“You can’t say you’re invisible and just disappear like
that!” Shouts Natasha.
The room is empty and a cold breeze springs-up from
somewhere.
“Where are you, where are you hiding?” She screams into the
empty, rapidly becoming cavernous room.
She pulls a woolly jumper off the back of a reclining chair and
wraps it around her shoulders, pulling it tight like a blanket. ‘Bloody English
summers,’ she mutters audibly.
She turns around and faces the window, just as the glass
shatters. She ducks then falls to the floor, “bleeding ‘ell!” She shouts.
The room is getting bigger! It’s disintegrating!
“Where have you gone, Jon!” She bellows in a slow, precise,
pleading, sort of way.
An electric light bulb shatters and more glass hits the
floor.
“Nobody’s invisible, nobody’s invisible, nobody’s
invisible.” She rants, over and over again.
Her voice becomes hoarse with chanting. Crouching on the
floor she hears a peal of thunder, the ceiling plaster starts to crack. Natasha
can’t see it, it’s much too dark in her elongated room.
For a split second the whole space is illuminated by a flash
of lightening, a strange and eerie silence is followed by a clock ticking
somewhere in the room, tick tock, tick tock.
‘Five, six, seven, eight’ she counts in an animated hoarse
whisper.
Her numeration cut short by a thunderous crash. The whole
house, the timber frame, the exterior cement, the internal plaster, the bricks
and mortar, the breaking of glass, the tangle of electric cables, the twisted
water pipes, and then finally the leaking gas ignites!
NaPoWriMo 2013
Okay, it's April and that means National Poetry Writing Month in the USA. For those with poetry blogs, it gives the opportunity to write thirty poems in thirty days. I have been taking part on my SweetTalkingGuy blog since 2009, so this is my fifth year. COLLECTION
Writing so many pieces in such a short space of time makes for a lot of first draft poems, however I've found that I usually get about six or seven during the month that I can publish. So my idea is to make a collection of the best of my NaPoWriMo posts and publish it as an eBook later this year. You can read my NaPoWriMo posts on my SweetTalkingGuy blog. SOMETHING OLD
I found an old poetry notebook today while spring cleaning my cupboards, so I'm going to share a couple of oldies with you. (Don't worry, they're very short.)The first one is from November 1982 and the second one dates back to March 1984. ADVICE?
By the way, if anyone is actually reading this page, the only possible advice I could offer any writer, is for him/her to date their work. I have always done this and every poem I write has a date code beneath it. Looking back over twenty or thirty years I find this to be invaluable. THREEPENCE
As you down there
in the threepennies know
that poets come two
for a penny
but the star of the show
is a twopenny poet
that's why you get
three for your money
261182 SETTLE
Don't settle for
suburban comforts
why settle for
materialistic things
turn your helicopter
into a gunship
and terminate
your private war
290384 SOMETHING NEW
Finally, I will give you another short piece that I only wrote recently but then discarded, I resurrected it today from my poetry notes file. AMAZING
Wow, it's amazing
the things that they say
They say things like
What goes up must come down
Time still goes round
if the clock is unwound
Phew, it's amazing
the things that they say
100113
SCRIPT #2 Okay, we’re going to start with a little song I wrote… it’s got three verses
and a bit of a chorus… you can help me with the chorus!!! It’s about Janet… or was it Jayne? I've got this problem with my short term memory… I get names mixed up… and I can never ever remember faces!… So, I went to the doctors, and he said ‘How are you?” And I said “I’m feeling very well, thank you!” “So why are you here then?” the doctor asks me. “I can’t remember!” I tell him… “Who are you anyway?… Where am I?”… Anyway, did I say we were going to do a song?… This is one of those songs that sounds like something else… Remember that Lou Reed song? Vicious! I
always used to think he said Fishes! “Only joking… that’s too fishy!…” Anyway, Janet! or Jayne?… Is the name of my song… but it sounds like Janitor
Jayne!… The school janitor!!! It goes like this… Janet or Jayne? Janet or Jayne? Did she say Janet! Or did
she say Jayne? And that’s just the chorus, or half of it… the other half is the same after the first two verses, and slightly
different after the final verse… I went out with this girl last night… but I can’t remember anything about
