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Posts Tagged ‘Spain’

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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I

Dog (no 4)

Stopped and pointed

Well, its in him to do it

Dog (no 3) mabey still has city thoughts

Although he can tell there are smells new to us here

Deer or Wild Boar

This time I didn’t get to see to tell

But resting an elbow

Better to focus binoculars

Realised this tree too was heaving in the wind

II

This earth moves

This hill below bears witness

To the glaciers

It’s stones more rounded for having travelled further

Than those sharp shattered

Frost stopped angles

Those stones of Tyrella’s Drumlins

Try burying a dog there

(Nos 1 & 2) and you’ll heave up

Such smashed stone through its thin soil.

Up on top

We walk on.

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Lace Petticoats

The trees run up
Over the hills here
Sweeping snow
With
The sullied lace petticoats
White
Of hoar breathing
Angels

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Somebody has asked to see the Steve McQueen Great Escape image again – as always happy to oblige !

MCQUEEN

Chinstrap!

 

Last week somebody asked to see Picasso smoking his fishfingers……What a strange world we live in.

By The End He Was On 20 A Day

During His Fish Period

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Somebody has asked to see the Picasso smoking a fishfinger picture again – as always happy to oblige! If you want to buy the original send a cheque for £5,000,000 and it is yours!

 

By The End He Was On 20 A Day

During His Fish Period

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Happy New Year Folks,

I hope you’ve had as much of a giggle at the nonsenses served up on Gfb as I have. As it is a time for reflection, nay, cogitation Cecilia Giminez’s efforts at mural restoration still has me roaring with laughter.

Print it off and stick it on your foreheads for a day to give millions of people and their pets a chortle or two at the start of the New Year!

You may recall Cecilia taking her brush to Ecce Homo in The Sanctuary of Mercy Church near Zaragoza.

An official declared, “The once-dignified portrait now resembles a crayon sketch of a very hairy monkey in an ill-fitting tunic.”

Gfb did its bit to restore the restoration so to speak.

Revisiting the image after a couple of Jameson’s over Crimbo has only further convinced us of the similarity to another well known “hairy monkey in an ill fitting tunic”.

The Resemblance Is Uncanny!

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Hello Folks!
You may have heard today about the elderly parishioner in Spain who attempted to restore a prized Jesus Christ fresco.

Ecce Homo (Behold the Man) by Elias Garcia Martinez has held pride of place in the Sanctuary of Mercy Church near Zaragoza for more than 100 years.

Cecilia Giminez took her brush to it and did what can only be described as a not particularly good job!

An official declared, “The once-dignified portrait now resembles a crayon sketch of a very hairy monkey in an ill-fitting tunic.”

Oh Dear! What’s To Be Done?

Step Forward Gfb’s arts expert Brian Sewer and his mates from The Struggling Monkey free house, Al Fresco and Al Dente.

We whisked them out to Zaragoza to carry out urgent repairs to the work and the results are spectacular!

Good As New!

“We don’t want paying, we are just glad to help,” muttered Al Fresco, “What’s yer poison?”

Does the Original remind you of anyone? That’s Right – The Princess Bride Herself – Our Kate!

Santa Maria! Could It Be True?

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Save the Planet! is their cry, Save the Polar Bear, Seal, Whale and Val Doonican! And how do they propose to do it?

If We Don't Act Now On Climate Change Ginger Mussels Are At Risk

BURNING GINGERS THAT’S HOW!

We have received a copy of a paper presented to the Davos Forum by Lauren Parapapompom, Head of Research for the French Government’s shadowy L’Insistitute D’Ecolologie et Humanananitaire.

The paper entitled “Gingers in a Low Carbon Future” (Ref; LDEH 10/08543236/3) highlights research conducted by the shadowy Institute of Human Smouldering (IHS) that shows Gingers have, on average, fifty percent less carbon in their bodies than non Gingers. It also indicates that controlled mass freckle release could aerate the earth’s atmosphere by 3%.

Gingers are a more efficient burning material than dinosaurs or your next door neighbour’s shower curtain.

The idea is controversial as Parapapompom admits, “But if we can secure the future of humankind and those lovely big eyed seals and fluffy polar bears by burning a few carrot tops, surely it is worth it?”

He went on, “We would recommend a seven tendril burn ratio in order to create initial heating and disposal requirements. Ash can be used to propagate food stations for Ginger cropping zones. It is considered feasible that this programme could breed red-haired people for eating (The McGinger has proved popular with focus groups) thus helping solve the world’s food production crisis as well! Ginger meat is leaner than Ostrich and makes a fine stew. Especially with dumplings.”

Breeder farms (AKA Cropping Areas) would be established in North West Africa where cropped Gingers would be used to fire specially constructed power stations GFPS (Ginger Fired Power Stations). Negotiations between the Moroccan, French and Spanish governments are underway.

Cooling Towers are to be disguised as giant ice cream cones.

Gfb also understand that the IHS has already been tasked with preparing feasibility studies for the use of Ginger skeletons as a basis for a nutritious soup, Gingerstrone.

