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Vile Bodies

March 24, 2009


While we breathlessly await the Godot-like Clint Eastwood piece, let’s have some terza rima on politicians, the unspeakable swine…

When The Going Gets Trough


McNulty and Smith have well-buried their snouts
In the public’s pockets, the endless full trough
That drowns any ethics, submerges all doubts.

They hardly look up as they heartily scoff
The rich swill that’s so unctuous and free:
What will it take to make them fuck off?

The drooping jowls, the belly’s immensity
The shifty eyes–all these tell the tale
Of greed’s all-consuming and shameless intensity.

Kick them, beat them, throw them in jail,
(perhaps we could eat them with sauerkraut)
Now is the time to drive the final nail.

Let’s hope we soon experience a drought
Of politicians: such swine we can do without.

…your turn.

  1. mishari permalink*
    March 25, 2009 12:43 AM

    And in case anyone thinks I’m exaggerating the scale of the disaster that is Obama’s fiscal policy, here’s what Nobel winning economist and Obama supporter Paul Krugman had to say about the new trillion dollar giveaway:

    This is more than disappointing. In fact, it fills me with a sense of despair.

    After all, we’ve just been through the firestorm over the A.I.G. bonuses, during which administration officials claimed that they knew nothing, couldn’t do anything, and anyway it was someone else’s fault.

    Meanwhile, the administration has failed to quell the public’s doubts about what banks are doing with taxpayer money.

    And now Mr. Obama has apparently settled on a financial plan that, in essence, assumes that banks are fundamentally sound and that bankers know what they’re doing.

    It’s as if the president were determined to confirm the growing perception that he and his economic team are out of touch, that their economic vision is clouded by excessively close ties to Wall Street. And by the time Mr. Obama realizes that he needs to change course, his political capital may be gone.

    Let’s talk for a moment about the economics of the situation.

    Right now, our economy is being dragged down by our dysfunctional financial system, which has been crippled by huge losses on mortgage-backed securities and other assets.

    As economic historians can tell you, this is an old story, not that different from dozens of similar crises over the centuries. And there’s a time-honored procedure for dealing with the aftermath of widespread financial failure. It goes like this: The government secures confidence in the system by guaranteeing many (though not necessarily all) bank debts. At the same time, it takes temporary control of truly insolvent banks, in order to clean up their books.

    That’s what Sweden did in the early 1990’s. It’s also what we Americans did after the savings and loan debacle of the Reagan years. And there’s no reason we can’t do the same thing now.

    But the Obama administration, like the Bush administration, apparently wants an easier way out. The common element to the Paulson and Geithner plans is the insistence that the bad assets on banks’ books are really worth much, much more than anyone is currently willing to pay for them. In fact, their true value is so high that if they were properly priced, banks wouldn’t be in trouble.

    And so the plan is to use taxpayer funds to drive the prices of bad assets up to “fair” levels. Mr. Paulson proposed having the government buy the assets directly. Mr. Geithner instead proposes a complicated scheme in which the government lends money to private investors, who then use the money to buy the stuff. The idea, says Mr. Obama’s top economic adviser, is to use “the expertise of the market” to set the value of toxic assets.

    But the Geithner scheme would offer a one-way bet: If asset values go up, the investors profit, but if they go down, the investors can walk away from their debt. So this isn’t really about letting markets work. It’s just an indirect, disguised way to subsidize purchases of bad assets.

    The likely cost to taxpayers aside, there’s something strange going on here. By my count, this is the third time Obama administration officials have floated a scheme that is essentially a rehash of the Paulson plan, each time adding a new set of bells and whistles and claiming that they’re doing something completely different. This is starting to look obsessive.

    But the real problem with this plan is that it won’t work. Yes, troubled assets may be somewhat undervalued. But the fact is that financial executives literally bet their banks on the belief that there was no housing bubble, and the related belief that unprecedented levels of household debt were no problem.

    They lost that bet. And no amount of financial hocus-pocus — for that is what the Geithner plan amounts to — will change that fact.

    You might say, why not try the plan and see what happens? One answer is that time is wasting: Every month that we fail to come to grips with the economic crisis another 600,000 jobs are lost.

    Even more important, however, is the way Mr. Obama is squandering his credibility. If this plan fails — as it almost surely will — it’s unlikely that he’ll be able to persuade Congress to come up with more funds to do what he should have done in the first place.– New York Times, 23.3.2009

  2. Billy permalink
    March 25, 2009 8:51 AM

    A short poem by E.E. Cummings:

    a politician is an arse upon
    which everything has sat, except a man

  3. mishari permalink*
    March 25, 2009 11:47 AM

    Succinct and unanswerable, Bill.

  4. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 25, 2009 3:32 PM

    Just noticed it’s supposed to be terza rima. Sorry.

    To Tony McNulty

    Your namesake is a copper on The Wire,
    in general trying to do the right thing,
    you are a bullock lumbering round the byre,
    your festering muzzle salivating
    as you shoulder your companions aside,
    trample them unthinking into the mud
    and get your dirty greasy face applied
    to sucking up your meal of bones and blood.

    You cheating bastard! How long will you hang,
    sucking the Mother of Parliament’s tit?
    You big fat ever-babbling baby,
    it’s time that you and your venial gang
    faced the fact that you’ve dumped us in the shit.
    So get yourselves weaned. Then fuck off and die.

  5. Zephirine permalink
    March 25, 2009 6:41 PM

    Off topic and behind the times here, sorry – I’ve only just had time to start looking for Poster Poems faves to nominate, spent two days going through the threads and nowhere near finished, sigh. I think I’ll have to give up being thorough and be content with a representative selection… Mishari, where was that poem of yours about walking into a lamp post and sinking your teeth into a wolverine? I can’t find it.

  6. mishari permalink*
    March 25, 2009 7:05 PM

    Here, Zeph…right toward the end of the page…

    BTW, like you, I’ve been going through the PPs when I have time and I just keep finding more and more stuff I want to re-post. I might just as well recommend all 52 threads…

  7. Zephirine permalink
    March 25, 2009 7:46 PM

    Aha, thank you! I haven’t even got to Terza Rima yet. I’m just going to post a few more on GU and then carry on making up my own anthology as and when I have time, it’s 130+ pages already.

