that pull me back the other way. Traditionally, vacations have been the death of my diets. I’m always good about losing twenty to forty pounds before a vacation. But then starting on vacation I gain 40-60 pounds. One step forward, two steps back.
But deal with one problem at a time. The biggest problem. Which was and still is my weight.
Make things easy for yourself to get started. If you want to be a 200 pound individual, eat like a 200 pound individual. It’s simple math. Calories in, calories out. I kept that in my head. If I eat like a 200 pound man, I will eventually BE a 200 pound man. I didn’t put a time limit on it. I just started being.
Get rid of distractions/Keep stuff out of your house.
I never made food in Vietnam because it was so cheap to eat out every meal. But not having snacks and food in my apartment really helped me.
I know I can’t keep a box of cookies in the house because if I do, I’ll eat the whole box. In like twenty minutes. So it’s best to not even have it in your house.
There have been times when I’ve craved something — I’m a sucker for Keebler Rainbow Chip Cookies — and even then, had a six or so cookies and threw the rest out. I know it’s extreme, but sometimes that’s what it takes to quit.
I can’t blame it on the alcohol.
If you’ve noticed, I haven’t talked about alcohol. That’s because I don’t drink. I never have. My vices have largely been Ben and Jerry’s. I suggest teetotalism for losing weight. I live a teetotal lifestyle and I share my stories over at my blog. Feel free to check it out. I won’t link here because I don’t want to promote anything, but it’s called Teetotally Awesome. It’s relative to weight loss because over there I show how you can still have fun and live an interesting life without drinking. And if drinking is holding up your weight and you couldn’t imagine giving it up, maybe my blog can show you another way. I don’t care if people drink or not. I think everyone should do them. But, if you’re thinking quitting drinking will help your weight loss goals and need some tips how to live a teetotal lifestyle, feel free to check out my blog.
More thoughts on fasting:
I wouldn’t have fasted if it wasn’t easy for me. I never have an appetite in the morning so not eating meant nothing to me.
Fasting was a great tool, but also only part of the solution to my weightless. I also started it at such an invaluable time. Probably the perfect time. I had tried Keto before during other weight loss attempts, but it felt really restrictive and would never stick.
Also, soda water deserves a special place in the IF hall of fame.
Find exercises that work for you:
My favorite exercises? Ones that aren’t exercises. Because they’re FUN.
When I play basketball, I work up the biggest of sweats. In Vietnam, it looked like I jumped in a pool with all my clothes on. But nope — I was just playing basketball.
The thing is — I love playing basketball so while I’m playing, I don’t ever THINK about how hard it is. I just do it. I’m present.
I’ve also discovered I love walks and podcasts. But I hate running. Is it a good exercise? Sure. Is it for me? Nope. The second I start running, I start asking myself “Why the hell am I doing this?!” And then I stop after a block. And since it’s not easy, and it’s not fun, I’m not going to do it the next night.
Maybe dancing is fun for you. Or swimming. You might have to give lots of things a try.
One thing’s certain — you will like exercise the more weight you lose. When I first started losing massive amounts of weight, I didn’t do much exercise. I started as low impact as possible, listening to podcasts while taking walks.
Then when I felt like I could start playing basketball, I did. Then when my body naturally wanted to get stronger, I started lifting weights. Now, most of my strength gains come from climbing. And any weightlifting exercises I do are targeted towards muscles that will help me become a better climber.
Don’t be afraid to try different things. It’s all about finding out what works for you, and it never hurts to try.
Make your weight loss a priority.
I didn’t have to worry about anything in Vietnam. The people there are amazing and everything is so cheap. I didn’t have to worry about anything, especially money. I could just be present in doing whatever it was I was doing. And the biggest thing I wanted to do was lose weight. Even if all I did in a day was eat healthy and a bit active, I knew I was making forward progress.
If you have a significant other, explain this to them. I know it’s tough, but it has to be a priority. You have to love yourself before you can love somebody else.
You can do it.
If I could do it this last time, then so can you. I had gained back over a hundred pounds three times, and here I was tasked with having to lose over 100 pounds AGAIN.
Maybe I had been wrong about myself. I kept telling myself I was supposed to weigh less, but I never stopped to ask if maybe I was SUPPOSED to be the big guy. If this was really me. Should I just embrace myself?
Now my story is I’m a guy who feels good about himself. And wants to spread love and help others.
If I could lose over one hundred pounds four times, you bet your ass you can do it once. We’re all capable of such remarkable things and lots of times you don’t even know it until you do it.
Just do it.
I almost wrote do it for you here. But in truth, that’s not necessary.
I’m doing it for me now, which is important. But when I started losing weight I’m not sure it was for me. And that’s ok. The important thing was I started.
Maybe you want to lose weight for a boy or for a girl. Let whatever motivates you to start to get you started.
You can be anyone and be overweight.
