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Trout Mask Sepulchre

August 27, 2009

Classic Trout


Clearly, you idle bastards have been shirking while I’ve been away. So, just to get you rabble back on your toes, let’s have Rondeaux on the subject of fresh-water fish.

You’re not working for kindly, easily-imposed on Dr. Jekyll Mills, now. It’s Mr. Mishari Al-Hyde. So, get cracking… freshwater fish…no halibut, cod or sardines, you slippery sods.

Let’s see if you clowns still have the chops.

Here’s mine:

Stream Of Conciousness

The world flows by like a swift dream
Swirls round your mind like feeding bream
The sun dawdles; the air stays chill
Magpies chase each other downhill
Mayflies rise, wreathe water like steam.

In town, you aren’t what you may seem
Out here, vast nature reigns supreme
Keep what you catch; eat what you kill:
The world flows by.

The air flows over skin like cream
You mine your mind, a rich new seam;
Ore you must refine; have you skill?
Make something fine; takes time–and will;
On the brow of the hill, sun’s gleam:
The world flows by.

…alright, alright…or poems about freshwater streams.

  1. August 27, 2009 11:37 PM

    Al-Adwani, Mish:
    Failing in your wish
    To catch some laggard fish
    On your long spanish
    While you were away,
    You caught another stray
    From the PP fray
    A sole named Jack Brae.
    – What is a rondeau anyway?

  2. pinkroom permalink
    August 27, 2009 11:48 PM

    Green and pale bellied,
    red at the fins’ tip,
    this little roach;
    the prize in a race
    between the kingfisher
    and I.

    I win.
    The kingfisher between,
    receives his prize:
    this little roach,
    hooked, His wing-tips
    zoot; bright and blued.

  3. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 27, 2009 11:50 PM

    Get your knickers on, Heaney, obooki’s coming for you.

  4. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 12:01 AM

    Very good, PR…but not a rondeau. An ill-disciplined rabble…they should bring back National Service. I’m sure Col. Mowbray, late of Her Majesty’s 17th Light Bigamists will agree…put some starch into you young pups.

    BTW, MM…a friend passed along this new US series called The Sons Of Anarchy..think Deadwood meets The Sopranos on Harleys. It’s about an eponymous California biker gang. I found it highly entertaining. In one episode, they gelded (literally) a clown. Yes, a circus clown. The first series just ended in the US and I can shoot it down to you if you’re interested…

  5. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 28, 2009 12:08 AM


    No more can you know its flow than the flow
    of blood in your wrist, the branched veins that show
    before bedding into the palm of your hand:
    the mountain streams that cut the higher land,
    that hide the arrowed fish that go where they go.

    So you’ll climb to the place where the sun’s glow
    betrays the gravelled channel of springs. No
    map is detailed enough or fully planned.
    No more can you know

    the clear dream of water that moves so slow,
    where mountain trout hug the anti-shadow
    of speed, the nemesis of ground stone, sand
    so fine it niggles deep, grits in your mind
    to the eeled spawning beds of fear below.
    No more can you know.

    Jack Brae

  6. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 28, 2009 12:11 AM

    Sounds very interesting. I’ll take you up on that. Thanks. Now The Mentalist has finished, The Bill’s gone a bit weird and Life is soon to end I’m at a bit of a loss. I may have to start reading books again, which seems a retrograde step.

  7. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 28, 2009 12:14 AM

    Bloody hell, Jack Brae’s quick off the mark. Nice poem too.

  8. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 28, 2009 12:17 AM

    Hi Mishari

    Oooooh, between rondels, roundels and rondeaus, which I always get hopelessly confused in the old memory, I had to go to the shelves and look up the form and rhyme scheme again.

    But you’re right, Mishari, this bunch need a week on the assault course. Where are you, Colonel Melbray, sir? Do you want me to spike ’em with my spines Colonel?

    Oh yes, I do so like this place…

    Jack Brae

  9. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 12:20 AM

    Excellent, Jack (although you’ve used a cheeky 10/5-syllables instead of the orthodox 8/4…but, hey..who’s counting?).

    I’ll shoot that down to you tomorow or maybe Tue, MM, depending on what Inez has planned for me. I also got all 6 series of Curb Your Enthusiasm. I’d only seen about a dozen episodes and I liked it very much. So, if you’re interested, I’ll shoot that down as well…

  10. August 28, 2009 12:21 AM

    A Roundel by Rondel Rondeau



    big vicious
    which will
    Mrs Mish’s

  11. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 12:22 AM

    Was the F for Fish shape of your poem intentional or serendipitous, obooki? Either way, the minimalist aesthetic works well…

  12. freep permalink
    August 28, 2009 12:22 AM

    Waving my worm-tipt wand-O
    Over the glistening Pond O
    Along with my brown friend Tonto
    It occurred to me that a rondeau
    Was a curious way to catch fish

    So I elbowed my old chum mish
    Into the dark River Congo
    Where he howled for his lifebelt Pongo
    With tail so Black and Long O;
    Too late! Hear the Deathknell Bong O.

  13. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 28, 2009 12:41 AM

    Hi Mishari

    Yes, agreed on the 10/5, but that’s the first way I was taught this form. I’ll try an 8/4 tomorrow hopefully, when I get a mo.

    Obooki’s minimalist approach had me itching with jealousy, so I might try that one as well – think that could be harder actually.

    See you all tomorrow

    Jack Brae

  14. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 28, 2009 1:59 AM

    Okay, I should be doing something else, like sleeping!
    Here’s the second one.
    Now I must go to bed and await the bloody dawn!

    Jack Brae

  15. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 28, 2009 2:02 AM


    Yes, see the goldfish bouncing tip
    to tip on its own glassy lip
    in the curving bowl’s reflection.
    Trapped, compelled to repeat action
    after action, its brain a pip.

    Its quarry nothing but a slip
    of itself; lonely goldfish, blip
    on the radar of creation.
    Yes, see the gold

    scales fused, the string of shit, the nip
    nicked from its tail, the sunken ship
    made in Hong Kong, (imitation),
    the squalid imagination
    of this one fish, its thoughts a snip.
    Yes, see the gold…

    Jack Brae

  16. Captain Ned permalink
    August 28, 2009 8:53 AM

    Welcome back, Mishari. No time for a poem now, though I might have a go over the weekend. However, I know nothing about fish.

    Has anyone here read Andrew Brown’s ‘Fishing in Utopia’? A rather nice mixture of memoir, travelogue, Swedish politics and fishing reminiscences.

  17. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 9:05 AM

    Thanks, Cap’n. Is that the Andrew Brown who writes about ‘faith’ matters for the Grauniad? Anyway, I’ll keep an eye out for it.

  18. August 28, 2009 9:27 AM

    poems by the handful. What’s happened to the threads discussing arcane 70’s trivia and music? Tin-eared poetic dullards like me are now at a definite disadvantage.

    Hope your time in Catalunya was profitably spent polishing up that Clint Eastwood blog – it must be all of 2 paragraphs long by now.

  19. pinkroom permalink
    August 28, 2009 9:28 AM

    You are indeed a hard task-master.

    Here’s another in |(I hope) true Rondeau form.

    Children fishing

    From the pond’s heart there comes a splish
    these circles tell us where to fish
    so for our rods we three will dash
    and bait a hook bread we mash,
    cast out lines, and sit and wish.

    and wait; for our small floats to list
    as to the bait their mouths will kiss,
    when tempted, one will… in a flash,
    we hear the splash!

    Two quills floating, one now amiss;
    two left frowning, just one in bliss.
    Who is the first to pull in fast?
    Who is the first? You well might ask.
    We hear the splash.

  20. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 9:32 AM

    Almost there, PR. The refrain line must be the first half of the first line, i.e. ‘We hear the splash’ must form the first four syllables of the very first line. So if your first line read ‘We hear a splash, then comes a splish’, it would be perfect (in technical terms…oh, and the last stanza should mirror the rhyme scheme of the first–AABBA. Sorry to nit-pick but if you’re going to do it… I made the mistake of writing mine in 13-syllable lines and had to prune it back). Otherwise, well done.

    Actually, Al I have a mass of material written for that Eastwood piece and that’s the problem…it’s the size of a Phd dissertation. I will get to it, though…

  21. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    August 28, 2009 10:07 AM

    Salmonidae salmoninae
    In freshwater, a lantern fly,
    Perfectly cast – I reminisce –
    Would steal Oncorhyncus mykiss
    Where river’s rainbow mirrors sky

    Where Dolly Varden baked hair pie
    Trout, seeking riffles, tumbled by
    Weir, sluice and lock to the abyss

    Now farmed to fill demand, supply
    Will atrophy as time goes by
    Do none of these majestic fish
    Suspect something may be amiss?
    We make a pair, salmon and I

  22. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 28, 2009 10:11 AM

    Good morning Mishari and friends

    Getting here this morning was quite hazaedous, as someone has been playing Squish The Heghog with his bike. I’ve had to be peeled from the road six times so far. (Oh dear, and I hope I’ll be forgiven my swipe via Mr Shelley over at PP! But you did kill me, after all!)

    Rondeaus are really hard and I know absolutely nothing about fish or fishing.

    Pinkroom, really like the beginning of yours, think you have a perfect skeleton to get a lovely second draft. Don’t know what anyone else here would think, but I feel that you’ve alread got a perfect refrain line in “From the pond’s heart”. Essentially all you need do really is introduce a second rhyme sound, but the scaffolding is already there and is quite sturdy.