    What I’ve found interesting is the people who dropped in, left a couple of stunning pieces and didn’t come back. Frustrating, because one would like to read more of their stuff. But perhaps they have lives, or didn’t want to write to a set subject.

    As for that freepoland, he hilariously declared in one of the early threads that he didn’t have any original ideas…yeah, right.

  8. mishari permalink*
    March 25, 2009 8:07 PM

    I know, I know…that freep’s a piece of work. He deserves an anthology of his own…

  9. March 26, 2009 12:35 AM


    “The real problem with this plan is that it won’t work.”

    That’s been the problem lately with all the plans in happy valley.

    For a reminder of an earlier regime’s paint-by-the-numbers-to-keep-America-safe crisis management strategy, see:

  10. mishari permalink*
    March 26, 2009 9:37 AM

    Watch Gordon Brown having his head handed to him on a platter in the European Parliament on Tuesday:

    …why is Brown beaming with delight? The man’s a fucking loon.

  11. March 26, 2009 7:48 PM


    One is bestirred to new respect for the poetic tradition by your prompt and magnanimous compliance with the dedicated archivist Z’s request for information as to the locus of your gallant head-bashing poem, which is certainly worthy not only of the archivist’s interest but the historian’s close attention (not to mention your wife’s as well, once she awakens, for that matter).

    On My Sleeping Wife, Who Makes Men Clumsy

    The first time I saw you, I broke my nose
    By walking into a lamp-post; your laugh
    Was lovely; my spirit soared as I rose.

    Someone should have taken a photograph,
    As you helped me up; a barnyard scene:
    The kindly farmer assists an awkward calf.

    I would have walked into a threshing-machine;
    To hear that laugh, to see that calm smile,
    I would have sunk my teeth into a wolverine.

    I walk less briskly these days, not quite as fast,
    Though the sight of you can still make me stumble:
    Your ability to stun me remains unsurpassed.

    But, God knows, only a fool would ever grumble
    If the price of your presence is an occasional tumble.

    *Tall and slim, walking like a huntress,
    Her smile is calm and her eyes assured.

    The lovely traditional thing here is that, as in consideration of your deep knowledge we might have guessed, you are not the first bard to commit a gallant poem about bumping into a lamppost in distraction upon being lovestruck by the initial apparition of his wife-to-be. An example of this gobsmacked-minstrel genre is a triolet by the late Victorian Henry Austin Dobson (b.1840). (I’ve updated it somewhat, I fear.)

    Urceus Exit

    I intended an Ode,
    And it turn’d to a Sonnet;
    It began à la mode,
    I intended an Ode,
    But Rose cross’d the road
    Wearing naught but her bonnet;
    I intended an Ode;
    And it turn’d to a Sonnet.

  12. mishari permalink*
    March 26, 2009 8:39 PM

    Originally “In her latest new bonnet”, I discovered after looking Dobson up. Apparently, he was keen on the triolet and the villanelle…Gutenberg has some of his work available for download, I see from Dobson’s wiki page, so I’ll be looking through those. Thanks for the tip.

    BTW, for what it’s worth, I really did walk into a lampost and break my nose the first time I saw my wife. I call that a bargain…

  13. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 26, 2009 10:41 PM

    Bloody politicians. They’re so boring it’s really difficult to write anything about them.

    Though you’re minister for the Olympics,
    Tessa, once you were a social worker.
    You must have been aware of all the tricks

    played by those demi-criminals and shirkers
    who made up part of your clientele.
    So why, in God’s name, endure that porker

    David Mills and his vile repulsive smell
    of dirty money and financial muck,
    excavated between the oily swells

    of Berlusconi’s well-covered buttocks?
    Yes, I think the answer is pretty clear,
    you were down in the valley giving suck

    just like Dave. The froth of filthy lucre
    stained your lips and tainted every word,
    in any context of the public sphere

    they tumbled from your mouth like heavy turds,
    spattering us all with stinking ordure
    and bombing the lavatory bowl to sherds.

    Social workers! Get a protection order!
    Preserve us from this nation–abuser!

  14. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 26, 2009 10:47 PM

    Any thoughts on the ‘Arabic Booker’?

  15. March 26, 2009 10:52 PM

    “BTW, for what it’s worth, I really did walk into a lampost and break my nose the first time I saw my wife. I call that a bargain… ”

    The chivalric tradition lives on!

  16. mishari permalink*
    March 26, 2009 11:07 PM

    Sir Lancelot Al-Adwani, that’s me…is that Sacré-Coeur in the background of some of your new mini-opus, Steven?

    The Arabic Booker? Jesus, you mean the infection is spreading? Just what the world needs, more meaningless literary awards.

    Excellent terza rima by the way…

    This just in…there’s hope for you yet, MM:

    Chessington Zoo was today celebrating the birth of a baby gorilla following the successful use of online dating. —The Indy, today

  17. March 27, 2009 12:42 AM


    I’m afraid that “filmed in Paris” intro line is a joke.

    Quick key: when the Paris Hilton sex tape went viral years ago, the first thing I noticed about the clip (okay: the second “thing”)was how the infrared setting of the lass’s camera (eerie green lighting) reminded me of kill-footage from Iraq W 1.

    Second inspiration was the sudden fondness recent uppermiddleclass white kids (like Paris) had for the phrase “nigga, please”… an expression of affectionate exasperation between Blacks. But what’s the subtext when entitled whites use it? “You’re behaving as preposterously/ignorantly/gauchely” as a Nigger. It was Paris who was caught on videotape shouting (at a party) “We’re dancing like Niggers!”

    Well, combining Paris (aka The Whore of Babylon) and her robotic shtupping (looped) from her then-lover Richard (ie Dick) Solomon (!) (sometimes spelled as Salomon on the internet!) with the Iraq occupation…

    …wheels within wheels…

  18. March 27, 2009 12:45 AM

    Meanwhile: we share an inordinate and protectively romantic fondness/gratitude for our wives, I see. I bow to that, Sir.

  19. March 27, 2009 1:13 AM

    Did one of you say you lived in Shoreditch? I tried to find the thread but failed…

  20. March 27, 2009 9:48 AM

    Paris Hilton in clothes is bad enough, watching her writhe around with infra-red irises put me off the supper I had yet to eat. I’ve only just got over a particularly nasty bout of food poisoning as well.