Commenting on this option, the shadowy Organisation for African Backhanders said, “We have the room and the wherewithal for Ginger cropping. We love soup as well. Win! Win!”

Burning Gingers is not a recent phenomenon.

Aliens Mock Our Attempts To Reduce Carbon Emissions

Queen Victoria was a keen advocate of Ginger fires, as revealed in her private diaries. Her entry of November 12th 1846 states, “I do wish Albert would desist from fiddling with that chain around his vitals and turn his inventive mind to how we can burn more redheads to keep ourselves warm in Sandringham. It is perishing here.”

It's His Planet Too!

Prince Albert having completed his plans for his Great Genital Exhibition (Genital was removed as a peon to sensitivities at the time) ordered the establishment of The Ginger Commission of 1848.

The Commission, chaired by Lord St John of The Trouserpress, investigated the whole issue of firing Gingers and whilst the Quaker member (Nathaniel Tingaling) fiercely objected to the practice, Farmers, Chimney makers, bobble hat weavers and men known as “Red Tom” pressed for the practice to be retained.

As Ginger children were barred from picking horses teeth for food (a major source of nutrition at the time) or climb chimneys for soot supplements, they  earned a living by using their body parts as a kindle for fires in the homes of the landed gentry.

The famous Victorian nursery rhyme “Wobbly One Legged Ginger” captures the essence of the hordes of unbalanced redheads tottering around the countryside during this period.

“But pity the poor lass and careful you don’t singe her,

Don’t worry sir! For we’re to fire this Ginger!”

The Commission concluded;

“Without the practice of firing, there is a real danger that licentiousness, abundant in Ginger people, will percolate through the entire labouring classes and they will seek full retribution from us. The Rich.

Sooty Needs Our Help!

Furthermore it is entirely reasonable and consistent with the laws set out in Holy Scriptures (The Book of Relevavavations, Chapter 3 Verses 2-5 – “For Seth, despairing of the cold winds shook his fist in mighty anger at the red skies and bade the Lord “Fire in the red sky! It is no more than they deserve, Oh Lord”).

It is apposite and honourable that the burning of Gingers should continue as they offer a fruity tang to the malodorous air of London.”

Burning Gingers only lost its attraction when the more efficient practice of burning moustaches became widespread in the Edwardian era.

It is incredible to think that some of the finest minds on the planet are seriously advocating once more the super heating of other human beings as a means to tackle Climate Change.

Gfb salutes the brave men and women who gave their lives to bring this story to you. Much of it made up.

If Not For You At Least For Val

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I was struggling to make progress with Twenty Tips For Conversational Spanish (A long-planned trip to Paraguay was only a few weeks away) when I heard a voice.

“I think I’m next to you.” An elderly woman in her late seventies stood over me. She held a Cheese plant in her right hand.

“Could you help me with my luggage?”

I stood up to allow her to claim her seat by the window.  She folded down the seat tray and carefully placed the plant on it.

“There you go Love, right by the window – as always!”

I studied the suitcase. It was large. Very large.

“Fuck me!” I blurted out as I tried to lift it, “Have you got a dead body in here?” I regretted what I had said. The old woman was close to tears. She picked up the Cheese plant and stroked its leaves.

“There, there Harold, don’t get upset.”

I managed to get the suitcase into the bottom of the luggage rack. A whimper came from inside the case.

I returned to my seat out of breath from my exertions.

“Thanks. Do you know what time the train gets into Derby?”

The woman had a thin yet kindly face, scarred by years of smoking cigarettes. Her dentures rattled in her mouth.

“About twelve thirty.”

I returned to my book. “Donde este l’estacion por Madrid por favor?” I remained flummoxed by the lingo.

“Harold loved travelling by train. Always sat by the window. Such a shame he got too close to the Lion in the Zoo. I’ve asked them if I could put up a nameplate on his favourite bench, by the Penguin enclosure.”

“That sounds nice.”

“I’ve had the plate made up already – “Malcolm Brabant 1936 to 2012 – He loved to sit here and play with himself” – I still haven’t heard from them.”

“Are his ashes in with the plant then?”

“Yes – I picked him up this morning from the Undertaker. One hundred and twenty-five pounds for a casket! Fuck that I thought to myself, so I chucked him in here when they weren’t looking.” She pointed to the Cheese plant.

The guard arrived at the far end of the carriage.

“Tickets please!”

The old woman stood up and walked to the suitcase.

“Ivy. Keep quiet. They are checking tickets!”

“I need the toilet Audrey,” the suitcase replied.

“Donde este le Servicios?” I muttered to myself, still unsure of the Spanish tongue.

They were put off at Birmingham New Street. Audrey knocked the Policeman’s helmet off with the Cheese plant during the fracas. Ivy’s left hand became entwined in a wreath also stolen from the Undertaker’s. A Flower Arranger, who luckily happened to be on board at the time, managed to free her.

Harold’s remains were accidentally scattered on the escalator.  Not the end Audrey had planned but at least the bench would offer solace. Hopefully with a revised epithet.

Paraguay was fascinating. But my Spanish let me down.

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