Monday, 13 January 2014

A Greek Tale of Gandhi and the Men with Guns

It is Monday today and although I started to write a diary entry for yesterday it did not make it to cyberspace, well things like this happen to the best of us. Today started as a lovely sunny day but by about three in the afternoon it was like yesterday so it makes some sense to blend the two days together . . . .  Anyway to save me a little work I will sneak in what I wrote yesterday in a sort of seamless join of text so that it will be impossible too tell where one day starts and one day ends.

Its Sunday again Phew . . . . . They seem to turn up rather quickly these days, and in a traditional, going back to the point Sunday was first called Sunday it was damp, grey, cold and generally not all that great outside.  It has now gone dark too, so all in all as classic a Sunday as one could ever get in Britain in the winter.  However all is not as gloomy as it could be because Gandhi was out on the drive eating most of the day, and because the local shoot have been out shooting at Gandhi and his mates in the last few days we thought he must have been a goner, but NO.

Ok yes I have used an old drawing tonight but I am rather limited for time

I guess two things may cross your mind here, the first being I thought Gandhi was dead, has dad been doing his Frankincense (sorry that was yesterday),I mean Frankenstein experiment again. Well no he has not, not after the rumours that he had created a Zombie Mrs Thatcher I don’t think he could cope with all the stone throwing again by the Godzilla Appreciation Society who as we know are a bit left wing.

The second thing that may come into your mind if you were unaware that Gandhi had died being  . . . . WHAT? who the hell is going to shoot at Gandhi (OK us Brits did a bit once), but you see Gandhi is in fact our friendly pet Pheasant and round these parts of the rural community folk make loads of money by letting city folk shout (sorry shoot or both) all the pheasants. They are stupid birds and because they are farm reared birds sort of see humans as friendly folk that give them food, rather than a nasty bunch with guns intend on using them as target practice.  Ironically they thought much the same in India when the Brits turned up there first.

OK back to Monday, I have seen Gandhi again today he appears to have two young female admirers, I just hope this does not distract him from his bid to avoid the men with guns who were still shooting everything today, It is turning into a classic tale of the Greek Gods, our young hero using his wit and guile to avoid the giant monsters with guns who have sent two young females to lure our unsuspecting hero onto the rocks, or as they would say within range of the guns.  

OK that’s it I must go now I just hope you can untangle the two days which have been cunningly entwined in a complicated story of subterfuge (I don’t think that is like Fudge, much?) and international scandal . . . .

Oooooo I will be drumming later . . . . . (that’s Monday Evening)

One further thing if there is anyone out there thinking. . .  WHO IS GANHDI, well  he is the chap who made My Hat . . . . . . .HA HAH HAH HA HAH ha hah ah ah ha hah ah ah ha h ha ha ha hah ah ah ah ah ha hah ahah ah hahahahah ha ha hahah hah aha ha ha ha ha…..

1 comment:

  1. Wait, a zombie Mrs Thatcher? If someone caves her head in, we can have street parties again!