    I liked the counter where you flag up your age before viewing. Quaint and I was surprised how honest I was. I guess it works on you thinking you have to do it ASAP and thus don’t have the guile to lie immediately.

  21. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 27, 2009 12:06 PM

    I already have gorilla offspring, as it happens, though of the rare unsocialised strain.

    Why is there an age counter on the Paris Hilton site? Demographic research?

  22. March 27, 2009 12:33 PM

    The counter ( wrong word ) is on Steven’s site to make sure you are the right age before viewing the clip. Why they think a 14 year old wouldn’t lie about their age beats me.

  23. parallax permalink
    March 27, 2009 12:55 PM

    I see the mysterious NFA has declared himself:

    Neil Fraser Addison
    Genial Bookdealer, Berlin Resident
    Worldly Man of His Word

  24. March 27, 2009 2:31 PM

    “The counter ( wrong word ) is on Steven’s site to make sure you are the right age before viewing the clip. Why they think a 14 year old wouldn’t lie about their age beats me.”

    It’s called a “wank-buffer”, Al. And it’s optional (on my part)… I just thought it’d lend things the wondrous air of the verbotten by being slapped up there. Even I have to put my age in to view the material (I always shave off ten, obviously).

  25. March 27, 2009 3:34 PM

    Steven I wonder if it remembers the age of every visitor and demands consistency so that if you lie the next time you get barred?

  26. March 27, 2009 4:20 PM

    Iwondered that as well, Al. Answer is no (unless it’s giving me plenty of rope to hang myself)…

  27. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    March 27, 2009 4:25 PM

    FriendsReunited caught me, one night, late
    In search of fellow losers, bards and Barts
    I snagged a tadpole known to me, aged eight
    Till fifteen. I recall his lifelike farts
    Obtained with hand and underam. It seems
    From sec-mod hell, unlikeliest of starts,
    He’d leapfrogged socially; joined the marines,
    Appended sundry letters to his name,
    Sweet-talked the local tories with his dreams
    Of local domination, power and fame.
    Swish lily pad. Official candidate
    For Blackpool South. I’m feeling neutered; lame.

    If only I had learnt how to debate
    And make the right noises, I’d be his mate.

  28. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 27, 2009 4:43 PM

    Great stuff, HLM. As usual you find a new dimension, damn it.

  29. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    March 27, 2009 4:45 PM

    Ta, MM! It’s nice to be back amongst friends…

  30. March 27, 2009 5:06 PM

    Midway through a Mars Bar I espied
    A grey-faced fellow in a stained club tie
    He sat upon a stone, and to me cried

    “Take pity, sir, don’t scorn and pass me by
    The thankless world’s forgotten all I’ve done
    I led them fair, God knows,” he gave a sigh

    “I fed with sharks, I bartered vote and gun
    But only to improve the common weal
    My every thought was ‘justice must be done’”

    “The dreadnaught of big business I did keel
    I did what I believed, despite the throng
    I even tipped vain tyranny with steel.”

    “If one man’s right, though thousands think him wrong
    Must he perforce become the villain cast?
    I know one day my God will count me strong.”

    He had, it seemed, been honest to the last
    Then Virgil shoved my back and we moved past

  31. March 27, 2009 5:31 PM

    Let’s hear it for the politicians
    Though this poem can’t sing their praises
    They care less for life than morticians

    And concentrate on their pay raises
    Which for us are the stuff of dreams.
    I wish they would go to blazes

    With their honesty, not what it seems.
    They have less grit and backbone
    Than six tubs of Walls ice-creams.

    You can never complain to them on the phone
    So I’m reduced to this “poetic” moan.

  32. mishari permalink*
    March 27, 2009 6:20 PM

    6:15 pm

    Zowee…a sudden flowering of terza rima. Great stuff and inspiration to vastly improve (insofar as possible) on the sub-standard guff I topped this post with.

    Very happy you could join us, HLM. The usual top-drawer quality from you and MM, the Baron and Al..freep has evidently been lured to his doom by the fleshpots of Croydon.

    I’m away until Sunday morning but do keep it up…

    BTW, Tom, it occurred to me while watching a Charles Bukowski biopic recently that you must know John Martin, Bukowski’s publisher, what with you being another Black Sparrow author/poet . Am I right?

  33. March 27, 2009 7:57 PM


    Hmm, yes. And I did write the pub copy for CB’s Black Sparrow books. For twenty years or so, back in the Carboniferous Period. Or was it the Pennsylvanian?

    In the course of said duty, I received CB’s mss. in pre-publication drafts, and once, working through the Collected Letters, was surprised to come across this comment in a letter
    to JM (this was Dec. 4, 1974, toward the end of the Wisconsonian Glaciation), “By the way, saw some of the work of this Tom Clark… He really flows and gambles and plays it loose. I like his guts. Good, very, that you are publishing him. He’s the raw gnawing end of the moon.”

    Since then, what? Sublunary, still not yet sated?

  34. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    March 27, 2009 8:47 PM

    A rapping on the door, a muttered oath
    A terse word to his assistant, a nod,
    Impatient, keen to recommend the growth

    Of aquagym for pensioners; some bod
    Came round the other night and bent my ear
    On circulation benefits. It’s odd

    That local party candidates round here
    Are so concerned with pleasing OAPs.
    They haven’t got a clue. I’d buy some beer,

    Some crisps and fish paste sandwiches, or cheese,
    Then drive us all down to the Legion hall
    For several hands of whist. Fact, it’s a breeze

    To win the votes of wrinklies. Above all,
    Don’t treat us like we’re halfway round the bend
    Don’t give us backstroke when we like to crawl.

    If you want to be helpful, why not send
    Someone to deal with my raw, gnawing end!

  35. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 27, 2009 10:37 PM

    Fine work from the Baron, Alarming and more from HLM. Politicians don’t deserve this world-class (TM D Blunkett) verse.

  36. March 27, 2009 10:39 PM

    “He’s the raw gnawing end of the moon.”