    Anyway, I’m off to read about fish…

    Jack Brae

  23. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 28, 2009 10:17 AM

    Nice one HLM, excellent choice of rhyme sounds as usual.

    That’s the thing I find so hard with these forms, especially when I’m limited to only two rhyme sounds for a single poem.

    Anyways, see you all later
    Please be careful in the corridors with your bicycles
    (I’m only a little hedgehog)
    Jack Brae

  24. August 28, 2009 10:40 AM

    Millers Thumb – the very name
    Should make you raise the poetic game.
    Unshowy, non-showy obtuse and glum
    To speak of its beauty would render you dumb.
    It’s no fishlebrity, no seeker of fame.

    More to come on the barbel, the tench and the mud puppy.

  25. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 10:50 AM

    I do wish that bugger HLM wouldn’t keep raising the bar so damn high. Scarily good, Hank…

    A mud puppy, Al? What the hell is a mud puppy?

    Jack, my doggerel was a response to freep’s ‘unspeedy earth-child’ quote, which made me laugh immoderately. I didn’t realize the hedgehog was your totem. Still catching up with POTW and PP…

  26. August 28, 2009 11:01 AM

    It’s a large uncharismatic Louisiana-living salamander. Not a fish I know but if I’m going to struggle with the poetic form I might as well struggle with an awkward rhyme as well.

  27. August 28, 2009 11:31 AM

    There in the pond, the gentle tench:
    his sliminess may make you blench
    but cooked like carp he’ll taste just fine.
    The dace, when hooked upon your line,
    should be thrown back, though ‘tis a wrench
    causing some anglers’ teeth to clench
    and some to sulk upon a bench,
    the dace should not be served with wine
    but in the pond.
    The minnow also – be a mensch,
    it’s useless to kick up a stench
    so demonstrate a little spine –
    a minnow’s destiny’s to shine
    not in some dish Spanish or French
    but in the pond.

    OK, one word difference in the refrain, but as they say in the US of A, hey.

  28. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 11:37 AM

    Excellent, Zeph…and as you say, what’s a word between friends?

  29. August 28, 2009 11:59 AM

    It’s not a slipper, a galosh or a guppy
    Is the Louisiana-livin’, amhibian Mud puppy
    Newt-like but times thirty three and a third
    It’s a malevolent bottom-feeding,four legged turd.
    More of a common man than a yuppie.

    In dank muddy waters watch where you wade
    It has a bite, not a bark and teeth by the spade
    Full of bile this monster is best left shunned
    Intelligent design? Mud puppy? I’m stunned
    No reason at all why this beast was “made”.

  30. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 12:09 PM

    Nice one, Al. You might be interested in this article over at Wired Magazine. It’s about the latest nail in the Intelligent Design coffin…

  31. August 28, 2009 12:14 PM

    I only just found this thread. If only there was a rhyme for fish…

  32. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 12:31 PM

    …aside from mish, goddamn it.

  33. August 28, 2009 12:36 PM



    Dish –


  34. August 28, 2009 1:12 PM

    Wow, this topic only appeared last night and already awash with fine poems – don’t you people have day jobs??

    Freep – I’ve just noticed your comment on the poster poems, but it’s closed so I cannot reply. I like the way you describe my verbs as “muscular”, I was trying to get across some level of agression and invasion I suppose (by the night/darkness). I would say that is was very much a first draft which didn’t really get across the grand idea I had behind it, but it’s good to know that I was vaguely on the right lines. I am astounded by how effortlessly all you chaps and chappesses seem to be able to conjure up poems, an epic like that one is going to take ages for me to perfect.

    Zeph – can we have “capeesh” (sp?) – it kind of rhymes…?

  35. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 1:36 PM

    Riffles, Rills And Pools

    Far cast your line for that’s the art
    If you would reel in someone’s heart
    You must make sure to set the hook
    You do it with a word or look:
    Bring together what was apart.

    It’s in the wrist, that’s where to start
    Momentum’s what your wrist imparts
    The water ripples, image shook:
    Far cast your line.

    The stream I fish is off the chart
    From all fixed points I now depart
    The world of men I have forsook
    To catch a dream in this swift brook
    The taste of dreams is sweet and tart:
    Far cast your line.

  36. Captain Ned permalink
    August 28, 2009 1:36 PM

    The same Andrew Brown. His GU faith columns are entertaining, though erratic (the below-the-line comments can be splendidly disputatious). I’m often in general agreement with him, or half-agreement, but he can be a little sloppy sometimes. However, the book is excellent – though a bit too much about fish and not enough about Swedish politics for my liking.

    Good poems all. I’ve not even had the ghost of an idea yet, and already the prospect of trying to match the standard set is depressing me.

  37. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 28, 2009 1:43 PM

    Like a copper working a crime
    the tench goes sifting through the slime
    which covers the river’s debris,
    filed archeologically,
    the layered detritus of time.

    Cycle frames, prams, assorted grime,
    a rank semi-digested chyme
    the tench checks out forensically,
    like a copper.

    This bottom feeder’s native clime
    figures a tasty paradigm,
    those pockets of pornography
    I fossick through so brutally,
    when I go foraging for rhyme,
    like a copper.

  38. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 1:46 PM

    I have every faith in your talents, Cap’n…no rush. I only posted this last night.

    Ah, MM…trust you to bring my pastoral fantasy crashing to earth. The Vic Mackey of poetry strikes again. Cracking stuff.

    BTW, the guy who made Sons Of Anarchy was one of the writer/directors of The Shield and you’ll spot a lot of familiar faces from The Shield, The Sopranos and Deadwood. You haven’t said whether you want the Curb Your Enthusiasm collection.

  39. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 28, 2009 2:08 PM

    Sorry, missed that. My kid’s got all the Curbs, so I’ll decline. Thanks anyway. Sons of Anarchy sounds right up my street.

  40. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 28, 2009 2:11 PM

    Have you read the Millenium trilogy (well, the 2/3ds that’s out)? Lashings of Swedish politics in there. Mmmm…

  41. pinkroom permalink
    August 28, 2009 2:24 PM

    Boy are these tough. Thanks mishari/jack for the tips/lashings. Am I getting closer??? Not sure about heart… it’s another of those now infamous “shard” words I think twice before using but I’m trying to work in the register of childhood here (only time I fished) so might get away with it.

    Children fishing (2)

    From the pond’s heart, there comes a splish;
    radar circles show where to fish.
    So three rods to that bank we dash,
    to bait our hooks with bread we mash,
    to cast out lines, then watch and wish.

    And wait there for our floats to list
    when bait with mouths the fish will kiss.
    Will one bite? We wait for a splash,
    from the pond’s heart

    Two quills floating, one now amiss;
    two safely still, one drowned in bliss.
    What fish? How big? Skipping fast,
    answers rising, to questions asked
    from the pond’s heart.

  42. August 28, 2009 2:34 PM

    Was about to post my ode to a tench when I discovered Zeph has used all the same rhymes – mensch, blench, clench.

    I KNOW poetry is not just about the rhymes but sadly mine was.

  43. August 28, 2009 2:40 PM

    No problem, Alarming – it’s a new genre, Ench Poetry.

  44. August 28, 2009 2:58 PM

    Zephirine’s poetic elan did quench
    The novelty of my ode to a tench.

    Difficult not to burble on about the barbel
    Without gallivanting into garble
    Those apendages dangling down, it’s
    Best to call them fleshy bits
    And carp on about its skin like marble.

    I thought I did have a day-time job Pollyanna but if I do, I’m obviously not doing it.

  45. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 3:27 PM

    Bravo PR… lovely poem, except (and I know you’re going to hate me for this) the B rhymes in the last stanza. Your B rhymes were ‘dash, mash, splash’…so ‘asked, fast’ are a bit of a stretch. But fuck it…it works and I like it anyway.

    Spare a thought for the bream
    He’d like to join the club
    He’d like to make the scene:
    He’s been blackballed by a chub

    The stickleback blackballed the tench
    He said he hated to do it
    But he couldn’t bear the stench
    “No way could I sit through it.”

    God knows it’s hard to like
    The gudgeon and the dace
    And we all hate the pike
    We told him so to his face.

  46. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 28, 2009 5:14 PM

    Those bloody trout are hard to land,
    No matter what campaign you’ve planned,
    Getting the bastards on your line
    Is guaranteed to be a swine,
    Is Ichthus giving them a hand?

    Don’t know. But I can’t understand
    How the little buggers command
    A cunning which is serpentine:
    Those bloody trout.

    Maybe it’s time to make a stand
    And say that fishing should be banned,
    Not for the sake of the piscine,
    Or for an ALF – style whine,
    But to keep us out of loonyland.
    Those bloody trout!

  47. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 28, 2009 6:16 PM

    Lovely stuff! Just back at the desk now. Might have go at another rondeau soon (unless one of you beats me to the fish).

    Jack Brae

  48. August 28, 2009 10:56 PM

    I saw a black fish, it lazed through the brook
    It parted the slime, it led with no crook
    A school of bright fry, each thin as a tine
    To the river bed, where weeds intertwine
    And the sun never, no never dare look

    Sun-ripples shivered, spent bulrushes shook
    He flickered his tail, he fished without hook
    Leading with promise of delta and brine
    I saw a black fish

    My knees pulped the moss, I nosed close to look
    Vision refracted, I must have mistook
    This fish and a man, I thought consanguine
    What was his name? Was it Saul, Constantine?
    I saw a black fish

  49. August 28, 2009 11:18 PM

    young fry. tautology. god damn it all.

