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Nudes At Ten

December 8, 2009


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While I’m still able to log onto wordpress without any problem, I thought I might set you a task to last until the new year. Nude poetry. That is to say, poems about nudes, not poems written whilst nude (though, of course, you must suit yourselves. If you do write your poem in the nude, however, I expect accompanying photos).

The form? Quatrains, of any kind. Elegiac Stanzas or Decasyllabic Quatrains or Ballad Stanzas or…whichever you prefer.

Now get your (or someone else’s) kit off…

69 Comments
  1. December 8, 2009 10:06 PM

    My nude body makes people gape
    I’m very much the naked ape
    No uglier knees can there be found
    My knuckles scrape along the ground.

    Bow-legged and pigeon chested
    In no exercise have I invested
    Looking down at what I shouldn’t
    Could I boast….no I couldn’t.

    Male pattern baldness from head to toe,
    Just like MM my arse sags low
    Improve my posture? No I shan’t.
    Could I praise me….no I can’t

  2. December 9, 2009 9:39 AM

    Webster saw the skull beneath the skin
    A layer thick as it is thin.
    When plucking images from thin air
    A poet’s skill is oft laid bare.

    On paper the images vulnerable, naked
    Reveal ideas that are half-bak-ed.
    Urges to self express are a curse
    Reveal earnest lines and far worse.

    But when these lines can be reviewed
    Naked alters subtely into nude
    Rounded forms, elegant concision
    Something expressed with precision
    A carpet and its own underfelting
    A glacier riding in its own melting
    A heart that throbs beneath the skin
    Offering a glimpse of what lies within.

    THe glacier image is not mine if you’re wondering why it’s conspicuously better then the rest. It’s Robert Frost I think.

  3. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 9, 2009 9:47 AM

    Blimey, you’re knocking them out at high speed. Quality stuff, too. Back on the phyllosan?

  4. December 9, 2009 9:52 AM

    A cup of Tetley’s de-caff at 8.45 last night and the full caffeinated version at 7.20 did for me.

    Thanks for your kind words.

  5. mishari permalink*
    December 9, 2009 1:05 PM

    Vote Labour, Vote Phyllis Stein

    Signed up for a life class
    The place to make a start
    On viewing lots of tits and arse
    And calling soft porn ‘art’.

    Let’s crack down on these ‘artists’
    They’re wankers and they’re scrotes
    We’ll hang them (and the bankers)
    And win the party votes.

    I’ve waved to quite a few peasants today, as the train sped through my vast latifundia. I smiled benevolently and made a note to dock their wages whenever they straightened up to light a fag.

  6. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 9, 2009 9:03 PM

    Those burning homosexualists must be a startling sight, and I’m not surprised that you discourage the practice of igniting them in your domain. The scimitar is so much cleaner.

  7. pinkroom permalink
    December 10, 2009 12:50 AM

    Involuntary

    Nude beneath this sheet, this shirt
    this skin that wears this new felt hurt,
    that floods this fragile, see-through skin;
    blood ’round breast-bones, prickling in.

    Risen by words, a roseish blotch.
    I turn my wrist, to read my watch.
    Ten more minutes, then I’ll go,
    from this, this one thing, I can’t show.

  8. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    December 10, 2009 7:42 AM

    Wonderful. Wonderful.

    Warming the Bella Center: ten green nudes
    Around the walls to make a fella think
    About the pungent musk a gel exudes
    That turns the planet pink and men to drink

    As overpopulation takes its toll
    Too many members crowd into the room
    Sending the farenheight out of control
    And sundry species, sweating, to their doom

    For global talks require a global mouth
    Wi-fi-connected to a global brain
    To tell us all to up sticks and move south
    Then they can fill the colder parts again

    And when eleven billion we attain
    We’ll need that Copenhagen show of hands
    If wars, pandemics fail to take the strain
    Then – wonderful! – we’ll heed Gaia’s commands

    By handing out free packets of Park Drive
    To decimate the breeders and their broods
    And live in harmony, prosper and thrive
    As – hanging on a wall – do ten green nudes.

  9. freep permalink
    December 10, 2009 4:38 PM

    Nice one, hlm. Copenhagen is, of course, where the Emperor’s new clothes come from.

  10. December 10, 2009 5:54 PM

    Cool post, didn’t thought this would be so interesting when I saw your url.

