double naked

I'm in trouble. I'd been talking up esoteric buddhism down at the hospice and now great aunt Doreen's (RIP) specified she wants a sky burial in her last will and testament. That's the one where you get splayed out on the steppe and let the vultures strip you double naked (skeleton only). Immediate family very understanding, extended family absolutely honking (mad, not stinky). Sadly UK law is pretty clear: you can't leave cadavers in the open air. It's almost as though they don't want the birds to get them. You're either poured into a box or hoyed into an oven. Those are your routes into the mouth of hell.
I know some semi-professional flytippers (I don't know if there's a pro-circuit) who've promised to sort it out provided there's a bit of hush money in the bargain. When they whispered the figure through the one inch slit of a slightly rolled down tinted ford transit passenger window I couldn't control my wince-reflex, had to pretend I was eating a tangfastic. For that kind of chonga I could have her pelvis sandblasted into a cutlery tray.
I don't want it to come to this, but I've got some mates with fire escape access to the flat roof of a chip shop. They reckon pigeons have picked up the taste of flesh from the saveloys they chuck into the long grass on a sunday night. The only problem is going to be pivoting her around the tight corners...

a robot

In 2014 I was doing a comedy competition in a social club and the organiser started splitting the acts into two rows against two opposing walls. One wall was all the straight white men, and the others was for anyone else, anything a bit "unusual" like "gays" or "women". A middle aged hand ascended from the back ranks, "where should I go?"
"What are you?" the organiser asked.
"A robot", he said, pulling a big square head out of an IKEA bag.

I don't have anything in particular to plug right now. After August I've had a very pleasant cooling off period in an undisclosed swamp. I'm working very diligently on some stuff which attentive readers will learn about in coming weeks.
What I can emphasise is that I'm tentatively working on a new show, first look at Nottingham Comedy Festival in November. Nicely is going to be a collage of experiments asking: what does it mean (for art) to be kind?