  50. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 11:44 PM

    Terrific poem, XB. Do you want to change it to ‘small fry’, a perfectly respectable usage and not redundant as fry come in different sizes, according to age and fish…or even ‘bright fry’…they often glitter like flakes of chrome.

  51. August 28, 2009 11:53 PM

    ‘bright fry’ is good. Thanks.

  52. dickensdesk permalink
    August 28, 2009 11:53 PM

    Loads of top notch stuff here… the firm smack of our host’s command was clearly both overdue and necessary.

    I can think of a rhyme for fish exB

    Nightmare in Rutlandshire

    Bashing the bish, “Those bloody trout!”
    Swim into the mind of a lout
    as he tries to re-focus hard
    on Katy Perry’s leotard.
    “No good now…gone!” He starts to shout.

    A night spent tickling, catching nowt
    trying dodge the ‘keeper’s clout,
    hoist out now by his own petard,
    bashing the bish.

    The natural laws he did flout
    becoming aroused; fish flopped out.
    perhaps the scent of this stinkard
    drawn to his hands, fish by the yard,
    bashing the bish.


  53. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 28, 2009 11:54 PM

    Yes, decent poem. What about ‘Stephen Fry’? Horrible fucker is everywhere else, it seems.

  54. dickensdesk permalink
    August 28, 2009 11:57 PM

    that would be “fish by the yard”

  55. mishari permalink*
    August 28, 2009 11:58 PM

    Great stuff, DD…an appealing melange of trout and tossing off.

    Ah, MM…I’m delighted to see you share my loathing of the oleaginous Fry. The man needs a serious leathering…

  56. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 29, 2009 12:06 AM

    You’ve pulled it off again, DD.

  57. dickensdesk permalink
    August 29, 2009 12:12 AM


    Strange you should mention h.f. Fry as I recently discovered this finely crafted clerihew scrawled in the gentleman’s toilets of the Anne Boleyn public house, near Upton Park.

    Steven Fry is not a fish,
    and certainly, he aint no dish;
    the bent nosed (couldn”t work out this word) aint half so bright
    as Millwall FC’s disco nite.

    I on the other hand, couldn’t possibly comment.

  58. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 29, 2009 12:31 AM

    Sounds like one of our host’s efforts. Must have looked in there on his way to The Den.

  59. mishari permalink*
    August 29, 2009 12:49 AM

    I could have sworn I wrote ‘wanker’ perfectly legibly. Perhaps DD needs glasses…

  60. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 29, 2009 2:13 AM

    Sticklebacks, tiddlers, spricks, pinkeens:
    pond natives. They’re the smithereens,
    the dashing bits like darting seeds
    that cheat our eyes to pondside weeds;
    the tiny specks so barely seen
    in water clear or water green;
    the spark of current for the wet machines
    of every city park. Light bleeds
    and the bright ponds retain their creeds:
    Sticklebacks, tiddlers, spricks, pinkeens.

    Jack Brae

  61. Captain Ned permalink
    August 29, 2009 5:16 PM

    The singing fish upon the wall
    With dulcet tones emits its call:
    A love-song to the rubber duck,
    A buxom bird he’d like to fuck.
    Alas, his chances are but small.

    The lustful notes do not enthral;
    On scornful ears they sadly fall
    And fail to speed, despite his pluck,
    The singing fish.

    The sweetest music can’t install
    Tender warmth in a soul of gall,
    But, mounted fast, the suitor’s stuck
    And can’t swim off – what rotten luck!
    Enamoured ditties now appal
    The singing fish.

  62. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 29, 2009 7:36 PM

    It’s hard to beat, the fighting chub,
    If human it would never blub,
    Shrug off the punches to the head,
    And swing till it was down and dead:
    King of the fishy Fight Club.

    But scrapping skills are not the nub,
    It’s the chub’s pertinence as grub,
    Which is not high, it must be said:
    The meat’s not sweet.

    When you’ve depth-charged this killer sub
    It’s a most disappointing snub.
    If you’re a fighting thoroughbred,
    You should provide a decent spread,
    In the case of of chub, there’s the rub:
    The taste is sheet.

  63. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 29, 2009 7:50 PM

    Good stuff up there. Glad you found some inspiration, Cap’n, well worth waiting for.

    Bloody scooter weekend here. The sound of those lawn-mower engines is driving me up the wall.

  64. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 30, 2009 1:30 AM


    Above the pond the gnats in choir
    praise God, praise air, praise blood, praise fire;
    while evil fishes rot in silt,
    (the knife-mouthed pike devoid of guilt),
    sink down to Hell, the hellish mire,

    (for Hell is not a burning pyre –
    he who says so is a liar)
    which tarnishes the fish scales’ gilt.
    Above the pond,

    where swallows after gnats enquire,
    all ascend to regions higher;
    the buzz of gnats, the songbird’s lilt,
    (upon whose voices Heaven’s built)
    declare that Hell is wet. All’s fair
    above the pond.

    Jack Brae Curtingstall

  65. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 30, 2009 1:39 AM

    I love doggeral
    but I’ve had my fill of fish

    Long live the Dogg

    By the way, MM, loved your egg soldiers on Other Stuff.

    Jack Brae

  66. Captain Ned permalink
    August 30, 2009 4:22 AM

    Lord Fry of Wry… a man who alternately amuses and aggravates. He’s gotten too big for his boots, certainly – and his attention span is seemingly incapable of fixing on anything for very long other than his own brilliance. Yet his CV is not without its bright spots (Blackadder, his performance as Wilde, his series about manic depression, his oft-cited quip about Piers Morgan). Either his talents are meaner than is commonly thought, or he has no idea of how to apply them. For sure, he needs to be disabused of the notion that he’s the cleverest man in Britain – but I wouldn’t dismiss him entirely. All the same, that dread phrase ‘National Treasure’ screams out for… what? A leathering? I think you have it, Mishari.

    Anyway, enough of ephemeral jokers… here’s something so achingly beautiful that almost all the nastiness of the world is momentarily forgotten…

  67. mishari permalink*
    August 30, 2009 4:34 AM

    I know I’m being harsh on Fry, Cap’n and I agree with you, he did sterling work as Wilde. It’s just the unbearable archness of the man, all that fucking one eye-brow raised I’m-such-an-amusing-cove-doncherknow-and-who-are-all-these-dreadful-people?

    The bastard can’t even sell Twinings sodding teabags without that knowing archness on display. Here’s a news flash, Stephen…if you’re peddling stuff on TV, you’re a fucking shill not Oscar Wilde, no matter what nice old dears at the Womens Institute tell you. Tosser.

    Sorry. Insomnia makes me vent. Fine poems from everyone. See, Cap’n? I knew my faith in you wasn’t misplaced.

  68. Captain Ned permalink
    August 30, 2009 4:39 AM

    And some more from Brazil…

  69. August 30, 2009 10:10 AM

    Careful mish and Cap’n Ned Stephen Fry strikes me as a bit of a T E Lawrence type – a man who would enjoy the sort of leathering you’d dish out.

    I think he’s just a bloke who can’t say no – he gets offered adverts, radio programmes, publishing deals – and does them without thinking too much about how the public react to such over-exposure. I was actually asked to audition for an advert about 10 years ago but turned it down to the incredulity of the casting agent because I didn’t want to be in that world or be known as that stupid cunt in the car ad.

  70. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 30, 2009 11:02 AM

    Tractors more in your line, I would have thought.

  71. mishari permalink*
    August 30, 2009 11:04 AM

    Not sure if ‘…that cunt in the tractor ad’ is much of an improvement, ecktually.

  72. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 30, 2009 11:04 AM

    I’ve got nothing, and the grayling
    Hints that now I might be flailing,
    Using the ing rhyme is a sign
    Of irreversible decline:
    My inspiration is ailing.

    Like the fisherman who’s trailing
    That pale-grey ghost-fish I’m failing
    To catch the elusive piscine:
    I’ve got nothing.

    The fire of creation’s paling,
    No point in ranting and railing,
    MeltonMowbray’s once-mighty line
    Is becoming a piddling whine,
    From this task I think I’m baling:
    I’ve got nothing.

  73. mishari permalink*
    August 30, 2009 11:09 AM

    Masterly, MM. You have a real knack for the sardonic rondeaux…

  74. August 30, 2009 11:24 AM

    MM there’s nothing wrong in rhyming “ailing”, “flailing” etc, in fact I’m quite impressed how many rhymes you got, it’s if you were trying to just rhyme the “…ings” that you’d be slacking.

    Stephen Fry has gone the same way as my local chinese. Deserving of the reputation when not very well-known, but once everyone starts wanting a piece of the action supply can never meet demand and still be of good quality. It’s the takeaway cycle, he’ll reach the top of it soon and then wane into obscurity and start doing good stuff again. He was brilliant in Fry and Laurie, Peter’s Friends, Blackadder and as Jeeves (his eyebrow was essential to this part I felt). But I’ll struggle to think of anything he’s been good in after that. That QI love-in is ghastly, but I’ve never been able to quite work out why. Too pompous? Pretentious? Or just a bit shite…

  75. mishari permalink*
    August 30, 2009 11:44 AM

    Dunno, Poll…never watched it. I confine my TV viewing to programs about meerkats and snow leopards and violent, cynical US crime dramas (just know…balance).

  76. August 30, 2009 11:46 AM

    MM Combine harvesters if you don’t mind and this from someone who attempted a defence of the Wurzels against my quite reasonable complaints. For shame.

    Polly QI? can’t see the point of it except to keep TV reliant comedians in pocket money.

  77. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 30, 2009 12:02 PM

    So what was the car, Al? I must know.

