david bowie

It’s late 1960’s and at No. 22 Clareville Grove, South Kensington, West London a frustrated David Bowie, in the company of his then young lover, budding actress Hermione Farthingale, is at his wits end struggling to complete the lyric for his new song, ‘Life on Mars’.

“What’s the problem Daveypoops? You’ve a face like Andy Warhol chewing a can of baked beans without his dentures in.”

“Oh, my little Hermit it’s all gone horribly wrong.”

“What has?”

“Well Hermlicalls, as you are well aware I’ve been engrossed attempting to knock out a swift one I’m dedicating to you yet I’m missing the crucial finishing touch.”


“A song, sweet Hermanology, a song. What did you think? Matters not. I have a song title, ‘Life on Mars’, I even have the music and all the other verses, it’s just this irksome conclusion to the first verse that’s holding me back.”

“Gosh and golly, Daveypoops perhaps I can be a help. Tell me where you’re stuck and I’ll have a go at easing your tension through my oral endeavours.”

“If I must. Right then, Hermiosity I’ve got, ‘It’s a godawful small affair, To the girl with the…’ The ‘what?’ I just cannot think of anything. Over to you.”

“Um…um…yes, I think I’ve got it…after all if the song’s about me it really ought to say something that sits comfortably with my divine persona. What about, ‘It’s a godawful small affair, To the girl with the…gorgeous BTM’. There, that’ll do nicely.”

“For pities sake Hermlicks, how on God’s earth can I have your BTM in my lyric? I have my standards you know! Common decency must prevail.”

“You don’t like my BTM then, Daveypoops? I am bereft and want to top myself. I shall cry and cry and cry and cry and cry.”

“Oh, Haemorrhoidious my darling do not drip on like a wet sponge in a fishnet stocking, your BTM is second only to mine. It’s just not right for this song. Try again.”

“Okay then. Let’s try, ‘It’s a godawful small affair, To the girl with the…the overwhelming need to get her legs waxed before she looks akin to a Northern buffed-cheeked gibbon’. 

“Still not doing it for me.”

“Well then, this one’s a belter. Oh yes, I believe you will love this. ‘It’s a godawful small affair, To the girl with the… all-consuming desire for a plate of Jellied Eels and a bucket of ale to wash it down with’. I simply can’t get enough of Jellied Eels, Daveypoops. My bestest meal is to have them first, then a good portion of Spotted Dick to nibble upon for afters.”

“For f***’s sake, Hermanella. This is hopeless. Let’s go down the pub. Maybe the walk and a few beers might inspire.”

“That’s a champion idea, Daveypoops. Can we go to the pub near the hairdressers? I’m sick and tired of my ‘mousey hair’ and thought I’d book an appointment to have my ‘mousey hair’ dyed red. I hate ‘mousey hair’, I’ve always hated ‘mousey hair’ with a ‘mousey hair’ vengeance.”

“Do put a sock in it, Hermatette. How the bloody hell are my creative juices going to flow again with you going on and on about ‘mousey hair’.”

Footnote: For any readers not heralding from the UK I feel compelled to point out that ‘Spotted Dick’…favoured by Winston Churchill himself…is, arguably, an English culinary delight. A pudding made with suet and dried fruit and often served with custard and thus not what you might have thought it was! As to a BTM, this is short for ‘bottom’.



    1. My thanks, Sir. You will understand this yarn is all true. You have my assurance as an Englishman…having said that, the word of an Englishman means little in these turbulent times. Regardless, I trust you are keeping well, old chap.

    1. How art thou, Ms Carolee Croft? If the truth be told Bowie, save for a few songs wasn’t one of my favourites although his production of Lou Reed’s ‘Transformer’ album was superb. I’m off to freeze some more now.

  1. LOL! This feels like a call-back to some of your earlier conversations, like the dialogue between Adam and Eve. How in heaven do you come up with these nicknames? Daveypoops–HA! I’ll never look at the Goblin King the same way again!

    1. Well, Ms Lee I rather fancied a shift from dark pieces to something lighter. I even have a massive book compiled of this sort, yet haven’t done anything with it thus far. That’s two whole books done and dusted waiting for me to set them free!

  2. Mike …me reader has ben kind of >>Not Working. So ..? just glad to catch this one and how xxx Ps, tell your good lady I am driftwooding a wee piccie of a fisherman’s cottage for her xxx

    1. My Reader, I calculate refuses to list up to 60% of the sites I follow. I have to go searching for the main part. An utter bore…what are WP playing at? I shall pass your message on to the old boot who, having begun recovering feeling in her fingers having had a fight with an oven has now gone and turned said fingers into banana shapes having had a fight with a car door in a howling gale! They say such things go in three’s. One hopes that’s untrue. I have your book ready to read. A venture into a new genre has great appeal. It’s seems all new published works are all murder/mystery crime like stuff these days. I despair at the shelves of Waterstones. I trust you have not the vile northly winds in your parts. Here they blow with gusto and as the old saying goes, ‘It’s that cold they’re laying men off at the brass foundry’!

      1. God’s sake , poor Shirl. Yeah WP is just awful just now whatever is up Even going into Chrome makes no diff. Yir a gent so you are. AND you are right re everything being mystery or crime. Market is over saturated with it. And it is this cosy mystery stuff everywhere too—is there such a thing as a cosy mystery? I’d sooner read Enid Blyton which is saying something. We have indeed had quite bad gales here. Not too bad today but yesterday and Friday was vile. x

      2. Worse still, George, with his paid for WP on the odd occasion we chat says, ‘What’s your problem, mine’s running smooth’. It is at those times the desire to afford him a Glasgow kiss aflicts me! Also, my scan of books on shelves the other day included not just ‘cosy’ mystery…and cosy crime for that matter…but living proof that the entire population of Norway and Sweden had each penned a murder when they should be out there gutting herrings or leaping from the warmth of a sauna, naked into a frozen lake!…how very ‘English’ of me that must sound, apologies all round.

      3. Hell, no at all. It is right enough. Everyone and their granny is writing one. To return to WP. I know folks who pay for their site and they have a ton of probs, so George must just be lucky. (But we know this!) x

    1. My thanks, Inese. I think I must have written about thirty ‘block’ template skits, back when. I really must dig some of them out one day. The Simon and Garfunkal one, I think, is my personal favourite…I’m on a mission now!

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