  11. Captain Ned permalink
    December 10, 2009 9:39 PM

    Great stuff; I particularly like Pinkroom’s contribution. ‘Risen by words, a roseish blotch’ strikes me as a very striking line.

  12. Captain Ned permalink
    December 11, 2009 9:25 AM

    ‘STRIKES me as a very STRIKING line’

    Yeesh. If only I were as attentive in my choice of words as Pinkroom.

  13. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 13, 2009 2:08 PM

    Old Spot

    Their nudity always unsettles me.
    Is it the exposure to casual voyeurs,
    or their quite shameless immodesty?
    They haven’t even got any knickers!

    That mud and slurry must be pretty cold
    and those tin shelters can’t be comfortable
    especially when you’re very nearly bald
    and have no blankets. It’s unconscionable.

    It’s not as though they seem at all bothered,
    they barely spare you a glance as they nuzzle
    through the heaps of mud and crap that’s slathered
    liberally over the shop: it’s a puzzle.

    Maybe it’s that their nakedness suggests
    their status as an assemblage of meats
    chops, bellies, loins, cheeks, legs, fillets, noisettes,
    a walking buffet, a movable feast.

    Perhaps my interest is limited
    to how they’ll be on the end of a fork,
    and my gut where my concern is sited,
    less about the pigs, more about the pork.

  14. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 13, 2009 2:21 PM

    My tooth is killing me again. I think the dentist crowned the wrong one. I note that he now refers to himself as ‘Doctor’, pretentious sod.

    When my son was about 10 he had a (temporary) problem with his blood called ITP (makes clotting less efficient). He was due to visit the dentist, so I asked the GP if I should let him (ie the dentist) know. ‘He’ll probably think it’s a TV channel’, said the GP, in what I thought was an unnecessarily sarcastic tone. When we got to the dentist’s I explained about the ITP. ‘Sounds like a TV channel’, he said.

  15. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 15, 2009 12:12 AM

    Stripping off for a quick shower
    I happen to glance up and see
    its loom in the foggy mirror,
    the very quintessence of me.

    Mostly white with a purple tip,
    glistening wetly in the mist
    like a Church of England bishop
    with a radical countertwist.

    Opportunist hair is springing
    from its every crevice and crack
    some trick of nature is bringing
    those tonsorial losses back.

    It seems bigger every year.
    Pulling on it isn’t advised,
    and nor is a massage, it’s clear,
    unless I want it supersized.

    Well, I know whatever I do
    will end as unsuccessfully
    and I know wherever I go
    this nose will always be with me.

  16. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 15, 2009 12:39 AM

    Still very painful, not that anyone cares. The ‘doctor’ is too busy to see me until Thursday. Why do I give him twenty quid a month?

    Well, back to the nudeface.

  17. December 15, 2009 11:50 AM

    Ah Mowbray, sorry to hear you have toothache.

    Perhaps you should spend the £20 on a sturdy door knob and some string and rip the offending tooth right out? It would send a serious message to the rest of them. No messing.

    I’ll be very happy when there is another post on here. I’m sure my colleagues think I’m looking at some dodgy site everytime that nude lady floats up on my screen…

  18. December 15, 2009 12:21 PM

    Polly given the amount of poems written about Mowbray’s arse I’d say your colleagues might be right in their suspicions.

    MM sorry to hear of your tooth decay. My “doctor” once refused to remove a tooth as I was due to fly to the US for 3 weeks of work so the cabin pressure might have caused something horrible to happen. Fair enough but he didn’t even offer any quality painkillers to relieve the pain he was expecting me to endure for at least a month.

    I ended up going to a dental hospital in Dublin ( where we were working just before the US ) who did a fantastic patch up job costing nothing. I gave them 30 whatevertheywerebeforeEuros in sheer gratitude.

  19. freep permalink
    December 15, 2009 1:20 PM

    Teeth. The definitive proof against the notion of intelligent design.

  20. December 15, 2009 1:46 PM

    For years I was plagued with dreams of my teeth collapsing or mulching in my mouth like wet chalk or just coming away in my hand like old tree bark. I’m not especially squeamish but teeth are horrifying.

    • December 15, 2009 7:19 PM

      ExB I find kneecaps horrifying, sometimes I have to sit down I get so concerned about breaking them.

  21. December 15, 2009 1:49 PM

    It would fine if we could have baby teeth, then teenage teeth, then thirty-something teeth etc. Why stop the regeneration at only the one set?

