Otium cum dignitate.
Careful Lils - very careful...Apparently, Sybil (Prunella Scales), used to be - may still be for all I know, the object of many a young schoolboy's desire, and she received fan mail by the satchel-load!Now in your case, I can understand this, but beware the odd letter hastily scrawled and slightly perspired...On the other hand, it may be junk mail but don't count your chooks yet, I reckon there's plenty of time for the young blades to take a second look, and wonder...!;0)
Love the dear old cove to death, but deary me Scrobs is making less sense daily... I'm thinking he needs to be booked into a sanatorium, possible its his nerves.
"but deary me Scrobs is making less sense daily... "Morning Major, anything in the news this morning? Oh alright Fuller, you've rumbled me, it was indeed my trembling hand which wrote all those letters!Every single one!Including the one about the scene where Sybil is sitting up in bed and...excuse me...
Scrobs, I note your posts start of very early of a morning. Now are we early to rise, or late a'bed?That Rioja wont drink itself aye?
Thank you for clearing up the mystery in regard to your authorship of the'erotic' missives, featuring yourself, Prunella Scales, and Terry the chef, that I have received over the years. What I found more disturbing than the copious footnotes were the smudged biro illustrations that you had obviously spent many an hour sweating over.
Afternoon Fuller, I hope Lils doesn't mind all this banter, I would...Anyway, I just feel that instead of lying in bed thinking of not much, I may just as well get up and about. The world's your own at that hour, and even JRT still slumbers contentedly, while I flick though the various Youtube clops of old films, or TV series, like let me see; (plucks an idea from the air) - say - "Fawlty Towers"! Especially the ones where Sybil is talking to Polly and then walks out of the room in that tigh...Excuse me again Dear Fellow...
Dear Mr Fuller,What a pleasure to see your name in 'Lites' again! Ha ha ha my little joke of course!Did you know that when Bunty was living in the Annex, (next to Doris - more about that later), she left behind a pile of old video cassettes of TV programmes, and one of them (all of them), were of "Fawlty Towers"!I hope that one day I'll be able to pluck up the courage to watch them, but at the present time, they are all over at William's house, with his ever-loving family.He tells me that there are several scenes where he suddenly feels his face going red, his breath shortens, and he has to leave the room, so they must be scary' what!Prunella Scales used to be in 'Mariage Lines', and some years ago I think I was accused of trying to get her 'autograph' by a certain gentleman who now resides in Tuscany...I'll have to check!Good Cheer this fine evening anywayMannerings
Does rather seem that we have taken up residence. You'll have noticed no doubt that since the lady married all the wolves have returned to the wild woods* leaving only us honourable types to shoot the breeze.* I imagine they will all be Moorgate bound.
I hope Lils understands Fuller. After all, she started all this teasing stuff long ago!The first post I saw from here was a picture of a pair of wellingtons, COLOURED ONES I ASK YOU and that was all those years ago!I've been hooked ever since!We have just signed up to Lovefilm again, and of course, there will be other programmes to rent, but as they're all out at the moment, I may just as well suggest to Mrs S that we may - ahem - listen to a few episodes of - er well, think of one...I dunno...Ladies of letters?
Gentlemen, gentlemen, please feel free. I rather like it. Mannerings, whatever you do, get those videos back from William. Mr Fuller, Ms Moorgate deserves the attention :-)
Such an insufferable turd,now, though, isn't he, wotsisname, Cleese; a horrid fucked-up bully. Gimme a proper Nazi anyday, uniform and everything rather than one of these (3.3 Elby excluded) entitled, litigious Oxbridge Footlights fascists. They just keep on coming, don't they, Steven Fag, Mel and Dyke, Marcus Bogstick, Jesus wept.The thing to do is nuke Oxford and Cambridge, preferably when all the parents are there, too, preening, for prize giving and if a few elbys get toasted in the process, well, that's the price of revolution, as he would surely agree. That the tyranny of this gang extends even into light entertainment -once the preserve of the cheeky chappy - is a mark of their totalitarianism and our ruin. If I was related to that bastard I'd keep it quiet.No, come on now, not as though he was Bill Hicks or Lenny Bruce, is it, Department of Silly Walks. Isn't it a national tragedy that year after year all these programmes are rigged so that Dead Parrot is the funniest thing in history ? Does anybdy here remember Vera Lynn?
Thank you for that Mr Smith :-)My mother Germaine adores Mr Fawlty's pop-psyche book, Families and how to Survive them. Ha ha ha, haa, ha, *exits laughing insanely*
I wouldn't worry about catching out too many Elbys, Mr Smith, as they are mostly lying on their backs in Port Meadow or some such when graduation ceremonies are taking place..
