Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

Goose

Hello,

I hope you enjoyed Part 1 yesterday. You can Read Part 1 here!

Here is Part 2 – Read on……….

Day 41 – Lisbon – scurry aboard Recife bound ship “Obrigado” – the principal cargo is buttock emollient cream, samba costumes and whistles – wriggle into a nice floral headpiece, matching sequinned bra and thong – I blending in with Brazilian culture!

Day 43 – The Obrigado – Unmasked by Boson as not “Hector” the vessel’s happy go lucky First Mate but as a non-paying transgender guest with well-honed buttocks – thrown in the Brig.

Day 43 – The Obrigado – Brought to ship’s captain – he is an unreconstructed romantic who is in a state of high dudgeon after reading the Bronte Classic Jane Eyre – he clutches me to his swelling breast and sobs uncontrollably “Poor Rochester,” he cries – tells me of his loon of a wife – a woman with a predilection for salty old tars – she is sealed away in ship’s bulkhead on account of her madness and “needs”.

Michael-Fassbender-as-Mr-Rochester-Jane-Eyre-2011-michael-fassbender-25911613-1920-1040

Day 46 – The Obrigado – Mass panic as Captain’s wife escapes and ravishes the ships Bursar, First and Second Mate, Boson, Petty Officer, Cook and a lad who happened to be passing in a Tuna fishing boat she spotted on the starboard bow – swam over to and ravished – she is captured and restored to her cell – the Captain sobs – I read him extracts from Wuthering Heights – “Poor Cathy,” is all he says.

Day 50 – Recife – Leave Obrigado – Captain donates lifetime supply of buttock emollient to thank me for my support – his wife ravishes me before I skip ashore – “Poor Cathy,” are the last words I hear.

Day 51 – Trans-Amazonian Highway – Sashay my way towards Belem – my bottom is revered by buttock cognoscenti.

Day 54 – Belem – Join Samba dance band – band rooted in bizarre Marxist theory that believes buttock wobbling in camp outfits will eventually destroy capitalism – I have my doubts.

Day 68 – Mouth of Amazon – Say farewell to my Samba Band colleagues with a toot on my whistle – Capitalism still intact – chop down big tree – shape it into giant clog and paddle towards Manaus.

Useful Tip in the Rain Forest #1 Never paddle in a thong.

butt

Day 71 The Amazon – See off attack from shoal of synchronised swimming Piranhas by dazzling them with my sequin studded brassiere – smear myself in emollient to fend off flesh-eating insects and mosquitos.

Day 75 – Fishing village of Maracaibo – Befriended by Geoff a double glazing salesman from Cornwall who. “turned left at Plymouth instead of right” – barter my whistle with him for a set of triple glazed French windows he happens to be carrying – lash them to clog and sail up the Amazon!

Day 80 – Manaus – Leave clog and trek into Forest – see all types of creatures – Jaguars, Monkeys, Lions, Tigers, Penguins, Polar Bears, even a Giraffe – realise I am in Manaus Zoo and head for exit – easy mistake to make. Turn left at MacDonald’s and find myself deep in the Rain Forest.

Useful Tip in the Rain Forest #2 – Never walk in a thong and stilettos in the Rain Forest.

Day 84 – Rain Forest – Felled by dart fired from blowpipe – fall into delirious fever – imagine erotic romps with Bilbo Baggins.

Day 86 – Rain Forest – Fever breaks and awake to find short lad with big ears and enormous feet next to me! I am in Middle Earth!

Day 86 – Rain Forest – Lad wakes up and smiles – he only communicates by twanging his nasal hairs in complex melodies – I discover his name is Whothefuckareyou? Chief of a long lost tribe who still don’t have a clue where they are – The Wherethefuckarewe?

tribe

Day 86  – Rain Forest – I am the first white man in samba outfit with smooth buttocks the Wherethefuckarewe? have encountered – I am worshipped as their long lost God and christened Wherethefuckdidhecomefrom?

Day 87 – Rain Forest – The Wherethefuckarewe? are a proud people – traditional costume is an Adidas Shellsuit – it is good to see that they have not been tainted by western culture – Whothefuckareyou? organises a feast in my honour!

Day 88 – Rain Forest The feast comprises the traditional Amazonian dish of Burger and Chips washed down with a highly intoxicating liquor made by fermenting the bark of dogs – we partake in a fertility dance with a number of toothless harpies – nasal hairs plucked with much ferocity – Before passing out all I recall is a nasal hair plucking rendition of the Hokey Cokey, followed by Hi Ho Silver Lining……..

Day 93 – Rain Forest – Whothefuckareyou? leads me deep into the jungle – day after day I toil moving ever further from civilisation towards what? I know not – I am wilting – cannot go much further – chafed and blistered – my headgear a bit wonky – Finally he holds out a slightly wonky Light Sabre without batteries towards a clearing in the Forest.

