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Posts Tagged ‘Nature’

Aunty Bill - A Tin Opener Short

 

Dear Aunty Bill

I recently became a Father for the first time. Is it normal for your first born to be a Penguin?

Dense Des,

Des Moines, Boing Boing, Idaho, USA

Aunty Bill Replies;

Dear Des,

One of the side effects of global warming is the migration of animals from their natural habitats.

Recent cases have included a women from Sale who gave birth to a whale, a young lass from Ware who gave birth to a Hare and a lady in red who gave birth to a bed.

You’ll be asking yourself;  “How did my wife meet a penguin?”

It is likely that in its long migration from colder climes, little Pingu got lost, swam up your soil stack and bit your wife on the bottom as she was performing her daily ablutions.

This is how Penguins procreate and it is likely that he mistook your wife’s rear end for a mate.

Penguins make a great addition to any family. Their staple diet is sardines on toast so they are cheap and easy to feed. Just make sure that the bath water is not too hot when you put him to bed.

Bottle feed rather than breast.

All The Best
Aunty Bill

 

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gingercrowd

We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.

You can read Part 1 Here; Part 2 Here; Part 3 Here, Part 4 HerePart 5 Here, Part 6 Here and Part 7 Here

Now ’tis time for Part 8……..a very short one….

THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……

earth

Then from the sea a beam of light poured out, shooting to the heavens and in the beam a great figure, shadowy at first but gaining depth and texture with each moment, emerged. The figure stepped out of the Ray of Light.

Krol fell to his knees, tears fell down his cheeks and he beat his chest with his mittened hands. “Lord Galleothon! Thou hast come! Thou hast answered our prayers and heard our laments” We are blessed Lord by your presence.”seal

 

Galleothon rose to his full height of 4 adult sheep. He spoke;

“I am with you people of Ghingar. Your time in the North is now at an end. You are chosen. Your history was written eons ago by myself and my cousin Borofron, keeper of the saints shoes. It is now time for the next part of your history to unfold.”

easter 2

 

He stood amongst us all, his great size and power over all things giving the broken spirits of the Ghingars new heart and hope. No more tears flowed that day. No more sadness entered hearts. Our Lord Galleothon was with us.

 

We fall grim destiny

Locked upon a baleful wind

That draws us toward a future unknown

Oh Land! Oh ice and snow

What befalls us cannot stay

We shall weep but we vow to return one day

A promise made is a lie denied

 

everest copy

 

That concludes Part 1 of The Ginger Scrolls……..What will happen in Part 2?…….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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gingercrowd

We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.

You can read Part 1 Here; Part 2 Here; Part 3 Here, Part 4 HerePart 5 Here and Part 6 Here

Now ’tis time for Part 7……..

THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……

earth

 

Some swore they saw mother Sun beyond the Horizon, at last revealing herself to us after wait so long and tragic. Hope built once more like the snow mason constructing a new home cube by cube.

But it was not to be.

Princess Treytel loved Vos as deep as the ocean and as high as the sky. For each day of passage the lovers would look across to each other and utter betrothals of love. Each day Vos’ became more and more fevered with loss for his bride and eager for his love’s embrace. Finally, foolishly, and like all young love – stupidly – Vos leapt from his vessel and sought to swim the narrow channel between to reach his love.

seal

 

Treytel saw him fall under the foaming water and never saw him return to the surface as a mortal. A dolphin took his place and wore his little leather cap until it too was lost to the deep. Treytel maintained an eye upon the smiling face of her dolphin lover as he swam nearby, singing to her with a series of clicks and fish impressions which only he understood. But they still made her laugh, the laughter of lovers. Her tears fell at night worried about married life with a dolphin and how she would survive in the water for any prolonged period but love would accommodate her fears and allow her to avoid salt damaged skin. She hoped at least.

easter 2

Melancholy sat over the vessels like a mighty cheese, dripping salty distemper amongst the flame haired. So much death. So much sadness.

When would the fates allow them to come ashore? What would they find when they reached land? Heroes and hand maidens or goblins and left handed people?

The darkness blackened their souls. Hatred returned when for generations they had existed without it.

everest copy

Treytel’s tears would not abate, as Vos  skitted one final time, bade his love a clicky farewell and swam with his new family away as their protectors and toward the open sea and a rendezvous with Sea World (note – possible translation error). As she watched him swim away, Treytel cried after her love,

Run to my memory

Along the shore

Swim to my memory

Across the ocean

Climb to my memory

To the highest peak

And when you arrive

Forget not your labour and do not forget me

 

Will I lay with you upon a bed of foaming sea?

The quilted tide warming our bones

Will I hold your heart?

As we float toward Epthereon

Will you my love, love me?

I am distant from your shore

Will you wait for me?

