The Quirky Life of P

Humor and satire revolving around Mr P- a fictional mix of an avatar of Mr Bean and the veritable Bertram Wooster of Wodehouse fame.

Archive for the category “confusion”

To Catch A Ghost….

Of ghosts and ghouls Mr P was scared;

To taunt or vex them, he never dared;

But a ghost kept knocking on his window pane

While Poor Mr P tried to sleep in vain.


He talked to the ghost to let him be:

The reason for the haunting he could never see;

But the ghost wouldn’t talk and kept P in shock;

Though all it did, was to simply knock.


Halloween had P in its eerie thrall:

He watched horror movies, all with gall;

But going to bed, he heard the knock again

And screamed aloud as he was scared insane.


To help Mr P, the neighbour came running

They moved to catch the ghost with cunning

As P lay with fright, shaking in his bed,

Knocking started on the window by his head.


The erring spirit was then caught in the act;

It wasn’t a ghost or ghoul- was the plain fact;

An old coat rack was all that they caught,

Banging on the panes, making P distraught.


For more details please read earlier post: Mr P catches a ghost!



Trick or Trick


Going in circles

Circuitous Paths

A stranger knocks on your door, asking for directions from your home to the closest gas station (or café, or library. Your pick!). Instead of the fastest and shortest route, give him/her the one involving the most fun detours.

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If you need to find your way, don’t ask it of P;

His sense of direction is blighted as it could be:

If with his help your journey was charted,

You could end up where you started;

For poor P is indeed not street wise,

And going in circles you’ll soon realise,

His concept of the earth being round.

But on the journey of life, his theories may seem sound!

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Stranger: “Sorry to trouble you like this but I am from out-of-town and am a bit lost here. Would you be able to direct me to the city centre?

P: “Not a problem, mate. Where exactly in the city centre do you wish to go?”

Stranger: “I’ve come to participate in the craft market at the show grounds”

P: “Ah! It’s quite far away. Chris, my neighbour was talking about the market the other day and he said it is twenty minutes’ drive from here. I’ll tell you what would work best. I’ll jump in the car with you and show you how to get there”

Stranger: “That’s very kind of you. But how will you get back?”

P: “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll manage to get a ride back somehow just as I found one now to get to the market. You see, I had asked Chris to take me there in his car but he had not obliged, but I have found a ride now…” P smiled.

Stranger: “Ok then, that’s fine with me”

P hopped into the stranger’s car and off they went to the market. However, after taking numerous left turns, right turns and driving north, south, east and west, the stranger looked at his watch and said “I guess we have now been driving for more than forty minutes and you said it would only be a twenty minutes’ drive?”

P: “We are nearly there. You should not be in such a panic. Do you believe in souls and reincarnation?”

Stranger: “Yes ….but what has that to do with anything here now?”

P philosophised: “You know, souls are eternal and with reincarnation, what they can’t accomplish this life, they can achieve in the next or the next or the next…. There is eternity ahead and so you should not be so anxious about time. In this round world, we just go in circles…life after life after life… Unless you stop the cycle of rebirth”

Stranger a bit perplexed now: “I don’t want to be late for the market!”

P: “I know, I know!…  And that’s why I am trying to help you out here… Wait!…Stop!… Can you just take a U-turn and go back to the big, grey building we saw a kilometre behind us?”

Stranger: “But there didn’t seem to be any show grounds there. I read the board and it said  ‘Tourist Information centre’!”

P said sheepishly: “Exactly! Let’s go in there and get a map and some directions. To tell you the truth, I have a very poor sense of direction and am totally lost as well!”

Tourist information centre


Circuitous Paths

Done with resolutions…

P found resolutions easy to make,

A list was just a piece of cake:

Some things to do to save the universe

And some to serve his health and purse


The list was long but he culled with clout,

Chiselled and chopped the hard ones out;

He finished with an easy five from the lot

But even with those, he lost the plot……

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Looking at the Daily Prompt, P was reminded of the list of New Year resolutions he made for 2017. There were many he could have listed out but there was one thing that had been ruled out from the beginning because circumstances had already made him form a good habit of NOT placing plastic containers of oil on the top of his electric cooking range. That is another long story, but for now, coming back to the topic of New Year resolutions, P finally had made a list of five which he believed he had to follow to ensure his good health and well-being.

He had resolved  

  • to turn off all the lights and not just the ones in his bedroom, before going to sleep
  • to give up the habit of sleeping in and begin to get up early in the morning everyday
  • to go for a brisk walk or jog  before breakfast everyday
  • to give up the habit of eating sweets and ice creams


  • not to spend too much time snacking and slacking before the TV

Having made these very important resolutions, P had gone to the beach to join the celebrations for the New Year’s eve and had a nice time dancing.