    If I’d ever been called that I’d stamp it on my forehead, use it to get girls, and become a pub/cafe/dinner-party menace for thirty years. So I guess it’s good the honor went to someone who could take it…

  37. parallax permalink
    March 28, 2009 12:39 PM

    “He’s the raw gnawing end of the moon.”

    which reminds me – freep’s not wandering the fleshpots of Croydon – that was a polite diversion – I’ve just waved him off at Sydney airport, he’s heading back to the Northern Hemisphere after a raucous (my god, can that man perform) engagement with Mardi Gras. He was adamant that he wanted to be part of The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence parade, I tried to stop him until I realised they all welcomed him. I had no idea freep was a founding member – but, hey, there you go-go. Last seen freep – still decked in sparkle and feathers – was heading back home to Northumberland and 17-18th C sermons.


  38. March 28, 2009 12:42 PM

    Steven, that was Paris Hilton? No wonder she didn’t like it going public, she actually looks like a real (flawed like the rest of us) woman and not a prestine plastic one.

  39. parallax permalink
    March 28, 2009 2:36 PM

    Hey mish, good to see that your off on a cynicalsteve bender of ‘look at the trees, look at the flowers, feel the breeze’ – no doubt a well-deserved break. I never really thanked Steve for his blog – I must take time out now to thank you for putting the time and effort into making a such a welcoming and – meh, y’know pleasant, nope wrong word…ummm thingo space – thanks mate.

  40. parallax permalink
    March 28, 2009 2:37 PM

    *you’re* (thanks Ed)

  41. March 28, 2009 3:05 PM

    Para still smirking at your comment on Zeph’s caption plea – it appears I can’t seem to stop thinking up awful puns, I’ve been trying to keep them to a minimum!

  42. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 28, 2009 3:13 PM

    I think he’s having his piles done.

  43. parallax permalink
    March 28, 2009 3:39 PM

    freep or mish, MM? Either way they’ll feel tighter for it.

  44. March 28, 2009 3:49 PM

    I often wonder how Emma Freud feels about being rhyming slang for such things…

  45. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 28, 2009 4:20 PM

    I was thinking of the Prince, para. It’s all that cycling.

  46. March 28, 2009 4:47 PM

    MM The Prince????? He’s not here at the moment so we can drop the ( admittedly ) necessary deference and call him what we want.

    Errrrr you first.

  47. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    March 28, 2009 4:48 PM

    i’ve ad emmas for donkeys. they don’t arf richard curtis.

    or is that gordon sumner…

  48. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    March 28, 2009 6:05 PM

    O Hillary, bereft of youthful charm,
    Damned to acquire a mind of stainless steel;
    Incisive mandibles, with which to harm

    Or otherwise wreak havoc; pray conceal
    Umbilical togetherness – all that
    Slippery in silken sheets, like an eel

    Cleaving the bald unpresidential twat,
    Rogering a failed two-term two-timer,
    Entering the high senate; and the brat,

    Arsenal, or some unlikely misnomer,
    Thrust upon two unloving careerists,
    Unattached bi-parental sarcoma,

    Rueing the day: her SOS exists!
    Ending the day, sadly, slashing her wrists.

  49. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 29, 2009 12:10 AM

    Almost lost in time, those ancient Tories,
    Norman Tebbit, Moore, Brittan, Parkinson,
    villains of socialist horror stories,

    they drove their Granadas over anyone,
    miners and nurses, teachers and students,
    they flattened them and then reversed for fun.

    Let’s face it, they were total megacunts,
    but they had a clear philosophy,
    their mission was to kill off all the runts,

    piss on the past and set the market free
    to fuck the many and profit the few.
    Give the bastards credit for honesty,

    they were selfish sods and thought we were too.
    All right, now let’s fast forward thirty years
    through all that boom and bust and stop and go

    to the world of Jacqui Smith and Hazel Blears
    where nothing whatever is what it seems
    where the very average minister clears

    not just a salary but also reams
    all that’s possible from the public purse,
    where every smug-faced announcement teems

    with rank hypocrisy and sometimes worse,
    where any thought of probity is dead
    a world of mirrors where everything’s reversed:

    they’re still fucking you and sucking your blood
    this time they tell you it’s for your own good.

  50. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 29, 2009 12:25 AM

    Acrostic and terza rima, HLM? Full kudos. Those slippery sheets and the bald unpresidential twat are going to haunt my sleep tonight.

  51. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    March 29, 2009 6:50 AM

    Backatcha, MM. I shall spend the morning pondering the myriad qualities of the Granada and its place in the seventies zeitgeist. And, yes, its relative integrity. I drove many back in the day, seeing working for the car industry as a key to rapid social promotion, and in each one treated the pungent upholstery to the Sweeney theme tune. I have since double de-clutched to a Kangoo.

  52. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 10:37 AM

    Morning, all…great stuff. HLM, you really must turn it down a notch. How the fuck am I supposed to come up with verse whilst in a condition of extreme daunt, so to speak…I mean, acrostic and terza rima? Flash bastard…

    I feel I must answer MM’s vile calumny, his casting of aspersions on my fundament. My sphinctre is without flaw or blemish. Now, being a modest sort of chap, I rarely speak of it but word has nevertheless spread.

    While out and about in Whitechapel, people often point me out in the street and in pubs and say, “…see that fella? Perfect arsehole.” I rest my case.

  53. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    March 29, 2009 10:39 AM

    the politicians’ prism; housewives’ choice,
    shrinks common man’s stature to that of ants
    bloating beholder, emboldening voice,

    giving semblance of insignificance
    but sparking fear of single pismire wrath
    when joined by others in chaotic dance.

    blackwater bouncers line and skirt the path
    countering any subversive milling.
    keep them borassic; boric acid bath

    or scalding hot lemon meringue filling
    inadvertantly spilled, like slaking lime,
    makes exceedingly good blister killing

    then mopped with mister clean. giving you time
    to recount to your neighbour household pranks
    before it’s time for lunch; re-load and prime.

    until some spillage from cherry pie tanks
    stains the ants red with anger; battle cry!
    with balletic precision they form ranks

    and march with martial pomp and purpose, fly
    up nylon ladders, scoff the apple pie!

