EDWARD IS MIFFED!

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Edward, Chairman of the men only ‘Let’s All Look the Same Society’ strides ever forward in disgust. He knows for a fact that Cedric – never one to conform – was telling lies, when, a little earlier that he said he thought tonight was a once off, ‘Lone Ranger’ fancy dress party.

KITTY

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No one told me

That Kitty had died

She just

Disappeared

From my life

One day

No more

Visits to her house

On the top deck

Of the number 65

Bus to Ealing

No more gifts of

Wrigley’s chewing gum

Kitty had

Boxes and boxes

Of the stuff

She had

Developed a taste

For gum from

An American boyfriend

A soldier

During the war

 

I almost forgot her

 

As a small boy

I was in love

With Kitty

Mother’s best friend

 

Curly dark

Maybe black hair

Slim and beautiful

Save for

The ugly

National Health

Spectacles  

Circular lenses

The hard up

Wore them

Back in the day

 

Childless herself

She adored me

Spoilt me

Something rotten

 

Then many years on

During a nightmare

Kitty’s benevolent face

Appeared to me

Gave sanctuary

From whatever demons

Were in my head  

 

Only then

It struck me

I had not seen

Or heard of her

Since I was a boy

 

Me?

I didn’t find out

Anything about

The demise

Of Kitty

Until shortly before

My mother’s death

I asked about her

She spilled the beans

 

Kitty never married

She had a thing

About sun beds

Mother told me

She died

Of skin cancer

 

In my dream

Kitty’s face

Was as clear

As crystal

 

In the attic

Next day

Took an age

To find

That old photo

Needed it

Just to make sure

It was her

In my dream

 

Strange thing

How I held

A vision of her

Within

My hard drive

For such

A very long time

 

I wish

I had been told

She was dead

Back then

But who tells

A little kid

Anything

Anyway

 

TIFFANY IMPARTS NEWS OF HER AWKWARD DILEMMA TO CARRUTHERS!

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“I say Carruthers I understand that our lovely little secretary Tiffany wants a private word with you regarding a personal matter. She was unwilling to impart any details to me so I am unable to give you the heads up as to what exactly she has to say. I think though, given the fact that Tiffany says the matter at hand is urgent you should consider giving her an audience forthwith. Best if I return to my own office whilst you both speak – manners and all that.”

“Crikey old chap I wonder what she has to say. I shall call for her forthwith.”

‘CHUM’ DEPARTS; TIFFANY ARRIVES

“Well then Tiffany I understand you wish to have a chat with me in respect of a pressing matter?”

“Yes Sir I do. This is a hugely difficult thing for me to talk about but it is causing me sleepless nights and I feel I have to get it off my chest.”

“Carry on…..I’m all ears.”

“Right then – whilst out jogging on Sunday morning in Hyde Park I took a brief stop to consume a little water and thus keep my hydration at optimum levels when I noticed in bushes that surround the pond a couple entangled in an embrace. The gentleman concerned had the look of a ruffian about him and was, as I glanced over, in the process of unbuttoning the lady’s blouse and fondling her breasts. I was taken aback I can tell you.”

“Oh Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany you really are a sweet naïve girl. These things go on all about us these days. Don’t worry your sweet little head about it. Shock that it may have been it is just life.”

“No you don’t see Sir. The lady in question was your very own good lady wife Deirdre. The gentleman, a scruffy type was the last person in the world I’d even expect the wife of a top Foreign Office official such as yourself to be in the vicinity of, let alone be embroiled with thus. Furthermore, I overheard your wife utter the ecstatic words, ‘Give it to me now – oh how I love a bit of rough.’ I am truly so very, very sorry to impart such information. It breaks my heart to tell you this.”

“Well no need to worry Tiff’s for I think you’ll find there is a perfectly innocent explanation. Knowing women as I do I had a few weeks back recommended Deirdre the services of a life coach with a view to restoring her to good health after all the emotional setbacks she has had of late. I am fully aware that she had made contact with the chappie himself and that he is – at vast cost to yours truly – conducting an exploratory examination as a prerequisite to establishing a suitable course of action for her.  I imagine when Deirdre asked of the fellow to ‘Give it to me now’ she merely meant that she desired further knowledge as to his proposals for said future treatment and that when she added, ‘Oh how I love a bit of rough,’ she was talking to him in a self-deprecating manner of her less than successful soirees on the golf course with the others gals on ladies days.  Insofar as the breast fondling goes one must take into account the fact that this was after all an exploratory examination so one must expect such things from a professional life coach. See – nothing to concern you but thank you so very much for letting me know.”