    Al – I think you’re right. Mowbray’s arse might yet get me into trouble under the computer use policy. It’s surely got to be a misuse, if not an abuse, of a computer making it party to such things?

  22. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 15, 2009 2:13 PM

    Thank you for your sympathy and humanity. I move through a twilight world in a heavily drugged haze, barely comprehending the slowed distorted speech and languorous gestures of my companions. I must take something for my toothache soon.

    I think my arse could design a better OS than Vista.

  23. December 15, 2009 2:36 PM

    Mowbray, try to lay off the heavy stuff, like anything codeine-based. An extended patch of taking cocodamol ruined my digestion permanently. I found the best thing was “panadol extra” soluble, made with slightly warm water, and swilled round the site of the pain.

    Sorry for the product advertising, but thought it might be useful :-)

  24. December 15, 2009 4:46 PM

    Pollyanna, the teeth regeneration idea is brilliant. Surely if evolution is what it’s cracked up to be, we should be spontaneously doing this now, since we’re all outliving our teeth and have been doing so for some time? Shouldn’t we be adapting and growing new ones? I guess the problem is that people without teeth can still breed, so natural selection takes no account of toothlessness.

    Condolences, Mowbray. And yes, all doctors of my acquaintance use ‘dentist’ as a synonym for ‘not very bright’.

  25. December 15, 2009 5:05 PM

    You know Zeph I’ve OFTEN thought about that. Why can’t we see the signs of evolution in progress?

    I suppose we would just consider such people freaks.

    It would be wonderful to be able to skip forward a few hundred thousand years to be able to see exactly what sort of freakiness ends up catching on and becoming the next stage wouldn’t it?

  26. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    December 15, 2009 6:23 PM

    there’s gno gneed for gnaw
    sip your supper through a straw
    there’s kno kneed for knorr

  27. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 15, 2009 9:29 PM

    Love in the Afternoon

    I think that one’s from my appendix op,
    that one’s a little incision they made
    before they gave my gall bladder the chop.
    That dent is where I broke my shoulder blade.

    No, it’s not eczema, just a little rash
    I got when I was living in a squat
    last week – I was a bit short of cash.
    Damn, looks like I’m getting another spot.

    These two pits – oops, a bit of fluff in there,
    I’ll just dig it out – are from boils, on the mend,
    thank God, but sadly I have a fresh pair,
    though situated at the other end.

    Of course, I’m a total martyr to piles,
    tried Preparation H and all the rest,
    in my view Anusol’s the best by miles…
    hang on, why on earth are you getting dressed?

  28. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 15, 2009 9:34 PM

    Q: What do you call someone who fails medical school?
    A: A dentist.

    My thanks to Seinfeld/David.

  29. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 15, 2009 10:46 PM

    Bugger! Excuse me, Ed, if you can drag yourself away from the hookah that should have been (line 4):

    That dent is where I broke my shoulder blade.[Sorted–Ed.]

  30. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 16, 2009 11:00 AM

    Looks like Ed is still out of his ed, so I’ll repost it.

    Love in the Afternoon

    I think that one’s from my appendix op,
    that one’s a little incision they made
    before they gave my gall bladder the chop.
    That dent is where I broke my shoulder blade.

    No, it’s not eczema, just a little rash
    I got when I was living in a squat
    last week – I was a bit short of cash.
    Damn, looks like I’m getting another spot.

    These two pits – oops, a bit of fluff in there,
    I’ll just dig it out – are from boils, on the mend,
    thank God, but sadly I have a fresh pair,
    though situated at the other end.

    Of course, I’m a total martyr to piles,
    tried Preparation H and all the rest,
    in my view Anusol’s the best by miles…
    hang on, why on earth are you getting dressed?

    Itch scratched. Thanks for the advice on the drugs, Poll, but a nice young man from over the road has sold me some white powder which is most effective. It’s rather moreish.

  31. December 16, 2009 11:56 AM

    The brown powder is rather nice too MM especially when warmed up with a touch of water.

    Dear Father

    My sentiment is rather baseless
    Some would say really quite tasteless
    Perhaps it’s just a phase
    I’m going through but a haze
    Is going through me too.