P enjoyed the fireworks as the clock struck twelve and then had eaten a big slice of the cake to welcome in the New Year. After another hour or two of crushing people’s toes and jabbing people in their backs and tummies with his elbows (P dancing), he had returned home and  had gone to sleep. 

It was nearly noon when he woke up the next day and remembered his resolutions.  He looked at the clock and realized he had broken one already. He made his way to the bathroom and then to the kitchen, noticing that all the lights had been left on. His excuse to himself was that having arrived home very tired, he had hit the bed straight away. P usually arrived home very tired in the evenings, New Year or otherwise.

While making his cup of tea, P realised that it was too late in the day and probably too hot to go walking or jogging. So he warmed food from the fridge, sat down with his crosswords and ate a large brunch.

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As he was wiping his plate clean, he felt a strong pull from the fridge… He remembered he had eaten a piece of cake after midnight and that was already into the New Year. “What was the point of abstaining now when he had already broken the pact?” he argued with himself. “A resolution once broken is a broken resolution… Like Humpty Dumpty, it couldn’t be put together again.” He walked to the refrigerator, opened the freezer door, saw the French Vanilla and lost the battle.

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Once he had finished his ice cream, he felt pleased with himself. He looked out through the window. It was a beautiful day…. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the flowers were dancing in the garden, butterflies were flitting and all was right with P’s world…He grabbed some Burger Rings to munch and sat down on the sofa with a sigh, stretched his legs comfortably and turned on the TV.

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What a to-do! He was done with resolutions…

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To-do? Done

A friendship as strong as iron… Ironic?

Daily Prompt: 10,000 Spoons

…When all you need is a knife might not be ironic, but it is unfortunate. Add your own verse, stanza, or story of badly-timed annoyance to Alanis Morissette’s classic.


“Don’t bother about your luggage. I’ll put the suitcases in the car. You just relax and finish your breakfast and then I’ll drive you to the train station”, P said patting his friend on the back.

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P’s friend had come for a visit and after staying with him for three weeks, he was about to return home.

“That’s all right but I don’t want you to trouble with the luggage. I know you have a problem with your back” said P’s friend in between gulps of corn flakes.

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“Oh don’t worry, my back is all sorted out now with daily yoga stretches. Anything for you my friend…” P reassured as he went to get the car keys.

P heaved a sigh of relief when his friend finally got in the car and they took off for the train station.

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He enjoyed having friends come over and stay but when the stay extended from a few days to more than a week, all the discipline of getting up early and cooking and cleaning which were big deviations from his usual daily routines tended to affect his nerves.

In other words, although he had been glad when his friend had come for the visit, he was very glad now that he was leaving.

He was thinking of getting back to his easy go life of walking around in his pyjamas and relaxing with the Daily crosswords in the mornings, eating pizzas and takeout food, watching movies and sleeping in front of the TV or enjoying quiet dinners.

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It was no wonder then that P was whistling as he drove. He was happy. He gave a sideways glance at his friend who was leaning back on the seat with a solemn look. P wondered if his friend could sense his glee and was feeling hurt.

“I am going to miss you terribly. Couldn’t you cancel the ticket and stay for a few more days?” P asked to keep up appearances.

“I would have stayed but everything is booked out for another two weeks. I was lucky to get this ticket for today.” replied P’s friend.

The drive to the station took about an hour and P checked his watch as they reached the destination. “You have fifteen minutes to board. Do you want to grab a cup of coffee before that?”P asked. He was rummaging his dashboard for coins and change to pay for parking fees.

His friend smiled at him. “I’m fine. Let’s just get to the train and find the seat. My ticket is in the front pocket of my suitcase” he said and got out of the car, walked to the back and opened the boot to pick up his luggage.

Hearing the word “suitcase” sent a jolt through P’s brain and he remembered…

“You must have really, really wished that I stayed longer”, came his friend’s voice from behind. “Was it by accident or did you purposefully leave my luggage back at home?”

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10,000 spoons

A Secret Memoir…

The topic ‘Memoir Madness’ sent P careening down the memory lane. It was fairly a long time ago that P had first attempted writing memoirs. It had been while he was studying in a boarding school. The school insisted that all the kids kept a school diary. P had only reached the country from overseas a month ago and had joined the school as a new student. He had never been exposed to the concept of school diaries before. P still remembered the book with the midnight blue cover that he was given. No sooner had he received the book than he had written down what he really felt about some of the classes and teachers. He had shown this to his peers and his new friends then told him that school diaries would be routinely checked by the teachers to see whether the students were indeed writing down reminders and tasks for home work. P had been flabbergasted. He then had taken a lot of effort to convince the warden that his diary was lost somehow and that he needed a replacement. He had finally succeeded and had ended up with two look-alike books…..