    As soon as I see the preening git’s face on TV I switch off, but then I never thought Blackadder funny, or Atkinson or Laurie or Smith or Rhys Jones or any of those Python-lite characters. There’s something too cold and calculating about them. G Rhys Jones gives me the creeps.

  78. mishari permalink*
    August 30, 2009 12:13 PM

    Hear, hear, MM. I always though Blackadder was peurile. Sarcasm isn’t comedy, despite what grating half-wits like Ben Elton (who unsurprisingly went on to write a musical about Queen…fucking Queen. I ask you). Comedy for people who don’t really have a sense of humor.

    And you’re right about Rhys-Jones. There is something deeply wrong about that man and his unfunny boating chums. 5 minutes of their bloated media luvvy blether and I longed for a Great White shark to tear them to very small shreds…

  79. August 30, 2009 12:32 PM

    MM It was a BMW of some sort ( I have no interest in cars ) and the ad was the one where a car is plummeting down the side of a skyscraper – the whole style being nicked from the Coen Brothers “Hudsucker Proxy” . The gormless look on the actor who did go for the part tells you all about why I was suggested.

    I got asked because I used to be in an improvising comedy team at the end of the 80’s ( so it was more like 20 years ago in fact ) whose guests were the likes of Steve Coogan, Caroline Aherne, John Thompson etc. so the audience often had casting agents and other media types amongst them who were checking those 3 out.

    To further name-drop I knew someone who worked with Rhys Jones on the Wind in the Willows stage version at the National Theatre. Throughout the play he was eternally muttering obscenities about the audience under his breath. Quite disturbing habit by all accounts.

  80. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 30, 2009 12:47 PM

    Stephen Fry: any of you read his book on verse? I made several attempts to read a few pages in bookshops when it first came out, but still couldn’t get over my disgust at his superior arrogance enough to buy the fucking book. Did I miss anything? I’d hate to think that I passed up on the chance of becoming a better poet.

    By the way, I no longer buy Twinnings Tea either. I’d rather brew old socks.

    Jack Brae

  81. Captain Ned permalink
    August 30, 2009 1:06 PM

    I did read one of his novels once. I forget which one. I think his decision to give up writing them is one of his better moves.

    My brother once painted Rhys-Jones’ cottage in Pembrokeshire and said he was a smarmy, self-regarding git forever going on in a faux-jovial manner about his achievements. I’d have thought they wouldn’t have provided much material for extended conversation, but good ol’ Griff thought differently.

  82. mishari permalink*
    August 30, 2009 1:14 PM

    Apropos of nothing, I came across an LP in a Paris music shop recently that made me laugh out loud. It was called 50 Years Of French Rock N’ Roll. I expect the next in the series will be 50 Years Of Welsh Bossa Nova.

    Yes, Cap’n…I know, I know..the principality is absolutely seething with boyos wielding marimbas and moving their hips sinuously. It’s all that sunshine and palm-fringed beaches that does it

  83. Captain Ned permalink
    August 30, 2009 1:28 PM

    Indeed. Come carnival weekend, my home town of Aberaeron isn’t known as the Rio de Janeiro of West Wales for nothing…

  84. August 30, 2009 2:04 PM

    I never really got Rhys-Jones either, unless just having a stupid face was supposed to be funny in itself – Phil Cool did that better.

    It’s good to know that my failure to get much past the first chapter of a Fry novel wasn’t really a failure at all, but a coincidentally good idea.

    At risk of being shot down here, I rather like Sue Perkins as a comedian.

    Speaking of people who we’ve been on stage with my husband recently presented me with tickets to see Ralph McTell, a rather expensive joke if you ask me, but I’ll give it a go and see which other songs he’s ever written.

  85. mishari permalink*
    August 30, 2009 2:15 PM

    I suspect he’s going to McTell you that he’ll ‘…take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London, etc etc…’. I wonder if the bugger actually knows any other songs.

    Mind you, Mowbray’s a devotee of Ralph’s brand of twee whimsy. ‘Let me take a razor to your gland and feed it to the fans at Portsmouth…’

  86. August 30, 2009 2:18 PM

    I’ve already heard the “streets of Stockport” version, it would seem that Ralph could get a tidy-earning Saturday job leading football fans around all over the place…

  87. August 30, 2009 2:23 PM

    Back to the original theme, as I’m always days late with these poems and you’ve always moved on… back to fish…

    The fish know best:

    The fish know best this river blue,
    Which deep shrouded currents renew
    Under the surface, smooth as glass,
    Its secret heart, a writhing mass,
    An ever-changing underclass.

    Each step I take cannot break through,
    Solidity forever true,
    To piscine realm where I trespass,
    The fish know best.

    Their shiny rainbow scales imbue
    The depths with iridescent hue,
    Taunting me around me they pass
    As I fail to catch them, alas!
    The fish know best.

    (I never seem to be able to work out where to put the punctuation in poems)

  88. August 30, 2009 2:34 PM

    I suspect a Ralph McTell concert is like that band ExitB posted up a YouTube clip of – 90 minutes of the same song. The song being “Streets of London” and the raison d’etre being to see how long anyone can tolerate earnest good intentions before running amok with whatever’s to hand.

    Polly Any chance of setting up a live blogfeed ( or whatever thgey are called ) so we can monitor your minute by minute mood? I give it 11 minutes before you’ll start wanting to decimate half of London and 17 minutes before you’ve completed the job.

  89. mishari permalink*
    August 30, 2009 2:51 PM

    Excellent, Polly…see? That wasn’t too hard, was it?

    Mention Ralph McTell and that damn song started going around in my head. I had to blast AC/DC’s Back In Black very, very loud just to purge my synapses….

  90. August 30, 2009 2:52 PM

    Hee hee, Al, I’m going to see it in the Lowry in Manchester, I still think the good people of Manchester might be a little jumpy still if I turn up all wired up, especially with my Irish surname on the tickets… I promise to report back though.

    I’m going to see Skunk Anansie in the same week so I’ll be able to work my aggressions out there.

  91. August 30, 2009 2:56 PM

    It would have been easier if I hadn’t realised that wrasse and bass are both ocean-faring fishes, but you’ve been a stickler so far so I thought I’d better not use them.

    Apparently listening to (and presumably singing) “Abide With Me” is supposed to remove any other song from your head. Not sure how you get rid of that one though. Putting your tongue on the roof of your mouth gets rid of ice cream headache you could try that?

  92. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 30, 2009 3:50 PM

    What, this one, Al?

    An amusing Volkswagen ad from the 90s showing one of VW’s spokesmen driving the new Polo off a tower block.

    The Polo stops sort of the ground courtesy of ABS brakes, which here are specified as anti-grav – as well as anti-lock.

    This advert features yet another timid, possibly emasculated and non-threatening middle-aged man in a 90s car advert (see also Tom Conti in the Vauxhall adverts, the stupid boss in the Ford adverts, the cuckolded husband in the Fiat Uno advert) – all of which makes you wonder what exactly was going on in this apparent battle of the sexes in the 90s.

  93. August 30, 2009 4:01 PM

    I think that’s the one but I only know what it was second hand from a friend who did accept the offer to audition.

    He did the audition in front of about 10 people in a portakabin with the instruction to pretend he was in a car plummeting down the side of a skyscraper – so he’d be frightened but not too frightened that he couldn’t talk sensibly about the virtues of the car. You know the sort of feelings we experience every day.

  94. Captain Ned permalink
    August 30, 2009 4:05 PM

    Not freshwater, and not a rondeau, but…

    The puffin? A fish?
    That flapping bird a piscine dish?
    It must be true, for so the abbot says:
    A fitting meal for meat-free days.
    Those are not feathers, but rather scales.
    Think you different? Your reason fails.
    Do not let the brain deceive:
    Cast off doubt – just believe.

    The puffin? A bird?
    What once seemed certain’s now absurd.
    Behold! The creature takes the air and flies!
    Yet nonetheless, its wings are lies.
    Its beak is but a foolish notion,
    A fiction meant to bluff the ocean.
    Eating it would be no sin:
    Cast off doubt – just tuck in.

    Nice work, by the way, Polly.

  95. mishari permalink*
    August 30, 2009 4:13 PM

    Good one, Cap’n. I’m sure I’ve read somewhere that puffin tastes (perhaps unsurpringly, given its diet) of very oily fish. So perhaps you’re not far wrong…

  96. August 30, 2009 4:19 PM

    Thanks Mish and Ned for the congrats, that’s one benefit of not being a prolific poem poster, people think it’s worthy of note when I do post something :-)

    I actually rather like the challenge of the strict forms, so keep ’em coming.

    Not that it’s very important, but I don’t think I should have put a comma after “true” .

    Apparently I’m missing (or have missed) a cricket match on the telly hanging around on here, so I’m going.

    Just a quick question as I head out of the door – does anyone here use Secondlife?

  97. August 30, 2009 4:27 PM

    OH CRAP – I missed a line out (she says trying to think of another line which might look like she’d meant to put it into the original)

    The fish know best:

    The fish know best this river blue,
    Which deep shrouded currents renew
    Under the surface, smooth as glass,
    Its secret heart, a writhing mass,
    An ever-changing underclass.

    Each step I take cannot break through,
    Solidity forever true,
    To piscine realm where I trespass,
    The fish know best.

    Their shiny rainbow scales imbue
    The depths with iridescent hue,
    Taunting me around me they pass
    As I fail to catch them, alas!
    Old lessons here I learn anew –
    The fish know best.