Is this your real mother, or your official mother, the one who nearly tutored me at the University of Warwick in Coventry?THat Surviving familiies shit, Connolly, he's another one. Married Miss Tits off the telly, got her to train as a psychobabblist and then write a book about him, objective as fuck, no doubt. In a proper profession there'd be a law against that. Fabulous how when filthy Royalists like Connolly get rich they discover that all along they were really Vulnerable. But best get the Mrs to write it all up, just in case some other bastard thinks you're a right cunt.That bloke Planer was on the telly, which you don't see, the other night and he said he really liked actors; Oh fuck, we thought, here we go, luvvieshit, but he went on to say that he liked actors because writers were intolerable but comedians were fucking hideous. Seemed to make a beautiful sense to me. Was it Basil who sued some poor bastard for saying he wasn't funny?
My real mother, not your nearly tutor, Ishmael...(Hmmm...Could we nuke Warwick Uni whilst we are at it?)I am sure Mr Fawlty is a very sensitive man indeed in "real life". Mr Connolly has redeeming characteristics: he's a Deadhead and a banjo player.
Regardless of his inner being, Cleese as Fawlty spoke loudly to me of an England that is forever England. Fawlty Towers still cracks me up - Python only here and there.I'm sure Cleese is delighted to be related to me, you know
Yes, Fawlty Towers was funny, once or twice, and the film he did, beating the car with a branch, that one. It's just that, like the Beatles, his squatting forever at the top of the pile kind of overshadows any new growth, as well as, dare I say it, bespeaking a babyboomers' insistence that their shit is better than anyone else's, even though it's not their shit but was rammed down their throats by the same sort of people who now peddle Jonafun Woss and Graham Arsehole. He's not for me, but Tim Minchin, for instance, is funny, caustic, original, a talented musician and owes nothing to any who tramped Tin Pan Alley before him, save, perhaps, the late Mr Warren Zevon but for the foreseeable future his ouvre will be sentimentally, at any rate, eclipsed by Fork 'Andles and Dead Parrots. In my showbiz Nirvana the likes of Cleese and McCartney - and all that sixties gang - would be forcibly retired and the copyright laws restored to pre Blair-Cliff Richard-Robin Gibb days. It sounds facetious, I know, but we own the airwaves and the BBC and it is through these that such fortunes were made, that artistes now wish to sell back to us, like bankers, the fruits of our own property and to do so, thanks to Tony and Imelda, in perpetuity, is revolting.I would excuse from retirement true creatives, like the Dead and the Incredible String Band but would wrap up McCartney and Jagger and Richard and Sir Status and Sir Quo, Lady Sir Elton John and his husband, Mrs Furnish, an independent film maker, and those dreadful Queen blokes, encase them in a plastic prism and fire them off into deep space with the repulsive Cleese to amuse them, but not very much, through Eternity. And Nicholas Parsons, him, too. Billy Bragg, a special case for interstellar exile. Connolly would have to go, perhaps he could take a film crew with him for, like Professor Greer, he seems incapable of living beyond the purview of a camera's lens, his every observation Extroarrrrdinary. I just think these Maoris are Extroarrrrdinary;, this bridge over the Forth, isn't it Extroarrrrdinary?As for banjos, well, I know some people rate them highly but I cannot help but think them a bit of a joke; the odd song - Swimming Song and almost anything written by Steven Foster - are enriched by their tinny, squawking rattle but really, Lilith, they do not compare with a six or a twelve string guitar and if you set against his limited facility with the banjo his fawning affection for the Duke and Duchess of York,as were, there is nothing to keep the Big Yin from the cosmic tumbrils, is there?I am sure, mr elby, that we are all related to you and Mrs elby - and much the better for it.
Steady on Mr Smith or I will have to send the family round to your place....
and that'll larn yer :-)
Ishmael. Have the chemists run short on lithium in your area by any chance?
Lilith dear, may I remind you that we librarians have standards? Any more naughty words on your blog and it will have to be removed to the higher shelves...
There you are Fuller - Lils' correspondent has become lengthist!"removed to the higher shelves..."Pah!
I do hope the first Mrs Elby is ok and bearing up well.This finding must bear out the 6 degrees of separation is it? I wonder who you are related to, Lils. With your NZ connection could it be elven?
I have always thought that there was something of the Russell Crowe about the jowls.
Ishmael. Vera is still with us I think you will find. And rememberedPhilipa,Mrs. E1 is fine. We get on fine, my "kids" have accepted Lil, indeed 3 of them (the other works in Ireland), and my (ex!) brother-in-law and family were all at the wedding. I am not one to leave gaping sores when things go wrong; at least, if I can possibly help it. Mrs. E1 and I even go out to the odd concert together, and we all meet up in various perms of "en famille" as and when
Sorry, Elby, I thought Mrs E1 was unwell. My mistake. I never doubted you would make an effort x
Mr Elby does indeed look like he was assembled from a mixture of scaffolding and a bicycle, however I am sure that having been chosen by Lil he is an excellent chap.
He's a gangly love, Beast. Malcoordination is his middle name :-) He is a wonderful cook but, because he is the wrong scale for the kitchen, things just go bang crash and fly out of his hands a lot.
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