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P had been pretty amused and thrilled with what he had written down in his first diary and felt he needed to continue writing his thoughts, poems and his inner feelings. He particularly enjoyed waxing sometimes lyrical and sometimes satirical about the food at the boarding school, the home works he was given and the classes and teachers he liked and disliked. This was maintained as his secret diary while he used the second book for the purpose for which it was really meant and was submitted to the warden routinely every Friday morning.

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Weeks had gone by before the day that would always be engraved in his memory dawned. P remembered it had been particularly chilly that fateful morning and he had not felt like leaving the warmth of his bed and blankets. He got up late and was in a rush to go to his classes after a hurried breakfast. While he was picking up his bowl of corn flakes in the dining hall, he saw that his room mates who had already finished theirs were walking out with their diaries in their hands. P realised it was a Friday morning and he had forgotten to bring his diary down. He asked his friends if they could do the favour of grabbing the book from his room and submitting it to the hostel warden along with theirs while he finished his breakfast.

The day’s classes had gone well for P but he was glad to reach his room in the afternoon. He was feeling a bit sleepy, probably because of all the poetry writing he did at night.

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As he was climbing the stairs, he had come across the warden who seemed to have a glint in his eyes. P remembered wondering whether his friends had not bothered to pay heed to his request in the morning. He had scurried to his room. His roommate had reached there earlier and was unpacking his schoolbag. P had gone to his study table and was putting the books down when he saw his diary there.

“I knew it!’ he had exploded. “ You did not hand in my diary today, did you?”

His puzzled friend had then assured him that his diary was indeed handed over. He said that he had known exactly where P kept it as he had seen P put it under his pillow the previous night and so had not wasted any time locating it and taking it to the warden!

P now remembered how he then had taken the real school diary and had walked on jelly legs to see the warden who still had the glint in his eyes. “Well, well, well! It looks like we have a budding poet here with us!” That had been his only comment!

P remembered with fondness how the warden, his lips quivering, trying to stifle mirth, had then taken his school diary and had handed back to him his secret memoir.

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Memoir Madness

P’s tryst with ghosts…

“There are no ghosts”, P muttered to himself. He was thinking of the incident some time ago when he had believed otherwise ( However, in the end it had been proven that what had scared him to a blubbering nervous wreck had not been a ghost at all. Now though, he needed to convince himself again. Some strange events were happening at his home.

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A few weeks ago, he had woken up in the morning and had walked into the lounge to find that the ceiling fan was turned on at full speed and had been going all night. Briefly his thoughts had hovered on the idea of ghosts. Only briefly, but he had pushed the idea away soon.

“There are no ghosts”, he had told himself as he analysed the situation and could not rule out the possibility that he himself could be the culprit, forgetting to turn off the fan before he retired to bed at night.

Then, a couple of days later, he had woken up in the morning and walked into the kitchen to find that someone had already turned the light on.

“There are no ghosts”, he had told himself again. “Perhaps I had not turned it off last night” he tried to convince himself and shifted the blame on to his absent-mindedness arising from sleepless nights watching world cup football.

Things however seemed to take a turn for the worse after that. The electric door bell started to ring even at odd hours and P would rush to the door only to find that there was nobody there. The previous night was exceptionally scary with all the settings of a horror movie. There was a thunder-storm which by itself could have kept P awake. The interspersed sound of the door bell ringing every now and then, added to the eeriness of the sounds of the wind, the rain and the thunder. “There are no ghosts”, P kept murmuring to himself as he lay curled under his blankets, his eyes tightly closed and his fingers plugging his ears to block out the sounds.

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After a very bad night of lying awake, shaking with fright, P rang his neighbour in the morning to find if he knew of any exorcist who could be contacted. His neighbour listened silently to P’s problems and in the end said consolingly, “Don’t worry. I’ll get someone to come over there and sort things out”.

Within an hour the door bell rang again, but this time there was a finger that had pressed the button for the bell and the finger belonged to a very stout individual who carried a back-pack.

“Did my neighbour send you over?” asked P.

“Yes, he described the problem to me. Can I look at all the connections here please?”

“Sure, go ahead” said P. “Well, I hope you have brought all your equipment and stuff… You know … things like ‘holy water’…I don’t have those things handy…”

The visitor gave P a strange look. “I have brought everything that I would need” he muttered and putting his gear down, he started inspecting the wiring and connections.

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On the wall outside, there was a small box for integrating circuits from the door bell and the lamps outside. The cover of that box had cracked and from it something similar to the end of a twisted ribbon was hanging out. Every time there was a strong breeze, the bit of ribbon would flutter.

The visitor grabbed some tools from his bag and tweaked out the ribbon from the box. He then came back to P and said “It is all done now. Your door bell will not ring again unless somebody pressed the button”, he smiled.