Day 93 – In The Rain Forest – A place of serene beauty – never before seen by a white man dressed in a samba outfit – giant statues – thousands of years old – bearing a remarkable resemblance to the cast of US Sitcom Friends – guard this place – I hear water nearby – Whothefuckareyou? twangs on his nose hair – the sounds tell me that we have reached the source of the Amazon – A washer is needed to stop the dripping – slightly disappointing.

I think of Simon Cowell with a sausage on his head.

simon_cowell goetta copy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

Goose

 

Hello,

With the Soccerball World Cup in Brazil  starting next week and football fever building,  here is an old story from our friend  The Tight Fisted Traveller on how he managed to travel to Brazil for free last year.

This is taken from his handy reference book– “The Coke Smugglers Guide to Latin America”.

Chapter 23 – “Brazil It’s An Amazon Place!”

Day 1 – London – Steal bicycle – nip to French mens outfitter’s “Moi?” – purloin traditional French garb of beret, Breton shirt, moustache and string of onions – stare in shop window and practice nonplussed facial expression whilst shrugging shoulders – I am French!

Day 1 – London – Bike ride to Dover hampered by dangling onions – but I am French now so shrug shoulders and blockade motorway to protest.

Day 3 – Dover Harbour – Stowaway on French Minesweeper SS “Mai Oui”.

A Typical Frenchman - well if you're gonna do a cliche do it properly

Day 4 – English Channel – My disguise allows me to mingle with the crew who smoke continually, argue about the true meaning of Sartre and make vegetable soup which is slurped down with Gallic aplomb.

Day 5 – English Channel – The crew take me to heart after Je suis discovered akip in torpedo tube – sing the Edith Piaf classic – “A Citroen Backfires – Paris Surrenders” become overnight internet sensation on Vous Tube.

Day 6 – Cherbourg – no sign of Cher sadly – I am smuggled ashore by crew who wish to continue discussing Sartre and their nation’s affliction for permanent nonplussedness. After emotional farewells involving mass spontaneous shoulder shrugging – I cycle south for Spain.

Day 8 – Cherbourg (still) – Dangling onions still a problem and the false moustache causing further drag issues on Bike – c’est la vie – blockade service station toilets in protest.

Day 9 – Cherbourg (still) – Tour de France sweeps through – Stage 14 to Reims – I join the Peloton – miraculously win the stage and claim the Yellow Jersey. Cite Lance Armstrong and Amphetamine abuse as major factors in my success.

Day 10 Reims – I am uncovered when my dangling onions accidentally throttle leading French rider in Stage 15 – chased by baying mob of French onion loving cyclist philosophers who see this as ghastly “Les Rosbifs” attack on a French sporting institution (but the philosophers ask “is it?”) – Make good my escape by removing the onions from bike and take off false moustache – they’ll never spot me!

Day 10 – Reims- Arrested by French police. Blockade my cell in protest.

Day 13 – Reims – Released – am offered a lift by Heineken sozzled Dutch shykling fansh – Wim and Piet Mine Der Gap who are following the Tour – Their camper van roof sports a giant detachable clog and a windmill – “Krayshee Ja!” Wim and Piet keep saying – I am hidden in Windmill as we pass through the Pyrenees into Espana. Now I know what Anne Frank must have gone through.

Day 31 – The Spanish Pyrenees – Wim and Piet spin on blades of windmill for three days singing the back catalogue of well known Dutch Prog rock band Focus – they swear rotary turbine spinning cures any hangover – I decouple giant clog and slip quietly into the River Sangria and raft to Madrid.

clogboat

Day 33 – Somewhere in Iberia – Sailing by clog surprisingly comfortable – draw admiring glances from Spanish Environmentalists who are protesting about tomatoes being grown in greenhouses along riverbanks.

Day 37 – Madrid – How a Brit, disguised as a Frenchman arriving in a giant clog could be construed to be the famous bullfighter “El Flatulente” is beyond me – but I am – carried shoulder high to Las Ventas for a spot of “Death in the Afternoon”.

Day 37 –  Madrid – Bullfighting clothes very tight on the old knackers – mince my way into the ring – confronted by a livid Bull called “El Mangler” – my bowels loosen – prance like John Wayne with piles – realise my sword is actually a shop bought Star Wars light sabre without batteries – I have to make the droning noise myself – El Mangler sees the sword, recalls he is part Sith and then does a passable Darth Vader impression – becomes internet sensation on Tu Tube – I am carried shoulder high by adoring fans out of the arena – with only a wonky shop bought Star Wars light sabre without batteries as a trophy.