Weight doesn’t discriminate. Doesn’t matter if you’re tall or short or smart or slow. You can feel like you’re brimming with potential but no one will ever see it because you’re ashamed of your weight. You can be anyone.
How do I feel now?
I feel like myself again.
I feel in control and autonomous again.
I feel like I can do anything. Posting so vulnerable like this makes me super uncomfortable and is one of my worst fears, but I’m doing it. Losing such massive amounts of weight is one of the hardest struggles, as I’m sure you know. And instead of discouraging myself up for gaining all that weight in the first place, I’m changing my mindset and looking at the VICTORY of losing it all. Beating yourself up isn’t helpful. Loving yourself and others is.
What now?
I’d like to keep it off, and I’d like to help people in any way I can. Like I said, there’s much more to my story. This is the 4th time I’ve lost over 100 pounds, but I’m adamant it’ll be my last. It’s time to start learning from my mistakes. And the shame and guilt with being overweight can be paralyzing and painful. I don’t want to live in crippling fear anymore. We live once and we should all live the lives we want to live. I truly believe we’re all capable of change and being extraordinary.
Good luck and good eating, everybody!

平和主義なる故に必ずしも正義人道に叶ふに非ず 軍国主義なるが故に必ずしも正義人道に反するに非ず。
Hello and Welcome to the Twenty-Second Diary of The New Order. Today we’ll be covering the ever elusive Home Islands of Japan. For this diary, I, Morriña, your humble writer and team lead of Japan, and the members of the Sphere’s development team will be covering everything from the beginning of the Sino-Japanese War, 1937, up to 1968. I hope you enjoy the vast amount of content we’re attempting to bring to Japan as one of the three main superpowers in the world by 1962.
PART I: 1937-1947
If you start taking pleasure in nonsensical masculinity and make violence a goal in and of itself, the world will finally start to hate you and will look upon you like it would wild beasts. One ought to remember that.
--Meiji, Emperor of Japan to his soldiers, 4 I 1882
It was supposed to be only a border incident, soon to be resolved. Instead it turned out to be the beginning of total war for the Empire of Japan and the start to a full scale invasion of China. The Marco Polo bridge has become an infamous symbol of the bloodiest conflict in the history of Asia since the Taiping Rebellion.
Chiang’s Republic of China was severely disadvantaged. Even with a seemingly unending pool of manpower, a lack of commitment to the war effort and political infighting doomed the young republic to a slow and excruciating death. Japan’s vastly superior armed forces, armed with modern guns, sailing on battleships, and riding on soaring planes tore through division after division, surprising foreign observers with their unparalleled dominance. The Soviet Union was busy with its own internal conflicts and crises, while Joseph Kennedy was turning his nation to the beast it had fallen to a million times before; isolationism. The Kuomintang, once a home for idealistic revolutionaries and republicans, despaired. They just kept on losing land, no matter the sacrifices they made. The boys they sent out, never to return, the cities they burned, the people they conscripted into non-existence. In the opening year of the war alone, the ROC lost the vast majority of its cities, crucial to the continuation of the conflict. Not even a second United Front between the KMT and Mao’s CPC, deemed the last possible option, could halt the Japanese onslaught.
However, Japan did not emerge unscathed. No nation may emerge unscathed from the total transformation of its spirit towards total war. Old political, social, and economic structures were entirely replaced in favor of new, more efficient ways of life. The social fabric that had defined much of Japanese life was ripped apart. In its place, the Taisei Yokusankai was built from the ground up. The tattered remains of democracy, or at least the facade that remained, were finally put to rest. A new state emerged, one built for war, one not seen anytime before. A new word would arise to define these states - totalitarian. None of it would have been this way, if all had gone to plan. Chiang was to surrender and, in his place, Wang Jingwei’s Reorganized Government of China would have been founded in occupied Nanjing. Chiang Kai-Shek refused to surrender, even as his people floundered and his nation was dying. The armed forces sputtered meekly, and shortages began to plague the nation. The war settled into a grueling slog as both sides hunkered down for the long fight. Japan sat on the cusp of victory, within reach of the great chalice. And yet, they could not reach it. Prince Konoe, the head of the Taisei Yokusankai, struggled to continue to prove himself a capable leader in these times. His cabinet came to an end after public criticism by the fierce militant nationalist Yosuke Matsuoka. Even as Konoe sought to preserve recent precious gains in China while carefully balancing relations with the spectre across the ocean, America, Matsuoka believed war was inevitable. A third cabinet was formed by Konoe, in one final attempt to oust Matsuoka of his high diplomatic posts. In the end, the pressures of criticism, demands for resignation ended Konoe. The gears of history, unknowable in their ways, brought upon the world a conflict so horrific, so awful, that the word strikes a sense of dread into so many who were born in those years. War had arrived in the Pacific.
