Jane and the musical force that is Ryan Davies.

“Friday’s Tanka here!

I’d just like to say something,

if that is okay?

I am so pleased to announce

that my existence is true.”

There’s a Bee in House!

I don’t know about having an Elephant in the Room (there isn’t one, I’ve looked) but, there was certainly a big 🐝 in the room – no, a real one! He was buzzing a rendition of an old Nickolai Rimsky-Korsakov tune, and very loudly.

I soon trapped him humanely in a handy milk bottle, and he was thus returned to the outdoor area from whence he had probably come.

All has now returned to normal – or as normal as can 🐝.

G:)

The good behaviour of the saviour

was recently called into doubt;

he was seen running about

claiming the benefits

of Mock-Turtle Soup –

the local paper thought they had a scoop.

He had also been observed

selling door to door

poor quality dishcloths and towels;

supposedly

being for the benefit

of fore-shortened foxes and small orphaned owls.

Howls of abuse

were heard in the area –

his supposed misdemeanours

more newsworthy than malaria –

and so a petition was started by one.

Posters were posted

about the host who now hosted

such scandalous thoughts in his head.

A target group were targeted

for their opinions

and, then,

when their opinions didn’t fit,

they were targeted about it once again.

But, the sales of dishcloths and towels

lacked success for foxes and owls – no one washed-up anymore – and he tried to sell to his flock –

which meek people were too poor or unwell,

to be able to afford of his stock.

So he went back to teaching

History to the young;

the Ark, Moses, Beeching;

the sad songs that Solomon had sung;

and when his days as a teacher were done,

he retired off to France

to play bingo and dance

and dwell in a villa in the sun.

“Se-ver-al Ci-vil Ser-vice sil-ver sal-vers!” she said, slowly, salaciously, seditiously.

“Several!” said Sir Cyril Sissington-Smythe, severely.

“Sì, Signore Cy-ril!” Sonia Sanchez-Sans-Sevilla, Sir Cyril’s Spanish Secretary, asserted seductively. “Se-ver-al.”

Sir Cecil sighed – it was going to be another of those exasperating Esperanto Wednesdays.