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Posts Tagged ‘Nature’

I had the morning off waiting for Curry’s to deliver the new flat screen TV. It’s got surround sound, radar, sonar and a missile launching system. Naturally they didn’t turn up.

The curly Kale diet was working its magic and I was on the pot reading The Sun.

The Yanks are going to start bombing Iraq again because although we “won” and “left a vibrant, pluralistic, democratic state” behind, it has all gone a bit tits up and some Angry Lads who think they are indestructible want to set up a Caliphate (whatever that is – thought it was a camping stove) – and suppress everything that lives there – even the wind if it blows too hastily.

Now a load of Ancient Christians are stuck up an Iraqi mountain (like Moses when he nipped up one to get a few do’s and dont’s – the one about not killing is always good for a laugh) – the Angry Lads want to kill them because their version of the same God is different – largely in choice of headwear it seems to me.

Then there’s the Israeli’s – same God – different head-gear again – slaughtering the innocents and creating more Angry Lads in the process.

Jesus was up a mountain – told us to be good – talk about stating the obvious! Then he was slaughtered – on a mountain.

Fuck it – going down the Stretched Testicle for a few pints.

At least me bowels are moving with aplomb.

But what is it with religion and mountains?

Go tell it my son!

I blame Buddhists. Bastards to a man.

Bob

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Bluebell frillary

Shoots of Barley on the hillcrest field

Wet dripping barbed wire

Silver slivers of cold Spring light

Through a disorder of branches

A palette  of greens

Smatterings of shade

Brown muddy boots

And from everywhere

Birdsong

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We hope you are as amazed as we are at the previous lives of Agnes!

Hello People,

It is great to be here (well for the time being anyway – goodness knows where I will be 5 minutes) to share with you my previous lives.

A few years ago I was a whale. One of the big ones.

I know this because I am partial to Plankton and always shed a tear at the end of Free Willy 2.

Only last week I swallowed a man in Asda! I was looking for dental floss. The plankton gets stuck between the teeth you see.

He is quite comfy. So don’t worry.

You may think I am a fantasist……….I would beg to differ.

Regards,

Agnes

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Gingerfightback can reveal that Sergio Leone originally called “The Man With No Name”  – “The Man With A Sausage On His Hat”.

We are glad that Sergio changed his mind…..

fistful-of-dollars005-730x365 copy

The Sausage Spaghetti Western Trilogy;

A Fistful Of Sausages

For A Few Sausages More

The Good The Bad And The Sausage

And here is the original poster for A Fistful of Chickens.

The Chick With No Name

The Chick With No Name

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Hello,

Gingerfightback’s film critic Mark Commode, has discovered that the central character in the Rise of the Planet of the Apes – Caesar  – was originally going to be Ginger as the film’s producers believed it would make the whole thing more realistic.

 

caeser2

Ginger and ever so angry

The next instalment, provisionally titled, “Early Morning On The Planet Of The Apes – Kippers for Breakfast” will feature a spectacular bicycle  chase  modelled on the attached outtake from, “Late Afternoon On The Planet Of The Apes – Not So Warm When The Sun Goes In Is It?”

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We love the life of a Jolly Jack Tar.  Nothing better than a day in the rigging, unfurling a spanker or two and gazing up into the mizzen mast and worrying about the Doldrums. Whilst up aft for’d we pass the time by singing a few sea shantys. Here are a few we croon;

• There’s A Maiden With Scurvy Waitin’ For Me In Nantucket
• Break Out The Grog For Johnny’s Tinkle
• I’m Not Chesty Nancy Just Got A Touch O’Consumption
• That’s Not A Whale In Me Pocket Mary, I’m Just Pleased To See Ye
• Tickle Me Tackle Nancy
• Tug Me Rope
• When I Rub Me Barnacles I’m Thinking Of Me Molly
• Blow Me Back To Blighty Gerty On A Good Stiff ‘Un
• Sweet Judie’s Given Me Crabs

Anyway the west wind blows fare – so adieu me hearties – sing along to this classic!

 

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Goose

Hello,

I hope you enjoyed Part 1 yesterday. You can Read Part 1 here!

Here is Part 2 – Read on……….

Day 41 – Lisbon – scurry aboard Recife bound ship “Obrigado” – the principal cargo is buttock emollient cream, samba costumes and whistles – wriggle into a nice floral headpiece, matching sequinned bra and thong – I blending in with Brazilian culture!

Day 43 – The Obrigado – Unmasked by Boson as not “Hector” the vessel’s happy go lucky First Mate but as a non-paying transgender guest with well-honed buttocks – thrown in the Brig.

Day 43 – The Obrigado – Brought to ship’s captain – he is an unreconstructed romantic who is in a state of high dudgeon after reading the Bronte Classic Jane Eyre – he clutches me to his swelling breast and sobs uncontrollably “Poor Rochester,” he cries – tells me of his loon of a wife – a woman with a predilection for salty old tars – she is sealed away in ship’s bulkhead on account of her madness and “needs”.

Michael-Fassbender-as-Mr-Rochester-Jane-Eyre-2011-michael-fassbender-25911613-1920-1040

Day 46 – The Obrigado – Mass panic as Captain’s wife escapes and ravishes the ships Bursar, First and Second Mate, Boson, Petty Officer, Cook and a lad who happened to be passing in a Tuna fishing boat she spotted on the starboard bow – swam over to and ravished – she is captured and restored to her cell – the Captain sobs – I read him extracts from Wuthering Heights – “Poor Cathy,” is all he says.