Day 38 – Madrid – I hitch a lift in a lorry driven by a reticent Serb war criminal, Goran – cargo is artificially grown tomatoes hidden in statues of Picasso.

oil-painting-tete-de-femme-by-spanish-painter-pablo-picasso-7433141 copy

Part 2 Tomorrow! To Lisbon and Beyond……..

Read Full Post »

Hello,

I avoid getting involved in round robin memes as it feels oxymoronic for a blog that celebrates the absurd and nonsensical to explain itself in anyway.

However, I was invited by the wonderful Kathryn Grid at art colored glasses to talk about my writing. This is a different story. Because Kathryn is wonderful. Plain and simple. She has a clarity of thought and writing style that explains why this blogging lark is so enjoyable. Whether it be poetry, art, photography or beautifully written pieces about modern-day life I always find her insights enjoyable.

I am late with this exercise, partly because I was in heavy training for a half marathon, partly because the PC required the brawny yet caring hands of Trevor the ‘puter repair man (scuppering a few sausageifications I might add) but mostly due to inertia.

So apologies Kathryn for missing your deadline!

The rules of the process are that I answer four questions about how I write and nominate three others.

What am I working on at the moment?

I am putting the finishing touches to a set of stories all written on trains and have finally prepared the skeleton for a novel which will consume me for years to come.

I am also through Gingerfightback seeking to get “Nonsense with a purpose” included into the political lexicon of Britain in time for the General Election in 2015.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

No idea.

I concentrate on writing good stories with engaging characters that makes the reader want to get to the end of the story.

Why do I write what I do?

It is the way my brain works. I have an aversion to long windedness. Flowery writing drives me potty. Cherish words – don’t waste them.

How does my writing process work?

Notepad and pen. Always scribbling. Arrows and balloons. Get the narrative and then characterisation (my handwriting is so abysmal that the transfer to the screen is a slow and expletive laden process). Once I am happy with the structure, rewrite the thing. Remove excessive words. Rewrite. Third or fourth draft I might be happy with. Probably not so rewrite with the aim of removing more words.

I am a morning person.

And now, I nominate these three writers to participate in a Writing Process Blog Meme:

I nominated the people below because;

  • I have enjoyed reading their work
  • They hail from the British Isles
  • Their work covers adult and children’s literature and also poetry

Jackie @ http://barbedwords.wordpress.com/

Holly Anne @ http://hollyannegetspoetic.wordpress.com

JD @http://jdgallagher.wordpress.com

If you accept my nomination, please write an article prompted by the following four questions and post it on your blog sometime in the future. You’ll also nominate three writers of your choice to post their articles on their blogs again at sometime in the future. The four questions are;

What am I working on at the moment?

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Why do I write what I do?

How does my writing process work?

Don’t worry if you don’t want to do it!

Read Full Post »

I went to sleep in the stranger’s bed
And woke needing to pee.
Not knowing where the light was
Nor wanting to wake her.
Well,
Wanting to wake her…but.

Through the curtains
Could see the stars
Sow stars
Sow that light across this universe
This brief moment of time
Across the darkness
Light my way
Be my light
Don’t let me stumble.

But she wakes
And as she watches my return
Know now
This means more to me
Than the light
Of our one lonely star.

Read Full Post »

‘Is anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest’s ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door a second time;
Is there anybody there?’ he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
Well, that’s what you get for booking on line when you’re pissed.

Read Full Post »

I’ve given up the shore for Hills

These Hills

At twilight the Lough glows yet red

Clutching the last of the Sun

I’ve given up The Shore for these hills

Hills yellow with furze

Coconut smelling

And birdsong trilling out

Below ribbons of streetlights

Show colour, a friendlier yellow

It’s the mounds that have it tho’

Dusky mounds of fecund blossom

Falling away making this

Spring’s snowline of bushes

Broad brushstrokes

 

Read Full Post »

Sargent_Stench_MctavishHello,

As ex-special forces I know about adapting to my surroundings through disguise and aromatherapy.

My account of life as a Jihadist in Syria called, “But Syriaously” was published this week. Here is an extract from Chapter 5, ” Cheese Waits For No Man.”

“Over 120 in the shade. The Lethal Force Action Group were struggling. Prickle Heat had laid Al-Fungus Thompson out and I could see that Al-Jellytits O’Loon was beginning to wilt.

Food supplies were running low, forcing us to suck each others toes for fluid. Thompson’s bunions were off putting at first, but when you are desperate……….

……………………………..Finally, after days of searching we came across the ammo dump. Here sat the Druze Militia Warlord and his evil henchmen,  fiddling with Rubik’s cubes whilst discussing the relative merits of sheep, goat or cow’s cheese. Preparations were being made for a Fondue party. I love Fondue.

