Winning a game of Canasta with my third mother from Tajikistan
Mini update-ette (with a Jubilee doillie adorned fess and pale sinister)
Yes yes yes I will, I will, but not right now. Viz my comment below and so forth. I am sending Mikrosopht to Coventry for a few weeks – that’ll show them – ha!
I love you all! Not like that – don’t be disgusting.
Well parch my periwig, it’s hotter than some newly-fenced silverware from the Queen Mum.
And speaking of which, it’s about time someone turned up the sun a few degrees, my chicken that is sizzling on my garage roof is nearly done. Gawd bless ‘er!
And another thing, whilst browsing through the ‘Sale Madness’ of Lillywhites of Piccadilly Circus the other day, I inadvertantly stole a dozen pairs of flippers and a snorkeling mask. The rough brute who grabbed me on the way out, looked to be entirely made of meat. I sank my teeth into his arm just to make sure, and what do you know? Bacon. So that was that. As soon as the milling hordes saw my discovery, they all wanted some, and then the ensuing maelstrom of cannibals was the most hideous sight since just about all of Tehran got hold of the body of the Ayatollah Khomeini in 1989.
I managed however to slip past the queues of slavering peasants, some of whom were carrying salt cellars and forks in anticipation. On I wandered through the chartered streets of Londern, which, briefly, was spelt differently due to a 10 minute law that had been introduced, and on to the market places of Petticoat Lane (have a banana). I sounded out the boisterous tradespeople there in their native brogue.
"Oi, cock," I began, " ‘ow abaht givin’ me a monkey for this lot, me ol’ china?" I said, indicating my stolen goods.
"You’re ‘avin’ a larf," he retorted. Which was odd because I wore a most serious countenance.
"I’ll give yer a pony. Take it or leave it yer James Blunt!"
Again I was mystified as to why he had thought I was a popular singer of the day. However I was determined to relieve myself of the booty, so I took a pony for it and rode it all the way home.
Took four bleedin’ hours! Would’ve been quicker on the District Line.
bjbeamish
Hey Bri….been away, everything ok? Just checked out your music…Mosolov, last thing I was expecting ~ very dramatic ~ have images of 1960\’s Roman epic movies.Will be flying to Seoul on 27th August so will try and be in London for a few days before, dinner?
Nay, I\’m in the white, my dear comrade. And white isn\’t a nice colour to be in because you tend to float on white . And you can\’t bring yourself to burp when you\’re in white either because it just doesn\’t feel right.
Speaking of burps, what would thee do with a blade of grass?
Oh,and speaking of blades of grasses, I have to come up with a script for my school play. Could ye suggest something the play could be about? I haven\’t the foggiest idea and the ole Cerebrum isn\’t really accessible right now.
Toodle-oo.
Pete old sausage,
That sounds a corking idea! Let\’s do that very thing old bean. And do you know Mosolov? He\’s superb isn\’t he – quite dead of course, but at least he lived eh what? I love all that Futurist stuff (apart from the fascism of course – that wasn\’t too nice). And Seoul again – blimey! Well done you – I hope it\’s the right decision for you – I\’m sure it is - I think you sounded more at home there. I like all your photos by the way.
TTFN
Bri
My dear Miss oblivious,
Well let me tell you – I would place the blade of grass athwart my thumb (1st Distal Phalanx, no less) and 1st Metacarpal and blow, thus creating the noise of a hornet and frightening people of a nervous disposition.
Secondly, your play could be about the following:
A skeleton, a dwarf and a blackbird go on holiday in Botswana only to discover that they cannot carry their luggage, as the skeleton would fall to pieces and the blackbird\’s beak is too fragile. Therefore the dwarf ends up carrying everything. They then spend all their time in Gaborone train station getting drunk and arguing in the local bar. However the skeleton cannot get drunk as all his ale goes straight through him, the dwarf can only hold 2 pints, and the blackbird is a teetotaller.
The dwarf therefore gets absolutely bladdered and loses everyones luggage. They fight and the dwarf wins of course as beating a skeleton is not too difficult, and the blackbird flies away in fright, vowing never to holiday with them again.
Thinking he has got away with it, the dwarf returns to his native country, or toadstool if you will, but is picked up by the police who arrest him for GBH as they have been tipped off by the blackbird.
The moral of the story is: \’Choose your friends wisely\’
Or your play could be about dust. Either one really.