it… I can’t remember
what she looks like either… But the worst thing is… I can’t remember her name! I got a phone call this morning, and it saidJan calling … I thought who the Eccles cakes is Jan? And then I thought… Jan could be short for Janet… or for Jayne… so I answered
the phone… I said “Pronto!” like they
do in Italy, only joking, I said “Hello!” And someone on the other end of the phone said “Hello! Buggerlugs?” I said “No!… I think you've got the wrong number!” “That’s strange…” said the voice. “Only I've just found this phone… and your number is the first one in the
address book… and it says that your name is Buggerlugs!” “I don’t know anyone who calls me that…” I tell her, “Some people call me Slobberchops! (do the slobberchops impression) when I go like that!” (repeat the slobberchops
impression) … then I ask her if her name’s Jan? “No, she says, my name’s Yan, spelt YAN… and the correct pronunciation of it is I Anne!!” “Okay, I Anne,” I said… where did you find the phone?” “In the pub toilets!” she says… and she tells me the name of the pub… but
I’ve forgotten it already! “Can you tell me which Jan this phone belongs to, so I can give it them
back?” She asks me. I say “It must belong to Janet… or to Jayne!… Because I don’t know any one
called Jan, or Yan, or I Anne… apart from you!” And she says something… but I can’t remember what she said… Anyway, weren’t you going to help me with my song? Let’s do the chorus first… I’ll sing the first bit, then you repeat it…
okay? (Singing) Janet or Jayne? Janet or Jayne? Did she say Janet! Or did she say
Jayne? (Everybody together) Janet or Jayne? Janet or Jayne? Did she say Janet! Or did
she say Jayne? Nicely! Well done, give yourselves a big round of applause! If you’ve got two girlfriends, you’re going to need two phones… There’s a
song in there somewhere… but I can’t remember the tune!… and if you’ve got
two phones, you’re going to need two pockets… And if you can’t remember your girlfriends names… you need to write them on
the back of the phones… but don’t get them mixed up! The trick is to keep one phone for each girl… but the problem is you’re
going to need a third phone, for everybody else. Now the problem I’ve got is that one of my girls is called Janet and the
other one is called Jayne… and sometimes I can’t remember which is which! Hold on… have we got time for a quick verse?… If you've got two girls you're gonna need two 'phones. So when they call you up + you're all alone - and all they want to do is moan - you just put 'phone to 'phone and let them… moan + moan and moan! Believe me… it gets worse!… I keep Janet’s phone in my left hand pocket… and I keep Jayne’s phone in my
right hand pocket. But sometimes, the message Jan calling pops up on one
of my phones, and I don’t know if it’s Jan short for Janet… or whether it’s Jan
short for Jayne… or whether it’s Jan… Yan… or I Anne… On the back of my phone it says; Vodaphone I thought that’s funny, because
Voda is the word for water in polish. Imagine if someone asked you what sort of
phone you've got and you said “It’s a water phone!” (do the squirt impression)… maybe it’s like those incabloc watches… you can take it swimming with you… The phone rings and you answer, “Hello!, I’m in the shower!” you say. And the person on the other end of the blower says, “okay, I’ll ring you
back in a bit!” And you reply “It’s okay, you can talk to me now, I've got a vodaphone!” It gets worse… In Poland they say maly voda, which means little water, but
when they say mowe voda they really mean vodka! The Polish fellow said, “ I've got a mowe vodaphone!” his mate said “I think he’s been on the vodka!” I keep a third phone on vibrate in my trouser pocket… that Lee
Evanshas got one in his back pocket… and when it rings… he goes like this… (Do the Lee Evans impression) Last time someone rang me, I was talking to Janet… or was it Jayne? And she
said “Is that your phone buzzing? Or are you just pleased to see me?”… I can’t remember what I said to Janet, when she came… I probably called her Jayne! It’s a terrible thing this short term memory loss… what was I just saying?… Oh, yeah… the song, we all know the chorus now… don’t we?… I’ll do the verses… and you can do the chorus’ with me… Okay!!! I was strolling down a country lane when I saw a girl so I asked her name she said Janet! or was it Jayne? (chorus, all together) Janet or Jayne? Janet or Jayne? did she say Janet! or did she say Jayne? Janet or Jayne? Janet or Jayne? did she say Janet! or did she say Jayne? (second verse) The next time I went down that lovers lane she was standing there again… I said Janet? and she said Jayne! (chorus, all together) Janet or Jayne? Janet or Jayne? did she say Janet! or did she say Jayne? Janet or Jayne? Janet or Jayne? did she say Janet! or did she say Jayne? (last verse) So that was the end of my would be flame I simply forgot to remember her name! Did she say Janet? No, she said Jayne! (chorus, all together)… but the second half of the chorus is different… this