    Your trainspotting DVD
    Wasn’t what you thought
    It’d be

    But rather than hanging around on stations
    I’ve now developed an addict’s impatience
    Rather than looking out for trains
    I prefer an opiate sensation in my veins
    Superior to any old choo-choo.

    Even if the quality
    Isn’t what it ought
    To be.

    So thanks dad for that thoughtful gift
    The effect of which has caused a terrible rift
    and made me spend thousands of quids.
    Why did you try to be down with the kidz?
    My life’s a hypodermic hullaballoo.

    Although I am down in the shit
    Might feel better
    With another hit.

  32. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 16, 2009 4:29 PM

    Brown, eh? Thanks for the recommendation. I’ll have to ask young William (or Mistah SigSauer, as he now prefers to be called) about it.

  33. freep permalink
    December 16, 2009 6:43 PM

    MM … after 40, always pull the curtains in the daylight. After 50, use heavy curtains. After 60, blackouts.

  34. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 17, 2009 12:19 AM

    Well, there’s always celibacy, freep, but not yet…

    DVD arrived yesterday, thanks. I watched Terminator Salvation tonight, and thought it ok if a bit confusing at times. Christian Bale’s hunk status is a surprise to me. He has the look of a dectective constable in a regional force, or perhaps a Tesco team leader. Frankly the T600 is sexier.

  35. Pollyanna permalink
    December 17, 2009 12:50 AM

    Melton, didn’t you laugh at the GC Arnie?

    I have to say that confused me as if they made them all look like Arnie then why didn’t they know what the terminator was going to look like in the original film? But then again I think it’s all explained away by the course of events in this latest film changing the history timeline.

    Generally I find these things aim to confuse so you don’t ask too many questions.

    I just found Christian Bale wasn’t right for the part, there is no way that kid would have grown up to be him. He just wasn’t John Connor for me, even though I love Christian Bale in an abstract sense…

  36. Pollyanna permalink
    December 17, 2009 12:51 AM

    Hm I meant CG Arnie…

  37. December 17, 2009 3:20 PM

    Thanks for the delivery, Mishari. I’ve not had a chance to investigate yet but I think Breaking Bad will fill the post-New-Year evenings very nicely. Also hoping to find a minute to write a poem on nudity – my second favourite subject – some time soon.

    Think this is my favourite GU headline ever:

    Simon Le Bon: I’m facing the possiblity that this life is all there is.

    Particularly terrifying, I imagine, if you happen to be Simon Le Bon.

  38. December 17, 2009 3:21 PM

    Didn’t mean to bold that last line.[Sorted–Ed.]

  39. mishari permalink*
    December 17, 2009 5:29 PM

    Back in London, where I can access wordpress again. No idea why, for the most part, it was invisible in the Kingdom.

    Glad you got those, XB and MM but fuck me…10 or 11 days to get across London (and to the IOW)? Christmas, I suppose…

    Back just in time to get snowed under, apparently…anyway, here’s a nude poem:

    On First Seeing My Wife Nude

    The curve of your spine is divine,
    The length of your leg makes me sit up and beg,
    The sheen of your hair makes me stare.
    Your delectable bottom’s as smooth as an egg.

    Your belly is ever so slightly convex.
    Your breasts are so perfect, I feel I should SHOUT,
    I may not know all there’s to know about sex
    But give me some time: I intend to find out.

  40. InvisibleJack permalink
    December 17, 2009 9:28 PM

    She’s cum undone at the seems

    after Pablo Picasso’s Nu Assis, c. 1969

    Stunned gem of the moon in her navel,
    her body the loss that night is;
    distant stars glitter her thoughts of gone;
    milk wells at her nipples its chaos.

    A hen pecks its way out from her gut,
    there’s a cockcrow of screwage
    at her hip.
    Country sides fall to her ankles.

    The zip in her back undoes
    all the way round to her front.
    Undone in the doing
    she’s loosened to un.

    Jack Brae Curtingstall

  41. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 17, 2009 9:53 PM

    On First Seeing My Husband Nude

    The light gleams on your bald spot,
    Your nose is a bright cerise,
    You seem a trifle squat:
    Your bum hangs down to your knees.

    When that gut burst from your kecks
    It gave me a nasty fright,
    I feel too tired for sex:
    So what’s on TV tonight?

  42. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 17, 2009 10:37 PM

    An Amazon parcel I got today was dispatched 3 weeks ago. It’s probably been lying around in the Portsmouth office. They only have one literate postperson per shift.