 

simon_cowell goetta copy

 

Such sadness consumed her that she fled her vessel and met the sea water with a diffident splash never to be seen again. The sorrow of the Ghingars at losing their beloved princess was now complete. No words or songs could rest their weary hearts. No tales of the brave or the beautiful would suffice them. Their misery now total.

 

Krol spoke to his people, in quiet hushed tones, mournful in full and suffering from a rooted wind;

 

“When I see your face

I know that I am not past

To the Northern skies I shall turn

And watch the winds dance atop our lands

I will bade them sad departure

As my homeland is now far

 

Oh! Joy of Galleothon bid that I

Even as an old man who asks not for life long

But to sit by your shoulder

And at peace finally I set
My home

My land

Of snow

Of Ice

But the warmth of my kin

Shall stay anymore sadness
Krol finished his sentence and at the moment the wind dropped and the sea was calm, flat like the milkmaid’s embrace. There was silence amongst the Ghingars, for once dropping their daytime incantations. A great hand, cupped into a fist came from the water. It smashed down upon satin sea and threw up a great plume of spray, covering the lard hair vessels.
The fist smote the water once more, again deluging the fearful crews and their broken hearted cargo. And then it was gone. The water’s returned to their calm status, benign and forgiving.

Then from the sea a beam of light poured out, shooting to the heavens and in the beam a great figure, shadowy at first but gaining depth and texture with each moment, emerged. The figure stepped out of the Ray of Light.

Krol fell to his knees, tears fell down his cheeks and he beat his chest with his mittened hands. “Lord Galleothon! Thou hast come! Thou hast answered our prayers and heard our laments” We are blessed Lord by your presence.”

Galleothon rose to his full height of 4 adult sheep. He spoke;

“I am with you people of Ghingar. Your time in the North is now at an end. You are chosen. Your history was written eons ago by myself and my cousin Borofron, keeper of the saints shoes. It is now time for the next part of your history to unfold.”

To be continued……..

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gingercrowd

We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.

You can read Part 1 Here; Part 2 Here; Part 3 Here, Part 4 Here and Part 5 Here

Now ’tis time for Part 5……..

THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……

earth

 

One of our number, Strik, bade us farewell and leapt to his death, honoured to be with his kin in after world favouring their affections to those of us still alive. His choice his Way.

Upon the prow of our ships, Narwhals guided us through the disdainful water, their tusks like beacons of light in the grey murk, guiding our navigators to sail with some knowledge of where our desolate future lay.

To each side of our vessels dolphins swam as outriders, to inform and protect the flame haired of any advancing danger or destitute Huplanders who dared to do battle still.

 

seal

Great birds, sent by their brother Exeretheon the Night Flyer squalled above the vessels, eyeing the clouds, wind and future light and the greatest of them the size of a small motorway service station (this may be an error in translation), would defecate on Kerkhof the Pilot of the lead vessel, with messages of the course to be taken.

Man, woman and child, in lard hair boats were carried by desolate winds of despair and the surly tides of bondage. For 173 days we ventured south towards unknown worlds and peoples we had so studiously sought to avoid these previous eons.

easter 2

We made our peace with the green eyed sea for safe passage. And still mother Sun refused to appear to help or woes lighten and our misery.

Silver gilded Gryphon’s spied upon our desperate journey and their spectral presence haunted even the youngest amongst us. Only Exeretheon’s brothers prevented attacks. For evil’s granite claw has dug its black heart into our people and is determined to make us suffer with every cruel twist of the fates.

everest copy

 

From each vessel our volk peeled low murmurs to reason with our Gods for safe passage and sanctuary and to cry for the loss of homes, kith, kin and kilns. Oh Tragedy! Oh despair from whence we came, to where we go, we know not save for the lone Pilots of our own destiny, guiding the last of our volk to a future unwritten and unknown.

Sing for the dead

Sing for the living

Sing for the forgotten

Sing for the weary, the tired and the vanquished

Sing of mirth and good nature

Sing to life

Sing my song my love when I am far away

For I shall sing for you

simon_cowell goetta copy

Our incantations, as tradition dictated would continue for the time between day and night, when the winds turned against us. On we would sing, bitter salted tears stinging our eyes and grazing our sallow, dirtied cheeks, but we would not stop as the words gave us comfort and hope as if our past was with us in the present and so we could see a future.

Our flame coloured hair billowed like sparks of fire in the mocking sea breeze, assailing our features and licking our faces like tongues of spitting flame and the people of the lands we traveled past considered our vessels aflame. Even the tawdry gulls afeared, squawking their desultory announcements.

Where we venture from, our land cruelly taken from us by famine and the curse of the fear and famine forged into evil intent by Overath and his minions, was unknown to many who saw us float past them, nor could they fathom or dared ask as we sailed along the coast of Hupland.