time it’s a repeat of the end ofthe
last verse… Did she say Janet? No, she said Jayne! Janet or Jayne? Janet or Jayne? did she say Janet! or did she say Jayne?Janet or Jayne? Janet or Jayne? did she say Janet? No, she said Jane! Thank you!… Give yourselves another BIG, BIG round of applause!!! Anyway,I’m no good with phones, the
problem is you need three hands to answer one phone and a pair of glasses to
figure out which buttons to press, so my mate said “Why don’t you try the
internet?”… He said, “You can have one
of those social networking accounts like facebook or my-space where everybody
has a profile picture!” I said, “That sounds more like it!” So I joined SpaceFace!… and
everyone’s got their own picture, Janet’s got a helmet on hers… with a clear
visor and a big pair of red Australian glasses and loads of lipstick! She’s
easy… to remember. Jayne’s got a tinted visor on her helmet, so I can’t really see what she
looks like… but I know it’s her… by the picture! I've got an inside out corn-flake box on my head… with a square cut out at
the front… so you can see who I am… but I had my welding glasses on, on the day they took the photo… So, you
can’t really see me… but I know who I am… at least I think I do! Underneath my face, on the chin bit, there’s some writing that always
baffles me. It says CKWA which is an anagram of Wack! I couldn't figure
it out for a bit, and then I remembered that I’d written BACKWARDS forwards in
wax crayon on the bottom of the cardboard cut-out before I made it into a
helmet for Space Face… and CKWA are pretty much the middle letters of backwards but the whole word was too long for the picture… at least I think
that’s what happened! Anyway, I went back to the doctors, and he sent me to see a specialist… I
said to the specialist, “Is there something wrong with my brain doctor?” And he said “No, there’s nothing wrong with your brain doctor!” I said “Thank god for that! I thought you were going to do an operation, for
a minute!” He said “Sit down, I’m the brain sturgeon,” “Only joking, that’s too fishy!”… He said “Sit down, I’m the brain surgeon, (sorry about that) there’s nothing wrong with me… but
you’re going to need an operation sooner or later!”… if you don’t want to lose
your memory completely!” He had a Black and Decker drill on his desk and a box of stainless steel
drill-bits… and a club hammer and a very sharply pointed chisel and a Stanley
knife. I took one look at his instruments, and I said “Is there any alternative?” And he shook his head vigorously, and said “No!” I said“Will I need the full
operation, Doctor?” He said “No, we won’t need to shave your head!…” Okay, what they do is… and I saw this on the telly, so it must be true!… what they do is they drill a little hole in the bottom of your head… then they
poke the pointy chisel in the hole… and give it a few whacks with the club
hammer… and your whole skull splits in half… it’s still connected to your face
and your skin… they just twiddle it about… making Space Face… I’ll tell
you who had it done, that Russian fellow, Gorbachev! Did you see that mark on
his head?… It’s where they cracked it
open!… but when they drill the hole, they keep all the bits of skull dust… and
they mix a bit of glue with it… to stick you back together again… So, I asked the doctor if I’d be able to remember things better after the
operation. And do you know what he said? (shaking my head) No neither do I! I
can’t remember a bloody thing! Did I have the operation? I don’t know, I can’t
remember! But what I do remember is what my pet robot said, he said: (In a robotic
voice)
Scared afraid of Black and Decker doctors.
Doctors chasing me with
knives and hammers.
Hammers hitting chisels into my skull.
Skull thuggery!
that’s what those doctors do.
Do
they have to tell you that you might die.
Die if you have the op - die if you
don’t!
Don’t they know that I’m scared stiff already.
All ready to have your
operation?
Operation knives are sterilized phew!
Phew, there’s no turning back
they’re going through.