  54. parallax permalink
    March 29, 2009 10:42 AM

    ah, glad to hear that you’re no longer nursing the grapes of wrath, my perfect arsehole friend

  55. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 10:49 AM

    Lots of green, leafy vegetables, para, that’s the ticket to fundamental health. That bastard HLM…hardly are the words cautioning him against being excessively good out of my mouth when he does it again. On a Sunday bloody morning. It’s just not natural, I tell you…

  56. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    March 29, 2009 10:59 AM

    Thanks, Mishari. I’m just excited to be writing again after a three-month layoff and thrilled to be rubbing shoulders with the poetry pros. But in my enthusiasm I treat poems as crossword puzzles to be completed before Clapham South. Now I’d better get on with the stuff that pays…

  57. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 11:14 AM

    Stuff that pays? I hope you don’t mean poetry, you mad, impetuous boy. Poetry never pays, unless you’re writing jingles celebrating the almost supernatural softness of Brand X toilet paper or the whiter-than-whiteness and April-freshness of Miss Thing from accounting’s teeth…’you’ll wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent…’, that sort of thing.

    As for ‘poetry pros’…ho-ho…it is to laugh, (aside from Tom and Bill). For myself, I’m rather like one of those people who attempts to build a faster-than-light spacecraft in their garden shed. Enthusiastic, but usually unsuccessful. Fun trying, though…

  58. March 29, 2009 11:35 AM

    We’re sailing into a violent storm
    With fools,naifs, political whores
    As well as those with previous form

    In sailing to unrealistic shores
    Which welcome us with open arms,
    Fake promises of new financial laws

    To keep our lifestyles free from harm’s
    Assault on a system that has failed.
    The sky overcast and far from calm

    We can’t see from where we have sailed
    We do not have the future nailed.

  59. March 29, 2009 11:40 AM

    Mishari In this company I feel like a man without a saddle on a galloping horse. Terza Rimas have an energy and forward momentum that I’m finding difficult to control – worth the effort and if the others posting poems and comments on here aren’t a spur to carry on and try and improve then there’s no point bothering.

  60. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 11:45 AM

    I see we’ve been footing the bill for the vile Jaqui Smith’s husband’s porno viewing, add to the fact that from next year, thanks to El Smeet, we’ll have to show photo ID to travel to the Isle of Wight. My yearning to see the unspeakable swine hanging from gibbets becomes nigh on unendurable…and why oh why do I have to read about all this on the fucking Daily Mail’s website? I HATE the poxy Daily Mail…

    Oh, yeah, I forgot, the Grauniad’s to busy publishing drivel from Toynbee advising us to don nose-pegs and vote Labour. In her fucking dreams, pal…sorry about the rant, but it’s good for the circulation.

    Spot on weather forecast, Al…

  61. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 12:16 PM

    Today’s Menu

    Roll your sleeves up for the polls open soon,
    Make your selection on merit and worth:
    The choice now comes down to a crook or a loon.

    Candidate A has the broad ample girth,
    The fat greasy chops of the glutton and swine:
    A feeder on taxes, of his kind there’s no dearth.

    Candidate B has the visage benign
    That masks a dark fissure of toxins and hate,
    A bland, smiling face to disguise the malign.

    Both of them doubtless will posture and prate,
    One to rob you while the other destroys:
    They poison the language their tongues desecrate.

    The public are merely disposable toys
    In the soiled hands of thoughtless, cruel boys.

  62. March 29, 2009 1:11 PM

    Mishari and other London dwellers here. Can I highly recommend an exhibition at the Royal Academy by Utagawa Kuniyoshi? He’s a classic Japanese woodblock artist a la Hokusai but his compositions have a comic strip energy about them and he’s particularly good with ghost stories. A real artistic hero of mine.

    I’d love to see it but work/touring will get in the way I fear. But if any of you have time it’s time well spent.

  63. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 1:40 PM

    You weren’t kidding, Al…Kuniyoshi’s wonderful. I’ll certainly be going to the RA show…thanks for the alert.

    Here are 123 of his prints. Check them out.

  64. March 29, 2009 1:54 PM

    Thanks for the link.
    Normalement je ne regrette rien but about 20 years ago there was a big monogram on his work in Waterstones which cost about £40. Money was even tighter back then, I could have just about afforded it but….but….. I dithered too long, other things got in the way and I haven’t seen a copy since. There’s been nothing on Amazon whenever I’ve looked – admittedly not often but hopefully there may be a good catalogue for the exhibition.

  65. March 29, 2009 3:42 PM


    I’d make a film of that brill Hillary pome but erm yeah… not quite ready for Abu Ghraib 2.0, man (in fact, just commenting on this site is beginning to feel risky…).


    Yessir that’s our Paris

  66. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 29, 2009 6:46 PM

    I have a Kuniyoshi on my wall. I developed a mild obsession with ukiyo-e prints a few years ago and spent hours inhabiting the auction sites. I had to go cold turkey after a while: those bastards who outbid you 2 seconds before the auction ends were damaging my blood pressure. The whining of starving children was getting on my nerves as well. WTF? They had pictures to look at, didn’t they?

    Most of the best stuff was out of my range, but you could pick up great things the dealers didn’t want, marked, creased etc. Mrs M once found a Utamaro in a stack of Woolies pictures at a ‘real’ auction. Trousered it for a lousy £70 (plus a stack of Woolies art-great presents for people you hate). Orgasms don’t come any better.

  67. March 29, 2009 7:14 PM

    Strange affairs art auctions. I went to my first about 5 weeks ago. A local painter died last year leaving an incredible body of work in terms of quality and ammount ( over 15,000 bits of work and none of it slap-dash either ) . Friends of mine are trying to set up a trust for his work and trying to get him better known so they auctioned off some choice pieces to fund this.

    Everything was a bargain ( £165 being the highest bid of the day )but I got locked in a bid with someone else for a glorious drypoint. I dropped out when the price started to get too high for me and the bloke I was bidding against said he was just about to drop out so I could get it but that I’d beaten him to the dropping out point. A strange battle of wills and bluff going on. Funny how raising the bid by £10 seems all right at one moment and then becomes impossible at another.

  68. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 29, 2009 7:25 PM

    It never seems impossible to me, Alarming. In fact I stopped attending auctions in person and started leaving commission bids because of the amount of junk I bought. It’s a bit like gambling, I suppose, though you always win something, even if it’s an Edwardian armchair with three legs and a resident family of mice.

  69. March 29, 2009 7:52 PM

    Good to hear that the chair found a home. Did the auctioneer warn you about the dengue fever under the Edwardian anti-macassar?

