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I am Geoff, the Destroyer of Worlds

13 seconds to save the World

I am Geoff, the Destroyer of Worlds

Dear Barry

I am Geoff, the destroyer of worlds. Not sure if you remember me. I begged a big pile of cash from you back in 2011 to build a time machine so I could travel into the future. My plan was to mooch around a bit, check out how things turn out for the human race and then report back, hopefully with good news.

Well I am sorry to say that it is not good news, Barry, not good at all. I haven’t managed to build a time machine that will take me further than 13 seconds into the future. It works but obviously 13 seconds isn’t much time for me to get back and let the world know what is going to happen. In fact, it takes me a good 15 -20 minutes to get out of my contraption, have a shower and by then whatever I’ve discovered is all over Twitter anyway. 

I think it’s a power issue and the only solution would appear for me to build my own nuclear power facility - possibly 5 or 6 power stations all linked together to provide the necessary juice to get me far enough into the future to make a real difference.

I am close, Barry, so close. I’m also depressed and could do with a holiday.

Hope you can help

Kind regards

Geoff, the destroyer of worlds

Thank You Mr Barry

Thanks for the money

Dear Barry 

I hope that you are well and not too depressed about being a multi-billionaire with everything you could possibly imagine owning.

Sorry it has taken me so long to write. I was happy to receive the £10 you sent via PayPal just before Christmas. It went a long way towards helping me and my family enjoy the festive season. 

Now that you have proved to me that you are a generous and kind man would you please send me £2million in time for Easter.

Thanks again

Kind regards

Keith, Helen and the kids


Athletes Tooth

Athletes Tooth

Dear Barry,

 I can tell by your profile picture that like me you are a man fond of gold and charity. I hope you will be able to help me in my golden charitable endeavours.

It really is for a good cause—athletes that have fallen on hard times. And dentistry.

 As you know (or may not, after-all I don’t live inside your head) many top Olympians end up in the poorhouse or humiliating themselves after their careers have ended because of age or after having accidentally stood on needles containing performance enhancing drugs.

 Jesse Owens had to race against horses for cash, Britain’s Olympic cyclist Sir Bradley Wiggins had his haircut sponsored by Cleethorpes’ Paul Weller fan club and Usain Bolt secretly acts as a human compass for the Himalayan Kingdom of Bhutan.

Don’t believe me? Check out the next time he does his arrow pose—he’s always pointing to magnetic north.

 I want this to stop before we see the likes of 17 time gold winner swimmer Michael Phelps starring as a murderous Walrus on Game of Thrones (though that would be kinda of cool) so here’s my proposal;

You give me 79 million dollars so I can go round buying up Olympic champions’ gold medals. They get the cash and live lives free of humiliation, I get to keep the medals for my own use.

 What use you ask? Well, I have always had problems with my teeth and need a full mouth replacement I’m going to melt all the medals down to make a set of dental implants.

I then plan to travel the world and allow anyone who asks to brush my golden grill, so both spreading the Olympic spirit of ‘can do’ and keeping my 24 carrat chiclets in good condition.

 Please answer my proposal by sunrise.


 Audrey Gigi


PS4 and maybe iPad


Greetings Barry I hope you are well and good I live in a small village in Africa and I am proper bored. There really is nothing to do out here it is dull and shit. Me and my friends just have an old wheel and a stick to play with. Hoping you can send us a Playstation 4 system - one each preferably so we can play CoD Some way of generating electricity would be handy and a new bucket for my mother. And iPad for when we get wifi from Mark Zuckerberg.

sincerest Ojiwang


superior personalised transport


Yesterday I awoke with a terrible pain in my wallet and decided I had to get out of my mansion.

I dressed down in cheap Gap clothing so I’d blend in with the masses and not draw attention to myself. God I felt bad.

I left, sneaking past my bodyguards, and out onto the street. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do.

It was exhilarating just being outside. On the spur of the moment I jumped on a bus, I really wanted to see and hear poor people talking and this seemed like a good way of getting close to them.

Christ, I hadn’t been on public transport since I took acid at college. What a scene! you people are in a much worse state than I thought. The awful smell of sweat and cheap perfume made me retch.The incessant moaning and griping about this and that.

I must say it was one of the most depressing experiences of my life. I secretly placed the entire contents of my wallet, including my black Amex card, in one fat old woman’s bag and then jumped off the bus at the first stop, satisfied that I had made someone’s day.

I headed back home, but had forgotten where I lived. Nightmare really - I had to get one of my butlers to pick me up in the helicopter.

It’s actually a new Bell BA609 Tiltrotor. What a great machine. A billionaire like me could conceivably take off from the helipad of a country house outside London, fly in comfort to a meeting in Frankfurt in just 60 minutes, then fly on to Zurich, Milan and back home for early dinner. All with a minimum of ground transportation requirements..

Back home in no time!

All the best Barry