Many of Japan’s top military brass thought that an attack on the United States would spell an end to the empire. Yet, Matsuoka relented, and when the first torpedoes blasted into and sank the USS Enterprise, the world held its breath. Even such a devastating attack could not stop the overwhelming the American advantage in industry. It seemed, for the first time, that the tides of war might finally shift into the Allies’ favour. Instead, beginning from the complete shock of victory at Pearl Harbor, the Imperial Japanese Navy moved from victory to victory, including the surprising outcome of the Battle of Midway in 1942. Japanese offensives took the Philippines, Burma, Malaya, Indonesia, Singapore and some key Pacfic islands, all in the first months of war. Yet, even after victories that no weaker nation could survive, the US retained the industrial advantage it had held for years, with the untouched contiguous mainland still distant from the hell of fire and death happening across the sea to the west. US ships churned out of harbors continuously, faster and faster, until a ship could be made in a matter of months. The Japanese could not continue to win the numbers game, and for the first time in the brutal naval war, they were on the backfoot.
In the hope of forcing Japan out of the war, the United States adopted a strategy of leapfrogging in 1943, which put Japanese forces at a massive disadvantage. With each month and year, the United States was able to steadily increase its superiority over Pacific, while Japan’s leadership adopted a strategy of defense, attempting to retain the bulk of their naval force by avoiding any pitched battles until the conditions for it would almost guarantee absolute victory. This time had finally come during the battle of Iwo Jima in 1945, when Japanese military leadership decided that this was the decisive moment they were seeking. During the next 87 days a stubborn defense by general Tadamichi Kuribayashi forced the United States to overcommit their forces, which was subsequently exploited by Combined Fleet in a brilliant maneuver. The US fleet was decimated and all American Marines division on that damned island were either destroyed or forced to surrender. While Japanese casualties were enormous and would never be replaced, the battle stopped the United States from overrunning the Pacific theatre and prevented a possible invasion of the Home Islands.
Iwo Jima proved to be the largest naval battle in history, surpassing even the Battle of Jutland. The two maritime powerhouses of the modern world slugged it out on the high seas, and the result was thousands upon thousands of dead bodies, and a cemetery of metal, miles in length, buried under the ocean that would never quite disappear. Japan would never recover, not in full, but the United States had the sheer manpower and dockyards to do it. Most within the navy looked forward to an eventual Japanese surrender, regardless of how long it took. America would survive. America always survived.
Then, the bomb hit Pearl Harbor.
A wave of atomic terror reverberated through continental America, and the United States was forced to resign itself to a humiliating defeat, the first in its history. Finally, Japan could focus on crushing its final threat, and the final bastion of liberty in the world. China.
There was one strategy left to turn to, to gain the upper hand against China. It was uncertain, and not even guaranteed to work, but it was the only one left; attrition. Japan would attempt to starve the United Front and render them unable to resist further Japanese offensives. This strategy came to fruition once again with the Battle of Kohima. The Mad General Masanobu Tsuji finally deprived Chiang and Mao of the US air units and supply that was acting as a lifeline to the United Front, the final nail in a coffin that refused to die. With any possibility of supplying China by land or air essentially gone Joseph Stilwell made the decision to pull out of the region and stop supplying the Chinese. Famines across the remaining free Chinese territory and a lack of arms meant that there was little resistance put up against the Ichi Go Offensive of 1944. Despite China fighting with one foot in the grave of their proud nation, their fanatical defenses declared in the name of preserving China racked up further unsustainable casualty counts. Japan’s victory was inevitable, it was only a matter of time. Chiang Kai-Shek turned down pleas for peace, and the war continued. It took two years for the Japanese to finally reach Chongqing in a ruthless, cruel military operation that made Sherman’s March to the Sea look like a peace delegation. In the last battle of the Second World War Chongqing was turned into little more than a gargantuan pile of ashes and crushed stones. On the ruins of Baidi Fortress, the triumphant Japanese proclaimed “peace in Asia and peace in the world”. In their shadows stood their chosen puppet - Chen Gongbo, horrified at the carnage and destruction of the United Front’s last true stronghold. With no hope of any resistance he could only smile, while holding sorrowful tears in his eyes.
However, Japan’s political and economic system was now geared towards sustaining an ever expanding war machine; with the Taisei Yokusankai as its political body and Hideki Tojo as its prime minister the current government proved to be a burden. It survived ten years of total war, yet it could not survive the peace that followed.
PART II: 1947 - 1962
We have awoken the giant and through valiant effort we survived his onslaught. Let us hope that in future we will remain at peace, for we may not survive another victory like this one.
--Isoroku Yamamoto, 1947
While the war was with China over, peace was only the beginning of a series of new problems. The Japanese empire was now enormous. It stretched from cold Siberia to humid New Guinea, from the heart of China to distant Hawaii. With their new lands in hand, Japan set about reorganising these territories into a more manageable empire.