“Oh, I see Sir.”

“Right then Tiff’s I’m off down the club with my chum for a small libation. You can hold the fort.”

THE BASTARD OF ALL DRUGS

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Hashish and LSD

Both worked for me

All those years ago

Opium too

Sweet dreams

The sweetest

Then of course

Mescaline

Travelled the universe

Without my head

Leaving my pillow

Thank you

Aldous Huxley

For that

 

Yet then came

My part share

In an embryo

Needed an income

Needed to be responsible

So I quit the lot

Overnight

Not a problem

 

Kept a video

A recording

For posterity

In the library

Of my mind’s eye

Still play it back

From time to time

 

Nicotine

The drug

That stayed behind

Never could quit you

The bastard

Of all drugs

THE DAY I LAUGHED AT MYSELF

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The day I laughed at myself

Was the day I nailed hypocrisy

To the wall

Of the museum of obstacles

Consigned to oblivion

No more a traitor

To my immaculate dreams

My inglorious desires

 

The day I laughed at myself

Was the best day of my life

FROM THE HIDEAWAY OF ADULTHOOD

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A word of four syllables

‘Conscientious’

Precedes another word

‘Objector’

‘Conscientious objector’

That was it

I remember now

 

A child

Not blessed

With academic acumen

That was me

Yet those

Two words

I knew

Mind you

I couldn’t spell

‘Conscientious objector’

Not back then

 

My mother said

‘Conscientious objector’

Regularly

Geographically confined

To one particular place

 

Each time we passed

The clothes shop

On the parade

At the top of the road

She said it

Predictable

And tedious

After a time

 

“The man who works in there was a ‘conscientious objector”

She would say

Vindictively

 

I asked her what she meant

“It means that he refused to go to war – It means he is a coward”

 

A balding

Overweight man

Bedraggled

 

Poorly lit

Dingy

Faltering place of business

Even I

Could sense that

 

We never went in the shop

Few did

Sometimes

I would see him

Outside the premises

Taking a delivery

Or suchlike

He always looked

At the floor

He had made himself

As round shouldered

As Mum told me

I would be

If I persisted

In not holding

Myself upright

 

I caught his eye once

He didn’t smile

He just had

A haunted look

I never heard

Him speak

 

The shop closed

Not long after

Mum had taught me

That impressive

Combination

Of words

‘Conscientious Objector’

 

What a lonely life

That man must have had

To be ostracized

By one and all

 

From the hideaway

Of adulthood

I can look back

And think him brave

Having to face shit

From everyone

Or just being ignored

Or loathed

Day in

Day out

Never making

His reasons known

DEIRDRE WANTS THE POPE TO CANONIZE CARUTTHERS’ KNOB!

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“I say Carruthers have all the dreadful shenanigans with the missus calmed down yet?  I know it’s been so very tiresome for you of late.”

“Tell me about it old chap.  I just don’t understand the woman one tiny bit. Just last evening as I was thumbing through Town & Country whilst partaking of my port and cigar nightcap do you know what she did? Well there I was off with the fairies when she entered the lounge clad………..how shall I put it…….clad in just her riding boots and hat. She…Deirdre that is….lingered longer than I thought appropriate in the circumstances at the door; ran one hand up the door frame and put a finger to her lips then winked three times – three times no less – at me!  What a-to-do I thought to myself so I asked her if she had something in her eye thinking if she had I could perhaps assist with the extraction of the offending item when she simply stormed orf in a huff slamming the door behind her. What do you make of that?”

“I’m guessing she must just have popped orf to the bathroom in order to apply a little Optrex – I find it a jolly fine product when it comes to having a rogue eyelash about the eye you know.”

“I suppose that might just be the case yet the previous night as we were in bed – me ensconced in War & Peace as is my want of late – she asked me to take a look at her tablet thing whereon I saw that she had been watching a squalid video of a naked man and woman copulating no less. And I might add the couple were enacting such copulation in a position that most certainly was not the missionary! Anyway, thrusting the bleddy thing in my face she asked if I should like to ‘try this.’”