Through my head to improve my brain, remove...
Remove my brain? they've got to find it
first!
First thing I thought when they told me of this.
This is the worst thing
DIY I’m scared.
That’s what my pet robot said!…
I came in a taxi tonight, it was ten quid,
and I only live across the road.
So I said, "I've only got a fiver!"
The taxi driver said, "Do you want to phone a friend?"
I said, "Yes please!"
But my phone wouldn't work.
He said "What sort of phone is it?"
I said, "It's a Nokia!"
"No it won't work!" he said, "this is a Korean car! No Kia!
Do you want to ask the audience?"
I said "Yeah! and that's why I'm here tonight,
I haven't got any jokes to tell you, I just need a deep sea
ROUGE
High up outside the mountain chalet
the snow falls for long hours every day
I wish I had a real boy to help me
says the puppet-maker tugging at my strings
I wish I was a real boy I reply
but the puppet-maker can't hear me
he takes a chisel and shaves my face
with a soft brush and rouge he paints my lips
If you could walk you'd be a real boy
he stands me up like a new born donkey
he closes my eyes and makes a wish
I can talk listen to me I can walk look at me
25012013
CHRISTMAS NIGHT 1993 It was Christmas night about fifteen years ago I didn’t shout help. I didn’t have a phone heating water or electric in that squat. It was flummin’ freezing that night just like it is right now ice and snow. The last candle had died and I had no matches left to make a fire. I pulled the newsprint blanket over my head and tried to get some kip. But there was no sleep to be had that night in that old ramshackle gaff.
The rats and roaches put paid to that and then there was one massive crash. I looked through the crack in the boarded up window, it was just some drunks. They were kicking empty crates on their way home from the rub-a-dub-dub. Smashing them against the steel shuttered shop fronts on the parade outside. They staggered on shouting and swearing and soon they were out of my view.
As I watched another character came by, a Rastafarian. A blanket over his left arm and clutching a brick in his right hand. Without a second glance old Dreadlocks dashed the padlock off the shutter. Rolling the freezing cold steel cover up to reveal a plate glass door.
Like a bull at a gate he charged with the blanket placed over his head. Leaving a Rastafarian shaped hole in what used to be the door. Just a few seconds later, he came skipping out onto the cold street. He was carrying a heavy blanket, full of cigarettes and booze. He had already disappeared out of sight when the alarm went off. MSC301208
From my Moss Side collection and originally published here on SweetTalkingGuy in 2008.
ONCE-UPON-A-TIME Dip your bread in the primordial soup Soon it will etre multiplie par dix Parboil and add sea salt to recipe Re-season, squash vegetables and dip.
Amino acids, cells, much unseen... more... More or less the building blocks that made us Used to be something quite different once... Once-upon-a-time, that right Amigo?
Perhaps, nobody really knows the law Lawton Moor, Wythenshawe, reality? Really, they burnt the chairs to keep warm once One night in nineteen-fifty-three, perhaps.
Incredible that's all there is to it Itching to slurp it down - insatiable. 14052011
ONCE-UPON-A-TIME (REVEALED) Parboil and add sea salt to recipe Really? they burnt the chairs to keep warm once Incredible! that's all there is to it More or less the building blocks that made us One night in nineteen-fifty-three, perhaps Re-season, squash vegetables and dip Dip your bread in the primordial soup Itching to slurp it down - insatiable Amino acids, cells, much unseen... more... Lawton Moor, Wythenshawe, reality?
Soon it will etre multiplie par dix Once-upon-a-time, that right Amigo? Used to be something quite different once... Perhaps, nobody really knows the law. 14052011/a
CONFESSION The last time I went to church was in my teens, blue jeans, sweet dreams, cool themes. Only, there was this one sin I needed to get off my chest, one thing! I thought that God missed me all these years but he couldn’t see me for sin. That’s what the priest at St Aubins told me anyhow, when I told him. It was the summer of seventy-four, we spent it on the beach there. And another five round the corner at St Brelades, The Golden Sands. Is there anything else you can tell me, have you touched your naughty thing? Maybe you’ve touched a girl, got her into trouble, you will burn in hell! I said no, there’s nothing else, just give me my penance and let me go. Very well, say three Our Fathers, two Hail Mary’s and a Glory be… I thanked the Irish Priest and prayed that he and his god could not see me. RWP#4-091207
Piccadilly-Pick-pocket! This piece was originally posted on my SweetTalking Guy blog
ASSAULT + FLATTERY.