In some cases, local collaborators were given the most power. In others, Japanese military figures took control. The Co-Prosperity Sphere became a patchwork of directly ruled territories, military governorates and puppet states. Each one churning out their spoils to be harvested by Japan itself. Whether the Army, Navy or Diet got their hands on them was another matter - the resources would flow nevertheless.
Hideki Tojo had been Prime Minister for six years now, overseeing both Japan’s favourable peace treaty with the United States and the victory over the Chinese. However, as the conflict was coming to a close, it became clear that he was starting to slip. His supporters were fully aware that a fall from grace would be disastrous. To prevent this, the man who had recommended Tojo for his post had to act.
Kōichi Kido arranged to have himself made Prime Minister with Imperial permission, having served as the closest advisor to the Emperor for almost a decade. He then appointed a loyal privy council member to his old post as Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal, ensuring his close connection to the Emperor. With Kido now Prime Minister, he quickly set about the task of managing the now enormous Japanese Empire, as well as trying to handle the various factions within Japanese politics.
He proved to be an ambitious prime minister, with grand designs for Japan. Kido was well aware of the faults of the Japanese government. Kido sought to make the ruling Yokusankai party into a tool for his reformist agenda. He attempted to transform it from a mere big tent for the bureaucracy into a powerful body against the army and navy factions. His fatal mistake, however, was the attempted strong-arming of the military as part of his plan to wrest power away from them. Having already become unpopular due to his reformist tendencies, this move against the armed forces proved to be the last straw. One Hiroya Ino replaced him.
In order to keep hold of power, Ino was forced to make a bargain. The new Prime Minister agreed to surrender control of Japan’s colonies to the army so that they could be used as strongholds and resource depots. In return, Ino gained some feeble scraps of power for the government. For his actions, the Prime Minister came across as incredibly weak, having made the deal even as the army was steadily losing influence, as had been the case ever since the war had ended. What could the Prime Minister have done? The army was still powerful enough to topple cabinets should it benefit them, something Ino was very much aware of. He had little choice but to comply, even if it would ultimately harm the party. When the elections rolled around, the Yokusankai suffered terribly from their capitulation to the army, with independent candidates (mostly Yokusankai rebels and expelled party members) gaining more power.
Under Ino’s tenure, the issue of corruption would become more prevalent and out of control. Bribery would become a de facto method of getting anything done, with seemingly every government official involved in some capacity. Ino’s inability to handle the ever growing corruption within his own cabinet was starting to cost him what little faith anyone still had in his capabilities. Whether he was simply failing to handle the issue properly or perhaps ignoring it, his strategy was utterly failing. Prime Minister Hiroya Ino had not built himself a great legacy to be remembered by. Instead, he had built up a house of cards, upon which he sat. Such a house can hold for a while if one is careful, but it is fated to fall apart eventually. Such a fate cannot be avoided, only delayed and never for long.
Interludium: Mechanics
Democratic institutions are quarantine mechanisms for that old pestilence, tyrannic lust. As such they are very useful and very boring. --Friedrich Nietzsche
Before we continue, we would like to offer some explanations behind the unique gameplay that Japan has to offer, centering on domestic policy. Screenshot of Japan GUI
Despite the power held by the military, the Empire of Japan is still legally a democracy as established by the Meiji Constitution, proclaimed in 1889. You are responsible for the civilian government. The Prime Minister of Japan is the closest character to “The Player”.
The Imperial diet, as the main parliamentary body, is completely democratic, but deeply overshadowed by the Second Great War. During the war, all political parties were merged into the Yokusankai (YSK) in order for Japan to function as a totalitarian, one party state. As mentioned, however, Ino’s capitulation to the Army was a great sign of weakness coming from the Yokusankai. Factions of “Independents” who had been rendered irrelevant in 1942 by the Yokusankai’s supermajority used the population’s growing disillusionment towards the ruling in order to swell the amount of seats in parliament outside the party’s control. The rising number of independent politicians was not the only problem for the Yokusankai; despite theoretically being a single party, it is in reality a de facto collection of cliques and factions that have rather different approaches to government and policies. This means that any potential Prime Minister may have a large problem with keeping a majority of support in the chamber. So how exactly does a Prime Minister keep their majority? Let’s examine it!
The Imperial Diet consists of seats distributed per territorial district. The Dai Nippon Teikoku (Empire of Great Japan) consists of the Nihon Rettō (Home Islands, or simply Japanese archipelago), the provinces of Chōsen (Korean peninsula), Taiwan and Karafuto (the island of Sakhalin). Those constitute an integral part of the Japanese state, and as such - elections are organized at the local level. Depending on the YSK’s popularity in a single province, the one party will receive an appropriate amount of deputies (if the popularity of the YSK in the province is 70%, it will receive 70% of seats from this area). As such, the YSK needs to maintain its popularity and power, to put an end to the loss of seats to independents.