“Very strange if you ask me. I mean you’ve got an IPad and if my memory serves me well Deirdre uses the Google Nexus thingy if I’m not mistaken?”

“Correct old chum. Basically that was my riposte. I simply advised her that with me having the Rolls Royce of tablet thing why on God’s earth would I wish to even consider having a pop on her inferior thingy. Illogical in my book.  Once again she took of her leave in petulant fashion and slept the night in the guest quarters.”

“Perhaps the vapours are afflicting her once more?”

“Could be I suppose yet this morning as I was at breakfast she said, her words verbatim mind, ‘I want to get the Pope to canonize your knob.’ I merely replied that nothing, not even my ‘knob’ could receive sainthood unless it was dead and had performed a miracle once previously.  To which she sighed and then uttered these words, ‘I rest my fucking case.’ How very, very rude of her!”

“Bleddy right it was. Mind you, you must be a saint putting up with it.”

“It gets worse. She then told me she was ‘gagging for sex.’ Well that was the last straw. I said in no uncertain terms that insofar as I was aware it was neither my birthday nor was it Christmas morning. That shut her up. The very idea of it! Shall we venture toward a liquid lunch?”

“What a splendid idea.”

Australian Police Launch Nationwide Hunt For Man Suspected Of Initiating Foreplay With Girlfriend

This reblog is born of my pathetic envy. I am one of the trinity of writers writing for the League of Mental Men. However, our prime mover Danny Soz penned this one – the bastard! A classic example of how satire should be written – hence my envy!

The League of Mental Men!

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“Brace yerself Sheila, I’m coming in mate!”

Australian police were on full alert last night as news broke that a 35 year old Sidney man may have attempted to stimulate his girlfriend sexually prior to intercourse. The 33 year old woman concerned is believed to be in a shocked and distressed condition and was being cared for by relatives last night.

A spokesman for the Sidney Police Department spoke briefly to reporters last night. “A 33 year old female has reported to us that a male Sidney resident attempted to commit an unselfish sexual act with her prior to consensual sex taking place. We are taking this matter extremely seriously and we urge women in the area to be extra vigilant and to alert police immediately if approached by this man. We also appeal to other women to come forward if they have ever experienced wonderfully pleasurable or deeply satisfying…

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ODE TO THE LATTER DAY SEAGULL!

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Some see the seagull

As they see a curse

An affliction

One they could do without

Big bird is the gull

Bovver-boy types

Hunt in packs

Prone to thievery

Chips from the hands

Of tourists

Ice creams from the lips

Of their offspring

Packed lunches

From the mouths

Of school children

In playgrounds

They dive

From the heavens

Stuka’s bombing Bilbao

Grab all

That their beaks

Can hold

Whatever the season

Whatever the weather

You can always

Trust them to pilfer

 

‘Don’t Feed the Gulls’

Meaningless signs

To the uninitiated

Over time

Seagulls

Have given up

On sea fishing

For sustenance

Life is

So much easier

Nicking stuff

 

Like humans

That is the ones

Who ravish

The spoils

Of fast food

Gulls get big

Get fat

Never constipated  

They shit on the ‘wing’

 

In days of yore

Locals talk

Of the times

When the gulls

Would follow on

Behind fishing boats

Returning to harbour

Waiting

For any scraps

That might

Come their way

In modern times

The Gulls say

‘Fuck that for a game of soldiers’

 

Some have taken

To shooting gulls

Air rifles

Or poison

Nests on rooftops

Regularly and

Systematically

Destroyed

Eggs pierced

An Herodian effort

To wipe out

The next generation

 

A red mist

Descends

Upon those

Who reach breaking point

 

On balance

The gulls win out

I rather like them

There ‘dulcet’ tones

Let me know

I am home again!

SHE HAS BEEN KNOWN TO DROP THEM!

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She has been known to drop them

She’s dropped them from afar

She’s dropped off the chandelier

She once chucked them out the car

 

It was not that very long ago

She dropped in the road

A policeman picked them up for her

Delivered them back to her abode

 

In Paris one winters afternoon

Near the Louvre she dropped the lot

She never did get that pair back

And they were the only ones she’d got

 

She’s hurtled them at passers-by

She’s thrown them wrapped up in a brick

Yet those gloves she’s always kept them on

When it’s freezing and the snow is thick