Tag Archives: Dialogue

“What has all this to do with Madonna?”

“What has all this to do with Madonna?”

Material: I’m immaterial!

Other Material: I am immortal!

Yet Another Material: Does it Matter?

Material: Of course it matters! Are you anti-matter?

Yet Another Material: No, I’m just asking whether – in the scheme of things – us being bits of cloth, there is any provenance in the ‘I think therefore I am’ theory?

Other Material: I think…

Yet Another Material: Yes…?

Other Material: … that you are just bowing to convention if you consider us any less than any other sentient being on this bluey-green planet.

Material: Guys! Guys! I was just playing with words – don’t let us get all shirty about it!

Yet Another Material: My best friend is a shirt!

Another Material: A T-shirt.

Yet Another Material: That’s as May be – he still has feelings; even though he is an old, afraid, frayed and faded, jaded T-shirt.

Material: Is that your friend with the Madonna slogan printed on his chest?

Yet Another Material: Yes. Although having ‘I’m a Material Girl’ emblazoned there for all and sundry to see has been a trial at times.

Material and Other Material: Poor T-shirt.

Yet Another Material: His name’s Alex.

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A Haiku a Tanka and an Unknown Poetry Form Walk Into A Bar

@atticus

Me: Haikus seem to work.
You: What are you talking about?
Me: Haikus. Poetry.
You: Oh. I prefer Cheerios.
Me: For breakfast? You’re nuts.
You: But this isn’t a haiku.
Me: Well, it’s not now, obviously; but, it started out as one.
You: Then it became a ‘tanka’.
Me: Yes. Thanks to you.
You: And ‘now’?
Me: Who knows?
You: And so we say…
Both: Cheerio!

Ooze Cheese is it Anyway?

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Me: This is ‘Ooze Cheese.’

You: Whose cheese is it?

Me: Yes, that’s right.

You: Sorry. No; whose is it?

Me: Yes.

You: No. What I’m asking is ‘Whose. Cheese. Is. It?.’

Me: And what I was saying was: ‘It’s. Ooze. Cheese!.’

Narrator: And so it went on; neither party comprehending what the other meant; until both inevitably collapsed into a sea of incapability…

… And the Ooze Cheese…

… Slowly oozed away…

… Until…

… It was no more.

Goldfish in a Bowl

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Me: I called my fish Jeckyl and Hyde. They are both the same

You: Then, how can you tell which one is which?

Me: There is only one.

You: Ah! That explains the wire mesh on the top of the bowl.

Me: Exactly.

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A little mathematics may add up to sum such thing

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“That’s just adding insult to injury!”
He had said to me

‘injury + insult = ?’

I thought long and hard
But, couldn’t work out the answer.

I ran after him.

“What did you mean when you said that I was ‘adding insult to injury?’ ” I called out when I was alongside the tall, stately looking man.

He never slowed his pace; but, talking across to me, he answered: “I meant that you not only hurt my pride but you insulted my intelligence.”

“So, it wasn’t a mathematical equation?” I uttered.

He stopped and looked at me. “You’re weird!” He stated. Then turned his back upon me once more. He strode off without a backwards glance (again).

I let him go.

“I’m weird.”

I mulled this over.

“He could have something there.”

I thought further.

‘injury + insult = weirdness!’

“No. That makes little sense. He was just winding me up.”

I walked off, mumbling to myself.

“insult… injury… weird… injury… insult… ”

People watched the young man curiously as he wended his weird way up the street.

Such is life.

“It’s a Saturday (Revisited)

"It should read 'I ❤️ Satirdays' "

“It should read ‘I ❤️ Saturdays’ “

It’s a Saturday – Graeme Sandford
Me: It’s a Saturday.

Vox 1: Nothing special there.

Me: I hear you say

Vox 2: One in seven.

Vox 1: Just over fourteen percent!

Me:
But, in every week
There is a day
Unlike any other
In many a way.

Vox 1: Same length.

Vox 2: A day to avoid the shops.

Me:
Give me strength
As my enthusiasm drops
It’s a Saturday
Would you rather it was a Monday?
Now, ‘that’s’ a fun day!

Yorkshire 1: Nowt wrong with Mondays.

Yorkshire 2: I like a good Monday.

Yorkshire 1: Nose back to the grindstone.

Yorkshire 2: Saturday’s Butter no Parsnips!

Me:
As I afeared
You voices are just weird
It’s a Saturday!
An ‘it doesn’t really matter
If I stop for a natter’ day;
One half of the weekend
And on a Saturday
You can depend
That it will rain
Which is a pain
And there will be traffic queues
That ‘will’ give us the
Saturday blues.

Vox 1: I like Thursdays.

Vox 2: Yes, you can’t beat a thrifty Thursday.

Vox 1: Wednesdays are alright, too; they’re not Thursdays, but they’re okay.

Vox 2: In a Wednesday sort of way.

Me:
I’ll let you lot carry on…
Or Saturday will soon be gone

Yorkshire 1: Oh, good; then we can have a Sunday.

Yorkshire 2: Ooh, Sunday’s are nice.

Yorkshire 1: I’d exchange a Saturday for a Sunday, any day.

Yorkshire 2: Two Sundays. There’s a thing.
I love to hear the church bells ring.

Me:
As I was saying…
It’s a Saturday…

©GraemeSandford2015

Gissa Job!

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Timothy Idman: But, why can’t a man do it?”

Malcolm Powder: It’s woman’s work.

Tim: Really? Why?

Malc: It’s traditional.

Tim: I want to do it. Why can’t I?

Malc: There’d be riots. Civilisations would fall. There are no vacancies, anyway.

Tim: Can I put my name on a list.

Malc: You can.

Tim: Would it help?

Malc: Wouldn’t think so.

Tim: Couldn’t I advertise in the dailies and work privately.

Malc: As I said: it’s traditional. Women for centuries have done it and men just let them get on with it.

Tim: Well, I am ‘new’ man. I think that I can do this job as well as any woman. I shall write an advert straight away.

Malc: Good luck to you, son.

Tim; I don’t need luck; I have grit and determination.

Malc: Grit’s useful… If there’s ice.

Tim: Ha! Ha! One day. One day!

Tim left the Careers Office and headed to a local hostelry to write his advertisement.

Firmly ensconced in a cosy snug with a cup of warm chocolate, Tim began to write his advert. After much crossing out and tweaking he sat back and read out his finished ad:

“I am a man in a ‘woman’s world.
I am seeking employment as a…”