Lilithette has had a long and difficult road with me as her parent Killem. She finds me vulgar, foul mouthed and constantly says "I can't believe you put that on your blog".
My children corrected me yesterday, most affronted, and I thought of you Lil - they told me they weren't 'kids' - they're not baby goats, they're children. I thought of you and smiled (it keeps them guessing)
Bless your Babes Pip! They have a point! Although it is very hard to prevent the word kid slipping out altogether...Lilithette also objects to being referred to as a teenager but with less justification.
Possibly not complicated enough for a coat of arms, lil. I think it needs an animal - not three lions, obviously, but perhaps three Pigs would do the trick.
I will be in and around Bruton next weekend, smoking slim panatellas and sipping gin 'n lemon tea, also attending a small gig by the idle brother's band.
Yo Lillith Stanislav here from PlumbCheap4u. Look for Dennis all over cyberworld and is not anywhere. Maybe is fucking dead, eh, died in apostrophe-Jihad battle with ignoramus on order-order, some fucking ignorant bastard not understand proper fucking English, maybe follow old Dennis home and strangle with bellrope. Maybe just die from unnatural protrusion on fucking shoulder, laid down his weary hump for last time.
Anyway, Mr 45 Govt., hoping for cheap plumbing job and knowing stanislav love of fine fucking language and no fucking rubbish with no verbs send this to plumber's yard.
Stanislav's middle English is not so fucking hot, not like his expertise in current english fucking usage, innit, learn off Mr McNonce down Inverness Poly every Thursday night, special class for Pole and grants available from Scotch Executive, only obviously not Mr Sheridan going in slammer with Mrs and whole fucking family but separate jail so no more bondage for Tommy except maybe from gang of big Tory warders, make Tommy's eyes water.
Anyway, learn english very good now and speak better than Jock, but is not hard, the noo, d'ye ken, because Jock is animal and can only just walk upright, never mind conjugate verb, understand tense and article and case.
Even so, stanislav in awe of Mr Anonymous who wrote this pastiche here of Canterbury Tale by great Polish writer, Waldemar Chaucer.
Is no picture of tits so is no interest to Mr Tony and and is no knob and bollocks so no use to you to hang on wall and frighten children and turn them gay but stanislav think Dennis the cruel pundit would appreciate very much. Maybe you can forward it to him, should he still live and pull on his ropes. Maybe your mother, professor Greer off Big Brother, would like it, too. Please remember me to her. Only not fondly.
Is cruel scholarship, for sure, but that's the best kind.
love from stanislav
1 Whan in Februar, withe hise global warmynge 2 Midst unseasonabyl rain and stormynge 3 Gaia in hyr heat encourages 4 Englande folke to goon pilgrimages. 5 Frome everiches farme and shire 6 Frome London Towne and Lancanshire 7 The pilgryms toward Canterbury wended 8 Wyth fyve weke holiday leave extended 9 In hybryd Prius and Subaru 10 Off the Boughton Bypasse, east on M2. 11 Fouer and Twyntie theye came to seke 12 The Arche-Bishop, wyse and meke 13 Labouryte and hippye, Gaye and Greene 14 Anti-warre and libertyne 15 All sondry folke urbayne and progressyve 16 Vexed by Musselmans aggressyve. 17 Hie and thither to the Arche-Bishop's manse 18 The pilgryms ryde and fynde perchance 19 The hooly Bishop takynge tea 20 Whilste watching himselfe on BBC. 21 Heere was a hooly manne of peace 22 Withe bearyd of snow and wyld brows of fleece 23 Whilhom stoode athwart the Bush crusades 24 Withe peace march papier-mache paraydes. 25 Sayeth the pilgryms to Bishop Rowan, 26 "Father, we do not like howe thynges are goin'. 27 You know we are as Lefte as thee, 28 But of layte have beyn chaunced to see 29 From Edinburgh to London-towne 30 The Musslemans in burnoose gowne 31 Who beat theyr ownselfs with theyr knyves 32 Than goon home and beat theyr wyves 33 And slaye theyr daughtyrs in honour killlynge 34 Howe do we stoppe the bloode fromme spillynge?" 35 The Bishop sipped upon hys tea 36 And sayed, "an open mind must we 37 Keep, for know thee well the Mussel-man 38 Has hys own laws for hys own clan 39 So question not hys Muslim reason 40 And presaerve ye well social cohesion." 