Daisy Dippy
on the 'dilly
kissed my lips
and touched
my willy
must've thought that
I was silly.
When she said
she liked
Big Ben!
I didn't know
she meant
my ten...
quid that
she slid
into her pocket
that she dipped
from my
sky rocket! AS1393
Glossary Dippy, Dip = pick-pocket 'dilly = Piccadilly Big Ben = rhyming slang for ten quid = £1 English money (slang.) dipped = stole, pickpocketed sky rocket = pocket
Have you read my poem Polyamourosity yet?
HELLO, AM I EVEN HOME?
Sitting in the back of the jam jar
waiting for them to answer
listening to them going on about
the weather breakfast last night
I can see them in my mind
their bleach blond hair
and that feint smell of chocolate
and cigarette smoke permeates
the air - the air that I have to breathe
If my arms were longer I could drive
like I used to everywhere all the time
little old back seat driver me
Where are we going I ask again
they ignore me tut turn the radio on
cricket they don't like that
they don't know what they like
and I don't know if I like them
anymore than they like me
They're here because they don't
want a proper job nine to five -
so they come at eleven thirty
and go home at half-past three
They push me about and drive
me crazy they dress me up
to take me out and wheel me
round the park they drive me
round the bend sideways sometimes
They say speak-up and say-it-again
they're not listening they're playing
with their mobile phone - texting
each other. Hello, am I even home? 19032012
TALKING LAMBRETTA'S It was one of those days that sticks in your mind that you'll never forget for the rest of time. And yet, I met a geezer just yesterday. We were talking Lambretta's and Mods and things... But it still took us ten minutes to discover that we knew each other. and that he was with me on that day! 71007
The above was first published in this post on my SweetTalkingGuy bloggage in 2007.
Everyone suddenly burst out singing
and I was filled with such delight, oh yeah,
oh what a joyful song, it was to bring
to the table who would have dreamed to dare
it was only last night that I saw you
in my sleep, walking towards me naked.
I heard your scream, I felt your nightmare too
I relived your dream, yeah and yet, now here
you are, as bold as brass and uplifting
everyone that knows you with this new song
der der derlang der der der der derlang
you sang, and I was filled with the new light
my cup is overflowing now, with glee. 270509
THREE TO THREE PAST THREE ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON ON THE KIPPAX STREET IN MOSS SIDE MANCHESTER IN 1969 It was Saturday afternoon at three o’clock when the chant went up. Manchester Boot Boys! And the Bovver Girls joined in, taking the bubble gum out of their mouths. And expertly spinning it round and round and round an index finger. Manchester Boot Girls! They cried, flicking the sticky gum over the heads of the police line. Towards the Rockers who gathered on the left side of the steep terrace. The Boot Boys were a makeshift mob of Skinheads and Scooter-boys and Mods. Most had Steelies, Hobbies and Docs on their feet and the Mods wore Oxfords. The Bovver Girls wore Monkey Boots to the match in those days, with red socks. And the Mods and the Skinheads and the Bovver girls all wore Crombie coats. The Scooter-boys had Fishtail Parka’s with tin badges on the front. They rode Lambretta’s with ‘Sex Machine’ emblazoned on the side panels. The Greasers wore leather jackets with studs and sleeveless denim colours. They all said that they rode Triumph Bonneville’s and six-fifty Norton’s. The ageing Ted’s used to stand next to the Rockers on the left hand side. The Ted’s always wore their drainpipes and winkle pickers or blue suede shoes. When the game went quiet the Bikers would taunt the Scooter-boys like this: ‘Are you there skin?’ They would sing, And the chant would come back, ‘Are you there Grease?’ And the Rockers would laugh, giving a little wave to provoke the Mods. ‘Back to school on Monday!’ The Greaser’s would jeer. ‘Back to school on Monday!’ But soon things would settle down and the whole of the Kippax Street would cheer. When City scored a goal – everywhere, all round the ground the chant would ring. Manchester la, la, la, la, Manchester la, la,la, la... MSC261107 This is a link to a story here about the Moss Side Stadium with pictures of The Kippax Street Stand! The above was originally posted on my STG Bloggage in 2007