But even if the Yokusankai is successful in upcoming elections, there is still a problem. Deputies of the YSK are divided between different cliques. In the example shown above, Prime Minister Ino is supported by his own clique in its entirety, by 5 deputies of Kido clique and by more than half of deputies from Kaya’s and Takagi’s factions respectively. With the Independents being completely unsupportive, it means that Ino in our example, despite the YSK holding 75% of total seats, barely holds on to a majority. The lesson we learn here is obvious - as a Prime Minister of Japan you need not only to win elections as the YSK, but also to have strong clique of your and have the support of other factions within the party itself.
Have you secured a super majority of deputies? I’m sorry, you are still not done. In the Japanese parliamentary system, the House of Peers has the ability to reject bills and initiatives. If the House of Peers does not support you, it will effectively create a deadlock and block all reforms, guaranteeing an end to the career of the current Prime Minister.
In general the absolute heart of parliamentary game in Japan is securing a majority, and the most important part of securing a majority is interacting with the four main cliques of the YSK, either by gaining their support or by reducing their power and popularity. You need to be very careful about implementing different policies. The Yokusankai remains a party that somehow manages to contain Reform Bureaucrats, Liberals, Kidoites and Conservatives in a single bloc. It may be too much to manage. If other factions find your cooperation or policies unsatisfactory, Party Unity may drop and deputies from other cliques may be even less inclined to support you. Such a scenario may spell doom for any Prime Minister.
You might think this is already too much, and that holding onto power in the Empire of Japan is a fool’s errand. To this we bring two pieces of bad news. The first one is that negotiating with the Diet and house of Peers is the only way to advance one’s political career. Second - there are still more ways to lose power as Prime Minister, as the overbearing influence of Japan’s armed forces starts to impact the political class’ games.
When it comes to Army (IJA) and Navy (IJN) Influence - one will find that understanding the military's politics is essential to grasping Japan’s internal situation. While interservice rivalry exists, it is not as much of a relevant factor as it was during the 30s and 40s. With peace and an ongoing focus on the stabilization of a vast empire, the IJA and IJN do not interfere much in the Home Islands’ political process. Both branches of the military forces have also developed a sense of restraint in foreign policy. Gone are the heady days where the Kwantung Army could invade China without notifying Tokyo. Instead, the IJA and IJN are mostly focused on keeping their monopolies and influence in their countries in the Sphere. They are no longer a force of change, pushing for more wars and acts of aggression - instead, with the establishment of the Co-Prosperity Sphere they are now a force of the Status Quo.
Army and Navy support does not represent “the entire army” and “the entire navy”. The IJA and IJN are as riddled with factions as the Diet is. The influence meters instead represent the higher echelons of powers, ministers, chief of staff, leading commanders, governors and the like. What does this actually mean? For a start, even with high support from Army, it may not guarantee complete compliance of the IJA in different countries in Sphere. Army divisions in Indonesia might not obey orders from a new government just because the officers in Tokyo have received a hefty amount of bribes. On the other hand, even small support from the IJA for your government, causing the War Ministry to wish to see your cabinet ousted will not necessarily affect IJA commanders in the Sphere, who might still actually follow the civilian government’s instruction in their particular sectors.
To reaffirm the point about a decline in interservice rivalry, IJA and IJN support are not contradictory to each other. Often times events or choices might lead to increasing support from both, or sometimes it may decrease support from both. The problem is, that the IJA and IJN influence is very peculiar in comparison to for example “House of Peers Opinion”. The reason for that is that both very low and very high influence of army branch will have negative consequences. Very low influence with the Army or Navy will force current Prime Minister to resign, as he was clearly not paying attention to demands from armed forces. Very high influence on the other hand will start firing rather peculiar events that will most likely greatly decrease standards of life in other countries of the Sphere, destabilizing it and damaging the position of the civilian government in Tokyo. This represents the army running roughshod over the Sphere, assuming they have a free hand from their buddies in the diet.
Now…Tension. What does this even mean? As you may already guess from previous paragraphs, it is not actually about interservice rivalry. As I mentioned previously, Army and Navy are mostly now forces of status quo, that achieved everything they ever desired in the Second World War and now they simply wish to retain their benefits, advantages and of course - their glorious colonial empire. Tension represents not friction between army branches, not even friction between armed forces and civilian government, but rather a subtle change of mind - that actually Japan is in a dire state, and it requires immediate, heroic actions to save it from traitors, subversion, foreign agents and conspirators. This is a reflection of Japanese culture - disobedience is justified by the great patriotism and pure, good nature of a servant that wishes to save their overlord, even if they themselves do not want it. In comparison to Army/Navy Influence, it does not reflect the view of elites, but of every single soldier, sailor and minor commander. As such it is absolutely possible to have great relations with Army and Navy, and still have massive Tension build-up, threatening the stability of the Empire of the Rising Sun. It is a slow, ticking bomb that requires care and tact to contain and defuse.