I could smell cheese. A ripe, cheesy odour that reminded me of home – cheese on toast for tea on Sundays. In less hostile times I would have told these evil WARLORDS OF DEATH how a splash of Worcester Sauce really complements cheese on toast. Sadly this was not the case. I was here to destroy the ground to air rockets my country had sold to them. In the name of peace.

From my ammo belt I broke out my emergency cheese supply and popped a lump onto my head. I inched my way toward the group.   The Big Lad stirring the Fondue saw me,  he was 6 foot tall and 6 foot wide with the hams of a god.

I had to think. Fast. On my feet. My field training helped.

“Aaaahhhh CHEESE!” I shouted and smiled.

“Sim Salabim! CHEEEEEEEESE!” he replied. I took the cheese off my head and motioned towards the fondue bowl.

“Sim Salabim! Dunk your cheese Offendi!”

I dunked my cheesy knob for a few moments before whipping it out and pasting it up the nostrils of the Big Lad.

“Aiieeeeeeee!” he cried – I managed to get my cheesy knob down his throat. Al-Jellytits O-Loon burst through the doors and made those evil henchmen eat lead.

We made off with the fondue set and had a wonderful night. It would have been nice to have some fruit to go with our cheese platter. There is something mystical about eating cheese and a selection of stoned fruits under the stars.

 

 

Read Full Post »

Hello Oily,

My boyfriend has taken to ironing his scrotum.

Luckily this is after he’s finished his smalls. Apart from singeing around the pubic area and agonised cries of pain, are there any health issues to consider?

I must say a smooth, crease free sac is a turn on!

Debbie, Nazeing
Oily Replies;
Debs,
Any health issues? Woman are you insane?
Those once crunchy nuts will be flat as a pancake. Is that what you want….cos that’s what will ‘appen! He should do what I do, hang them out on the clothes line to dry naturally.
Admittedly the weather where I am in Sham City is much more conducive to open air drying. Plus people here are used to seeing others “bits” hanging out left, right and centre although admittedly they don’t usually look as battered bruised swollen and misshapen as mine.
The current tender state of said bits is due to a recent Neighbourhood Watch meeting I attended. I appear to have got the wrong end of somebody’s stick. I was told in no uncertain terms that you cannot pick and choose the neighbour you wish to watch. Voyeurism is not on the menu. In that case count me out.

Oily

Read Full Post »

Blair-Witch

Hello Aunty

I learned a new word today. Tuesday.

This means that my week is now four days long. Wednesday, Saturday, Monday and now Tuesday. What can I do to fill my time on Tuesdays? The other days of the week I dribble and wet myself.

Damp Dave, The Thickest Man On Earth

Dear Dave

The days missing are Thursday, Friday and Sunday. Learn these by heart as it will make your week complete.

Spend Thursday cleaning up Monday and Wednesday’s dribble and wee in preparation for another bout of bodily leakage, although now you have Tuesday you have the option of option of either cleaning up Monday’s mess or having another day to sit in a mire of your own making on Tuesday and Wednesday and having a bloody big clean up on Thursday (see above for the new days added to your week).

I would advise against this. Best to try and hold back on Tuesday and then have a good tidy up on Wednesday (confusing isn’t it?)

This leaves Thursday free to go to the Job Centre to look for some kind of gainful employment, although I see few openings.

Friday – feel free to either scan the local paper for supplies of Cosifits or revert to type in preparation for the Saturday clean up.

Sunday, if you can control your bowels, visit the local museum to see how your ancestors lived.

Yes Dave they lived just like you although at least they had the get up and go to throw their excretia out of the window into the street below (this may be an option for you in order to avoid your interminable cleaning detail).

Sunday evening settle down in front of “Call the Midwife a Twat” and feel free to wee and dribble to you heart’s content. This  programme has a similar effect on millions of people across the country as they prepare for another week of toil.

At least you’ve got Monday to clean up Dave, eh?

Read Full Post »

Shifting over in the bed.
Waking at
My usual time to wake
Minutes before the alarm sounds.
I laugh at the lonely
Silliness,
Of my being pleased
That I can turn on the other lamp with a toe
My left big toe.
It has taken these years
To shift from having
Had
A
‘My side of the bed’
But I navigate around
These various double beds
Painters long since slipped
Still a deep sleeper
But wandering now
From clinging to the
Ribbing at the side
Of a queen-sized mattress
In the company of
Her
Her of splendid isolation
To now
To all the kingdoms
And beyond
As there’s no one there to wake to.
If there were to be
It’d be a pretty pass
To wake a sleeping lover with a big toe in her gob
(Still?
….horses for courses…)
As I swing to turn on their lamp
I can imagine lights being put out for less.

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »