Saturday, 31 October 2015

An upbeat tale for Halloween . . . . .

Once upon a time in the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska there was a strange little old lady called Cropella Clipclop who without fail every Halloween would head off as darkness fell to go trick or treating.  Well in most parts of the world this would seem rather normal but not in the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska. You see the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska was run by a single and incredibly wealth family called the Hozzam-Blushfolds who as we all know are the owners of the famous Blushfold International Folding Company. 

Well we all need things to have folds in them or have things that need folding from Christmas cards to car components and as you might expect this has made the Hozzam-Blushfolds rich beyond the dreams of the average man.  However they were not a cheery bunch and banned Halloween many many many years ago and nobody dared to go Trick or Treating. . . . . . . With one exception, a strange little old lady called Cropella Clipclop who every year without fail would go to every house in the kingdom and shout . . . Trick or Treat. . .  No one knew how she managed to get to every home, but she did and everyone would give her a small treat.

It was all very odd because although the Hozzam-Blushfolds had tried many times to stop her she always managed to go out and visit everyone and she always said to them all . . . . I’m ninety five you know. . . . Although some thought she must be older as she had visited some houses for over eighty years saying the same thing.  And she always finished the night at the Hozzam-Blushfolds huge mansion where they would reluctantly give her the small treat she expected.

You see another rather odd thing about  Cropella Clipclop was no one ever asked her to do a trick, no one knew why but they knew that it was something you just did not do. . . it was one of those little mysteries of life that folk except.  And it was even odder really, because her hat and wand were cheap ones she had got from Woolworths years ago, so she was hardly that scary.

Then one year she said . . . I’m ninety five you know. I have decided that this will be my last year going out trick or treating. . . . Well that was a shock to everyone, but they gave her a small treat as they had always done but were very sad. Then as always she arrived at the Hozzam-Blushfolds huge mansion last, and said . . I’m ninety five you know. I have decided that this will be my last year going out trick or treating . . . .  Well they were very pleased because it was Cropella Clipclop’s last ever visit, but the now very elderly Arch Duke Hozzam-Blushfold VIII sniggered and said. . .  OK . .  TRICK THEN . . . .  (OOoooooo well that was a big mistake).  Cropella Clipclop replying . . .  I thought you would never ask. . . .  Raising her plastic wand from Woolworth's and . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Well no one for sure knows what happened that night but in the morning the entire Hozzam-Blushfold family fled the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska never to be seen again and left a message to say that the good folk of BartaBiska could now go out every Halloween. They even made sure that each Halloween their now deserted huge mansion was turned into a theme park for all the people of the nation to have a big party and lots of fun, which they did.

As for Cropella Clipclop, true to her word she never went out trick or treating ever again although she did have lots of visitors every Halloween, until one year Cropella Clipclop and her large Black Cat called Broomstick vanished. No one knows where they went, although it is said a large black cat is seen smiling in the shadows sometimes on Halloween.

And so with that I wish you all a Happy Christmas . . . (sorry Halloween) . . . It’s the shops I’m confused.    

Friday, 30 October 2015

The Eve of Halloween, Fairy cakes (cupcakes) and Poetry

Well today is the Eve of Halloween and at our rather friendly and incredibly good local village Market, a market that as I have said before is in reality far better than anyone would expect from a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, but the fickleness of life resulted in our villages good fortune. OK back to the point at the market I bought three rather good looking Halloween cupcakes, one for me and one for two small children. They are in short term foster care with a member of our family as Mum is not too well and although I am not known for my friendly smile towards small children (OK the oldest is eleven) they are actually OK considering they have had a tough time.  I even let them decide which cake they wanted when they visited this afternoon. And even smiled when the youngest one ate the green cake which was MY CAKE so I was very good and only threatened to throw them in the pond a bit afterwards. 

To add to the events of the day I am off to the local Vineyard tonight to look at some craft stuff as someone we know is running craft workshops. I do not intend to do any of the craft workshops myself as I am fairly versatile in my abilities and can do many many many things very badly. I will not be drinking wine either as I do not drink alcohol so they will shake their heads at me again as make TUT noises as I try and get a mug of cocoa, I may have to make do with Elderflower sparkly stuff.

OK I have one of my newer Halloween traditions to add now which is the Old and rather unpopular Eve of Halloween Poem which first appeared in 2013 (Oooooo time does Fly). I must admit I am no fan of Halloween as such but it is a great theme for us bloggers to get our very pointy teeth into. I will be answering the door tomorrow as I am expecting the arrival of a young Russian doing her first Trick or Treat event ever, so I have promised to be good AGAIN.. . . . . And I have Written an all new Halloween Story for tomorrow nights post. . . DEAD EXCITING or what (that is not what its called by the way)

OK poetry Now . . . . . . .       

It is the eve of Halloween
When scary monsters will be seen
And banshees scream into the night
To give small children a scary fright

And slimy clammy hands appear
Clutching bats and ginger beer
While gnawing red eyed rats attack
Eating the flesh from off your back

So tomorrow night on Halloween
When scary monsters will be seen
It’s best not to answer your front door
Better to read the diary of………

Thursday, 29 October 2015

House Signs, Halloween and untold tales that have not been told.

Yesterday was quite busy which led to the repeat of an old poem. Today has been fairly chilled which means that really I should not repeat an old poem or post but I might just repeat one of the old Halloween stories, because that will save me loads of extra work.  Sometimes towards the end of a lazy-ish day the last thing you fancy doing it writing clever stuff or leaping about, not that I leap about while I write my blog that would be stupid on many counts. One of which is my old PC can not leap, it is too old and Knackered and another of which is I am too old and Knackered, you see I and my PC are in harmony we are as one.

One small Job I did get done today was to finally finish the new House sign, remember I did say that DIY works on an exponential time curve so that last tiny bit has taken a while. I still have a wedding present to finish and there are tiny bits of painting to do in the kitchen.

There was a village hall meeting in our kitchen last night and folk nodded approvingly and said things like Oooooooo that’s very shiny red and stuff like that so it means folk seen to like it. It is good if folk like what you have done, there is nothing worse than then going O MY GOD have you been burgled or make comments like O dear who chose that colour still it matches that decomposing mouse the cat mauled that is rotting in the corner. . . 

I now need to fix our new house sign to the big post at the end of the drive securely so I may need to phone the very friendly builder to see if he will lend me his cordless drill as my drill has a cord and the end of the drive is a long way off. That sounds dead posh but it is not, we just have a very long drive. Mmmm that might still sound a bit decadent, but the keeper of the gate is allowed to wear informal clothes these days.

Right OK I will go and find a good Halloween post to repeat now. . . What about the one where the large man eating rabbit peers through the window of a mad android scarecrow that is making soup out of kittens and . . . . NO you are right that was not entirely kitten friendly

Well what about the confused Aliens who arrive on the night of Halloween and spent a lot of time trying to communicate with small children dresses as Zombies . . . OK yes it was silly

OK the eyeball lost in the Lollipop factory . . . . . Right I sense I am not doing well

The sea monster that ate fish fingers

OK that’s it I appear to have run out of words, I may ramble a lot, have you noticed I ramble a lot. I can imagine some professional publisher going why is he rambling, this is rubbish this is not how to write. . . .well YA SUCKS BOO is my response to tha,t no wonder books have a certain sort of uniformity to them with there covers and pages full of words and page numbers that increase in a rational logical fashion one after the other.

DAMN I may have got a bit distracted, did I say I finished painting the new house sign today. . . . .   AH DAMN again I did.

Wednesday, 28 October 2015

Double, double toil and trouble and Harry Potter and Crushed Velvet Sofa's

Last year on the run up to Halloween I did a quick re-write of a certain Shakespeare poem or was it Wordsworth or Jackson Pollock, and this was it. Now you might be thinking he is repeating stuff again (thats me not Jackson Pollock) but sadly today events have made it impossible to do anything else. Now I could just think sod it and not bother, but I am not that sort of chap so I am repeating stuff instead which is probably worse. It is a bit of culture though even if it is a bit like sticking a safety pin through the nose of the Mona Lisa painted, incidental between 1503 and 1517 by my old mate Leonardo who got a bit infatuated with the woman who worked at the local Spar shop and sold him Sherbet flying Saucers which in turn made him come up with his mad idea for a flying machine . . . . . Ooooooooo he was a bit of a one that Leonardo, it is probably best if we dont mention his drawings of body parts and his choice of soft furnishing for his own Drawing Room, I mean Pink and light Orange with grey crushed velvet . . . .    

AH I appear to have got a bit distracted OK back to that (repeated) Poem        

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In Hogwarts caldron boil and bake;
Eye of Potter, and toe of frog,
Wizard’s hat, and tongue of dog,
Ron Weasley’s hair, and blind-worm's sting,
A wizards leg, and owlet's wing,—
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
"Mad-Eye" Moody’s hat; tooth of wolf;
Witches' mummy; maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark;
Boot of Malfoy digg'd i the dark;
Liver of Mister Sirius Black;
Gall of goat, and horns of yak
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Miss Grangers lips;
Finger of Albus Percival Brian Dumbledore
deliver'd by post, from the Argos Store
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
For the ingrediants of Hogworts caldron.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Cool it with Harry Potter’s blood,
Then the charm is firm and as much use as mud. 

HAH AH HA HAHah ha hahah ha ha h ha h hah hah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah hah ah ahah aha hahahahha ha ha hah ah  HAH AHAH AHAHAH AH AHAHAH HA HA HA AH AH AHA HA HA H AHA HA H AH AA  

Tuesday, 27 October 2015

Poetry for Vikings

Great Great Great Great Granny
Was a Viking
And so was Granddad Joe
And Uncle (Blood Axe) Quinton
Who would wave his Axe at folk
Out in the wild winter snow
And Mad Billy Broadsword
And Strange Little Auntie Swen
Who would do her Viking war dance?
At any passing men
And Nanny Blodwyn Ice-Pick
And Wild Willy Fiord
And Boris the Nod
Who was a bit odd
And his wife Granny Ken  
And so was Auntie Nelly
And Great Granddad Ben
And Milly the Mad
And Jim the Bad
And his sheep which he kept in a Pen
Which is Why?
Rather reassuringly  
They have all said . . . (with much confidence and nodding)
As a Viking
I have large majestic horns

Growing out of the top of my Head.

Still it means I'm popular at Halloween

Ooooo I just thought of this and rather liked it. Well that's the way brains work. . . Odd little things that they are

The Minister of Sinister
Goes out at #Halloween
And waves things at passing Folk
Such as a Mummified Octopus
And a Rat made from Plasticine.

Monday, 26 October 2015

Poetry for an Infinite Number of Monkeys, Halloween and Evolution. . . (A world first) ...

One day I found myself looking up
At an infinite number of Monkeys in a tree
And an infinite number of Monkeys
Stared indignantly . . . . . 
Just looking back down at me
They said they were not happy
And they shouted in my ear
That it was them that wrote
The collected works
Of that bloke we call Shakespeare
And they had planned to write
The concise pocket edition of Aristotle
And maybe Homer’s Odyssey
But they then decided to all go on Strike
Because they were still waiting
For their large Shakespearean fee
So confused I shouted
Trick or Treat, as it is nearly Halloween
But the Monkeys just sneered
And said as a relative
I was the worst they had ever Seen
And I tried to point out to them
That I was higher in the Evolutionary Process
Which was plainly clear to see?
But they very kindly pointed out
I was on the ground . . . looking up
And they were looking down
From up in the Tree

While in a pond near by
A single celled critter
Sung a Song
All about Halloween and Evolution
And how he thought
Both had gone


Sunday, 25 October 2015

A Day in the Life of a Blogger and other events

Yes this is a snowman and a vampire drawn by a small child
The Vampire is the one with the ears
And they both look a bit evil to me

This is my drawing of Thomas the Tank Engine
I was told it is rubbish by a Small Child
I think the addition of the Owl and the Pussy Cat
Confused the Small Child

I have had a busy day that involved my attempt at making a gate for outside, I say attempt because it is a bit rustic, but looks OK and it will do the job required of it. Which is to stop the winter wind sneaking round the corner of the house at the back and laughing at me. It has done this for a couple of year now and I have threatened it with retribution at least once, but all it does is howl a bit and carry on. So that is that, it has had its last chance, mind you I did not get to put the new rustic gate on its hinges as we had visitors one of whom was a small enthusiastic and noisy child.  I am not that good with small children with their leaping about having a good time and it is much worse when the little critters like you, which makes it much harder to scare them.

To try and keep this small enthusiastic child quiet the pair of us did a bit of drawing. Now I don’t know how many of you have experience of drawing with small enthusiastic children but they are to put it bluntly not easy to keep focused on what they are drawing. We started with Thomas the Tank Engine, well he told me it was Thomas but it looked a bit like a demented mad axe murdering train to me. And I know it has been a while since I have seen Thomas (I prefer Ivor the Engine it is a million times better) but one thing I know is it does not have 14 pairs of wheels. I tried to help by drawing the Fat Controller. . . .I suspect he is not called that now. . .  but my controller was actually rather thin and looked like a priest out of some old western with a parrot on his shoulder. The small person then drew the fat controller but it looked a bit like Edward Scissorhands to me but very very thin and sort of tree shaped. . . .  Small people are (not to beat about the bush as the saying goes) total rubbish at drawing and trying to explain the principles of perspective is like trying to teach an Earthworm to climb a ladder.

The Small child soon got bored and decided it was time to leave and head off for his Sunday roast while I now slightly the worse for wear headed out into the cold wind that was still laughing at me even though it could see what I was planning to do. I then managed to hit my thumb with a hammer which was a bit sore, so I shouted at the wind a lot and waved my hammer at it in defiance. Starting a small stampede among a passing group of elderly walkers I had not spotted until then who thought I was mad. And a man on a bicycle fell into the hedge thinking I was the God Thor arriving to attack him, apparently he said he has been expecting it to happen for some time. I tried to tell him I was not Thor but it is tricky when you are holding a large hammer in the air and shouting so in the end I agreed and said he was now free to cycle in peace. . . .sort of. 

Some days never quite go to plan  

Saturday, 24 October 2015

More Halloween Poetry (or Part Two as it is technically known in the trade)

What does a Parrok Eat
On the night of Halloween
Small children covered in Chocolate
Although some say that’s rather Mean
And a deep fried battered Vicar
Caught by a fisherman
In the wild Batter-SeaS
Which is will eat with great enthusiasm
With a big pile of Mushy Peas
And when it has had enough
It will head out to have some fun
And will Promptly be very sick
On some poor unsuspecting passing Nun
Which is why many religious folk
Do not like the Night of Halloween
Because they find they might get eaten
Or end up messy 
Rather than clean

So if pass a Parrok
And it is pondering what to Eat
Just make sure you are not dressed
 As a Nun or a Vicar
Or you will become its next

Trick or Treat

Ron Weasley likes Halloween
He really is a One
Running up and down in the dark
Frightening little old ladies
Just for Fun

Friday, 23 October 2015

Halloween Poetry Part One . . . . . .

Yes it is not long until Halloween and so I feel it is time to write some Halloween Poetry, which the ordinary chap in the street such as myself can relate too, and go AH YES that makes the point very well indeed that is exactly what I was thinking. Anyway here is my first proper Halloween Poem of 2015 and I can say with some certainty it is exactly what I was thinking which must be a good sign.


Halloween and there is a gentle knocking on my door

Small children in black bin liners I spy there

So I might give them a small surprise

And leap at them dressed

As a Vampire Grizzly Bear

And steal their sweets and growl at them.

And maybe howl loudly at the moon

I suspect they might then all runaway

With no plans to come back soon

Then I might scratch at my neighbour’s windows

Snarl and show my pointy teeth

And chase his cat up a tree

As he watches in puzzlement and fearful disbelief

And if he calls the police (as he did last year) I’ll then chase them too

And shout Trick or Treat or maybe even threaten demonic death . . . . .

But then I guess they will in the end finally catch me

Once I totally run out of Breath

And take me off to jail . . .  (Again)

And give me chocolate coins and some ice cold BEER

Letting me out the following morning

With a caution and warning me

Not to do it again


But I will

HAHH AHHA hah ah a ha ha ha hah ah ah ah ah ahha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haah hhahahahhaahhhahahh ha hahahaha hahahahahahah aha hah ha 

Wednesday, 21 October 2015

The Exponential Time Curve of DIY, Lists & Zombies

So what did I do today well not a lot I did manage to clean up the last window in the Kitchen, which has been lingering about as a job to do for some time now.  I have over time come to realize that working on the house you actually live in has its own issues that need to be taken into account.  One of the more important of these is the completion of the task, OK it sounds dead easy, but it is not. You see you start off all keen and enthusiastic and the job skips along like a kangaroo chasing a porcupine on a skateboard, but the nearer you get to completion the slower you work. Eventually you will come to a grinding halt although it can be difficult to judge at what point this will happen; with luck it will be with something tiny left to do that folk will not notice. 

Now some of you will be thinking OOOOoooooo no I would never do that, but anyone who does any DIY on their own home, which here in Britain is loads of folk will know this is a universal truth.  I am sure that there is a wise old Chinese saying from back in time that says something like. . . . . No man should ever completely finish working on his own home if he wishes to remain happy. . .  It is a wise if sexist saying, but back then old Chinese sayings could be a bit like that, lets face it political correctness is not something history is abundant in.

However in respect to completing the work in the kitchen this was the last awkward little job to get done and it is all chilled from now on with only a few tiny wafer thin bits left to do which based on the Exponential Time Curve of DIY (that’s Do It Yourself if this is a term not used outside of Britain).  So in a mere 15 years it will all be done. However there are loads of other jobs to do I have a list which was given to myself and our friendly builder Chris. Although Chris the friendly builder was given his own list by his wife so he is a bit busy at present, well up to the point he has almost finished then he will be back. We have a project to start in the garden building a Welsh Chapel lookalike Summerhouse and bolthole to escape from passing Zombies.   Zombies avoid Welsh Chapels because they will say. . . It is full of Hymn. . . . . HA HAH ahah ah ah a ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hah ah a hah  

Talking of which I still have to write my all new Halloween tale of an old witch from a strange Kingdom where celebrating Halloween was banned until one year when . . . . . . OK that is enough of a hint for now. . . . . Exciting isn’t it . . . AH DAMN

And a bit of Poetry to keep you happy

The strange world of twitter
Is full of bits of litter

Jumbled words in a few short lines
From the jumbled heads of jumbled minds

Where has the Tarra-gone
It’s been missing for some Thyme
It ran off to Coriander
Having heard the Garlic had been crushed
And the Chives all chopped up Fine. 

Tuesday, 20 October 2015

House Insurance, Floods and Huge Secret Pipes Underground

When we moved to our humble little house, OK it is not that small once you get in it, in fact it is about two and a half times bigger that it appears on the outside but this is all a distraction from the point of this post. You see when we moved here about four years ago our old house insurance company said . . . . OOOOO that post code is a low risk flood area so we cant INSURE your house, but here is the name of one that will . . . . Well it was a bit of a worry, but the new company insured it OK at almost the same price provided we had a £7000 flood excess. Well I looked and scratched my head trying to work out how the house could flood which seemed rather unlikely, but we got insurance cover and all has been well until the start of this month when the insurance company wrote to us and said. . . . OOOOOOOO look we need to increase your premium a bit because you are now in a high risk flood area . . . . . What I thought . . . .  how did that happen.

Well they wanted to increase the premium by more that twice, which to my mind was madness. I mean I have never worked out exactly how a house where all the fields to one side of it are between 10 and 50 feet lower and head gently downhill for several miles and there is no high ground above us, is actually going to flood.

So I thought OK I will research this and checked the Governments Environmental Agency website flood maps and had a good chat with all the old locals, who remember the old days of biblical flooding and plagues of frogs and the like. And when I did this I discovered that rather that being a low risk flood area we are in fact a no risk flood area.  So I have been complaining to the insurance company about it a bit , but a man said . . . Oooo but the thing is your house sits on the ground and so water might seep into it from below, or there might be a huge water pipe below it that no one knows about. . . .  NO I am not joking he said that.

In fact it appears that insurance companies now fear flooding a great deal, probably due to some of the big floods that have happened in recent years in areas where there is a flood risk. Not in a small village on a hill where there is no flood risk unless most of Britain has vanished under water. So I have removed the flood insurance from our house, because it CAN NOT flood and have saved over £600 by doing it. OK if the washing machine decides to go . . . OOOOO I don’t feel well . . . BLAAaaaaiiiirrr and is sick all over the utility room it appears I am still covered. But I am not covered if the secret huge water pipe hidden under the village that no one knows about decided to burst and all the water seeps up though the floor.   Had my house not been attached to the ground then everything would have been fine. . . . I think not, I like my house attached to the ground to me that seems safer.

One small but very ironic point is the main office of the insurance company according to the Environmental Agency is in one of the highest risk areas in Britain for flooding, next to the River Thames. Although I am told they are not worried about it as they have a huge secret pipe leading the water away, where it will be dumped in a small unsuspecting village in the middle of nowhere.

I also went to IKEA today but that is another story.

Link to Environmental Agency Flood Map       

Monday, 19 October 2015

Listening to Wooden Poles and Phoning Home (sort of)

Just in case anyone is wondering why there is a picture of a Zombie
AH I DONT KNOW . . . I sort of drew a Zombie
Sorry about that

Well today I did a bit of painting making the new House Sign look posh, although it looked rather posh anyway so I am making it a bit posher.  It did involve having to go out and buy some paint as the paints I had lurking about in the garage were not only rather old but were not the right colours.  The trip was uneventful except for one small thing that left me pondering, so I thought I know that is a good little curiosity of a thing to mention on my blog.  I think I can not be the only person who thinks Ooooooooo Phew that will make my blog more interesting, when they see something slightly odd.

So I can hear you type do tell us of this curious thing which you have told is curious but then gibber about for ages before getting to the point. So I will get to the point it was a man listening to a pole . . . . Exactly what is all that about. To give you slightly more detail in was a man in a orange day glow jacket using some sort of stick looking listening device, listening to a wooden telegraph pole or maybe it was power, I cant remember now but the poles are about the same size.  Now I have seen folk listening to the ground with purpose made listening sticks it is a common way to hear water leaks underground, but poles with overhead cables. Maybe it some sort of new magic trick being used by those folk at GCHQ who are listening to wooden poles and they can hear every word we say type or even think. I mean its magic so who can tell. But it was a first for me I might at some point Google it and see if it has a rational reason behind it, the only one I could think of and which is sadly very very boring (no pun intended) is they might be listening for Death-Watch Beetle. Those little critters love a piece of wood and I have a feeling it is about this time of year they start all that clicking to their mates.

I know that was far too rational for this blog and therefore I have dismissed that idea as total lunacy. I suspect the truth will turn out to be an Alien trying to Phone home. Aliens have been convinced they can phone home ever since that Steven Spielberg put the thought in their minds. And we all know that it is a futile thing to do; and listening to the post is just going to make you a laughing stock once I put the video on YouTube, so all his mates back on Pluto can see it.     

Sunday, 18 October 2015

An Apology to J K Rowling, A Seagull and no Poetry

Well I have been on Twitter defending my old mate J K Rowling, OK when I say old that is a bit unfair as she is younger than I am, and I am the Slightly Eccentric Child of Cyberspace, so Miss Rowling is well young I guess.  And I say mate well that is not entirely true as I think secretly she is not a great fan of my poetry and thinks of me as one of the Vogons now, and sort of looks the other way going OOOOOOOoooo look a seagull. To tell the truth it is an understandable thing to do as a celeb.  Celebs tend to get followed by all sorts of nutters, I would like to make it clear I am not a nutter. . . . OK a bit mad but actually rather normal even if when I tell my family I'm normal they all laugh and fall about pointing.

Still the point is while doing my bit to defend her (like one of those knights from the old days) because she lives in Scotland and went to the Rugby match where she had a posh seat in a good spot which then upset someone who is a pro-independence supporter. I sort of have run out of time to write stuff so am repeating my own Yes campaign post.

I really cant understand how having a go at J K Rowing helps those who would like to see Scotland become independent. If anything it makes us look like a wild bunch of marauding mad men who are out of control running about in kilts and shouting at anyone who passes . . . . . . . . AH OK   . . . . DAMN

Anyway Sorry about a few of My fellow Scotsmen Miss Rowling 

And here is my old Post showing why Scotland should be Independent

It is rather interesting that in the great debate on Scottish independence, to date no one has asked me my opinion on the Scottish referendum debate. Some of you will be thinking why should Rob Z Tobor get involved in the first place, what can some mad bloke living on the English Welsh border add to the debate that has not been discussed so far.

Well you see as my loyal, slightly quirky, but rather intelligent regular followers will know I often look at things in a slightly different way to the masses and so can help persuade a few people to consider how they finally vote when we get to crunch time on the 18th September. There are all sorts of issues involved in this, and at present a certain amount of mud slinging and scare tactics being used by both sides. This is not the way forward, although I may add some to my argument in order to liven it up a bit, after all David Cameron and Alex Salmond are not the most inspiring folk to watch or listen too,  although maybe Mr Salmond has the edge slightly on banter.

So where do I stand and why, well I am a pro independence person because my family have come from the wilds of Scotland since before Bruce Lee, sorry Robert the Bruce was knee high to a spider. In fact the old ancestral blood goes back to a time when we were wild men in the hills fighting everyone including each other and shouting ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME SONNY dishing out Glasgow kisses before Glasgow was Glasgow, and we all spoke in a strange dialect no one understood.  AH YES I see your point it may still be a bit like that on a Saturday night after a few wee chasers and deep fried haggis, chips and curry sauce. I always remember someone telling me that after a really good night out, he assumed it was good as he did not remember it, he woke up in the door way of R S McColl in Aberdeen in the morning with enough chip suppers to feed about twenty people, although by then they were cold and had sort of congealed into a single lump.  Still it made a hell of a breakfast, sort of the hair of the dog so to speak (I know more silly sayings).

OK back to the point you are keen to hear exactly why folk in Scotland should vote for independence, it is the financial or economic or commercial or political arguments that have made me think AH YES this is what Scotland should do . . . . . . . . Well NO who can really predict what would happen; the truth is no one with any certainty.

You see if Scotland says NO then the status quo will remain as it is now, nothing will change, we will still grumble about the weather, politicians being corrupt, the cost of a cup of tea and next doors Armadillo making holes in the lawn at night. To vote No is the easy safe choice the one to go for if you wish to see everything just carry on as it has for ages, the one that will let the powers that be just smile and be smug. However if Scotland says lets go for it Lets vote Yes, it will be a whole new adventure not just for Scotland but the entire UK, the UK even gets a new flag (WELL COOL). Imagine it . . . . all change for loads of things, flag makers will love it for one and then there will be all sorts of other stuff no one has thought of yet, it will be dead exciting all round, both in England and Scotland and it will be a monumental historical moment in British History something to remember and tell your neighbours cat about in years to come.

This is a one off opportunity something that will never happen again, a NO vote will seal Scotland’s fate forever as the hilly bit on the top of England where folk talk funny. A YES you see; I suspect in the future, if it sort of went wrong, would see the rest of UK saying . . . . . Why not come and join us again we will even let you keep your kilts and bagpipes and talk in a funny way about felling a bit peely-wally and even allow you to sing Flower of Scotland.

So vote YES or  . . . . . .  Ye aff yer heid . . . . ya Bampot Eeejits

I rest my case . . . . . . . .for now. 

Saturday, 17 October 2015

One Shade of Grey and a House Sign

Today saw the arrival of two things one of which is exciting and the other not exciting, both are heavier than one might expect and both involve the colour grey . Not that grey is an exciting colour or even a colour in the way that folk tend to think of colour, in fact I not sure if it even counts in scientific terms as colour or not. Although to be fair none of this actually matters anyway so I will get back to the point.

The first thing arrived with a courier in a white van who was friendly and chirpy and gave me a great huge heavy Catalogue from a well known store. Well we looked at it and said O MY GOD that’s heavy and big and why us, why have they sent us this big huge catalogue that no one wanted. So we looked through it as you do, as us humans are as curious as cats and just need to have a little look inside to see if it has an exciting treat within.  In this case it did not, firstly 90% of it was women’s clothing designed for 20 year old anorexics; why do they always do that, surely in this day and age fashion stores should have learnt that folk are generally normal sized. And I am not convinced that filling this catalogues with 20 year olds is actually aiming at their target market. To make matters worse it appears the hip colour for this Autumn is a sort of grey hint of greyness with some added grey.

Well I guess you can tell this was not the exciting thing of the two things that arrived. No that was our new house sign which has been made by the Son in Law of the Ghost Writer who is as grumpy as ever but has his uses at times( that’s the Ghost Writer by the way). Made, based on my drawing but tweaked a bit to deal with the fact my design got a bit carried away. He said A fully operation steam powered house sigh with light up letters and a steam organ that played The ace of spades was slightly more than he was prepared to make. But it looks very cool and it is now my job to paint it and get it attached to the post at the end of the drive.  Replacing the present one which no one can see easily and which is, to put it bluntly not so good these days, but it has probably been there for thirty years at least. Actually no one can read it any longer so unless folk know where we live they can’t find us. . . . mmmmmmm I think that sort of might be true for everyone, but I hope you might know what I mean.

And we have just had Bangers and Mash for tea. . . Well Cool. 

Friday, 16 October 2015

Poetry for Cowboys (No not dodgy builders, but the folk on horses)

Yes we all know every western ended 
with them riding into the sunset

Anyone who is old and Knackered, or so I have been told by old and Knackered folk will remember Sunday Afternoons in the old days when there was little to do except watch an old Western on the tele which ninety percent of the time was in Black and White. And although no one knew it at the time was almost certainly Politically Incorrect. I do wonder sometimes if the modern trend towards an obsession to political correctness is hiding some dark paranoia that society would rather not confront and so to avoid it, all references are hidden away and society can pretend all is well.

Still I am drifting from the point of those Lazy Sunday Afternoons from the past. So in order to rekindle the old lost memories of those old Knackered folk I have written a little poem about one of those westerns. . . (well when I say one, I mean one-ish).

Everyone loves watching a film on a lazy Sunday Afternoon

Like that classic old one with John Wayne and Ginger Rogers which I think is called High Noon

Where Professor Frankenstein makes a monster and goes completely loony and Insane

After listening to Gene Kelly dancing and Singing in the Rain

And Michael Caine peers down at Gary Cooper lying on the Ground

And says Well are you feeling Lucky Punk and Gary Cooper hesitates a bit, but makes no Sound

While Martian Alien Machines invade the OK Corral chasing an unnamed man with a Fistful of Dollars

But then they (the Martians) all fall and die, a result of the germs from several cowboys grubby Collars

But I really like the bit at the end where The Lone Ranger looks up into the Sky

And says is it a bird, is it a plane. . .NO. . . it’s a man with the head of a FLY??????

And Tonto says Surely that’s a Job for Spiderman. . .  I thought we were looking for a Tinker, a Tailor and Karla the Russian Spy.

And the Deadwood stagecoach vanishes into the sunset
And everyone waves the hero

A fond Goodbye.