    I thought CG Arnie looked more realistic than ‘real’ Arnie, Poll. I suppose Christian might be better-looking with more hair, but I still can’t see him as more than average. Female taste in men is notoriously difficult to understand, of course. Why a gorgeous, intelligent, humorous and modest chap like me was so often overlooked is a mystery.

  43. InvisibleJack permalink
    December 18, 2009 12:56 AM

    Hi Mish

    Any chance of putting the title of my poem into bold and adding the following (in non-bold italics) underneath the title:

    after Pablo Picasso’s Nu Assis, c. 1969

    Hope that’s okay with you.
    Jack Brae

  44. pinkroom permalink
    December 18, 2009 7:47 AM

    North Downs Snow

    Fox prints in the fresh fall’n snow,
    ice gingers so he’ll circling go;
    inside himself, he’ll curl his head,
    and so will I. Upstairs to bed.

  45. December 18, 2009 9:27 AM

    Polly my only experience of Christian Bale is his turn in American Psycho. I enjoyed his enraged OTT-ness in that film but you’d have to do a lot of blocking out to picture him as a sex symbol on that evidence.

    Or is getting murderous when your business card is trumped by a superior design from a rival what passes for sexy these days?

    I dunno….kids of today…etc. etc.

  46. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 18, 2009 10:34 AM

    We all heard what happened to the Whalley Range Strolling Players, Al. The performers, fair enough, but whacking their wives and kids? That was hardcore.

  47. December 18, 2009 11:03 AM

    Aker-chew-ally MM in the early days of the WRAS it was the kids you had to watch out for. One little bleeder stamped on my foot and dislocated the big toe thus causing a show to end in a most avant-garde dance choreography manner.

    Tooth-ache? I’d add dislocated toes to that world of pain. Most of the time your ownership of toes passes without incident but as soon as one is sticking up 90 degrees from where it used to be you really know about it.

    Where’s that brown powder?

  48. December 18, 2009 11:15 AM

    Well the CG version is more Arnie-like than Arnie is now the flab has set in.

    I know Melton, we’re a fickle bunch. Generally for me it’s a combination of the eyes, the wit and the arse. So your celebrated arse must surely give you some credit with the ladies?

    MERRY CHRISTMAS all by the way, in case I get even more busy and don’t get a chance to say.

    It’s snowed here, it’s lovely. Apparently it’s a problem for people getting places, they are clearly not trying hard enough.

  49. December 18, 2009 11:18 AM

    Al – have you dislocated your toe? I think I broke mine in a very hearty stubbing incident. Why is it that when you stub your toe you have an overwhelming urge to kick the offending object? Why not pummel it with a chair or something?

    I’d add sciatica to the extruciating pain list. I couldn’t believe how much that hurt as it spread it’s way merrily down my leg. Eurgh. I shudder thinking about it.

    Christian Bale was sexy in that film, in himself, not necessarily as the character. Patrick Bateman wasn’t sexy, he was a nutter. It was funny though. I think that’s one of his best films.

  50. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    December 18, 2009 12:44 PM

    I hate Christian Bale. In

  51. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    December 18, 2009 12:45 PM

    …an abstract sense.

  52. mishari permalink*
    December 18, 2009 1:04 PM

    Anyone seen Bale in The Machinist? A performance that had me slack-jawed with horror (and I mean that as a compliment).

  53. December 18, 2009 3:24 PM

    As a lady I would not often find men being slack-jawed in horror as a compliment to be honest…

  54. hic8ubique permalink
    December 18, 2009 8:40 PM

    –nudes-flash–
    I know a bad influence when I spot one, and thereafter make a point of coming round more frequently.
    Moreover, gracious invitations are hard to resist.

    Early Promise Acuity

    On days it was too wet for playing outside
    my friend Colin and I by the hot wood-stove-side
    to amuse ourselves would just sprawl out and look,
    if not playing backgammon,at some picture book.

    The choices were many, the favourites few,
    and sometimes the “Best of Life” would do:
    the Beatles’ heads singing afloat in a pool,
    the naked blonde hippie girl wading was cool,

    Janis, Jack Ruby, a lot of them dead!
    Sometimes we looked at “Prehistory” instead,
    but usually those days by hook or by crook
    we’d end up with the “Primitive Peoples” book.