dream walk it should have been a breeze a walk in the park but there were no trees or grass the earth was parched dry and sun cracked – we walked with the other safari tourists through this place
this barren land - keeping to the makeshift road following the tyre tracks of a thousand 4X4’s that come and go through this harsh land with its hard baked sand and no wind
then we saw all the dead monkeys piled high alongside the road all their tails had been cut-off why? What for? we kept on walking
on the other side of the track an even bigger stack of dead lion and tiger cubs rotting but not even a bird came to pick their bones in this desert place
moving talking amongst ourselves until we saw them sitting there they looked like they were dead at first they sat there absolutely still
shuffling uncomfortably we shuddered as we passed them by blood spurting out from one mans nose we can’t believe they’re still alive
a little girl on the tour said: look daddy that man's not quite dead but her father dragged her away ‘they haven’t killed the natives yet’
at the end of the walk there was a stack of leather shoes and some old cosmetics and toiletries
when we reached the safari lodge hotel no-one wanted to eat except one man who insisted on tasting the monkey-tail soup. WI11-191107
The above was originally posted here on my STG Bloggage.
ONE HORSE The Kings soldiers come in the night kill his father, rape his mother. 'You can't make a silk purse...' they curse as they force the pig farmers wife one after another till dawn.
They tie the boy to a donkey so that he has to run behind. They ride out of the piggery, fording the cold stream at first light.
When they are sure the boy can't read they cut out his tongue for the dogs and brand him with a hot iron urinating on his fresh wound they leave him lying there bleeding for the camp-followers to find.
In an un-interpretable hieroglyphic of his own hand he scrawls his last thoughts on the wall of the royal stable in blood: One horse powers a thousand dreams... TOP3-221007
At the moment I'm busy doing the February Haiku Challenge over on my SweetTalkingGuy Bloggage...
SIXTY NINE
Inside outside down under the arches
nearly fourteen in nineteen sixty nine
trying to shelter from the pouring rain
I thought I was alone until she came
I heard the telephone ring first and then
the train on the overhead railway
before I saw her step out of the booth
she was dressed to kill done up to the nines
flashing no nickers fur coat and high heels
flesh coloured tights up to her threepennies
Is that all there is? I thought to myself Want some business Chuck? she says spitting gum
How much do you charge love? I said for fun Cheeky what d'yer think that yer gunner do? I've got a son at home older than you
When she saw I was soaking wet she said I'll tell yer what I fancy a brandy C'mon I'll tek yuh fer 'alf a shandy
She took me to the Union Hotel. 24012012
Last time I came to a comedy night at The Claremont, Colin Bell was King of The Kippax and the revolving doors were still here.
The bouncer outside handed me a leaflet that said: COMEDY NIGHT and Magician! In big letters.
And underneath that it read: Tuesday – Liverpool Empire, Wednesday – Manchester Apollo, Thursday – The Claremont!…
I said, “There’s got to be something wrong with that?… How much does it cost?”
The bouncer said, “It’s free to get in… but you might want to pay to get out!”
I gave him the leaflet back, and started to push the revolving doors open, I was half way round when I heard him shout “And, take your bike clips off!”
I had visions of Strangeways and me dropping my soap in the shower, so I carried on walking all the way round, and back out into the street again. I was half way to the Bee Hive when I remembered that I’d chained my bike to the pipe outside, so I came back.
“That’s funny,” I said to the bouncer, (Scratching my head) “I’m sure I had two wheels when I parked my bike here before!”
“That’s not funny!” said the bouncer… “What’s funny is that bloke from the Magic show! He came on a pogo-stick…(Bong, bong, bong!) …and he just left on a Unicycle!" (Doing the cycle impression and whistling, Raindrops keep falling on my head!) Anyway, just to confuse you… I’m Anagram Andy, Ian Biro’s my pen name… my real name is Parker… The magic marker!
Only joking, (Slobberchops impression) They call me Slobberchops… when I go like that! (Slobberchops impression again)
I used to write with a magic marker, but like the jokes, the ink dried up!