  70. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 29, 2009 8:13 PM

    I’m still puking.

  71. March 29, 2009 8:21 PM

    I don’t go auctions much for fear of accidentally buying stuff, or if I do I have to sit on my hands and not breath much. I’ve also played the I’m-a-stupid-girl-and-I-pressed-the-wrong-button card too many times on eBay too.

    I have to say that I feel incredibly in awe of all the poems I see on here and which you guys have posted elsewhere (I like that phrase “extreme daunt”) and more like I’ve only got as far as trying to build a rocket out of Fairy liquid bottles, Mish.
    On a good day I would feel like Al that such talent should spur me on to poetic heights, but it’s hard when it seems there’s so far to climb.

  72. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 8:24 PM

    Stuff auctions. I find it more effective to commission gangs of thieves to steal stuff I simply must have. Who wants to mix with the sweaty-palmed hoi-polloi at Sotheby’s? Faugh…

    I remember once, about 20 years ago, I was sitting in the reception/lounge at Sotheby’s waiting to have what I thought was a Japanese platter valued (I’d picked it up for a few quid at a church jumble. Turned out to be 17th century Delft and quite valuable.)

    While I was waiting, the owner of Sotheby’s made an entrance. An American tycoon, he’d only recently bought the firm. He was a caricature. Enormous belly, torpedo-like Havana, bouffant hair. A crowd of minions flocked around him and the scene reminded me of an ocean-liner being shepherded into port by a flotilla of tugboats.

    But what amused me most was the reaction of the two, horsey, county gels manning the reception desk. Having watched them greet people with a distant froideur, it raised a cynical smile to watch them literally bow their heads to the tycoon. I’m only surprised they didn’t genuflect. The tycoon, by the way, was sent to prison for fraud a few years ago. That also raised a cynical, if unsurprised, smile.

  73. March 29, 2009 8:40 PM

    Mishari there’s a Kuniyoshi print in the Isle of Wight I’d rather like. Do you have the number of one of these gangs? Do they charge travel and per diems?

  74. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 8:44 PM

    I’m afraid they’ve already been dispatched on my own behalf, Al. By strange coincidence, I was even able to give them the exact address…never mind, MM’s a philosophical sort and sure to be familiar with the old expression ‘easy come, easy go’…

    BTW, MM…I’m passing along Willeford’s The Way We Die Now and Ferrigno’s Dead Silent tomorrow…

  75. March 29, 2009 8:59 PM

    Whitechapel is less distance for me so I’ll wait til it’s in your hands then ask MM for your address.

  76. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 9:01 PM

    BTW, Al…I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t know Kuniyoshi’s work until you alerted me. Your mention of an almost 20th century comic sensibility is spot on.

    Looking through his work, I get the powerful impression that lots of the artists who worked for Marvel, 2000AD and various graphic novels plunged their buckets deeply into Kuniyoshi’s well. Fabulous stuff. Thanks for pointing me to him.

    Tink, never be discouraged. I’ve always found that not only is imitation the sincerest form of flattery but also an excellent way of developing muscle and technique. I often use the work of more talented pens as a template for my own efforts.

  77. March 29, 2009 9:22 PM

    Mishari There was an exhibition about Japonoiserie when I was a student about 30 years ago. Best thing in it was a Kunyoshi triptych print of warriors doing battle with an enormous skeleton which filled two of the three panels. Really dynamic compositions.

    He had a wide range of subject matter too so could do intimate scenes as well as landscape pictures bound up with the seasons and weather that the Japanese do so well.

  78. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 9:38 PM

    Absolutely, Al…I can see that the man was fantastically diverse–everything from this precursor to Marvel, to this Courtesan With Pussy Cat to this Pussy…I’m delighted to have been introduced to him.

  79. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 29, 2009 10:51 PM

    Denis Healey:
    A Vituperation.

    I regret that he never became
    prime minister of this country.
    It’s not important who’s to blame-

    Benn and Foot are clearly guilty-
    but looking back at what we lost,
    soldier, scholar, genial bully,

    all of us ought to count the cost
    of missing that fiscal Merlin
    the Labour Party coldly tossed

    heedlessly in the garbage bin.
    Bug-eyes and Wurzel should be shot,
    or perhaps a crucifixion…

    no, pointing the finger is not
    a helpful or a fruitful role;
    think of what Denis could have got

    from the favour of North Sea Oil,
    how the Tories pissed it away:
    enough to make your brainbox boil.

    I see him entering the fray,
    and giving Thatch the knock-out blow
    on some ideal election day:

    then I see the straw-haired scarecrow
    and the fruitcake with the scalpel:
    Denis goes down beneath the blow.

    Thanks a lot, Tony and Michael,
    for eighteen years of Tory hell.

  80. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 29, 2009 11:02 PM

    Now that ID is required for the IOW my teams will be active at all ports. All London-based travellers will have body cavity searches conducted by specially trained ferrets.

    I can hardly believe Jacqui’s latest embarassment. Apparently she pays hubby £40 grand a year to be her ‘assistant’. Why are we paying for her bloody internet connection anyway? Don’t they spend any of their own money?

    Anyway, what was he watching?

  81. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 29, 2009 11:05 PM

    Thanks for sending the books. Looking forward to reading them.

  82. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 11:06 PM

    Enhanced Interrogation Techniques: Uncut

    I’d be surprised if the fucking woman doesn’t charge us for her light-bulbs and toilet-paper…Sky News just informed me she re-claimed…get this…88p for a bath plug…how long, Lord, how long?

  83. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 29, 2009 11:23 PM

    It’s the idea of her sitting there pen in hand thinking, oh yes, must claim for that bath-plug. These pettifogging trivial berks are running the country.

    Opik’s idea of just having travel exes and taking everything else out of salary sounds good, until you realise they will probably want their salaries to be quadrupled.

  84. mishari permalink*
    March 29, 2009 11:30 PM

    Pathetic, innit? She earns in excess of 100 grand, pays hubby 40 grand (or rather, we pay hubby 40 grand), claims another 100 grand for living in her sister’s flat but claims for her 65 pound internet connection, 7 quid for watching Oceans 13…twice, God help us…and an 88p bath plug.

