Monthly Archives: September 2017

S-o-C @ 00:50 a.m.

S-o-C @ 00:50 a.m.

“The cool air from the open window

Is a balm, Timmy”
It should have said ‘to me’ but, when auto-correct hits you…
It was only an hour or two ago when I sang 

“That’s the way u-huh, u-huh, to do it!” In the style of Mr. Punch of Punch & Judy infamy.
I have noted that down and may use it for a future sketch, or song, or part of a dialogue (possibly in a P&J scenario). 

It is one of the ways that things happen to my thought-processes.
Creativity is a strange thing.
I get prompts and ideas from the strangest of places and images that just create links and mismatches that often amaze even me.
The weirdness of some of the ideas and how they get to me is not always apparent; but,

I consider it a gift that I have.
It’s not always gonna be a real rib-tickler of an idea to everybody; but for me… a gem is the thing that makes you smile, giggle, chortle (a word not used enough these days) or have a good old belly-laugh.
It’s okay to put ‘ROTFL’ ‘LOL’ or the like; but, who actually rolls on the floor laughing – or laughs until their donkey/horse cross drops off?
Anyway, it’s been fun sharing my thoughts with you – take care and mind your mule-type thing doesn’t part company with you any time soon.


Ode To A Night In Jail

Stolen from Daily Ructions site.

Ode to a Night in Jail
Oh, dear

What am I doing here?

What have I done

To cause my imprisonment?

Was I a victim of police harassment?

Or do I deserve

The time I shall serve,

Be it one night or more;

I seem to have broken the law.
Oh, me…

Oh, my…

Upon this hard bed I lie

Upon the hard book  will I lie

Or should I just tell the truth

And take my punishment

Like a man?

I know I can.

I think.

Endure this night

In the clink.

Oh, what will my mother say?

For my soul will she pray;

And I hate to think what my father will do;

He will probably criticise me

From Cardiff to Crewe;

Or further if I know him at all,

Perhaps from Cardiff to Nepal.
Oh, well, I must make the best of things


“Dirty screws,

Dirty screws,

There’s one of me

And lots of youse!”
NB And that  song didn’t help his cause one little bit.


Photo courtesy of TripAdvisor

The Vale of Avalon
The Tor
The Abbey
The resting place d’Arthur?
Et Guinevere?
A visiting place for JC,
And his uncle J of A?
How true these things are
Is not for me to say.
Sadly, Henry VIII caused the abbey to fall
And the place nowadays
Is mostly associated with the music festival.

Elle Devait Partir (une chanson)

Getty images

(Sung slowly and sadly in a French accent)

One day

She left Paris

And went to Marseille;

She couldn’t stay,

She just had to get away.
The times were tough

To move was rough

But rougher still,

If she’d had to stay.
In June ’40

Elle devait partir

À Marseille

Upon a day.

NB this came to me whilst watching ‘Who Do You Think You Are’ the episode with Jane Asher seeking information about her ancestors.

boBob and boBeep may be going to the Moon.

Taken from Pinterest (boBob to the left and boBeep to the right)

boBeep: Hello, boBob!

boBob: Hello, boBeep!

boBeep: Where are you going to in such a hurry?

boBob: I am going to the Moon!

boBeep: The Moon?

boBob: Yes, The Moon!

boBeep: How are you getting to the Moon?

boBob: I’ve got a ticket!

boBeep: A ticket?

boBob: Yes! A ticket to the Moon.

boBeep: Oh… I’d like a ticket to the Moon.

boBob: I’ve got a spare one.

boBeep: A spare one? A spare ticket to the Moon?

boBob: Yes. I had a voucher for a BOGOF offer.

boBeep: A ‘BOGOF’ offer? For a ticket to the Moon?

boBob: Yes. I bought one ticket for the Moon, and they gave me another ticket for the Moon free.

boBeep: Free? A free ticket for the Moon?

BoBob: Well, I had to buy the first ticket, so not really ‘free’.

boBeep: Oh. How much was ‘your’ ticket?

boBob: My ticket was free.

boBeep: So, my ticket would have been at the same price?

boBob; You wish.
NB any similarities between Eccles and Bluebottle are purely of my own  fault. G:)

Coffee-Time Amusings #3

Coffee-Time Amusings #3
I’m just drinking my coffee…
Drying off.

Warning from the inside

Considering the lilies

(Well, I only started thinking about lilies when my ‘S-o-C’ kicked in)

I wrote a duologue once

That involved Gilbert and Sullivan considering the lilies (Langtry and Marlene) I shall have to dust that off and see how it sounds now.
Anyway, coffee warms the soul; kickstarts the brain (allegedly); and tastes like Nectar

Or Ambrosia

Or any one of the other syrups you can get these days.
Sips are being imbibed (‘imbibed’ is my word of the day’) by me

As I write;

But, probably ‘not’

As you read

What coffee do you prefer?
How and when (possibly why?) do you drink yours?

Whilst Out Walking on a Rainy Thursday Morning #1

Courtesy of

“Ramp-up the damp!

Pump up the volumetric barrier!

Swing the sweet chariot low!”
Do all these and more

And help to ensure

That logic is turned on it’s head;
I said: 
“Ramp-up the damp,

Pump up the volumetric pressure,

Swing the sweet chariot low!

Ramp-up the damp (ramp-up the damp)

Pump up the volumetric pressure (what he said)
And swing (swing) that sweet chariot (coming for to take me)

All (holding the last note): Home… 

NB I wrote this and was singing it whilst out walking this morning – I wonder if that’s how the great composers created their masterpieces.  G:)