    A precocious interest in tribes’ anthropology?
    No, that’s not the usual aged-10ers chronology.
    Our special concern was to titter and stare
    at all of the clothes that those folk didn’t wear.

    Lots of the women had decorative scars,
    and pendulous breasts due to shortage of bras,
    and rings on the neck and the skull and the wrist,
    and nothing much else was the general gist.

    Men who were painted, with bones through the nose,
    and fringe from their ankles that draped to their toes.
    Often a slip of a girdle of leather
    was all that they wore, no doubt ‘cos of the weather.

    But the photo of most educational weight
    was the down-under man on page one hundred eight:
    aboriginal prowess there strode without fear
    off to hunt in the Bush with no more than a spear.

    So, what was the fruit of our early obsession,
    a freedom from shame, or unhealthy repression?
    Were my parents at fault then for leaving us tetherless,
    furnishing books of such frank alltogetherness?

    ~Epilogue~
    Calvinist Colin became a reprover,
    but I, naughty Swede, find I’ve yet to recover;
    for writing these verses, I had to get dressed
    just to obviate posing for P.H. WordPress.

  55. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 18, 2009 11:10 PM

    Top poem, Hic, and brings back a memory of the pristine ranks of The Listener, Spectator, New Statesman, Newsweek etc in the magazine rack of the school library next to the tattered copy of the National Geographic.

  56. mishari permalink*
    December 18, 2009 11:23 PM

    I always loved the National Geographic as a boy (I now own the complete 120 years of NG on DVD) but even then, I couldn’t help noticing that female breasts of every shade were available for the perusal of smutty-minded schoolboys (guilty, m’lud)…every shade except white, that is.

    Part and parcel of the strange puritanism/prurience of the West, the US in particular. Remember Janet Jackson’s ‘wardrobe malfunction’? A brief flash of Ms. Jackson’s unremarkable breast on national TV and the US (the world’s largest producer and consumer of hard-core porn) had a collective coronary. Hilarious…and very, very weird.

    Terrific poem, BTW, hic…

  57. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 19, 2009 12:12 AM

    Yes, the schoolboy of yesteryear had to resort to the Old Masters for IC1 chest action. Rubens was king of the 14-year-old market as I recall, though some of the lesser figures had a good selection. Those enormous friezes on the staircase at Osborne House are pretty startling. No doubt Albert used to pop out for a quick reviver during a heavy session.

  58. hic8ubique permalink
    December 19, 2009 2:55 PM

    Thanks, artistically-minded boys.
    That’s the difference between naked and nude, right? The nude is Art.
    Even the ‘bust’ of Hermes at my childhood home was cause for hilarity.
    The puritanical/prurient predilection in the US and UK seems to be more first-worldly than racially directed.
    Years before the Jackson wardrobe malfunction, the first Black Miss America was stripped of her title when nude photos surfaced.
    All for the want of perhaps a wisp of drapery.
    Of course, we also have the matched shadow pairs of celibate/pervert and self-righteous/violent, but these have broader cross-cultural traction.

    MM, you are so prolific, might you give us some lines on the degree of decolletage permitted in society through the ages?
    That might assuage my preoccupation with sending you tonsorial supplies, and get you away from your nightmarish mirror.

  59. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 19, 2009 9:09 PM

    Prolific is one way of putting it. Well, I suppose I could have a quick look into cleavage, taxing though it is. It will have to be post-Wallander, however. One might think those Swedish lovelies could provide inspiration, but they seem to wear thick pullovers and anoraks all year round.

  60. hic8ubique permalink
    December 20, 2009 12:12 AM

    Hmm… after HenryV, I found I’d reached my limit of Branagh endurance.Perhaps in Wallander he didn’t want to be upstaged by nude bathing scenes? I couldn’t bear to look at him.
    I recommend as inspiration Bille August’s “My Life as a Dog ” for poignancy and cheerful curves, but you’d have to like curves, Vicar.
    oh! and a very funny (in parts) Icelandic film called “The Sea”.

  61. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 20, 2009 1:06 AM

    Branagh? God, no, no, no. I meant the Swedish original, currently showing on British TV with subtitles. It’s very good, much better than the pathetic shortarse’s version.

    Didn’t help anyway. An Arctic wind keens across the tundra of my brain.

  62. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 20, 2009 12:08 PM

    When Good King Charlie first saw Nell Gwyn
    it wasn’t those oranges which impressed
    and put his towering wig in a spin:
    it was the fruits which clustered on her chest.