  98. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 30, 2009 4:32 PM

    Probably a good decision, Al. I’m a Toyota man myself, and have been for twenty-five years. My son was trying to buy a BMW Z4 recently (poncy sports car) when his girlfriend (echt deutsche) told him that it’s regarded as a ‘prole car’, something a successful plumber or builder might buy as a middle-aged toy. She asked him if it had a footwell, and when he asked why she was interested she said she would need somewhere to hide when they were out for a drive.

  99. dickensdesk permalink
    August 30, 2009 4:50 PM

    top work polly/ned

    agree with all the additions to the Fry and would certainly place Elton at the head of the oxo footlights crew in, that queue for a leathering but there is surely one who trumps even that lot for smug, self-regarding leatherability…

    Can I throw in the name ****k Skinner … just typing the name has my stomach looping. I would rather spend an evening in the company of Sting… I would gnaw off my own arm…

    Also have it on good authority that Conti lives up to his name.

  100. August 30, 2009 5:02 PM

  101. August 30, 2009 5:04 PM

    DD Ben Elton’s a Manchester Polytechnic Drama dept. man along with Rik “quite good for 5 minutes” Mayall. I knew people who went to college with him and spent 3 years avoiding being in his plays which he churned out at the rate of about 2 a week. They didn’t regret their actions even when he became famous.

    I remember Anne Robinson being on Room 101 and saying she liked the alternative comedy scene as exemplified by Ben Elton. when Paul Merton played her a clip of him in stand-up action she immediately retracted all her comments. Hilarious.

  102. August 30, 2009 5:09 PM

    I used to watch Ben Elton on Saturday Live when I was 11 or twelveish. He was the funniest thing I’d ever seen. The material and performance style have dated irreperably but I remember feeling mightily betrayed when he flipped into the mainstream with We Will Rock You.

  103. August 30, 2009 5:13 PM

    I wonder if there’s a YouTube clip of Ben Elton comparing how the London Underground treats the disabled to how the Nazis treated the Jews? It was on Wogan I think and what made it better was the reaction of the two people sitting next to him in wheelchairs who said something terribly British like “It isn’t THAT bad”.

  104. August 30, 2009 5:29 PM

    If you watched more than one show of Ben Elton’s you realised that they were all the bludy same. I admit I do have a video of his stand-up and did enjoy 90 % of it at the time, but then the 10 % which I didn’t enjoy I actually found offensive and not at all clever (like that Brass Eye episode about paedophilia), just offensive without merit.

    I wonder whether comedy is like film and like so many other forms of art, great when you see it when it’s new, but gets tired when you’ve seen the same people doing the same things over and over. Also I think it suffers if it becomes too polished, too planned and also if people are expectantly waiting for it to be funny because they’ve seen that person be funny before. My other half is a natural comic, but put him infront of a microphone trying to do an actual stand-up routine and he becomes groan-worthy.

    ExB yes I’ve seen that clip before, it’s really very funny, but I don’t suppose I’ll be piping up trying to copy it.

  105. dickensdesk permalink
    August 30, 2009 5:31 PM

    Don’t think he flipped eb… an oily little pleaser then, and now imho. Lucky to catch the ant-Thatch wave. Interesting about his contemporaries… imagine being locked in a tutorial with that fellow rubbing up against miss or sir’s leg… but even worse imagine Skinner, hands behind his head grinning/sneering…

    sorry… I feel a sudden need…

  106. August 30, 2009 5:41 PM

    Comedy can die fast. But great comedy can last a very long time; The Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale, Falstaff, Life of Brian, a lot of Pete & Dud. We all have our own favourites, I’m sure.

    Polly; for me, the Brass Eye special was acutely satirical and hit the bullseye in terms of media hysteria and hypocrisy on the subject. I rate it very highly. At the McTell gig you should absolutely call out for Streets of London after every song, incuding Streets of London.

    DD: you’re probably right. But I was young enough to trust what I saw.

  107. August 30, 2009 5:44 PM

    Ex B yes I meant that the Brass Eye special was clever, unlike Mr Elton, sorry if that was not clear. As usual people objected who didn’t understand the fact that it was satirical or wouldn’t know satire if it bit them on the bum, akin to those people who complain that South Park is an unsuitable cartoon for children… no shit.

  108. mishari permalink*
    August 30, 2009 5:53 PM

    Like you, XB, I thought Chris Morris and Brass Eye were terrific. They skewered the noisy, empty world of ‘news’ media beautifully.

    The paedophilia episode was a case in point. The odious Rebecca Wade and the NOTW whipped the mouth-breathers into a froth, to the point where the knuckleheads actually put a brick through a paediatrician’s window (in Bristol, I think).

    Instead of pointing out that your child is more likely, by several orders of magnitude, to be knocked down and killed by a drunk or careless driver, they chose to frighten people with phantom paedophiles behind every bush.

    The Govt in the shape of the loathsome Jack Straw and with typical cowardice, cravenly ‘thanked’ the NOTW for ‘stimulating debate’. What they should have done is thrown that hideous Wade harpy into gaol for incitement to riot.

    Morris chose his targets very astutely. I still grin happily when I remember various dim-witted politicians adopting a serious mien and qeuing up to warn against the evils of ‘cake’. Priceless…and very revealing.

  109. August 30, 2009 5:59 PM

    Chris Morris putting children in a filing cabinet saying “My children are safe, are yours?” is one of the great images of TV. I found a lot of his Blue Jam stuff predictable ( is the sketch going to be about incest again? Yes it is ) but Brass Eye really skewered its targets.

  110. dickensdesk permalink
    August 30, 2009 6:00 PM

    I know exactly what Polly means about the 10%… although I would put it much higher. He could be a funny guy and I can see the tweenage eb loved him… just as I found “The Comedians” (Bernard Manning etc) hilarious about that same age… the nasty bits went right over my head.

    In that 10% plus the mask kind of slips, and what you see is not satirical at all, but real deep-seated misanthropy and its flip-side, self-loathing. As another comedian put it so beautifully, his whole act just screams “small penis”. Skinner’s perhaps screams, “slightly larger penis than average, and boy, oh boy am I, if I were chocolate I’d eat myself, pleased with that.”

  111. August 30, 2009 6:30 PM

    To the kids in a drawer I would add DJ Doctor Fox holding a crab up to the camera and saying, in all seriousness: “Genetically speaking, a paedophile has more in common with this crab than a human being.”

    Regarding Doctor Fox (not a doctor, not a fox), this is probably the only time that I can legitimately segue to the story that his sister-in-law once, at my suggestion, climbed the steep side of Arthur’s Seat at twilight intoning a Lady Macbeth speech. Stuff like that happens to me less and less these days. I should go back to theatre.

  112. August 31, 2009 6:18 AM


    Glad to have you back.

    In your absence I have been idly wondering: as one who clearly observes with care the classic arts of tying together words, whether you remain consistent with this practise of discriminating particularity by fabricating your own flies, à la

    Traditional Angling Poiesis?

  113. Captain Ned permalink
    August 31, 2009 6:27 AM

    Brass Eye always brings a warm glow to my heart. The paedophilia episode is probably the most brilliant, if only for the song sequence at the end, which is unimprovable. That great series Monkey Dust is probably the most intelligent inheritor of that particular brand of humour, and the news that Morris has recently been involved in the making of a film about incompetent jihadists is somewhat worrisome – how can he improve on this?

    If only life were that jovially simple…

  114. Captain Ned permalink
    August 31, 2009 6:33 AM

    And more. The like of this stuff is the best conceivable comfort to the continued popularity of the Daily Mail…

  115. Captain Ned permalink
    August 31, 2009 6:42 AM

    And as for this… I fantasise about Tony Blair being forced to watch this with his eyelids prised open a la Clockwork Orange.

  116. August 31, 2009 8:37 AM

    CapNed, never seen Monkey Dust before (suffering from being the jack of too many channels and master of none so I never follow anything particular these days) but it looks brilliant – I’ve been laughing out loud to these clips…

  117. August 31, 2009 12:35 PM

    a computer glitch at home has turned my GU username back to ETAYLOR and I’m being moderated as a result. However MM it’s good to see the IoW dialect in use in the latest PotW thread. Rumours were that it was extinct. Evidently not.

    Mish I’m afraid your comment on the same thread is just a load of garbled nonssense.

  118. mishari permalink*
    August 31, 2009 2:11 PM

    Ah, Al…I’m sorry to find that you’re unfamiliar with Linear B, an ancient Cretan language that I speak like a native.

    By the way, if you click on ‘Tools’>Delete Browsing History…I suspect it’ll fix your glitch. You’ll have to re-sign in at GU under ‘Alarming’, then just click on the ‘remember me’ box and all should be well…

  119. August 31, 2009 2:33 PM

    Thanks for tip mish or in the Cretan ” bogsh itma clympherol” I share the computer at home so will have to consult other half about deleting browsing history. Last time the GU mods eventually twigged and sorted it out for me.

    In the meantime re: PotW if you can find a sound-file of Kurt Schwitters reciting his poetry ( a friend had them on vinyl along with many other poets and writers. I remember Ezra Pounds reading his Cantos in a particularly melodramatic way ) they’ll give you a clue as to what Hugo Ball was after. Ethereal and daft – a lovely combination.

  120. August 31, 2009 2:34 PM

    Mish I was not having you on (pull-eeaze) but “seriously” if idly wondering whether you tie your own flies. Anybody can watch television, but then there is art. Talk about telly and tech if you must. However these are the things of a child and you are, if we are to believe, virtually a sexagenarian. Don’t collapse your entire mythology on us now.

