When genuflection becomes tedious, turn to kippers!
Yes, don’t start!
I know I’ve neglected you my fearsome oglers, and time out o’mind forsooth, but after only a year-long break and some much sought-after life happening betwixt entries, perhaps it is time to resume this load of old nonsense once again…
But first let me recount a most disturbing set of events that hath befallen any man since Attila the Hun first fell off his donkey.
It all began last Wednesday when first I laid eyes on my second-best forget-me-not. My first-best forget-me-not was out drinking and gambling in a crack house in Switzerland cutting up pictures of dogs. I’m thinking of moving him down to third-best.
Anyway, my second-best forget-me-not was smiling pleasantly in his grow-bag and lapping up the rays of the sun. Or are they particles? That, we will never know. Unless we ask Margaret Thatcher and I don’t know that I can be bothered. Well, particles or not, there it was, not only basking in the sun, but also humming a tune, which, I might add, for such a small flower is no easy task. It was humming the love theme from ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ which being only 30 microseconds long, consisted, to the untrained ear, of but one note.
Now who am I to be critical of my second-best forget-me-not when times are cold and the weather is hard? But today was no ordinary day. It was the 22nd of February – last Wednesday the 22nd of February, which was 2006 for those of you too lazy to work it out. Shame on you!
Anyway, the week before this 22nd of February I had decided to take a holiday in Paris, Texas and to my absolute surprise, when I checked in to Ol’ Zeke’s Motel I was beset by a gentleman sporting a face made of another man’s face and he did smite me with his chainsaw and lop off the only head to which I have become rather attached. And so my second-best forget-me-not’s humming was in very poor taste.
So I burned him to death. He’s still not said sorry.
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bjbeamish
o and behold! he hat spaken (no typos there..i am afraid the letter l and h (not even reached their upper cases yet) are out courting with one another )
thank ye kindly dear flaura burning maniac, if I could only tell you in words how bleak the middle "off" the east turned out to be, but it is bleak and I really cannot see well in the dark, therefore I must forego the words and make do with a filament that is still a figment of my non existing imagination. Quite an impossible feat I must add.
Anyways to cut long story short, hemlines have risen once again my friend – I still think the texas chainsaw massacre love theme should have won a granny. Don\’t you?
My dear Miss Tickle,
I\’m glad the l and the h are courting – I\’ve been trying to pair them up for years with no success – hopefully they will produce lots of little m\’s – it would certainly make mummification easier to spell.
And you\’re right – it should have won a granny – I tried to raffle my granny in the village fete only the other day, but nobody won her and she came home again looking quite forlorn. Well, forlorn is forearmed and so I have decided to sell her on the stock market instead. She should fetch at least 12 rupees.
Toodle pip
Bri
But Alas! The stock market has not been what it seems ever since the rednecks decided their necks are indeed red and they have been staying out in the sun too long, for no house shall take them in or for that matter the banks have taken their houses. This ofcourse must affect the rest of the world – a world that empathisez with people who have red necks on account of their blue noses.
Sacreu BLUE …indeed!
Perhaps I shall buy your granny, I could find a tea cosy that would fit her quite well and perhaps balance my extra cheerful tea kettle on her? It needs a good old lady to pull it down a notch or two. Whistles too often it does.
Yours sincerely
Shehoo Lostwit
Don\’t fret, old chap, you did the right thing. Like all heretics, the second-best had it comming. The nerve! The gall! To humm the very song which would be the instrumment of your demmise. (I believe the l and the h are perhaps getting a bit eager and need to be separated.) Though it was only one note of the entire refrain, it was THE note: the one note, mmost offensive in the entire piece, and so you should have no guilt or shame about putting torch to its sinewy flesh until its corpus glows like the molten sulphurous caves of hades.
And on that cheerful not, I wish you the best of the Christmas season. Enjoy your merriment and lift a pint for those in Canada locked in winter\’s grip.
Cheerio.