41 Sayth the libertine, "'tis well and goode 42 But sharia goes now where nae it should; 43 I liketh bigge buttes and I cannot lye, 44 You othere faelows can't denye, 45 But the council closed my wenching pub, 46 To please the Imams, aye thaere's the rub." 47 Sayeth the Bishop, strokynge his chin, 48 "To the Mosque-man, sexe is sinne 49 So as to staye in his goode-graces 50 Cover well thy wenches' faces 51 And abstain ye Chavs from ribaldry 52 Welcome him to our communitie." 53 "But Father Williams," sayed the Gaye-manne 54 "Though I am but a layman 55 The Mussleman youthes hath smyte me so 56 Whan on streets I saunter wyth my beau." 57 Sayed the Bishop in a curt replye 58 "I am as toolrant as anye oothere guy, 59 But if Mussleman law sayes no packynge fudge, 60 Really nowe, who are we to judge?" 61 Then bespake the Po-Mo artist, 62 "My last skulptyure was hailed as smartest 63 Bye sondry criticks at the Tate 64 Whom called it genius, brillyant, greate 65 A Jesus skulpted out of dunge 66 Earned four starres in the Guardian; 67 But now the same schtick withe Mo-ha-med 68 Has earned a bountye on my hed." 69 Sayed the Bishop, "that's quyte impressyve 70 To crafte a Jesus so transgressyve 71 But to do so with the Muslim Prophet 72 Doomed thy neck to lose whats off it. 73 Thou should have showen mor chivalrie 74 In committynge such a blasphemie." 75 And so it went, the pilgryms all 76 Complaynynge of the Muslim thrall; 77 To eaches same the Bishop lectured 78 About the cultur fabrick textured 79 With rainbow threyds from everie nation 80 With rainbow laws for all situations. 81 "But Father Rowan, we bathyr nae one 82 We onlye want to hav our funne!" 83 "But the Musselman is sure to see 84 Thy funne as Western hegemony. 85 'Tis not Cristian for Cristians to cause 86 The Moor to live by Cristendom's laws 87 Whan he has hise sovereyn culture 88 Crist bade us put ours in sepulture. 89 To be divyne we must first be diverse 90 So cheer thee well, thynges could be wors 91 Sharia is Englishe as tea and scones, 92 So everybody muste get stoned." 93 The pilgryms shuffled for the door 94 To face the rule of the Moor; 95 Poets, Professors, Starbucks workers 96 Donning turbans, veils and burqqas. 97 As they face theyr fynal curtan 98 Of Englande folk, one thynge is certan: 99 Dying by theyr own thousande cuts, 100 The Englande folk are folking nuts
Stanislav, Mój słodki ziemniak, how delightful to receive a visit from the blogosphere's most articulate Pole :-)
I am worried about Dennis too and I fear that rabid trolls may have, as you suggest, terminated him for being such a stickler for correct English grammar. It is anti New Labour social policy to be concerned about correct use of language.
Alternatively the TV Licensing Authority have him banged up and are quizzing him on the latest episodes of Strictly Come Dancing.
He does get puffed out by blogging from time to time and I am hoping he will return soon.
Thank you for the splendid poetry, S. I had found it, linked by Tuscan Tony and think it is genius. Now that you have posted it in my comments I shall be able to retrieve it easily.
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26 comments:
Meat and two veg is what you're meant to have on your plate, so that's what he's given you.
I like Kevs comment, LOL
I'll bet they gave the Lilithette a right larf!!!!
Very funny Kev :-))
Lilithette has had a long and difficult road with me as her parent Killem. She finds me vulgar, foul mouthed and constantly says "I can't believe you put that on your blog".
My children corrected me yesterday, most affronted, and I thought of you Lil - they told me they weren't 'kids' - they're not baby goats, they're children. I thought of you and smiled (it keeps them guessing)
Very odd! Its probably me but had you noticed when you squint they kinda look ,like willies a bit?
Bless your Babes Pip! They have a point! Although it is very hard to prevent the word kid slipping out altogether...Lilithette also objects to being referred to as a teenager but with less justification.
Oh Mutley! You have smut on the brain! I can't see it myself.
I am off to Southend on Sea now,..wish me luck, it's a long way East....
The top one looks like a couple of field marshal's batons on top of a four leaf clover, all covered with the Pig's moulted hair.
Alternatively - four sausages and eight boiled eggs please, waiter.
Lilith! Southend?
Do drop in!!!
And do let me know if you get home OK.
Killers; I've never heard it called a 'Southend', before, but this is a winner! Claim your crisp fiver on Urban Dictionary!