  121. mishari permalink*
    August 31, 2009 3:12 PM

    I used to tie my own flies, Tom, back in the days when I was a more solitary beast (‘alone but seldom lonely’ as my beloved A.J. Liebling once wrote of his youth in Paris). I still do when I can find the time and the peace and quiet. Being an insomniac helps.

  122. parallax permalink
    August 31, 2009 3:25 PM

    hey – great phising pomes guys – rondelle-roundeaux no less – I’ll re-visit these and give them the time they deserve.

    Good to see you back and fighting fit mish – except now I have a rounder picture of you weaving your way to Whitechapel Waitrose in thigh-high green waders.

  123. August 31, 2009 4:36 PM

    Was sent the below by the FBI As spams go it’s pretty good. The tone is interesting – quite definite in demand but vague in exact detail.

    Of course I’ll be laughing on the other side of my face when I’m bundled onto a plane heading for Algeria. If anyone wants to bake me cake with a file in it now is the time.


    We believe that this notification meets you in a very good present state of mind and health. We the Federal
    Bureau of Investigation (FBI) in conjunction with some other relevant Investigation Agencies here in the
    United states of America have recently been informed through our Global intelligence monitoring network
    that you presently have a transaction going in Europe and Africa as regards to your over-due payment which
    was fully endorsed in your favor accordingly.

    As a Federal Commission we are here to protect your interest and the interest of all other citizens in the
    world .You have been investigated as the beneficiary of the said funds.

    With full concern of The F.B.I and the Internal Revenue Service (IRS),we wish to remind you of the
    consequences of remitting such huge sums of money without complying fully with the provisions of the
    Financial and Allied Matters of 2003, which stipulates that any monitory transaction been done in the United
    States Of America and all over the World, must have proper records, which duly guarantees and covers the
    transaction as legitimate and legally acquired and not criminally or terrorist associated funds.

    You have five days to produce legal proof of the frozen wired transaction number coded: AZQV9007 owned
    by you. Note that you do not have any rights to receive these funds if the documented legal wire information
    is not complete.

    If you don’t have the required document in your possession, these document are only to be issued to you
    from the paying country from where it was moved to the Bank of Hong Kong from where they connived with
    the HSBC to move the fund to you without getting the required document Intelligence clearance certificate,
    to this regards you are adviced to contact this office to obtain the document for the immediate release of
    the funds in your name.

    Your fund is now in our custody and will not be released to you unless the required document is confirmed,
    After that the fund will be released to you immediately without any delay. Reconfirm the below:

    1. The country of fund origin,
    2. Amount expected,
    3. Proof of ownership.

    WARNING: Failure to produce the above requirement in the next 5days, legal action will be taken

    Be it known to you that we will assist you.

    Robert S. Mueller, III
    Federal Bureau of Investigation ( FBI )

  124. August 31, 2009 6:45 PM

    Better get your skates on, Al. “Suing” Bob Mueller doesn’t mess around.

    I saw a film of one of these spams – the more usual Nigerian prince scam – spoken by an actor to the camera as if it was a personal plea; he spoke it fluently, subtly including the grammatical errors. Funny and weirdly moving.

  125. August 31, 2009 7:05 PM

    XB I’ve heard Robert S. Mueller 111 isn’t as good as the first two. Wait a minute there’s a knock on my door……………………………………………
    …………………………………………………………….THE OTHER PERSON HAS HUNG UP…………………………………….THE OTHER PERSON HAS HUNG UP……………………………………………………………………..THE

  126. August 31, 2009 7:37 PM


    Bob III, now you’re online, my source tells me that Obama’s Kenyan birth certificate is hidden in the giant pig: it’s in the garage, behind Alarming’s ELP-plus-Greg-Lake-solo-work collection (might need some of the younger lads to give you a hand, there are a lot of Japanese bootlegs). As you’re climbing over, don’t fall into the bath/scrumpy distillery. The certificate is in the left nostril. Kisses to Orly.

  127. mishari permalink*
    August 31, 2009 8:03 PM

    I had a highly amusing phone call not long ago. It was an earnest young American, speaking very, very quickly (obviously fearing that I’d hang up, which I normally would have but it was a slow day and I was bored).

    “Mr. Al-Adwani, you’re one of a few select investors who are being offered this exciting opportunity. We here at Whateverthehellitwascalled International guarantee to double your investment in 90 days and double it every 30 days after that.”

    At that point, I had to stick my tie in my mouth to keep from laughing. Circumstance requires me to be mathematically literate, but if you’re not, let me explain why this proposed ‘doubling’ of your investment is so richly amusing.

    Get a pencil and paper. Now double the sum of £1 every day. How many days before you’ve reached £1 million? This is the power of exponential growth. It’s why bacteria are so successful.

    “So where exactly are you located?,” I asked.

    “Costa Rica.”, he replied and sensing in my silence that I was less than impressed by this he hastily added, “…we are very well established. We’ve been here since 2007.”

    Keeping my teeth clamped together to keep from laughing, I said, “Who are you regulated by?”

    “Oh, we’re very strictly regulated by the New York Stock Exchange, The Bank Of America and the F.B.I.”

    I suppose there are mugs out there to whom this sounds impressive. Sadly for them, the NYSE regulates nothing except the NYSE, the Bank of America is a commercial bank and regulates nothing and the FBI is who investigates young men like the one on the phone. Bringing up the FBI was probably a mistake, tactically speaking.

    I told the poor young sap to send me the info but I was thinking that if there are people who are mug enough to be taken in by such transparent nonsense…well, it’s hard to be sympathetic.

    Does it not occur to any of them to wonder, why, if these people are able to double your money every 30 days, they don’t just do it for themselves? What the hell do they need your money for, given their ability to work financial miracles?

    As for the emails that clutter up my junkmail account, who falls for this laughable nonsense?

  128. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 31, 2009 8:27 PM

    What do you mean, nonsense? It’s very kind of the people at HSBC and First Direct and Barclays to check my security information (though I don’t have accounts with them) and my penis is showing definite signs of further growth.

    On Schwitters, do you know this excellent poem by Robert Garioch, Al?

    I Was Fair Beat

    I spent a nicht amang the cognoscenti,
    a hie-brou clan, ilk wi a beard on him
    like Mark Twain’s miners, due to hae a trim,
    their years on aiverage roun three-and-twenty.

    Of poetry and music we had plenty,
    owre muckle, but ye maun be in the swim:
    Kurt Schwitters’ Ur-sonata that gaes ‘Grimm
    glimm gnimm bimmbimm,’ it fairly wad hae sent ye

    daft, it ye’ been there…

    Man, it was awfie. I wad raither hae
    a serenata sung by randy pussy,
    and what a time a reel of tape can play!

  129. InvisibleJack permalink
    August 31, 2009 8:48 PM

    The Grayling Witch is the fly to use
    if the grayling is the fish you wish to abuse

    But to catch the Eel-With-Only-One-Eye
    it’s best to use the zipper-fly

    jack brae

  130. mishari permalink*
    August 31, 2009 8:56 PM

    Never having heard of Garioch, I though you were pulling our collective leg. Apparently not. My search turned up a site devoted to Broad Scots, where I found this, which is rather wonderful:

    Seein hou monie there wis o them, he spealed the brae, an whan he hed sitten doun, an his disciples hed gethert about him, he set tae the teachin, an this is what he said tae them:

    “Hou happie the puir at is hummle afore God,
    for theirs is the Kingdom o heiven !
    Hou happie the dowff an dowie,
    for they will be comfotit !
    Hou happie the douce an cannie,
    for they will faa the yird !
    Hou happie them at yaups an thrists for richteousness,
    for they will get their sairin !
    Hou happie the mercifu,
    for they will win mercie !
    Hou happie the clean o hairt,
    for they will see God !
    Hou happie the redders o strow an strife,
    for they will be caa’d the childer o God !
    Hou happie them at hes dree’d misgydin for richteousness’ sake,
    for their’s is the Kingdom o Heiven !

    Hou happie ye, whan they tash an misgyde ye an say aathing ill o ye, liein on ye, for my sake ! Blythe be ye an mirkie, for gryt is the rewaird bidin ye in heiven; it wis een sae they misgydit the Prophets afore ye.

    “Ye ar the saut o the warld. But gin the saut gaes saurless, what will gie it back its tang? There is nocht adae wi it mair but cast it outbye for fowk tae patter wi their feet.

    “Ye ar the licht o the warld. A toun biggit on a hill-tap canna be hoddit; an again, whan fowk licht a lamp, they pit-it-na- ablo a meal-bassie, but set it up on the dresser-heid, an syne it gies licht for aabodie i the houss. See at your licht shines that gate afore the warld, sae at aabodie may see your guid deeds an ruise your Faither in heiven !

    frae ‘The New Testament in Scots’ – William L Lorimer.

  131. August 31, 2009 9:19 PM

    “Being an insomniac helps.”

    Mish, thanks… and I like Para’s image of you strolling Whitechapel hip-deep in green waders.

    But above all, being told that being an insomniac helps… helps. A bit. Almost.

    (With the insomnia that is.)

  132. August 31, 2009 9:22 PM

    My bank account is permanently open for anyone from West Africa wishing to invest. If it hasn’t been cleaned out by the FBI that is.

    What a splendid poem by Garioch and probably more close to the spirit of dada than any of the connections made by our fellow PotW-ers. When was it written? The phrase Ur-sonata sounds quite contemporary to me.