At the beginning of the game, due to massive prosperity, stability and power of Japanese Empire Tension starts at 0% in 1962. However it may slowly rise until reaching 100%. As to what happens when Tension reaches such high value and what events may have led to this… hmm… this will be a story for another time.
This concludes the unique gameplay designed for the Empire of Japan in TNO. With no further delay, let’s move on to 1962 - the very beginning of the game.
PART III: 1962-1963
I’m sorry to say this to you, Prime Minister, but Empires rise and Empires fall, and the vast, corrupt future that you once had is shedding away like cherry blossoms in the winter. With any luck, you’ll be out of here by next month.
How does a nation crumble? An assassin eating on a crowded thoroughfare sees his target ride in on a conveniently open car and takes his chance. A cavalry charge outside the gates of a besieged city breaks the high-tide of conquest. Some less graceful than others, but it’s all the same.
Or perhaps it can start with the finding of a body. Yes, let’s go with that. Because deaths don’t just end lives - they smother truths. Yet, the truth shines through. Truth has a manner of bubbling out into the world.
For now, it’s just another body, in an impossible place and under improbable circumstances. Another problem for the Police, but nothing the Metropolitan can’t handle - and with all the mysterious nonsense popping up in the murder scene it looks like their expertise will be needed. Thankfully our crack detective is on the case - and looking for evidence!
Whoops. Well, tragedy happens all the time in the Sphere, it was probably just a one off, let’s keep looking - oh. Oh dear. If the Japanese Army is involved, then all bets are off. We should warn our detective he’s in over his head - oh shit.
Well, the new team assigned to the case might not have any living witnesses, but every detective worth their salt knows how to investigate a case. There are a few angles that can be examined, aligned along the central axis of any investigation: look through the crime scene or examine the victim? After all, a man with’ silence’ carved into his chest probably has it there for a reason. But the fish plant doesn’t seem like a terribly convincing commercial operation either - and why on earth would the murder victim be allowed access to the grounds of the factory?
Then again, the labyrinth of Japanese bureaucracy will present challenges from the get go, and the man who killed the victim was in the Army, so perhaps focusing on this will let us push deeper into the facts of the case. (Full disclaimer: there are many paths available to be taken in this series of events, and I highly recommend you try different choices on each run-through.) A basic profile will help us, as will determining the victim’s connections. The Army records will surely help us find the truth - oh dear. Well, it’s time to pull out the Audit Gun to shoot at the Army so they’ll change their minds and wow it’s not working. The pit of snakes that is the Japanese Government has taken an interest, and oh boy it is angry.
So, to recap: a body, a grenade, a factory that shouldn’t be running, a killer who shouldn’t have been there and an army that isn’t letting on. What the hell is going on? Bureaucratic wrangling aside, we could always exploit the one unchangeable binary of Japanese politics, the Army-Navy rivalry, and - uh - what the hell? They’re working with each other? How can the whole of Japanese politics be upended for the sake of a single dead body?
...They’re all in on this, aren’t they?
Well, if the Navy insists on sticking its nose into affairs, that’s where we’ll continue searching. And it looks like it’s tied into everything that’s been going on, including a suspicious series of shipments and a preponderance of outdated military currency. All we have to do is hit them with in force with an audit they won’t see coming, and we’ll find out just how deep the rabbit hole goes -
Oh my god. Where does this end? We have to keep looking, maybe the trail will end in a tidy bunch of suspects we can arrest to make the problem go away. People like - uh -
The Army? The Government? It’s getting out of hand, already has in fact, but I’m certain if we just keep going we’ll stabilise the situation, so long as we don’t touch -
The banks, like Yasuda and Minezaka? The ones we found with mud on their faces and Army money in their pockets? Oh no. Oh no no no. How far will the heavens fall before Japan itself is tugged into the abyss with them all? And if a pillar of the Japanese Economy crumbles, what happens to the others?
Japan plummets, but perhaps in those long steep drops it will find its soul. For was it not written: falling is the essence of a flower?
Link to Section II
Link to Section III
Link to Section IV
Link to Section V
Link to Section VI
Link to Section VII

Have I Got No. 10 for You has a new guest host — and Boris had better keep us laughing (July 28)
Brexit is undeliverable. I've said it before and I'll say it again now. One day we shall have to admit the whole referendum was a waste of time because separating ourselves from the EU is as impossible as humming while holding your nose. Or solving a crossword while being attacked by a bear. It cannot be done.
And now, steering us through the stormy waters towards the Kobayashi Maru, we have Boris Johnson.
Unlike every other commentator who's written about Boris in the past month, I do not know him. Yes, I've met him a few times, but I did not go on picnics while we were at Oxford together. We do not have each other's phone number or email address. We've never arranged to meet for dinner. So I know him in the same way as you know him. And, like many of you, I like him.