“I think that is the fastest exorcism the world would have seen,” P said appreciatively. “And you didn’t even have to use any holy water!”

The man gave P a puzzled look. He seemed to be confounded with confusion. But then he shrugged it off and said “Your door bell was ringing because of that ribbon like thing inside that circuit box. Every time it moved in the wind, the circuit would be triggered to ring the bell”

““There are no ghosts! I knew it!” P said.

“I am not so sure” said the electrician “You know, that ribbon in the box that was ringing you door bell ….. it was once a small snake”…

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From the Top

In The Beginning There Was No Football….

Football was in the air and P was limping with a bandaged right foot.  He had been watching the game between USA and Germany and he had been cheering and supporting USA. At the eighty-sixth minute the Americans had had a chance to snatch an equaliser but the opportunity evaporated as Dempsey, who was fed in a promising position by Yedlin, couldn’t put the final ball in the right path. However, P who was sitting on the sofa, totally and vicariously involved with the game, had involuntarily hit out with his leg to kick the ball and his foot had struck the coffee table.


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P was now reading about how the Uruguayan player, Luis Suarez, was expelled for biting an Italian player during the game on Tuesday. “Sad,” P muttered. “Was he fighting tooth and nail for victory?” P shook his head and shrugged. P would rather bite into many things… sausages, sandwiches, steaks, potatoes and even vegetables… But biting Italians… It was way off his league….
His mind on football, the day’s newspaper now resting on his chest, he leant back on the sofa and pondered on the origin of the game. He had heard stories about world’s early footballs being made from pig’s bladder, but how exactly did it start as a game was P’s question. He let his imagination take reigns…

Long, long ago, when the ice age had started to melt and the world was coming to life again, there was this early human called P who lived in a cave. He was still looking for a partner, but it was hard in those times as nobody ventured out for long because it was still cold.  Almost everything was coated in ice those days and even if a would-be partner had come knocking on his cave door, he would not have been able to distinguish her from any wild beast. So, P lived all alone in his cave and he had a neighbour who lived all alone in a cave just opposite.

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One day a wild pig wandered into P’s cave parlour and he slaughtered it for food. As he cut open the pig with his sharp stones, he found a sac like organ with a tube like structure, under the belly skin of the pig. He carefully cut it out and inspected it. He tried to look through the opening of the tube.. He tried pulling at the tube.. He tried sucking the tube.. And then he blew through the hole on one end of the tube. To his amazement the sac grew bigger and bigger. When he was finally out of breath, he tied up the ends to keep the air in the sac which was now filled out in the shape of a ball.

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P watched the ball proudly and played with it with his hands. After a while he got bored and left the  ball well alone for a few days. Those days, everything was coated in ice and things did not spoil easily. Then on a day of blistering ice fall, P was cave bound. He had nothing to do other than scratch figures on his cave wall. He was wondering if his neighbour whom he had seen going out earlier had returned back to his cave, but P did not want to venture out in the wet ice to check. P suddenly had a brilliant idea. He brought out his  ball and kicked it across to the other cave. No sooner had it rolled in through the entrance of the cave, than his neighbour appeared at the opening with the ball and kicked it back to P. P grinned and kicked the ball back to the neighbour who returned it promptly again. This continued for some time and both found that using their feet to kick the ball to the opposite side was really fun… and the world’s first football game was born!

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Now that P had solved the origin of the football game, his thoughts wandered to the ball he himself had made from a pig’s bladder. Just when the world cup football games had started, he had read about how they made footballs in Victorian times. He then had gone to the nearby slaughter-house and procured a pig’s bladder after paying a hefty sum. The butcher had thought that there was some ulterior motive behind P’s demand for a pig’s bladder and had decided to charge him accordingly. Back home, P had washed the bladder in water and he blew air into the bladder using a straw as he had seen it being described in the book “Little House in the Big Woods”, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. To make a football as they did in Victorian times, he had to put it in the oven and bake it for 45 minutes on low heat. However, all the efforts of procuring and washing the bladder, and the innumerable attempts at filling it with air before he finally succeeded, had drained him of his energy and he had postponed the baking till after his afternoon nap.
Suddenly, P realised the reason for the all-pervading foul odour that was shrouding his house for the past few days. He had forgotten all about baking the bladder ball and it was the era of global warming and not just after the ice age! He rushed to the kitchen cabinet where he had last left the ball. When he located the ball he decided that not only could he not play football with his his sore foot, he also somehow had to get rid of the stinky ball ASAP. So he sent it flying over the fence to his neighbour’s backyard. It promptly came flying back from the other side with a lot of expletives and P now also understood how the game of handball could have originated!

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In the beginning

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