  133. mishari permalink*
    August 31, 2009 9:30 PM

    All I can ascertain is that Garioch’s Selected Poems was published in 1966 and his The Big Music and Other Poems in 1971. Not terribly helpful. Garioch himself was 1919-1981.

    Insomnia can be your friend, Tom. While the world sleeps, I plot…

  134. August 31, 2009 9:43 PM

    I had terrible insomnia between the age of 14 and about 25. I could get to sleep but always, always woke up about 3.45 in the morning. A real curse when you are a teenager and staying up late is de rigeur. Often I only slept for very short periods every day. In the end I had to get strong sleeping pills and the sensation of waking up at 11.30 in the morning after the first solid and decent night’s sleep I’d had for years was one I’ll never forget.

    A heavy touring schedule cured me but I wouldn’t recommend it for everyone!

  135. August 31, 2009 9:53 PM


    I would stow away in a steamer trunk on your next tour (were it on a steamer that is) if I thought I’d get a few winks out of it.

    Haven’t been able to harvest more than the odd few hours of sleep here and there for many years now, and don’t much enjoy the effects — though I must qualify that by saying that if I’d been asleep at any time in the past 36 hours, I would have been deprived the pleasure of close examination of a hundredweight of fish rhymes.

    And of course that would have been a loss.

  136. MeltonMowbray permalink
    August 31, 2009 10:53 PM

    Late 50s/early 60s for the Garioch, I think, Al. I have a Complete Works, but he tended to group the poems according to his own system, and they aren’t all dated. He translated, and took inspiration from, the Italian/Roman sonneteer Belli. Anthony Burgess used the same source in Abba Abba.

  137. September 1, 2009 3:40 AM

    Strangely enough, a lot of the spam I get seems to be about fly-fishing.

    I watched a good documentary on BBC4 about Bernie Madoff and how he conned people out of billions of pounds. They interviewed some financiers who’d been suspicious of Madoff and hadn’t invented their money with him: the basic story was:

    “We were interested in investing in Madoff’s scheme since it was giving such good returns. We asked Mr Madoff what kind of scheme it was which made such good returns, and at the time he seemed evasive. We arranged a meeting with Mr Madoff and at the meeting told him we were interested in investing in his scheme but we needed to know something about it. The replies Mr Madoff gave weren’t sufficient and didn’t seem to add up, so we didn’t invest any money with him.”

  138. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    September 1, 2009 8:26 AM

    Fishy Business

    The Discreat Angler casts his line
    And essays several sips of wine
    Then clicks on ads for Palmered wets
    (Aperitif like castanets)
    That trade soft hen for stiff cock neck
    Yet don’t demand an ID check

    Prince Nymph and his Woolly Bugger
    Rampant like a Louisville Slugger
    “Add more inches to your rod
    Using Tenkara method”
    Outlast Superfly and Sting
    Using spam or chicken wing

    Don’t forget to winkle out
    Dubious scams to tickle trout
    Calling for your bank details
    Isolate all such emails
    “Attention: Benny’s Fishery”
    And alert the judiciary.

  139. September 1, 2009 10:13 AM

    Tom sorry to hear of your problems. They are obviously not the solution but for temporary respite and relief sleeping pills are effective. I understand completely why you wouldn’t want to take them but if you haven’t it might be worth a try.

    We may be touring in Canada next May which is nearer to you than normal but actually not very near at all but it’ll be the sort of tour that the Flying Burrito Brothers wrote ” 6 days on the road” about. i.e a long haul.

  140. MeltonMowbray permalink
    September 1, 2009 8:36 PM

    Good luck explaining your show to thousands of puzzled Canadians, Al.

    I had to titter over SM Pugh’s depiction of Mishari as ‘a hard working-class bloke’.

    ‘Eh up, Prince, get thee boots on an’ coom down’t boozer for a pint.’
    ‘Allow me to finish my oysters and champagne, apply my pomade, scent my handkerchief, pluck my eyebrows, have my valet give me a swift manicure and I shall be with you.’
    ‘Yeah, forget it.’

  141. September 1, 2009 8:46 PM

    I thought you were the Prince’s valet MM or is a sidekick an entirely different kettle of fish in the retainer world? Please elucidate if you are allowed the time off.

  142. MeltonMowbray permalink
    September 1, 2009 8:52 PM

    Valet cleans the boots: sidekick licks them.

  143. mishari permalink*
    September 1, 2009 8:57 PM

    Pugh always vaguely irritates me. I suppose it’s partly that aloof ‘…oh, I’m a real poet, doncherknow…don’t mind talking to Carol…but these riff-raff Poster Poets?…my dear, how too too outré…’ attitude and partly because I hate wowsers…fuck ‘er…although, like MM, I was hugely amused to see myself chided for aspiring to working-class cred…as if.

    BTW, MM, I find that Sons Of Anarchy won’t quite fit onto one DVD so it’s to be two…which leaves a load of free space. I can offer you Terminator Salvation, Bruno, In The Loop and the first 3 episodes of the new series of Mad Men…all of the foregoing or none. Up to you.

  144. September 1, 2009 9:35 PM

    Did you like Terminator Salvation Mishari? I wasn’t much taken with Bale’s John Connor, he was disappointing, seems to be playing most of his characters the same these days… another effect of being too famous perhaps? Being allowed to slip, like the whole Stephen Fry thing…

    I’m inthe house by myself and I’ve developed that ringing in the ears thing, where the brain starts hearing things very far away because it’s straining to hear every noise. Its’ driving me crazy…

  145. mishari permalink*
    September 1, 2009 9:49 PM

    Actually, Pol, I haven’t yet found the time to watch any of the films I listed above. I’ll get to them, although I can’t help feeling that the loss of Aarrrnuld makes the franchise slightly less appealing. Arl be beck…

  146. Captain Ned permalink
    September 1, 2009 10:21 PM

    Don’t bother with Bruno, Melton. I’ve seen it and it’s approximately 97% mirth-free, whereas Borat has a mirth content of round about 84%. When the comic highlight of a film is a shouting penis, you know there are better things you could be watching.

  147. mishari permalink*
    September 1, 2009 10:47 PM

    I must say, Cap’n, I found Borat deeply unfunny. Basically, it seemed to consist of good-natured people being played for fools and then mocked for being good-natured fools. All rather distasteful. As for the fish-in-a-barrel that’s the fashion industry…I dunno.

    The early Ali G stuff was very funny, though. All those dopes taking him seriously as ‘da voice of yoof’ had its moments.

  148. MeltonMowbray permalink
    September 1, 2009 10:52 PM

    All, please, and many thanks. Always enjoy a spot of Terminating – the Sarah Connors Chronicles showed it could be done successfully without Arnie. Liked the sound of In The Loop and can’t find enough superlatives for Mad Men. I think you’re overestimating my level of sophistication, Captain. A shouting penis! Genius!

  149. Captain Ned permalink
    September 1, 2009 11:07 PM

    Well, some of the fools in Borat aren’t so good-natured. In Bruno, however, no-one is a bigger idiot than the central character. It’s far from the courageous assault on homophobia some have claimed it to be, because most of the genuinely negative reactions to Baron Cohen’s antics (i.e. those that aren’t staged, and many the scenes obviously are) are perfectly reasonable. I suppose you could say the same of certain scenes in Borat (the ones in which people aren’t coaxed into giving voice to their bigotries, but merely objecting to obnoxious behaviour), and I was uneasy about some of it… but I couldn’t help but laugh a lot. With Bruno, I laughed three times, and nowehere was my laughter particularly enthusiastic.

  150. MeltonMowbray permalink
    September 1, 2009 11:20 PM


    Feel embarrassed in the shower?
    Do girls laugh and avert their eyes?
    Short of storeys in Trump Tower?
    Then why not try out Supersize?

    One application every day
    turns a French bean to a marrow,
    give this brilliant product a play
    and you’ll be needing a barrow.

    Please be aware that you should stop
    using Supersize (cream or spray)
    should you feel your blood pressure drop,
    it’s possible erection may,

    in those whose length exceeds three feet,
    cause a serious loss of blood
    and may interrupt the heartbeat:
    in this event the penis should

    be rapidly brought to climax.
    If something quicker is desired
    thinking of global warming facts
    or Gordon Brown may be required.


    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      September 2, 2009 12:25 AM

      Damn. Ed, in the last stanza, line 2, that should have been ‘If something quicker is desired’. Any chance of a revision?

  151. mishari permalink*
    September 1, 2009 11:20 PM

    I don’t remember Borat all that well, Cap’n, just my general
    impression… probably because I only watched it with half an eye, but I thought the character was a one-trick-pony. The shtick wore thin very quickly for me. I’ll watch Bruno at some point but I don’t have any great expectations of it.

    That lot’ll be in tomorrow’s post, MM. Mad Men is terrific and I look forward to this new series…

  152. MeltonMowbray permalink
    September 1, 2009 11:27 PM

    Thanks. I didn’t think much of Borat, to be honest. OK for a 5 minute sketch on TV, but a whole film… no.

  153. September 1, 2009 11:34 PM

    “When the comic highlight of a film is a shouting penis, you know there are better things you could be watching” – brilliant. That’s a nice little one-liner to remind me not to watch that film. Yes I liked early Ali G and too found Borat was mostly funny, but not good enough for me to invest in the DVD which is a good indication. I did wonder whether SB Cohen used to watch Dennis Pennis though, who I think was showing up celebrities first.

    I’ve always wondered about the Sarah Conner chronicles, so will watch out for them if you think they are good MM.