    Goering looted Europe’s greatest museums. Smith loots the Discount shelf at B&Q. I want to see this New Labour shower ground up into chum and fed to the sharks…

  85. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    March 30, 2009 5:19 AM

    soon the euro will equal the pound
    but will darling want to link the two?
    no, just run the pound into the ground

    and what will our jacqui choose to do?
    support british-born for british jobs
    as the only way of getting through

    this term? never mind that gordon robs
    the poor blind that the richest may see –
    note – the inconsistency. the slobs

    line their pockets in priority
    face the rich with knowing nod and wink,
    imperceptible, of parity.

    nah, they’re looking down on you. don’t think
    you’re anything but lackeys. and know
    that to them you’re just shit and shit stinks

    but smile because your haze and your eaus
    were claimed back on expenses. what hos!

  86. March 30, 2009 9:08 AM

    I wish I’d known I could have claimed for bath plugs when I was self-employed. I’ve spent a fortune trying to keep the water in my sink ( not a euphemism btw ).What you can claim for is pretty broad but even then it’s not difficult to exercise some form of sensible restraint on smaller items.

    We once did a tour for the British Council in Oman and got foreign diplomat’s per diems ( pocket money for meals for the uninitiated ). Quite an eye-opener. We are parsimonious artistic types so couldn’t spend what we were given and God knows we tried. We ate well and still came back with more money than we left with. Diplomats get that all year round on top of a healthy wage.

  87. March 30, 2009 10:04 AM

    MM spot on about Benn. His current “what me worry” attitude hides the fact he was partly responsible for Labour’s slide towards Blair with all that I’m-prolier-than-thou-backstabbing that he preferred to indulge in during Thatcher’s rein of terror. You’d think he’d never been in government the way he goes on these days.

  88. mishari permalink*
    March 30, 2009 11:16 AM

    I could no longer bear the sight of that detesable oaf McNulty, so I’ve changed the image topping this post. I do apologize to all of you die-hard McNulty fans….

  89. March 30, 2009 12:16 PM

    Ha – I was getting quite fond of the buffoon at the top of this post…

    I must say that Mrs Smith (that version of Mr and Mrs Smith would not be a best seller!) got rather a bargain with a bath plug for 88p – maybe she would have a career as a personal shopper once she’s had to leave under a cloud of embarassment?

    Anyway, basically it boils down to there needings to be clear and realistic rules about what and can’t be claimed as expenses, akin to other industries. Expenses should compensate for time spent away from home and when not able to live your normal life whilst away on business. If you’re claiming your second home is “away from home” but you’ve moved your husband in as your assistant then you’re not really missing home comforts are you?

    Plus there should be a policy on MPs employing family members – I wonder what his job description is? To make tea, to make nooky, to make a fool of his wife? Maybe he secretly works for the other side?

    Re Mr Benn (cue the music from the popular children’s tv series) I wondered who’s fault Tony Blair was!

  90. March 30, 2009 12:40 PM

    Tinkerbell from the news Jacqui Smith’s husband’s job seems to be watching other people have nooky. I bet the journo’s are out right now trying to find out the titles of those 2 films we paid for him to wa…..tch.

  91. mishari permalink*
    March 30, 2009 1:09 PM

    As we’ve been fucking paying, we’re not only entitled to know the names of the flicks…I want to see Virgin Media’s internet logs for Smith’s Redditch home.

    Let’s see what this slimeball and her toe-rag hubby have really been up to. After all, as Smith and the rest of her crypto-fascist pals keep assuring us “if you’ve got nothing to hide, you’ve got nothing to fear”.

    I wonder how the vile Smith likes the surveillance society now?

  92. March 30, 2009 1:20 PM

    Ha ha. Excellent point – yes she should be the first to be made to hide nothing. Lead by example and all that!

  93. March 30, 2009 1:52 PM

    I don’t know about you guys, but I’m employed (rather than self-employed). I would expect my employer to be able to track my internet use if they really wanted to. I can use the internet at work, I can do most things which are reasonable. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be on blogs – I might get “done” for this soon enough – but if I did get pulled up on it I’d expect it to be their business and totally within their rights – they pay for it so they can dictate it. I would expect using it for porn would incur a disciplinary offence. If Mr Smith doesn’t get reprimanded in such a way then it is an outrage.

    If she on the other hand has just been following the rules, no matter how immoral it is to claim for certain things, if she’s able to do it because the rules are slack then it’s not her fault. Rules need changing.

    I do think in this time of belt-tightening MPs should be asked to reduce costs the same as anyone else. But who’s going to bring that in? Not the MPs? It’s hopeless really…

  94. mishari permalink*
    March 30, 2009 2:14 PM

    Tink, as far as I’m aware, administering ‘corporal punishment’ to ones own children is ‘within the rules’. If one of my children annoys me, I can hit them. The ‘rules’ say so. I’d rather cut my arm off.

    Anyone who can’t distinguish between what’s right and what’s ‘allowed by the rules’ shouldn’t be allowed within a mile of our civil liberties or our law-making apparatus. There’s no fucking excuse for scumbags like McNulty and Smith, rules be damned…

  95. March 30, 2009 2:31 PM

    I thought hitting your own children was against the rules these days?

    I do see what you mean. I wasn’t necessarily agreeing with the situation, just saying that it’s difficult to do much about actions which are not technically against the rules. I’m afraid I went through too many years of legal training to think any other way. Apparently that’s exasperating!

    The rules on expenses to be changed/clarified. They need to be transparent and someone with some sense and who has some idea of how to run things effeciently should review it all to see where corners can be cut and what should be cut out completely.

    This all seems more and more like “Yes, Minister” every time I hear another twist in the tale on MPs expenses! I mean John Lewis!!? I can’t afford furniture from John Lewis – why the hell should they have it?

  96. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 30, 2009 6:47 PM

    At the dispatch box Mrs Smith
    fills the chamber with rhetoric
    all those bloated masculine myths

    she quite forensically pricks.
    At their home back in the Midlands
    her husband watches porno flicks.

    On terrorism she makes a stand
    for beefing up security
    while hubby takes himself in hand,

    and she drones on CCTV
    as her colleagues squeal and bicker.
    It’s a different picture which he sees,

    and his hand is moving quicker
    she speaks of risk and high threat modes,
    and his eyeballs start to flicker,

    she descants on the posture codes,
    then something seems to light his fuse
    he feels the burn and then explodes.