So, I went to the doctors the other day, to find out what was wrong with me.
I said, “Doctor, I think I’ve got a drink problem!”
He said, “Why, how much do you drink?”
I said, “About ten pints of bitter!”
He said “Don’t worry about it, ten pints a week is about average!”
I said, “But, Doctor I drink ten pints a session!”
He said, “Yeah, but how many times a week do you go out?”
I said “ About three times a day! …. Can you help me Doctor?”
“Okay,” said the Doctor, “What you need is a holiday, just lay off the beer for a bit, and drink the odd red wine!” I was talking to that geezer at the bar before, did you see him?… with the ski mask on?… I thought I know him!… I’ve seen him on the telly!… I’m sure they said he was a Swiss banker… on Crimewatch!
So I Said to him, “What’s it like in Switzerland these days, mate?”
And he said, “It’s all down hill, mate… (doing the slalom impression with his hand!)”
So I asked him (raising my right hand up slowly) if he knew what those…
He said “If you do that in Berlin, you’ll get arrested!”
So I asked him again, I said “Do you know what those trains are called that go up mountains?” (Raising my right hand up slowly)
“No,” he said. “I don’t know what they’re called, but they are a funny colour!”
“Funicular?” I said, “Where are you living these days, mate?”
He said, (Raising his right hand up slowly) “Up Bury New Road!”
I thought, He’s goin’ back down! (doing the slalom impression)…. Some people do have, Strangeways! Anyway, we go everywhere all the time, and we were in Switzerland ourselves a few weeks ago, and when we got to the campsite… there was a big notice, it read: (In an exaggerated German accent) ‘Welcome to the Jung Frau Campsite. You WILL enjoy yourself!’
And some bright spark had scribbled underneath with a magic marker: “But not here!”
It’s a funny place Switzerland, they speak three or four languages, it’s the same wherever you go in Europe, whatever language you speak to them in, they always answer you back in perfect English. Like I said, we go everywhere all the time, and we were in Paris the other night, and we did the sights, up the Eiffel tower, (raising my hand up slowly) and down The Champs Elysees, (Doing the slalom impression) up the little funicular to SacreCoer, (raising my right hand up slowly) and all the way back down to Notre Dame, (Doing the slalom impression). I said to this French bloke, I knew he was French because he was wearing a beret and a string of onions round his neck. I said “Where’s the dead centre of Paris mate?”
And he said “Pere La Chaise!, follow me…” ( Impression - do him pushing his push-bike, exaggerated, and whistling Raindrops keep falling on my head!).
“Bloody ‘ell,” I said, “if I’ve got to walk like that… I’ll need a drink!”
“He was doing the Bistrot!” ... … and I thought I’d give my French a try, So I went in this Bistrot… and I said to the girl behind the bar “Bon Soir, Mademoiselle, Un Vin rouge sil vous plait?”
And the Turkish barmaid… answered me in perfect English, She said “Chicago, hey Mac?”
I said “No, Manchester!”
And she smiled and said “Bobby Charlton!” (Do the comb-over impression).
And I couldn’t tell if she was taking the piss out of my haircut… or what? I got one of those Internet deals, the other day, five quid to Italy!… And the car hire thrown in for free!… I said, “Five quid!… that’s cheaper than staying at home! I’ll take two!”
When the tickets arrived they were for Venice… I said the only thing we’ll be driving there is a gondola!
But we went, because we’re daft like that, we’re wet behind the ears… but we like canals!… we go everywhere all the time, if we’re not here, we’re there, and if we’re not there, we’re somewhere else!
So there we were in Venice, taking in the sights, up the Rialto bridge, (Raising my right hand up slowly). And back down all those steps…(Do the Slalom impression) We went up The grand Canal, (Raising my right hand up slowly). And down all those little side canals… (Do the Slalom impression).
Eventually, I thought we better go for a drink, so I parked the gondola up… …and we went into this bar in San Zechariah. The barman was pouring Galliano into a row of glasses on the counter.
He said to me “Pronto! Senora, Harvey Wallbanger! Capisce!”
I said “No gracie, Una vino rosso, par favore?”
