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Andrew Macdonald 04 November 2003 18:21 Re: Exposed
Yes - you'd think, wouldn't you, that someone who is not only an accomplished merchant
banker, but also a fencing master, friend of the aristocracy, and quite
posibly a brain surgeon to boot, would have a far more polished, precise, and
indeed correct prose style. I couldn't help thinking he may have had the
germ of an idea last week if only us poor mortals could understand it.
But I do seem to recall he's had germs before, and judging by the look on his
face, he ain't shaken them off yet. Probably trying to drown them
in Doom Bar, or John Smiths Smoothflow or whatever they get in Lunnun.
Talking of which, I have just discovered the Old Chimneys Brewery. I'll
be working my way through the range for you, but so far the Great Raft bitter,
The Meadow Brown mild, the Black Rat stout, the Leading Porter porter, and the
Golden Pheasant bitter are all pretty OK. I might head over there
Saturday to restock...
Vile Jelly 05 November 2003 08:44
Perhaps, in those various roles, he's had one too many liquid business
lunches, poked himself in the brain with an epee, been guillotined and botched
his own operation. Then again, maybe he is just cutting out the unnecessary
journeys by manifesting the Doom Bar straight into his bloodstream!
Or quite possibly living in the Big Stench has a debilitating effect on his
ability to pass himself off as a sentient being (it seems to have had that
effect on most of the visitors emanating from that bum boil of a burg).
PS. If you've shifted that lot already don't you think you might have to give
the Old Child Chimney Sweep a bit more time so that they can restock?
Andrew Macdonald 05 November 2003 15:39
We are beginning to get the tiniest little possibility of a suspicion that
there may exist the merest scintilla of a chance that he couldn't, in fact,
manifest his way out of a damp paper bag. That's the trouble with these
fringe Celtic Sunday league B saints, all mouth and trousers. Or
cassocks.
Hope you've got over your burpday celebrations by now. You'll soon be as
old as the rest of us.
Think I'll just go and see my new friend, Mr Chimney.
Vile Jelly 05 November 2003 17:31
Probably not in either case. Either he manifests the Doom Bar and swigs it or
he doesn't. In either scenario, no one else benefits!
PS. I've just used 'either' in three consecutive sentences. My lack of
rhetorical art leaves me depressed. Does that make me an either down?
Andrew Macdonald 05 November 2003 18:10 Either the Injun? Vile Jelly 06 November 2003 08:09
That's a point. I wonder if you can get Ivor the Engine goodies. Do you
remember Idris The Dragon? I'm sure Soupie wouldn't mind a bit of male
draconic companionship during the long winter nights!
Now, if you'll excuse me I'm just off to lead an expedition to conquer the
north face of the Either.
Andrew Macdonald 06 November 2003 08:34
Not sure I remember Idris, but wasn't there a man-eating, fire breathing
dragon on Postman Pat which terrorised Greendale, tearing the heads off
screaming, innocent children, burning people and their pets alive, and
torching anything in it's path?
Remember to take plenty of oxygen with you, you'll be high up in the either on
the north face of the Either.
.....or was that Jake and Dinos again?
Vile Jelly 06 November 2003 13:31 No, you're thinking of the episode where Tony & Cherie had the place levelled and the inhabitants deported so that they could enjoy a quiet family holiday. Andrew Macdonald 06 November 2003 15:35
OH MY GOD! I've just realised that in my last electric mail I wrote
"anything in it's path." This is, of course, completely,
utterly and despicably wrong, and should have read "anything in its
path." I apologise unreservedly to your reader, and will at once
don sack cloth and ashes and crawl on my hands and knees to the Old Chimneys
Brewery in an attempt to gain absolution. Or possibly oblivion.
Talking of which, I was put in mind of the old quotation:
"I feel no pain dear mother now,
But oh, I am so dry!
O take me to a brewery,
And leave me there to die."
Which, so Google tells me, is by Anon. I thought it was by somebody else
(VJ?). Perhaps your learned and erudite correspondents could enlighten
us. Or, failing them, Winwaloe.
Vile Jelly 06 November 2003 17:42
I'm sorry, it has been a long day and I am unable to indulge in flights of
poetical fancy.
Other than to say I was musing on the poppies and the current crop of
imbeciles in the pub and thinking 'most of these people think that Wilfred
Owen used to be in Take That and Siegfried Sassoon is a hair stylist'.
How come we never hear their stuff orated in memorial services? How many
people know that Benj Britten put Owen's stuff to classical music to create
his War Requiem? A gilt-edged case of prophets without honour in their own
land.
Winter thoughts. I hope no one else (a la Borheady) will try to crucify me for
an off-the-cuff (Erich Maria) Remarque.
The f-wits have probably no idea of what I blather but I remember them.
Andrew Macdonald 07 November 2003 07:48
Send them off to see "Oh, What a Lovely War"
But you've got me with Borheady.
Vile Jelly 07 November 2003 08:46 What are you doing with Borheady? Put him down immediately, you might catch something narsty off him (like idiocy)! |
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