Day 50 – Recife – Leave Obrigado – Captain donates lifetime supply of buttock emollient to thank me for my support – his wife ravishes me before I skip ashore – “Poor Cathy,” are the last words I hear.

Day 51 – Trans-Amazonian Highway – Sashay my way towards Belem – my bottom is revered by buttock cognoscenti.

Day 54 – Belem – Join Samba dance band – band rooted in bizarre Marxist theory that believes buttock wobbling in camp outfits will eventually destroy capitalism – I have my doubts.

Day 68 – Mouth of Amazon – Say farewell to my Samba Band colleagues with a toot on my whistle – Capitalism still intact – chop down big tree – shape it into giant clog and paddle towards Manaus.

Useful Tip in the Rain Forest #1 Never paddle in a thong.

butt

Day 71 The Amazon – See off attack from shoal of synchronised swimming Piranhas by dazzling them with my sequin studded brassiere – smear myself in emollient to fend off flesh-eating insects and mosquitos.

Day 75 – Fishing village of Maracaibo – Befriended by Geoff a double glazing salesman from Cornwall who. “turned left at Plymouth instead of right” – barter my whistle with him for a set of triple glazed French windows he happens to be carrying – lash them to clog and sail up the Amazon!

Day 80 – Manaus – Leave clog and trek into Forest – see all types of creatures – Jaguars, Monkeys, Lions, Tigers, Penguins, Polar Bears, even a Giraffe – realise I am in Manaus Zoo and head for exit – easy mistake to make. Turn left at MacDonald’s and find myself deep in the Rain Forest.

Useful Tip in the Rain Forest #2 – Never walk in a thong and stilettos in the Rain Forest.

Day 84 – Rain Forest – Felled by dart fired from blowpipe – fall into delirious fever – imagine erotic romps with Bilbo Baggins.

Day 86 – Rain Forest – Fever breaks and awake to find short lad with big ears and enormous feet next to me! I am in Middle Earth!

Day 86 – Rain Forest – Lad wakes up and smiles – he only communicates by twanging his nasal hairs in complex melodies – I discover his name is Whothefuckareyou? Chief of a long lost tribe who still don’t have a clue where they are – The Wherethefuckarewe?

tribe

Day 86  – Rain Forest – I am the first white man in samba outfit with smooth buttocks the Wherethefuckarewe? have encountered – I am worshipped as their long lost God and christened Wherethefuckdidhecomefrom?

Day 87 – Rain Forest – The Wherethefuckarewe? are a proud people – traditional costume is an Adidas Shellsuit – it is good to see that they have not been tainted by western culture – Whothefuckareyou? organises a feast in my honour!

Day 88 – Rain Forest The feast comprises the traditional Amazonian dish of Burger and Chips washed down with a highly intoxicating liquor made by fermenting the bark of dogs – we partake in a fertility dance with a number of toothless harpies – nasal hairs plucked with much ferocity – Before passing out all I recall is a nasal hair plucking rendition of the Hokey Cokey, followed by Hi Ho Silver Lining……..

Day 93 – Rain Forest – Whothefuckareyou? leads me deep into the jungle – day after day I toil moving ever further from civilisation towards what? I know not – I am wilting – cannot go much further – chafed and blistered – my headgear a bit wonky – Finally he holds out a slightly wonky Light Sabre without batteries towards a clearing in the Forest.

Day 93 – In The Rain Forest – A place of serene beauty – never before seen by a white man dressed in a samba outfit – giant statues – thousands of years old – bearing a remarkable resemblance to the cast of US Sitcom Friends – guard this place – I hear water nearby – Whothefuckareyou? twangs on his nose hair – the sounds tell me that we have reached the source of the Amazon – A washer is needed to stop the dripping – slightly disappointing.

I think of Simon Cowell with a sausage on his head.

simon_cowell goetta copy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I went to sleep in the stranger’s bed
And woke needing to pee.
Not knowing where the light was
Nor wanting to wake her.
Well,
Wanting to wake her…but.

Through the curtains
Could see the stars
Sow stars
Sow that light across this universe
This brief moment of time
Across the darkness
Light my way
Be my light
Don’t let me stumble.

But she wakes
And as she watches my return
Know now
This means more to me
Than the light
Of our one lonely star.

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Hello Everyone!

I was round my mate, Middle Class Malcolm’s the other day to help him move his wardrobes around a bit to improve his Feng Shui.

I had to excuse myself for a few minutes to use the facilities. I’ve been a bit bunged up recently. Never suffered from shy stools before, but boy oh boy these lads were a tough nut to crack.

I nearly burst the veins on my forehead with the effort, but there was no shifting them. I decided to have a few moments rest and flicked through the Guardian Malcolm had lent me. I read about the melting Polar Ice Cap. I didn’t realise the world was in such a mess. I shat myself.

At least it cured my constipation!

Broke the door on Malcolm’s wardrobe though. Ying and Yang and all that.

Laters

Bob.

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I’ve given up the shore for Hills

These Hills

At twilight the Lough glows yet red

Clutching the last of the Sun

I’ve given up The Shore for these hills

Hills yellow with furze

Coconut smelling

And birdsong trilling out

Below ribbons of streetlights

Show colour, a friendlier yellow

It’s the mounds that have it tho’

Dusky mounds of fecund blossom

Falling away making this

Spring’s snowline of bushes

Broad brushstrokes

 

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