Here's a rarity description ( Black Stork) sent to the committee by one Joris Bohnson. It's fair to say that it's a rather unusual document, but I think you will find it "interesting"...... Well ... phwooooar ! What a corker ! Cripes ! More of a Corker- Sort-er-Stork-er, what ? Big ! I'll say ! Corks ! A right whopper... remember that barmaid at Wynthorpe-Jegger's 21st ? No ... nobody else does either. Talk about whoppers !!! Tell you what ... just between you, me and the butler's mum ..... it was a big-un. Legs !! Miles long !! Stonkers !! Looked a bit like that bit of stuff ... used to clean my rooms at Balliol !! Poop-Poop ! Erk ! Hard to keep things in the old trousers sort of thing. Phwooaaaaar. Ding-Ding-A-ling. Details ! Cripes ??!! Yes, you'll be wanting, er, hang on a minute, what was I on about, wait a sec, got it , yes, no probs, details.... yes... not a "details"sort of bloke really, don't need it in my line of work, whatever, er, whatever it is, hang on , it's coming back to me, er, sort of, reminds me of me old mucker Trentby-Stinker, or was it Stinkby-Trenter, well, one of those, or something, he couldn't remember his own bally name, had a bugger of a time getting home after a bit of a binge down at Jollocks, so did I, come to that, never did find those trousers, but hang on, it was black and, er, white, yes, whatever you do, Joris, don't mention Minstrels, seem to think that might get me in a spot of bother somehow or other, yes, black bits, sure of that, and white,er,other bits, legs ... legs .. they deserve a bit of space on the old page, what, did Stinker-Trentby get his trousers back, no bloody idea actually, moving on, beak, big beak, yes, blimey, what a beak, couldn't help thinking about Beaky Bumface at Balliol, he was always in the Beak's office for something or other, usually the other actually as it happens, now what colour was the beak, wait a sec, it's coming, as the barmaid said to ..hang on, better not do that one, bit near the knuckle, nudge-nudge, Poop-Poop, a blind horse knows no secrets, what, Phooo--aaaaahr !! Corks ! ......................................................................................................................................... sorry, sorry,sorry, nodded off a bit there, Moooooo Moooooo, whose party is it, must slip across the bally room and have a word, no no, hang on, beaks.... red. It was red, yes, hold on, jiggers, the legs were red too ... bloody long as well, I'm telling you, no word of a lie, that Brigitte Barcode or whatever she called herself, Wowsy-Trousers, she had legs. Phwooooaaaar! And the rest, hold on, rhymes with rest, no idea actually, mustn't think about them at the minute, we don't want any more Trouser-Trombone-Trouble, anyway, hold on, you'll need to know what it sounded like, sort of old-gaffer noises, grrrrfff, do it myself during the old rumpy- pumpy, blimey, better cross that out, gasping sort of noise, ooo-er missus, clattery noises too, makes me think of poor old Rupert Crust- Heverington that time he fell off the silly billiard table at the Dorkington, lots of clattering there, rolled him outside onto the pavement I reckon, best thing ... not seen him since actually, now, where was I, or, raaaather, where was it, nearly there, woof-woof, oiks, no bloody clue there, hold on, hold on, lakes, I've got 7 or so on the old shaky-pater's grounds you know, which one, that's the thing, got, it, got it, just a minute, er, one of those, you know old chap, the one where bloody Steggers-Stumpington jumped in starkers ...never seen him since either, odd thing, but that's where it was, up to its legs, grrrr, legs, yes, no, er, hang on, can't be er crumbs quite er right, oourrrhhuuuurhhhhhh..................................................................................... pwwwaaaaaaaaaaar... Unfortunately that's all he managed to get down on paper for some reason or other, but it was enough for the BBRC to come to a decision. And now, music ! And it's LOL again ... "Nadie por las calles " ... La luna de repente nos habló:
"Creced menguantes, me gustaría saber Si esta ciudad tiene más luz. ¿Por qué no hacéis por mí, Fotografías por las esquinas de díos? Y así tendréis mi admiración." Y empezó aquel rumbo incierto, Entre oficinas y cemento. Y un japo, muy caro, muy lleno, Tan solo un opencor abierto. Y el mar se nos bebía al sol, Como a una yema tibia, Fue necesario anular, la oscuridad, Con un buen flash. Y la voz, de edgar allan poe, Surgió entre dos contenedores, Dijo estar harto del mal: "Hazme saber, si hay algo más". Nunca he sido un libro abierto, Pero explico buenos cuentos. Si quieres, ahora que hay tiempo, Empiezo a recitar el nuestro. Y si no hubiera nadie por las calles, Nadie por las calles ¡Qué poco importaría¡ Mira que optimista, que me pongo algunas tardes, Si anochece un poco antes y quedan sombras chinas, Solo tuyas, mías, me va bien. Saltaron sin pensar vallas de seguridad. Era el estreno de una secuela de "cats". Oh, qué dirás, qué dirás, Si pienso que estamos de más. Y él contestó: "¿De dónde sale esa luz? ¿O es que no ves esa luz?". Y la luna nos dio el premio. Y la luna nos dio el premio. E hizo un flash para lo nuestro. E hizo un flash para lo nuestro. Debería, sí, debería ser posible, y sí, Debería ser posible, y sí, debería ser posible. Lo demás, tan solo un cuento.
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AuthorThat's the author up there ... I was young and sprightly then. Archives
October 2022
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