Is this also an oblque reference to 'getting your end away' by any chance, or am I getting the wrong end - so to speak...
Lils; in 'The tribe that lost it's head', there's a character called Forsdick...somehow the top pic reminds me of him...
Lil, did Elby take you for a spin in soufend and were you impressed by his donuts?
lmao...what a friend you have there lilith...absolutely cracked me up!
AI YAH!
Imagine poor Mr Elsby having to eat his breakfast off those.
It might be a good coat of arms Idle, don't you think?
I am home safely Killem! I saw a lot of 4x4's...I will be going more frequently now that I have found it.
Scrobbers you are so right. I have never heard it called that before.
I love your association.
No Pip...I went alone...and left Elby to pine.
Daisy, glad to give you a laugh :-) He is a very funny friend.
Hitch, I have never been sure what to use them for but think that they must be meant for nibbles.
Possibly not complicated enough for a coat of arms, lil. I think it needs an animal - not three lions, obviously, but perhaps three Pigs would do the trick.
I will be in and around Bruton next weekend, smoking slim panatellas and sipping gin 'n lemon tea, also attending a small gig by the idle brother's band.
Oh Idle...:-) is there time for you to grow a pencil thin moustache?
On the plate you really need some creamy dessert that explodes when you put your spoon into it.
Probably not, lil. But possibly a pencil DRAWN moustache.
But I'll carry a regimental cane and call everyone stinker or bingo, if that would help.
Hope you had a grand V-day. I did.
Like idle, I am sure there's some innocent explanation behind this design. But unlike idle, I can;t think of one.
Yo Lillith
Stanislav here from PlumbCheap4u. Look for Dennis all over cyberworld and is not anywhere. Maybe is fucking dead, eh, died in apostrophe-Jihad battle with ignoramus on order-order, some fucking ignorant bastard not understand proper fucking English, maybe follow old Dennis home and strangle with bellrope. Maybe just die from unnatural protrusion on fucking shoulder, laid down his weary hump for last time.
Anyway, Mr 45 Govt., hoping for cheap plumbing job and knowing stanislav love of fine fucking language and no fucking rubbish with no verbs send this to plumber's yard.
Stanislav's middle English is not so fucking hot, not like his expertise in current english fucking usage, innit, learn off Mr McNonce down Inverness Poly every Thursday night, special class for Pole and grants available from Scotch Executive, only obviously not Mr Sheridan going in slammer with Mrs and whole fucking family but separate jail so no more bondage for Tommy except maybe from gang of big Tory warders, make Tommy's eyes water.
Anyway, learn english very good now and speak better than Jock, but is not hard, the noo, d'ye ken, because Jock is animal and can only just walk upright, never mind conjugate verb, understand tense and article and case.
Even so, stanislav in awe of Mr Anonymous who wrote this pastiche here of Canterbury Tale by great Polish writer, Waldemar Chaucer.
Is no picture of tits so is no interest to Mr Tony and and is no knob and bollocks so no use to you to hang on wall and frighten children and turn them gay but stanislav think Dennis the cruel pundit would appreciate very much. Maybe you can forward it to him, should he still live and pull on his ropes. Maybe your mother, professor Greer off Big Brother, would like it, too. Please remember me to her. Only not fondly.
Is cruel scholarship, for sure, but that's the best kind.
love from stanislav
1 Whan in Februar, withe hise global warmynge
2 Midst unseasonabyl rain and stormynge
3 Gaia in hyr heat encourages
4 Englande folke to goon pilgrimages.
5 Frome everiches farme and shire
6 Frome London Towne and Lancanshire
7 The pilgryms toward Canterbury wended
8 Wyth fyve weke holiday leave extended
9 In hybryd Prius and Subaru
10 Off the Boughton Bypasse, east on M2.
11 Fouer and Twyntie theye came to seke
12 The Arche-Bishop, wyse and meke
13 Labouryte and hippye, Gaye and Greene
14 Anti-warre and libertyne
15 All sondry folke urbayne and progressyve
16 Vexed by Musselmans aggressyve.
17 Hie and thither to the Arche-Bishop's manse
18 The pilgryms ryde and fynde perchance
19 The hooly Bishop takynge tea
20 Whilste watching himselfe on BBC.
21 Heere was a hooly manne of peace
22 Withe bearyd of snow and wyld brows of fleece
23 Whilhom stoode athwart the Bush crusades
24 Withe peace march papier-mache paraydes.
25 Sayeth the pilgryms to Bishop Rowan,
26 "Father, we do not like howe thynges are goin'.