Toodle pip,
Bri
KOREA\’S GOT SEOUL BABY! man, you gotta love that.And I loved that play idea – More importantly, I loved the way there was no pondering in your mind, you just launched straight into it. It\’s like you\’ve been bottling that idea up, and miss oblivious undid the screw-topped idea bottle (Ideas taste like lilt, by the way).Well, it\’s early. Early enough for me to still be feeling the effects of last night\’s gaseous concoction of beer and ice-cream, but late enough for me to need to work. DAMN THOSE CHINESE RUG-MERCHANTS. I blame them. You wish for me to explain? Very well. Are you seated comfortably? No? Well I DONT GIVE A FUCK, I\’m going to begin anyway.Well, I was taken ill a little while ago with a terrible index-toe (nothing else, just index-toe. It basically means that your toes re-arrange themselves alphabetically. You may laugh but it really hurts), So I enlisted the aid of a wandering elf, Daehtihs. He was a shady fellow, but he fixed me up good. He basically said to me, as response to my offer of money, "No, no, go to the wandering chinese rug merchant and buy his cheapest rug. He needs the money more than me"I agreed to do this for him, despite his shady appearance. "Are you sure?" He said. "Yes", I replied. "Are you TOTALLY sure?" He asked. "Yes" I replied. "DO YOU PROMISE TO BUY THE RUG?" "Yes" I answered, slightly irate.Well, to cut a long story short, the shady elf and the wandering chinese rug merchant were in cahoots (you don\’t see that word often, eh? Not with the current political state of affairs), and the elf legged it back to the rug merchant and told him to put his prices up, which he did. £60,000 for a small doormat, it cost me… It\’s a bloody nice mat, but still.Well, I went to the police, and it turns out that the name he had given me was false, in fact it spelt something backwards. Buggered if I can read it though, my eyes don\’t work sometimes.Anyway, I had best go…I tire of writing massive essays on deep subjects.Oh yeah, I managed to sell my bounty from my travels! Woo! Casio with one speaker, $928.20. Collectors item because of the damage. They got more than they bargained for, though. Imagine their joy when I send them ONLY the speaker! Hahahaaaaaaa… BWaahahhaaa…. MWAHAHHAHAAAAA and um.. ZWAHAHAHAAHAHA. Have you noticed I write too much?Yours evilly,Sir Daniel Gray Stoker Of Luxley (a.k.a DANNY BWOI)Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I invented paperclips. However, I stupidly sold my idea to the company called "paperclip" I originally called them Little fukkas, but they refused to keep the name. No idea why…
Well Mr Essay (which actuall means \’try\’, and that could sound a little patronising, so let\’s just stick with the more popular meaning shall we?)
I\’d say £50,000 for a Chinese rug was a bit of a bargain actually. These things go up in value enormously. You\’ll probably find in a couple of years it will be worth at least double that, and then you can buy all the dandelions you wish. One can never have too many of them.
The only thing is don\’t tread on it, or expose it to air as they tend to depreciate after that. You didn\’t did you?
You did?
Oh dear.
Ah, grazie.
The see-saw. The play is going to be about a see-saw. But first, my cronies and I are on a mission to find how the name see-saw came to be.
I found my way here (after a long and perilous journey) from BOB HQ. (I am a fan of that site due to it\’s handy-dandy acronym) Having made this long, and perilous journey i was most satisfied (I had to kill most of the kings knights, they tried to keep me from the peril. Can\’t I have just a little bit of peril? I pleaded. But all they did was look at me and say NHI! so there was no other option but to hack them to death with my swiss army knife. I used a different tool for each of them.) I was well rewarded with the peril and now I have reached this site! Continuing my allusion would make your site the Holy Grail. Or perhaps you are the wondrous magician… Tim. Of course you SAY you are called Brian, but then, how am I to really know…
So again, into the night, I go. Seventeen times as high as the moon…
Miss Jawed-on, I have only one question for-ee – what is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?
And furthermore, it is with great relish and some extra HP sauce (that being the best) that I read your space. And furtherfurthermore I feel a comment coming on, so look out!
We (royal variety) welcome you with open bosom and straining quill. Th\’art most welcome. Please wipe your feet. And mind the beetles – they\’re making their nest in my coconut mat.
Toodle pip,
Bri
Bloody Hell, Brian. Have you given up on me?
I\’m still at complete sixes and sevens with life at the moment, and urgently need a sharp knock to the head with a large rock, but I do at least have a little time for bloggery now. It\’s just my temper is so bad…
How are you? I hope you are fully engaged with your existence, mentally and spiritually stimulated, generally at peace and not conducting internal Israeli/Hizbu\’llah-type warfare with yourself. Unlike me.
\’ Care.
J
Brian, you crazy monkey, how have you been? Apologies for the long absence. Looks like you\’re still in good form though. By the way, I think I may have volunteered you for some potentially lewd responsibilities pertaining to the upkeep of what is most assuredly Pete\’s up-and-coming harem. I understand his daily bike commute to work has had some rather unexpected but welcome side-effects on his midrift, and he\’s looking quite trim these days. No fear, there will be plenty of consorts for all after the revolution!