    Anyone watched any of DollHouse at all? (another Joss Whedon – who did Buffy and Firefly)

    When’s next Poster poems topic due? It would be nice to get a little warning of the topic, just a little gentle hint, for us slow-burners.

  154. MeltonMowbray permalink
    September 1, 2009 11:43 PM

    I assumed it would be crap when I watched the first one, Polly, but what makes the series is the young female Terminator who accompanies John Connor to school. There were some funny scenes involving her total lack of understanding of an American high school. Her propensity to kill anything in sight was also pretty amusing.

  155. September 1, 2009 11:50 PM

    Ah yes that does sound good.

    I’m in the middle of the first series of Dexter at the moment actually, which I actually found myself watching whilst eating my dinner the other day because I was so keen to watch it and then realised that I was quite happily chomping my way through the hero (or do they call them anti-heroes?) circular-sawing his way through someone’s temple…

  156. September 1, 2009 11:51 PM

    This theory about us becoming desensitised to violence – pish posh and poppycock!

  157. mishari permalink*
    September 1, 2009 11:52 PM

    My sons like The Sarah Connor Chronicles but I’ve yet to see an episode myself. Doubtless, it’ll be one of those things like Seinfeld or Stargate SG-1…years after the series has ended, I’ll sit down and watch all of it in a week of sleepless nights.

    I’ve heard about Dollhouse, Pol, but the story outline didn’t sound like my cup of tea…perhaps I’m being unfair…

  158. September 2, 2009 3:34 AM

    I don’t know if Borat would have been interested, but when I was working on The Exile of Céline, Klaus Kinski, who was a sort of “serious” Borat (!!), was dying to play the title role… instead he merely died. RIP great movie monsters. Meanwhile in memory of one who wasn’t in movies — and encouraged by your interest in the book, Mish — this week I’ve put up a few bits on Céline in the Baltic:

  159. September 2, 2009 4:32 AM

    Dexter is proving very interesting – it’s 4.30 in the middle of the night and I want to watch another one. Got to go to work in four hours though, so best not. Damn Tom this insomnia is catching!

  160. September 2, 2009 8:44 AM

    I think the bit where Borat is winding up the rodeo audience is fantastic. Genuinely electric atmosphere in that the mood could turn really nasty at any moment. I admired his brass neck in doing that. But most of the film is taking the easy way out – set-up routines and a tendency to head for the cheapest laugh. Put like that it sounds quite good but it wasn’t.

  161. September 2, 2009 8:46 AM

    Did you think Pamela Anderson was in on it? If not then that was mildly amusing.

  162. mishari permalink*
    September 2, 2009 9:17 AM

    I should have mentioned, Tom, how much I enjoyed your biography of Damon Runyon (The World Of Damon Runyon by Tom Clark, Harper & Row, 1978). I think I already mentioned how much I admired the Céline book.

    I have your biographies of Jack Kerouac and Charles Olson on my to-read pile (a dauntingly large pile that seems to grow exponentially, I’m afraid…) and I’m looking forward to reading them.

  163. September 2, 2009 9:56 AM

    Tom a friend of mine was born in Sigmaringen where Celine fled to – of course you know this! When we went to visit him there, he took us to the cafe where Celine and his fellow French collaborators used to frequent. We sat at what they call the collaborator’s table – the owner was very proud of this.

    Extraordinary what people will use to try and boost the appeal of something.

  164. September 2, 2009 10:56 AM

    Alarming – things work differently here in Ted Hughes’ birthplace. The local has a sign behind the bar which reads “Ted Hughes did NOT drink here.” Maybe it’s reverse psychology…?

  165. September 2, 2009 11:23 AM

    Polly maybe the landlord wanted to placate the Plath lobby already enraged by the tombstone?

  166. September 2, 2009 2:25 PM

    I think he’s just a miserable bugger, but good point.

  167. MeltonMowbray permalink
    September 2, 2009 8:25 PM

    Perhaps the landlord objected to Hughes’ clumsy anthropomorphism, or his violent conservatism, or the Yorkshirism which didn’t extend to him actually living in the place.

  168. September 2, 2009 8:37 PM


    Let me apologize for contributing to your exponentially large piles… er, of books to be read that is.

    “No seriously”, it’s an honour to be on your runway. (And me not even a supermodel.)


    Yes, it’s wonderful how historical infamy can be happily exploited for commercial purposes. When I did the Céline work there was some not too subtle pressure to play up that aspect of things, to which I responded by assiduously playing it down. The publisher got in the last word by having the art designer do a cover of Céline looking hunted and haunted beside a boxcar in the gaping doorway of which was hung (get this) a flag bearing a large lurid swastika. So much for subtle.

  169. mishari permalink*
    September 2, 2009 9:41 PM

    I suspect your publishers, Tom, were as in thrall to what Susan Sontag called ‘fascinating fascism’ as anyone else. Anything associated with the Nazis sells. Stick a swastika on the cover and you’ll shift an additional 10,000 copies…at least that’s how the thinking goes.

    Lets face it, Ilsa, She-Wolf Of The Metropolitan Police doesn’t have quite the seedy, corrupt glamour of Ilsa, She-Wolf Of The SS and a program called In Search Of Nazi Gold would get a far larger audience than one called In Search Of Social Democrat gold…

  170. September 2, 2009 10:01 PM

    Tom completely unrelated but in a charity shop I once found an LP with a lurid cover of half a dozen dancing girls in silhouette with flames behind them superimposed upon a photo of siver lurex. The record the sleeve contained was Beethoven’s 7th symphony.

    I can sort of see what your publishers were driving at but the raison d’etre behind the decision to sell Beethoven using early 70’s dancing girls confounds me . I bought it of course and gave it as a present to someone who would appreciate the dislocation between cover and content.

    If it’s not too painful for you is there any chance of seeing this lurid Celine cover? I liked the haunted figure by a boxcar idea – very different from sitting in a cafe in Sigmaringen and idly awaiting being arrested.

  171. Daisy permalink
    September 2, 2009 10:10 PM

    Sorry to be so tardy with this, mishari, but everytime I looked in, I found more high quality work to awe me back into silence. But I guess it would be cowardly not to try, so here goes:

    In hot pursuit, the hungry bream
    Will go for any bait it’s seen
    A bit of cheese or bacon’s fine
    Or chicken breast slow cooked in wine
    A dish that surely fish esteem.

    In darkling pool, a sudden gleam
    A flash of fin disturbs the stream
    The bream’s new scheme’s a meal design
    In hot pursuit.

    What does this cold blood fish now dream?
    Does this sleek creature have a theme?
    He boldly moves to hook and line
    He’s reckless now, it’s dinner time
    The pangs of hunger grow extreme
    In hot pursuit.

  172. MeltonMowbray permalink
    September 2, 2009 11:08 PM

    Quality poem there, Daisy. Bream and fine are good rhyme choices, as opposed to chub, where I had to settle for the embarrassing sub. Humiliating, but having got that far there was no turning back.

    I don’t see why Beethoven’s 7th shouldn’t be sleeved with go-go girls, Al. Isn’t it supposed to be the epitome of dance? Of course it’s well-known that Beethoven preferred lurex next to the skin, though I believe gold was more his style.

  173. pinkroom permalink
    September 2, 2009 11:16 PM

    Afternoon Jones

    Charity shop; Billy Bass sings,
    “Don’t worry, be happy”, starts, rings;
    from his mount the batteried fish
    will bend, and walk out, smoke hashish,
    until his throat, dries out and stings

    and each scale on his fake skin mings,
    and to the wall, his body flings,
    and serves himself with false garnish;
    charity shop.

    Needles in pockets, spent syringe;
    smells to make a trawlerman cringe;
    waking fleas, scratch, you crawl and itch.
    Charity shop.

  174. mishari permalink*
    September 2, 2009 11:20 PM

    Ludwig Van B. was a devoted patron of Pfefferminz Rhinegold, a lap-dancing club, where he played piano a la Satie at Le Chat Noir. He even dedicated a tune to his favourite stripper, Elise…

    Excellent poem, Daisy. Never hesitate to post. Don’t let ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would’, like the poor cat in the adage…to coin a phrase.

    Great stuff, PR.

  175. pinkroom permalink
    September 2, 2009 11:28 PM

    Sorry that was incomplete.

    Afternoon Jones

    Charity shop; Billy Bass sings,
    “Don’t worry, be happy”, starts, rings;
    from his mount the batteried fish
    will bend, and walk out, smoke hashish,
    until his throat, dries out and stings

    and each scale on his fake skin mings,
    and to the wall, his body flings,
    and serves himself with false garnish;
    charity shop.

    Needles in pockets, spent syringe;
    smells to make a trawlerman cringe;
    waking fleas, scratch, you crawl and itch.
    Billy Bass stops to make a wish
    for the quiet eve’ning brings,
    Charity shop.

  176. MeltonMowbray permalink
    September 2, 2009 11:49 PM

    Nice one pinkroom. Fish and hashish go together nicely.

  177. mishari permalink*
    September 2, 2009 11:52 PM

    BTW, MM, that stuff went in the post today so keep a weather eye out…

  178. September 3, 2009 12:37 AM

    Daisy – I was wondering where you’d got to, you were baking up a poem. A good one too. I don’t know about you, but I like the extra challenge of the strict form, rather than my usual ramblings.

    I’ve been running a quiz tonight, where I am always found to be in my strictest form… Madam Whiplash on the microphone, that’s me.

  179. September 3, 2009 8:54 AM

    MM and mishari explain it like that and the reasons for choosing a tacky 70’s graphic to sell classical music are as clear as a bell.

Comments are closed.