Shoreliners, peasants and warriors alike, eager to see us on our way from their barren coastal lands forged a peace with each other in doing so. As we approached night would fall, the Sun abandoning these places also. Even mother Sun was abandoning us to our fate in near Southern lands. The Shoreliners and their protectors invoked the voices of their Gods for wrath to be visited upon our wretched band of kin to move us from their lands and allow precious light to restore its benevolence upon their lands. For famine too had wreaked great suffering along these lands.

As the Hup Chronicles say “There these carriers of doom, these harbingers of evil, and these soulless beasts moved along the coast murmuring and chanting to our gods for evil mercy to fall upon us for the passage of sin conducted by the drowned Overath and his blooduse minions. Had they been abandoned by our deities for foul deeds done foully or had they failed to pay homage to our Gods for protection?

Across the land the people begged for Valhalla’s curse to be lifted and mighty Odin to protect them from the reek of evil these red haired people came imbued with. Curse upon them and their kin we would cry and we would launch stones, rocks and leather leggings out to the cold, green swell in an attempt to ward the flame hairs from landing on our land. But the flame hairs never looked towards land. Instead they maintained a regal pose aboard their proud ships made of lard and hair and steadily floated toward the place the great sea creatures and sea birds were leading them to. For some of us it became a beautiful sight to behold – a broken people together in life and death.” (The Hup chronicles are available in hard back from any good bookshop).

Our tears do fall into the sea

Our hearts are broken wrenched as we are from home

Our hopes are battered upon the brooding swell

But we shall meet again of that I am sure my friend

In a land of peace and Sun

 

We trusted our senses and we paid fealty to our guides and no amount of leather leggings would dispel us from this aim.

On the vessels sailed, beyond the fear and callous overtures of the mortal Shoreliners – our phalanx of sea creature’s guiding us to our unknown destination. Our people’s thoughts finally turning to warmer kinder thoughts, of dance and merriment of love and laughter. Perhaps the great tragedy that lay in the recesses of the far North could be laid to rest.

Some swore they saw mother Sun beyond the horizon, at last revealing her to us after wait so long and tragic. Hope built once more.

But it was not to be.

To be continued………

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gingercrowd

We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.

You can read Part 1 Here; Part 2 Here; Part 3 Here and Part 4 Here

Now ’tis time for Part 5……..

THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……

earth

 

“The lard hair boats, be our saviour!” he cried. Many hand mocked his father’s insistence on lashing lard and spare hair together into vessels three sun cycles previously, a mad eyed Karibou they called him, but now his foresight was praised for we, the remnants of the Ghingar Empire could finally set about our future with renewed vim and vigour.

seal

“For when we sail

To far off shores

What shall we see?

What will our children say?

What will be their final word on us?

That we fled our lands, their future home

That we banished them from their destiny?

That we stole their souls?

That we gave them life?

That we gave them destiny?

That we could in our darkest hours afford them hope?

What will they say?

I hope it is kind”

easter 2

And so friend, we sailed with deep tears in our hearts to witness farewell to our time and our peace. Leaving the lee of the mighty river Sallopian, for so long our source of protection we floated into the gloating Northern seas.

As we set south, the God of Ice, Rijsbergen, sent forth his messengers to guard and guide us through these a dark desolate places populated only by the ghoulish memory of drowned adventurers from time immemorial, their frozen faces etched into the ice that gaoled them.

(Oh Archangel Galleofron where are you to protect your soul keepers? We need you more than ever. Not since the time of the arrival of the Shoelace People have we sought your protective cloak and twig of justice.)(Note; Twig may in fact be sword but the lettering is unclear)

We sail in peace to new found lands

To find our loves who have left before us

We hope that we shall meet again

But even if we do not

Know that you sail with us!

everest copy

 

Our Ice Guardians, Neeskens and Jongbloed, great slabs of ice, hewn from their Kingdom’s lands at the earliest memory, their faces etched with age and shaped by the sear of the sun and the freeze of the cold, moved south with us and slowly saw our homeland diminished. A deep, still sadness fell upon us as the distance formed between us and our home of memories and kin.

simon_cowell goetta copy

One of our number, Strik, bade us farewell and leapt to his death, honoured to be with his kin in the after world favouring their affections to those of us still alive. His choice his Way.

Upon the prow of our ships, Narwhals guided us through the disdainful water, their tusks like beacons of light in the grey murk, guiding our navigators to sail with some knowledge of where our desolate future lay.

To each side of our vessels dolphins swam as outriders, to inform and protect the flame haired of any advancing danger or destitute Huplanders who dared to do battle still.

Of which there were many.

 

 

To be continued………

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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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