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Aunty Bill - A Tin Opener Short

Here To Help – Here To Care

The Milk Of Human Kindness

Aunty Bill,

My mum sold me to the milkman in order to buy a shoe horn the other week.

Do you think she is trying to tell me something? I weigh 87 stone and recently ate our roof by mistake. It made a healthy alternative to cheese in a sandwich.

Yvonne, Winchester

Aunty Bill Replies;

Dear Yvonne

The shoehorn is merely a metaphor for shoe horning you out of the door and out of her life (although at 87 stone she’s got a job on her hands and will need a bigger horn or lots of smaller ones).

At least she sold you to a milkman.

Milkmen (and women) have over the years demonstrated a deep affection for fat people. Before the days of the milkfloat, they could be seen across Britain pulling the wagon while milkmen jumped on and off delivering the nation’s favourite drink.

Hopefully he will put you to work and you’ll see the pounds fall away and be in a position to replace the roof over you dear old mum’s head which you so thoughtlessly ate.

Chink! Chink!

AB

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Aunty Bill - A Tin Opener Short

Here To Help – Here To Care

Pond Love

Help Aunty Bill!

I am in love with my neighbour’s goldfish pond. It is on two levels and has a nice water feature in the centre (a fountain of Elvis doing the splits). I asked my neighbour if I could take the pond out for a fish supper. He slammed the door in my face and last night firebombed my shed.

How can I get him to see that I really love his pond?

Dai, Rhonnda

Aunty Bill Replies;

Hi Dai,

Just when you think everything’s been covered, up you pop!

Water Feature love isn’t as unusual as you might think. A cousin of mine once had a torrid affair with a friend’s garden sprinkler. Only at night though. There was a hose pipe ban at the time,

I’m not surprised you’ve fallen for your neighbour’s water feature.

Demonstrate your love for this pond by embarking on an extensive cleaning, fish feeding and water filtration procedures. A few weeks of intensive pond maintenance should show that your intentions are honourable.

If this fails, then seek revenge for your shed. You will need the following :

A 12″ gauge shot gun

1 gallon of petrol

1 bucket of bleach

Some gloves

I leave the rest to you – you know what you have to do.

TTFN

Aunty Bill

 

 

 

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Bluebell frillary

Shoots of Barley on the hillcrest field

Wet dripping barbed wire

Silver slivers of cold Spring light

Through a disorder of branches

A palette  of greens

Smatterings of shade

Brown muddy boots

And from everywhere

Birdsong

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I’m Squinting

With my glasses lost again

But I know enough to be struggling to see

God,but will I ever stop the drink

Once and for all?

 

Today I saw a Belfast man

Marching the road

Collarete on in the sun

The traditional

Tribal triumph

Seen in his swagger and away of shoulders.

 

But this is Spain

And the collarete was Instead ONCE

(Organización National de Ciegos España)

Tickets

Orange and yellow tickets to be sold

Their luck tacked to his waistcoat.

His swagger and away

Sadly as a result of the twisted racking cracking

Of his body’s being.

It spent moving

His spine choked frame in the ways of his days

Him I squinting saw

Not him then

Thran

With the self blinded

Hurray of the Cyclops.

 

Last time at home

A fella:

Brother to one in the company

Complained to the slow barman

-I’ll get you done!

But the bar was packed

And the barman

(Who I too, thought slow)

Was having none of his old craic.

 

-Get me done?

He hollered

-Get me done?

-You can fuck off,

Yer barred!

 

Old Belfast bashing

Hard man against the new.

The silence of naked fear

That such a statement

might once have entailed

Bloody death or at least a beating

Was gone

The bouncer gleefully bounced the

Soul scarred, jail tattooed poor twerp

Drinkless

Out into the night.

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sperm

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From The Prisons Of Our Own Minds

It is the sea that makes us realise
That we are indeed small
From the blade of grass
That we are indeed big
And for me
The memory of
The whitest light from the smile once
From of the face of my girl
She waiting at the top of my Street
To then
Go work her Saturday job in the hairdressers
And me mine in the garage.
That makes me know that I have indeed lived

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It has been a year now that our arts correspondent Terry Cotter The Potter has been giving us his unique insight into the world they call “Art”. To celebrate this (and the fact that it is time for a break) we will publish some of his reviews for your delectation and delight. Remember this one?

Hello,

My name is Terry Cotter. I’m a potter.

I have been potterising for over 20 years and stock a wide range of ceramic goods in my shop The Potter’s Reel, down here in Lower Swell. The shop is named after my potter’s wheel which goes round and round. Like a reel.

We have a Sale on at the moment. All plates are £5 each, mugs are £2.50 each and the hand finished ceramic bananas, which didn’t fly of the shelves are reduced to £547 each. Value For Money. Only another 6,567 to shift. So come on down.

Here are some reviews of some of my favourite bits from the world they call “Art”.

1. Painting

Autumn Rhythm – One of Jackson Pollock’s most famous. I don’t have a clue either.

2. Movies

Dances With Wolves – Don’t Dance With Wolves. They will eat you. Great car chase and the underwater fight scenes are wonderful. Who will ever forget Whitney Houston’s theme tune? Goes on a bit.

3. Music

Michael Buble- Christmas – I love Micheal Bubble – Ba Ba Boo Boo so to speak – I just haven’t met him yet – needs to wash his hair first though – it is greasy in my opinion. Goes on a bit.

4. Literature

The Times Atlas Of The World – Got this for Christmas! Maps spelt backwards is Spam. Now there’s a thought. Goes on a bit.

Village News

The Postman

Whoever stole his rubber band ball (10 years in the making) could they please return it. He was only four short of the world rubber band collection set by an itinerant Sioux postal worker stalker in the Oklahoma in the 1960’s.

Request Review – The Thought Fox by Ted Hughes

This was requested by the marvellous Hollyannegetspoetic (http://hollyannegetspoetic.wordpress.com/).

Ted Hughes was a poet (I once went out with a girl called Ted Hughes). He had a famous girlfriend (Anne Frank I think her name was) and he wrote a lot of poems. They didn’t rhyme so he can’t have been very good.

This one is about a Fox thinking about writing a poem. Clever Fox I say. Bit hard for a Fox to hold a pen though. And it doesn’t rhyme. So not such a clever Fox. Goes on a bit too.

My wife said it was an Allegory. Shame he lost to George Bush.

‘Til next time – The Wheel Keeps On Turning!

TCTP

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