Chin up, keep well, toodle-pip and all that…
ah my long lost fiend of a foolish friend brian old dick…how have you been apart from pny swapping with men who cherish that wuss james blunt??
it is indeed mystifying why they refer to you as james blunt old joseph stalin…
although one must not forget the butterfly effect…if a hippo farts in zimbabwe it might mean name calling in yorkshire and chicken wing dueling in the tokyo district.
anyhow since i have made my presence felt here i must trot off to dress a salad with finery for the upcoming feast….
see ya later old count draconian theory
Brian
I just feel I had to comment as yes it has been a while. The comments are true and after the revolution I do plan to generate an army of smocked coated clones to make sure that the country is populated by hat or fez doffing gentlefolk and the world is safe for the gentlemans personal gentleman once again, viva la revolution -old thing and and after you!
Sir,
There\’s a sketch in the 2nd series of The Franz Kafka Big Band about Literal Cockneys, who do indeed climb up the apple and pears to get to the second floor – thus squeezing fruit juice out of their socks..
But our second series has been banned. Gosh. It\’s all terribly exciting! Why not pop over and catch up on the gossip!
regards,
Smith Jr (2nd Class)
Greeheetings, old curtain. There\’s another badgerbadgerbadger production! *clears throat but realizes there\’s a teddybear stuck in her bronchus and decides to stop clearing throat* Banana Phone!!
http://www.allmedia.com.au/bananana/
Pure genius.
Ahh-rree-ver-der-tchee.
Wobbler.
If you have embarked on your hols today…does that make you a SNAKE ON A PLANE?
Oh bugger this for a game of shove ha\’penny – I ruddy detest this space now that it\’s LIVE – it\’s so bleedin\’ slow. Hence the lack of, well, frankly, anything. Dear fishes all, I shall update when I become more tolerant of it. As you may note such an occurrence will not be in the too distant future, as this comment attesteth… I still think of you my most cherished oglers and wish you all a merry christmas from the very heart of my bottom.
That being said it will not be that long until I post another, er, post. So until such time as I deign to lend some of my most valuable time to this wretched business, fare thee well and god speed forsooth.
Etc.
Toodle bloody pip,
Bri
P.S. My dear\’st J – that didn\’t occur to me, but I suppose I well might have been, although I am glad to say the planes which I were on were considerably more credible than the script of the aforementioned celluloid disaster. I almost feel like seeing it for the car-crash effect.
P.P.S. (or in Oxford, P.P.E.) Worthy Sir – how exciting to have something banned – you realise you will now be the subject of endless \’When they were banned\’ documentaries, hosted by the lamentably talent-free Paul Ross, with commentary by Michael Winner and Mark Kermode. It\’s a small price to pay for infamy!
PPPS (as I cannot be bothered with punctuation now – ah me! how standards have fall\’n) Everyone else, whom I hold in the highest esteem but are too numerous to individually recount, although quite honestly if I hadn\’t wasted my time writing this screed I could have quite easily recounted but there we are, it\’s a bit late isn\’t it – Your comments have been noted and I am passing them to the Gestapo – you have 24 hours to flee your countries.
PPPPS simply for the reason I don\’t think PPPPS actually exists.
PPPPPS or this one.
why is everyone drifitng into oblivion oh oblivious one? are we mere oglers in thy oglaeable space to be derived from thy smorgasbord propaganda of proposterous proportions of profanity?…reduced to be mere knights who wash their underwear only on tuesdays?
tsk tsk what a pickle…i better just go eat it…
Indeed, one may see that the Live spaces are a veritable bouquet of shit, and, upsetting as it may be, we can do nothing about it. However, a blog would indeed be very good to see. I myself have updated in your place and also your palace, twice. the first update enjoys the frivoloties of incorrectness of the political kind – I may have laughed a little bit at Steve Irwin\’s untimely death, and the second one is a large list of songs that I myself hath written. Yes, I have given in, times are hard and I have given up on selling my music, so now I\’m just slapping them all into my blog, for free. What is money to those without dreams, and all that. Well, basically, just dropping by (and into the pit of oblivion) to give you some venerable spanks. Alas, there was no-one in, so I went away again.Sayonara (Japanese for "Cover me in sub-par soy sauce and rice"),Sir Daniel Gray Stoker III, of Loxley.
MSN blogs, dying on it\’s arse, so ive decide to upload a video of me exposing myself on you tube. If you cant beat \’em join \’em
Wibbler.
You seem older.
I\’ve missed a birthday.
Shit.
IOU one birthday song.
Oy! Did I miss a buhhhthday pahhhty? Well \’shite on a stick\’ I say, no one bloody told me. Happy anniversary of your hatching, old duck. Me hopes it was a pheasant.. er.. pleasant one.
Kind regards and best wishes, et cetera, and albeit a tad late, do treat yourself to a nice fondue, meringue or whatever sort of thing is appropriate this sort of occasion.
Toodles.
i turn you into a shrubbery you lily kidneyed knight….come back and blog like a man!!
yours ever obnoxiously
fair weathered rock..