I was in an American public building, full of corridors and wooden panelling. I was walking alongside Jim Carrey and his entourage, followed by loads of reporters.

Carrey sat on a dais, behind a desk. There were many other people behind the desk, most importantly the woman to Carrey's right, a dark haired woman who was clearly going to be the crux of whatever announcement Carrey was going to make. I was sitting, in a suit, behind the woman.

I noticed a woman police officer making her way to the front of the scrum of reporters. I saw her pull out a gun and shoot Carrey and the woman. (It was clear she was not a real policewoman).

Someone shot the WPC and that was the end of it.

div

T'was through a Y.M.C.A concert
I craved a desire for the stage
In Flanders one night I was asked to recite
Gadzooks I was quickly the rage
They said I was better than Irving
And gave me some biscuits and tea
I know its not union wages
But that was the usual fee
Home I came - bought a dress
Appeared in your Theatre and what a success.
Chorus:
I acted so tragic the house rose like magic
The audience yelled "You're sublime"
They made me a present of Mornington Crescent
They threw it a brick at a time
Someone threw a fender which caught me a bender
I hoisted a white flag and tried to surrender
They jeered me, they queered me
And half of them stoned me to death
They threw nuts and sultanas, fried eggs and bananas
The night I appeared as Macbeth.

The play tho' ascribed to Bill Shakespeare
To me lacked both polish and tone
So I put bits in from Miss Elinor Glyn,
Nat Gould, and some bits of my own
The band played the Barber of Seville
And being too long they made cuts
When I entered somewhere in Scotland
And finished in Newington Butts
Oh, the flowers - what a feast
They threw it in bagfulls, self raising and yeast.

Chorus:
I acted so tragic the house rose like magic
I improved the part with a dance
The pit had a relapse, so R.A.M.C. chaps
Were wired for to come back from France
I withdrew my sabre and started to labour
Cried "Lay on MacDuff" to my neighbour
I hollared, "I'm collared
I must reach the bridge or its death"
But they altered my journey, I reached the infirm'ry
The night I appeared in Macbeth.

The advertised time for the curtain
Was six forty-five on the sheet
The hall keeper he having mislaid the key
We played the first act in the street
Then somebody called for the author
"He's dead " said the flute player's wife
The news caused an awful commotion
And gave me the shock of my life
Shakespeare dead - poor old Bill
Why I never knew the poor fellow was ill.

Chorus:
I acted so tragic the house rose like magic
They wished David Garrick could see
But he's in the Abbey, then someone quite shabby
Suggested that's where I should be
Lloyd George and Clemenceau, they both carried on
So the King of the Belgians rushed in with Alfonso
They pleaded - unheeded
And all of them cried in one breath
"There's another war coming if you don't stop humming" The night I appeared in Macbeth.

I believe I read that he had an illness.

It has been a while. I hope he is all right.>

Over 2 years since his last kibitz:

INGREDIENTS
Take some spirits of flour, taking care that is most wholesome.

A fillet of horse-radish. (This must have proper pancake saucers fit for salad.)

An egg. (This is better by the size of butter in Belgium.)

Two pints of milk to take them with the oven.

Grilled chicken or tapioca.

METHOD
Preheat the oven to 250, adding pepper and add pepper and salt to the fire and more pepper.

Place them back into a little onions, five large bottles of wine (taking on that things come by bachelors' widows) and salt, mixed herbs, and the threads from the cherries, or four spoonfuls of butter on the pan. If you like dice or minced pickles, add a sieved egg; and glaze for one-half hours with fat in your sprats, (ask for the greatest saints to cook them).

Having cleaned and you have been already cooked one half done, add some stock, with some chopped rissoles and a pound of eggs and as well three tablespoonfuls of cold water.

Remove the top and intersect a thimbleful of butter in one pound of sugar.

Place in a piece of an anchovy round a shoulder of the sauce poured over the side.

Chorus: Oh! Lucky Jim, how I envy him
Oh! Lucky Jim, how I envy him!

Years passed by, still Jim and I were comrades
He and I both loved the same sweet maid
She loved Jim and married him one evening
Jim was lucky, I, unlucky stayed.

Chorus: Oh! Lucky Jim, how I envy him
Oh! Lucky Jim, how I envy him!

Years rolled on and death away took Jim, boys
<Left his widow and she married me> Now we're married, oft I think of him, boys
Sleeping in the churchyard by the sea.

Chorus: Oh! Lucky Jim, how I envy him
Oh! Lucky Jim, how I envy him.

Then came the day awoke that Great Cthulhu.
Murder, mayhem rape and even worse.
Aliens sent to torture eat and rule you,
But Jim was lucky, he was eaten first.

"Steve Jobs: The Exclusive Biography" by Walter Isaacson is being filmed by Danny Boyle!!

You are the only discerning chess-lover who spotted that the little joke at Alexander Alekhine was pretty funny!