27 You know we are as Lefte as thee,
28 But of layte have beyn chaunced to see
29 From Edinburgh to London-towne
30 The Musslemans in burnoose gowne
31 Who beat theyr ownselfs with theyr knyves
32 Than goon home and beat theyr wyves
33 And slaye theyr daughtyrs in honour killlynge
34 Howe do we stoppe the bloode fromme spillynge?"
35 The Bishop sipped upon hys tea
36 And sayed, "an open mind must we
37 Keep, for know thee well the Mussel-man
38 Has hys own laws for hys own clan
39 So question not hys Muslim reason
40 And presaerve ye well social cohesion."
41 Sayth the libertine, "'tis well and goode
42 But sharia goes now where nae it should;
43 I liketh bigge buttes and I cannot lye,
44 You othere faelows can't denye,
45 But the council closed my wenching pub,
46 To please the Imams, aye thaere's the rub."
47 Sayeth the Bishop, strokynge his chin,
48 "To the Mosque-man, sexe is sinne
49 So as to staye in his goode-graces
50 Cover well thy wenches' faces
51 And abstain ye Chavs from ribaldry
52 Welcome him to our communitie."
53 "But Father Williams," sayed the Gaye-manne
54 "Though I am but a layman
55 The Mussleman youthes hath smyte me so
56 Whan on streets I saunter wyth my beau."
57 Sayed the Bishop in a curt replye
58 "I am as toolrant as anye oothere guy,
59 But if Mussleman law sayes no packynge fudge,
60 Really nowe, who are we to judge?"
61 Then bespake the Po-Mo artist,
62 "My last skulptyure was hailed as smartest
63 Bye sondry criticks at the Tate
64 Whom called it genius, brillyant, greate
65 A Jesus skulpted out of dunge
66 Earned four starres in the Guardian;
67 But now the same schtick withe Mo-ha-med
68 Has earned a bountye on my hed."
69 Sayed the Bishop, "that's quyte impressyve
70 To crafte a Jesus so transgressyve
71 But to do so with the Muslim Prophet
72 Doomed thy neck to lose whats off it.
73 Thou should have showen mor chivalrie
74 In committynge such a blasphemie."
75 And so it went, the pilgryms all
76 Complaynynge of the Muslim thrall;
77 To eaches same the Bishop lectured
78 About the cultur fabrick textured
79 With rainbow threyds from everie nation
80 With rainbow laws for all situations.
81 "But Father Rowan, we bathyr nae one
82 We onlye want to hav our funne!"
83 "But the Musselman is sure to see
84 Thy funne as Western hegemony.
85 'Tis not Cristian for Cristians to cause
86 The Moor to live by Cristendom's laws
87 Whan he has hise sovereyn culture
88 Crist bade us put ours in sepulture.
89 To be divyne we must first be diverse
90 So cheer thee well, thynges could be wors
91 Sharia is Englishe as tea and scones,
92 So everybody muste get stoned."
93 The pilgryms shuffled for the door
94 To face the rule of the Moor;
95 Poets, Professors, Starbucks workers
96 Donning turbans, veils and burqqas.
97 As they face theyr fynal curtan
98 Of Englande folk, one thynge is certan:
99 Dying by theyr own thousande cuts,
100 The Englande folk are folking nuts
Stanislav, Mój słodki ziemniak, how delightful to receive a visit from the blogosphere's most articulate Pole :-)
I am worried about Dennis too and I fear that rabid trolls may have, as you suggest, terminated him for being such a stickler for correct English grammar. It is anti New Labour social policy to be concerned about correct use of language.
Alternatively the TV Licensing Authority have him banged up and are quizzing him on the latest episodes of Strictly Come Dancing.
He does get puffed out by blogging from time to time and I am hoping he will return soon.
Thank you for the splendid poetry, S. I had found it, linked by Tuscan Tony and think it is genius. Now that you have posted it in my comments I shall be able to retrieve it easily.
PS. I never knew Chaucer was Polish :-)
Hi EmmaK :-) A walnut whip, or a sherbet fountain?
Idle, I shall be looking out for you. Do drop by if you have time.
I am glad you had a good day SSNick. I found my valentine's gift next to me when I woke up :-D
TT, the artist is as Gay as Gordo but much, much nicer. There IS no innocent explanation.
Lilith, he could make big bucks flogging those plates in Florence!
Seriously, a very talented chap.
I would be to afraid to eat out of this plate.
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