BBC neologistic short story thing
Oct. 19th, 2004 07:30 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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just_writingThe BBC magazone has got a thing here - http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/3755482.stm, connected with Susie Dent's book Larpers and Shroomers: The Language Report. Your're given a list of 'buzzwords' since 1904 and you have to write a story of no more than 150 words. Here's mine
He’d been an egg-head hippy - a psychadaelic peacenik living on fast food and spliffs, but a dot-commer wizard of the IT buzz. His applets, awesome: whizzo coding. Pissed off with getting naff all, he thought he should be powerdressing for megabucks in the Big Apple by now, not hot-desking for a Mickey-Mouse contract in Birmingham. He’d wanted a cheesebuger but, too busy brainwashing a client on his mobile, walked into Starbucks instead.
She’d looked fabulous in the days when hemlines and the lumpenproletariat were rising; these days it was Botox and a Wonderbra that kept it all up. Her bling bling was more kitch than It-girl. She prefered trainers to kitten heels. She’d sacked the detox for a latte and a cinneman bagel.
Their eyes clicked, then double-clicked. Their hearts hammered like a Beatbox as Love threw them a Molotov cocktail.
He smiled.
She smiled.
“Cool.” He thought. “Tiddly-om-pom-pom!”
I think I managed 40 of them. It's quite good fun. Anyone else?
He’d been an egg-head hippy - a psychadaelic peacenik living on fast food and spliffs, but a dot-commer wizard of the IT buzz. His applets, awesome: whizzo coding. Pissed off with getting naff all, he thought he should be powerdressing for megabucks in the Big Apple by now, not hot-desking for a Mickey-Mouse contract in Birmingham. He’d wanted a cheesebuger but, too busy brainwashing a client on his mobile, walked into Starbucks instead.
She’d looked fabulous in the days when hemlines and the lumpenproletariat were rising; these days it was Botox and a Wonderbra that kept it all up. Her bling bling was more kitch than It-girl. She prefered trainers to kitten heels. She’d sacked the detox for a latte and a cinneman bagel.
Their eyes clicked, then double-clicked. Their hearts hammered like a Beatbox as Love threw them a Molotov cocktail.
He smiled.
She smiled.
“Cool.” He thought. “Tiddly-om-pom-pom!”
I think I managed 40 of them. It's quite good fun. Anyone else?
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