I guess he first came into our consciousness as a guest host on Have I Got News for You, and we liked the way he absorbed Ian Hislop's hand grenades and Paul Merton's dolphin-in-a-bath unpredictability. He just made growling noises and, after a brief spell in Latin, slotted back into gear with a self-deprecating smile and the next question. Then there were his newspaper and magazine columns. We liked those too, because he used hyperbole to get his point across. When it was discovered that under a Tory government people drank more milk and had more disposable income, Boris translated that into English by saying that if you voted Conservative, your wife would have bigger breasts and you would have a greater chance of owning a BMW M3. This was a language we understood.
When we learnt that he might have been mating with various girls around town, or helping to organise a hit on some tabloid journalist, there may have been a few raised eyebrows at the nation's beetle drives, but the rest of us just thought, "I must get that Ocado order done." And then he appeared on a zipwire over London, stuck, and with the harness accentuating his man pouch, and we all thought, "Good old Boris. I bet he spills egg down his tie next. Oh look, he has."
Boris was a clown. A clever clown, but a clown nevertheless, and that was fine when he had menial jobs such as mayor of London or MP for Henley or even foreign secretary. But now he's the prime minister, and wherever he is this morning, I can guarantee he'll be thinking, "What shall I do with the clown act?" Well, here's my advice. Don't just keep it up. Ramp it up. Don't think that just because you're the prime minister you've got to start making monotone, Theresary platitudes. We never want to hear you say "in real terms", and we know your hair was born to look like seaweed caught in a riptide, so don't try to tame it. And never wear a hi-vis jacket. You're the prime minister now; no one is going to accidentally reverse over you with a forklift truck.
I can't say "be yourself", because I don't know who you are under your food-spattered suit. But I can say "be who we think you are". Don't try to become Jeremy Hunt. Look at how he responded when Iran seized that tanker, and use it as a lesson in how not to behave on camera. He sounded like his balls were actually dropping while he was talking. It was pathetic.
The fact is, Boris, that you are charged with doing a job that cannot be done. The only bargaining chip you have is the threat of no-deal, and parliament won't allow that, or any of the shenanigans you may have dreamt up to put it back on the table. You're going to Europe to ask for more and they are going to tell you to eff off. And you will have no retort.
Yes, you could come home to say that things have gone well and that "in real terms" there's been a 12% rise in backstop concessions, but we've had too much of that. It's why America has Trump and Canada has that weirdo. We don't want the Blairs and Majors any more. We want people who've made us laugh on Have I Got News for You.
You're the one who called people "piccaninnies" . You're the one who said women in burqas looked like letterboxes. You're the one who described gay men as "tank-topped bumboys", so don't suddenly pretend you're Cherie Blair. If the Lithuanian prime minister is causing problems with your negotiations, tell us. And tell us straight. Say, "He's being a nuisance, probably because his head appears to be on upside down." Because then we will look him up on the internet and laugh, because it does.
Of course, the day will come when we are supposed to leave the EU and it won't be possible, and that'll be tricky. But if you've kept us amused in the meantime with some choice observations, a bit of Latin when you're stuck and the occasional public tumble, you will be forgiven.
If you try to brave it out like an old school politician with neat hair and a tie that doesn't smell of sherry, you've had it. And then we will end up with Corbyn and Watson and that coterie of evil that lives on the dark side.
That's really it, Boris. Don't bother trying to be conventional over the next few months, because even if you were as skilful a politician as Blair or Obama, you would not survive the failure to deliver Brexit. You'll be gone as a result, and Britain will be plunged into what Dante would have called the 37th circle of hell.
Just remember this. You can't do the job you've been asked to do. So you face a choice. Fail to do it with a straight face and we get Corbyn. Or fail to do it while playing everything for laughs and we might not.
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Here's your choice: sublime or thrilling
The Clarkson Review: VW Golf GTI TCR versus Mercedes-AMG A 35 (July 28)
There's a chap I know who likes to play tricks on his wife while they're out doing retail therapy. He lets her enter the clothes shop first and then says in a high-pitched voice,"Look at me," before ducking quickly out of sight. Of course, all the assistants look up and there, on her own, in the doorway, is this poor woman, stammering something about how she "didn't say that". Apparently, she finds this very annoying.
The funny thing is, though, that if you think about it, people do want to be looked at. I watched a Chinese woman in a Singapore swimming pool preen herself and flick her hair for a two-hour, nonstop blizzard of selfies. And then afterwards, using all kinds of electronic sorcery, she changed the pictures to ensure her waist was thinner and her bottom bigger and her breasts pointier. I'm told this is not unusual. I'm also told that one in four millennials would quit their jobs if it meant they could be famous.
I believe this. When someone posts a picture or a witticism on social media, they are hungry for an immediate and global pat on the back.When someone buys a new pair of shoes, they want strangers in the street to bite the back of their hands in a display of envy. I'm surprised everyone doesn't say, "Look at me," when they enter a shop because, actually, it's what we all want. For everyone, every time we enter a room, to stand with their hands on their hips, bathing us in the warm amber glow of recognition.