And he replied, in an American accent… “Sorry, sir, we donna sella de red vine! … Try the Holts’s pub next door!… ”
I said, ”Bloody hell, I’ve come all the way from flamin’ Manchester… (Raising my hand up slowly) ‘cos they don’t sell it in The friggin’ Claremont, either!” (Doing the Slalom impression). “Only joking! Mine’s a pint of bitter mate!… with two straws, and a cherry on top!… hold the Sambuca!” Talking about Yorkshire…It’s not funny,,, but there’s a joke in there somewhere!
I went into that flag shop in Leeds last week, and I said to the fellow behind the bar, “Do you sell, red wine?”
And he said, in a perfect German accent, “No, ve’re a flag shop, ve sell flags!”
I said, “What about Union Jacks?”
He said, “Vwhat about ‘zem?”
I said, “What colour are they?”
He said, “Zey are red, Vite and blue!… You daft get!”
I said, “Give us a blue one!… and a glass of red wine… and a bottle of white to go!” Anyway, I better go… ‘cos I’ve got a taxi waiting to take me to the airport… and if that bloke that chained his bike up outside still wants a lift, he better come with me… ‘cos he won’t be riding it home tonight. I was going up that travelator at Asda the other day, (Raising my right hand up slowly). and this fellow in front of me said that he needed to buy some slip on shoes… because he couldn’t reach to tie his laces anymore!
I said, (Doing the slalom impression)‘Bloody ‘ell that’s nothing! I need slip on socks!’ He said to me “do you know what day Christmas is on?”
I said, “I think it’s a Friday!”
He said “That’s okay, as long as it’s not the thirteenth!” We were in Ireland in September, and I broke my reading glasses in County Wicklow, and I couldn’t see to read a bloody thing, I sat there in the car, looking at the map, trying to find the cottage we had booked for the week… When a farmer pulled up in his tractor. I asked him if he knew the way to Hollywood?
He said, “You’re going the wrong way, mate! You’ll have to turn round in that field, but watch out for the Leprechaun!”
“Leprechaun? I said, “what does he look like?”
The farmer said, “You’ll recognise him… he’s got a rabbit tattooed on his forehead!”
I said “A rabbit?… Is that so he can see in the dark?”
“No!” said the farmer, “The Leprechaun’s going bald, and a rabbit looks like a hare from a distance!”
I thought, That’s a good idea! … (Scratching my head!) Talking about tattoo’s, an anagram is a sort of word tattoo…
And two of the biggest brands of the last century were Levi’s jeans and Elvis Presley… Elvis and Levi’s are of course anagrams of each other, and if you think Elvis is dead… You should know that an anagram of, Elvis Aaron Presley is: Seen alive, sorry pal!
And that an anagram of, William Shakespeare is: I am a weakish speller!
And here’s a fishy one for you, Pere La Chaise, is Hearse Plaice.
And my pen name, Ian Biro is an anagram of Nairobi!
But the best anagram of a persons name belongs to John Marshall who used to run The Buzz Club comedy night, down the road at The Southern Hotel. He called himself Agraman the human anagram! Which of course is an anagram of anagram!!! If you like anagrams, you might like this.
I was walking past the post office one December morning, and it was the week when everybody got their double giro and the Christmas bonus, so there were two policemen keeping everyone in line, and there was a notice above them that said, Please queue here, with an arrow pointing to the post office sign.
But some bright spark had rearranged the letters, so instead of it reading: Princess Road Post Office, it now said: (and wait for it, ‘cos this is explosive!) It said: Please queue here, to crap on pissed officers! Last time I told that story, someone said: ‘You sound like, An angry Adam!’
Which of course is an anagram of Anagram Andy! Finally!!! I was talking to that robot at the bar before and do you know what he said?
He said: (In a robotic voice) If you fancy our barmaids, DON’T DRIVE HOME!
Which is a good message… but then he got really boring… He said: (In a robotic voice, again)
Did you ever see those crazy kids at night?
That cycle on the roads without a light!
The way they race along the gutter jumping grids! (Raising my right hand up slowly)
Using the double yellow peril as a track…
They’re a nightmare for a driver psycho kids…
And when they do the downhill… slalom (Do the slalom impression)
Along the broken white…
Even Moss Side drivers have a fright!
So, watch out for crazy psycho cycle kids tonight! GOOD NIGHT! 08122011/1