    For maintaining shape and holding rigid
    those whalebone corsets were of course the key,
    it was a far better thing those Right whales did
    than poncing around in the Arctic Sea.

    Though the female form is nigh-on perfect
    the door to enhancement is always ajar,
    let’s thank Howard Hughes for his engineer’s wit,
    and Monsieur Berlei for the Wonderbra.

    Mens’ minds are held in rectilinear thrall,
    it’s the parabolic that they most lack,
    so, ladies, if you’re interested at all,
    it’s the lurve of the curve that brings chaps back.

  63. mishari permalink*
    December 20, 2009 12:14 PM

    Unbooked Eurostar travellers being turned away as chief executive Richard Brown admits they were unprepared for cold snap-The Grauniad, today

    Yes, indeed…cold snaps in late December. I mean, be fair…who could have expected that?

    I suppose this is one of the business geniuses who’s threatening to fuck off if his taxes are raised. Bye now…don’t hurry back…

  64. December 20, 2009 12:26 PM

    If the Eurotunnel was anywhere else I suspect it would be owned by a government rather than a business.

    I thought the recommendation to passengers trapped in the tunnel not to breathe too deeply so as to conserve oxygen was one of the more tactful suggestions given by the train staff. Way not to spread panic dudes.

    As a man in a hurry I love the tunnel – when the car-train is virtually empty the sight of the metal doors opening one by one all down the train is pure sci-fi.

  65. mishari permalink*
    December 20, 2009 12:36 PM

    The Naked Major

    after seeing Goya’s La maja desnuda

    Mowbray the galloping Major
    Pride of the 10th Heavy Sots
    Galloped his arse over Asia
    Pursued by the Bengali cops.

    The dastard had snaffled the mess funds
    And outraged the colonels’s fair wife
    He thought to lie low in the Sundrabunds
    And consider a new kind of life.

    But the Sundrabund’s tigers are savage
    And fancied a fresh Major meal
    A fat English arse fit to ravage
    So Mowbray, he took to his heels.

    He lit out for the North West Frontier
    Where a man’s shady past is his own
    Where the cops and the bailiffs stay clear
    And defaulters don’t come to the phone.

    Now the Major was in need of some loot
    And quite frankly, his talents are slim
    But a maker of bisquits and crystallised fruit
    Fancied the Major on a bisquit tin.

    So now Mowbray belongs to the ages
    A corpulent nude on a tin
    And the local wise men and the sages
    Say “Observe, the true wages of sin.”

  66. MeltonMowbray permalink
    December 20, 2009 10:44 PM

    Hello, welcome and good morning,
    my name is Professor Al-Arming,
    and I have news for you today
    about the picture bought on E-Bay,

    said to show His Excellency
    the Lardy Mahdi, Prince Mishari.
    I can confirm that this picture
    matches, we are almost sure,

    another much older image
    found suffering from some damage
    in a skip on the Old Kent Road.
    An electron microscope showed

    that this picture, previously thought
    thanks to a conspicuous wart
    to represent the Prince’s face
    is in fact of another place,

    and our leading artists agree
    it is the Prince’s bum we see.
    even with help from Science and Art
    they’re very hard to tell apart.

  67. mishari permalink*
    December 20, 2009 11:18 PM

    Nude At Bay

    after Landseer

    Observe him posed atop a crag,
    The flaccid limbs, the fleshy sag;
    Mowbray makes his final stand
    And wipes his brow with trembling hand.

    The feral hounds hard on his heels
    And Mowbray stops and quickly wheels;
    The dogs all stop and yelp in pain:
    The bastard’s naked-the shame, the shame.

  68. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    December 21, 2009 8:32 AM

    Antipodean borigins
    Of chain and link and slop bucket
    Forged fiery prongs, like kith and kin’s
    Harpooners out of Nantucket

    Alive to ev’ry cuffed remark
    With outraged stance and gauntlet slap
    Contrived hidden agenda, dark,
    Like Boy George in a tabloid trap

    But scanty evidence is skewed,
    Imagined; the prosecutor
    Sits stripped of nimby garments, nude,
    Seething behind his computer

    So Sidekick and his princely Lord
    With rapier wit settle his hash
    Brown knows who’d quell the Afghan horde:
    The steaming liquor, Pie, and Mash!

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