    While she’s busy with the issues,
    and all the exes she can log
    hubby’s busy with the tissues,

    what he flushes down the bog
    will more than likely be her job.

  97. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    March 30, 2009 7:53 PM

    Meisterwerk, MM!

  98. mishari permalink*
    March 30, 2009 8:02 PM

    what he flushes down the bog
    will more than likely be her job.

    We can only hope, MM. Although there is, I think, a good case to be made for keeping her in office, just so the electorate, who have notoriously short attention spans, will always have a sort of aide memoire before them come the next election…

    A cracker, BTW, MM….

  99. MeltonMowbray permalink
    March 30, 2009 10:04 PM

    Thanks, chaps. I thought she was about to resign so hurried to post it. I should have guessed that it wouldn’t happen. They are utterly shameless.

    I’ve had the Benn argument many times, Alarming. Most of the people in my CLP supported him at the time (a lot of them Militant). Canvassing with the dead weight of the ‘longest suicide note in history’ on your back was a depressing experience.

  100. March 31, 2009 12:37 PM

    Oh dear, I’ll be swimming against the tide here, but I don’t think she should resign. Seems the easy way out. She’d be better to stay put, shamed, and be a sign that things need changing. I dislike the emphasis on ministers resigning. Yes if her office was in charge of the expenses system, if she’d deliberately set up the rules so she could benefit, then she should be held accountable and should take the fall, but it should be about whether she’s doing her job right. Expenses is a side issue (a very expensive issue admittedly). In my company we are judged on a yearly basis, unless we do something which needs disciplining. That should be the same for MPs. The husband needs disciplining though.

    The essential thing to come of this should be a review of the money which the government spends and how it can be more effectively accounted for.

    Job security is essential to job performance. “If I fuck something up I’ll get immediately sacked” – does that make people more likely to stick their neck out and do something brave or radical in their job, or does it make them more likely to do the job in a mediocre (safe) fashion and make sure they get the benefits where they can whilst they still have that job? Workers should be free to make mistakes in order to produce good work too. People learn from mistakes if they are made to answer for them and they are more likely to make up for them in the performance of their job and to do a better job therefore if they are given that security.

    I heard some mole is trying to sell the whole list of expenses for £300,000 – I don’t know the truth of it, but here’s the real insidiousness. The media. It’s a favourite refrain of mine! They’re using us all as fools, they are whipping up stories where they want and are guiding political policy because of this. They can show whichever aspects of a story they want, get the public behind a particular course of action, which in turn can affect political change. Information offered for cash is likely to be aimed at some newspaper buying it, so they can make the public frenzied by pointing out all these expenses. They’ll likely concentrate on the ones which will further some personal cause or other, put a particular slant on it, and Joe Public will fall for it. The collective will end up demanding exactly what the media want them to. Grr.

    I caught some of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s interview on Radio 4 this morning. I’m not a religious type, but I noticed him speaking a lot of sense…

    The archbishop said human greed was “par for the course” but that over the past decade Britain had been “lured into tunnel vision”.

    “We have not seen the signs of coming problems; we have thought that there are cost-free and risk-free kinds of investment; and we have wanted the kind of economy where we are so much in control that risk is minimised.

    “The more we go on in that, the more we create these, what somebody called ‘virtual-reality economic products’, the more we lose touch with the actual limits of where we are in the world.”

    Also he talked about the view that society seems to be more violent than it used to be… “The sense that we have got a culture where the expression of immediate emotion and the going with immediate instinct is the first thing.

    “People don’t seem to be scrutinising their emotions, their desires, in the way that one would like to think mature people do, very often.

    “And the prevalence of casual violence on the streets, especially the streets of this city, is certainly an aspect of that.

    “We have somehow to recover a sense of what it is to be a grown-up, almost, what it is to be able to look at ourselves with clarity; to value courage, fidelity, all those classical virtues and rediscover something of what it is to be human.”

    His message is not one of despair, but the opposite: ‘Cynicism is one of the worst things that can affect a society.’ Scepticism is healthy, he said, but cynicism assumes the worst and that is nothing we can do about it except throw [things] around in ‘an endless paintballing riot.’

    Anyway, that’s my two-penneth (actually more a couple of quid). We need to stop being negative about everything without some positive solutions, the Bish says so!

  101. mishari permalink*
    March 31, 2009 2:25 PM

    Thank you, Tinkerbell AKA St. Pollyanna of Our Lady Of Holy Optimism.

    You’ve got a point, though. I’m not a cynic, but by God, my scepticism is off the fucking scale…

  102. March 31, 2009 2:58 PM

    What an ace new name!

  103. mishari permalink*
    March 31, 2009 3:06 PM

    Love it! Beats the hell out of Tinkerbell. My advice? Keep it….

  104. March 31, 2009 3:16 PM

    OK – I’ll try to remember it – not exactly catchy is it!?

  105. mishari permalink*
    March 31, 2009 3:20 PM

    Isn’t there a ‘remember me’ box you can tick when you sign in? That way, you’ll always be SPOOLOHO, unless you decide to change it…although actually, SPOOLOHO is kinda cool in a baffling WTF sorta way…

  106. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    March 31, 2009 3:28 PM

    SPOOLOHO? Just when I was getting a handle on the handles… It doesn’t help on the mental image front. Not that anyone is quite what they seem, I’m sure. That Mishari… sounds like a real person. The only one I’m comfortable with is Melton Mowbray. Hard to read without visualising the smooth but stoic, lightly crenellated crust; grey/pink luscious inner core with just a hint of acidity; the juice lukewarm, straining to achieve critical viscosity… A perfect prizewinning growler.

  107. March 31, 2009 3:31 PM

    SPOOLOHO sounds rude for reasons of which I’m not entirely sure! Answer on a post(er)card…

  108. March 31, 2009 3:44 PM

    Reasons for rudeness being thusly:

    The verb to spool suggests a winding and/or unwinding action. A ho, in hip-hop parlance, is a woman of negotiable virtue (or any woman, to be honest). To ‘spool a ho’ sounds very much like something ODB may have indulged in.

  109. March 31, 2009 3:57 PM

    Hm. COuld be interesting…

Comments are closed.