I guess on the road, it's the same story. Maybe a private detective needs to blend in, but, that said, Jim Rockford drove a golden Pontiac Firebird and Thomas Magnum had a red Ferrari. And I've just remembered that in an early 1990s private-eye show, the heroine, played by Imogen Stubbs, drove a Sunbeam Alpine. She also wore a very short skirt, and stockings, which is probably why, for the life of me, I cannot remember what it was called.
It's not just private detectives, either. If you go home with a new car, it's nice when the neighbour's curtains twitch. And I think that's been a problem for the Volkswagen Golf GTI.
There was something about the first incarnation that caused even the most dedicated motoring dunderhead to know that it was something special. The way it sat on the road, the alloy wheels, the black window surround at the back and the red stripe round the grille at the front. All of these things combined to make it a car that raised eyebrows.
But since then the GTI has always been virtually indistinguishable from lesser models. Perhaps that's why its appeal faded; because at heart, everyone wants to be a tall poppy.
Well, that's certainly been addressed by the latest version. Called the TCR, it arrived at my house sporting a black chequerboard paint job on the sides and both a roof spoiler and a big rear diffuser. This thing stood out from the rest of the Golf range in the same way that Brad Pitt would stand out in a provincial town's am-dram performance of The Winslow Boy.
I like the Golf GTI. I ran a Mk 7 for a couple of years and still maintain that, all things considered, it's one of the best cars yet made. You may think that VW puts its best brains and its best engineers into Bugatti or Bentley, but the truth is, it doesn't. The real boffins work on the bread that pays for the jam and the cherries. They work on the Golf, and when you drive it, and concentrate, you can tell.
The TCR has been built to celebrate VW's successes in touring car racing. That's the official reason. Unofficially, it's been built to inject a slightly ageing car with a bit of appeal before the Mk 8 Golf comes along later this year.
But don't think it's just a few stickers and spoiler. It's not. Power from the 2-litre turbo engine is upped from 242bhp to 286bhp, it has bigger brakes that are made from virtually fade-free materials, there are two more radiators to keep everything cool and the whole thing sits almost ¼in nearer the road. Also, one option allows the 155mph limiter to be removed, so the TCR can barrel along at 164mph.
It's a fabulous car. It's like a GTI but sharper somehow, more pointy. And when you put your foot down gently, it makes the sort of noise I suspect Yoda hears when there's a disturbance in the Force. It's the low-down hum of menace and power.
Yes, Renault and Hyundai will sell you a hot hatchback that's racier, but neither will have the compliance of the Golf, nor the comfort. The TCR is very fast but it never feels raucous or mad. It just feels sublime. There is, however, a problem. It's called the Mercedes-AMG A 35 4Matic.
This is the entry-level AMG model, a Golf-sized car that arrived at my house with look-at-me matte paintwork, a rear diffuser, a big flash grille and, under the bonnet, the same sort of engine you get in the VW. Only in the Mercedes, it chucks out a monstrous 302 horsepower. Perhaps that's why it gets four-wheel drive. Because it needs it. This thing flies. You put your foot down and it's like going through the "Devil's Anus" — the wormhole in Thor: Ragnarok that was used to reach Asgard. It's a mad ride, full of jolts and judders and stars flying past at breakneck speed. It's properly exciting.
It's an exciting place to sit as well. The Golf is all a bit Golfish, whereas in the little AMG, it feels as if you're in something special. There's one long glass instrument panel on which everything important is presented and then you have starship-engine intakes posing as air vents. Oh, and if you want to issue a voice command, you say, "Hey, Mercedes," which, I'm told, is very woke.
The AMG is up there with the offerings from Renault and Hyundai as a road-going track rocket but unlike the cars from France and South Korea, it is German and feels it. Rarely do you notice four-wheel drive on a dry road but in the A 35 you really do.
So which would I choose? It's tricky. The Golf is the priciest house in the street. The A-class, though, is a small flat in the best address. And that, as any estate agent will tell you, is the way to go.
But, that said, the A-class is a car that started out in life as a failed electric project and fell over in the famous "elk" test featuring a swerving manoeuvre. So you can't really make a decision based on history and tradition. I certainly can't, as in my life I've had three VWs and three AMG models.
It's hard to make a decision based on space or boot size, either. Or comfort. The Golf has a superior ride at low speed but when you get going, the Mercedes is better. And then there's a question of price. The Golf starts at about £35,000, and guess what, so does the Mercedes.
I have to say that it was damn good fun, on the roads near where I live, trying to pick a winner. But the truth is that for the first time in 30 years of road-testing, I cannot.
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And the Sun column: "Why have we turned into a nation of snowflakes who melt under the sun?"