Thursday, 28 February 2008

THE MIRACLE OF THE TALKING BREAD!

A Brighton based Christian group claim to have witnessed a miracle, with members of their circle maintaining contact with the divine—through talking bread!
A. Fossil, speaking for the group, said, ‘Our circle met for a buffet last month and several members were holding pittas in their hands when, suddenly, one of them spoke! The bread, that is.’
Ms. Fossil, 72, claims the holy snacks astounded her and others by exclaiming: ‘Behold, man does not live on bread alone.’
‘We were shocked,’ she added. ‘I said, Crumbs!’
Since then, Ms. Fossil and her circle have met regularly to listen to their spiritual pittas.
‘We hold pittas close to our ears and listen to what they say. Sometimes they stay quiet, but on other occasions, we’ve heard them making strange noises. We’ve heard the sounds, emanating from the bread, of tiny footsteps, like children’s.’
So, it seems, when the bread is lost for words the group still manages to hear their ‘pitta-patter.’

Wednesday, 20 February 2008

THE LAW

The law is an ass!
It’s now an arrestable offence to visit a friend’s house if you fart on arrival—
It’s called ‘breaking wind and entering.’
The law is a blunt instrument,
But you have to be sharp to play with it.
‘Breaking the law’ would suggest that it’s fragile,
Exploiting ‘legal loopholes,’ you have to be mentally agile.
Law and order are electoral banners,
Dictating what acceptable behaviour, right down to manners is.
A thorough review of the law requires diligent scanners.
Naturally, society is based on rules, but why are they made by fools?
To ‘follow the letter of the law’ is frequently advocated, but seldom done.
A man receiving an entire judicial system through the post one day,
Knows these things are ‘sent to try us,’ or so they say.

Tuesday, 19 February 2008

GREEN:AN ANALYSIS

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GREEN: AN ANALYSIS
The grass is always green with envy…
Irrespective of the verdant quality of Richard Llewellyn’s valley.
Green can mean (environmentally) clean and, also, naïve,
While the ‘green eyed monster’ indicates a jealous beast.
Eating your greens is healthy, but rarely considered a feast.
Green Park in London could be an open air venue for a Green Day concert,
Or The Green Party’s annual conference.
Green means GO in traffic lights, but Greenland isn’t really.
Little green men are clichéd aliens as well as being signals at pedestrian crossings.
The Green Goblin and the Jolly Green Giant are equally well known.
Green baize provides snooker players with a playing surface.
Bowling greens and Wimbledon have much in common.
While being ‘green around the gills’ is not an affliction of fishes;
Nor does it refer to moss deposits in a public bar’s optics.
Green can mean money including sterling,
Stirling Moss, however, was a racing driver.
Snot is green and so are some irises.
The Red and the Green is a novel by Iris Murdoch.
Green partners red in a form of colour blindness.
This does not affect how we perceive the Green Berets,
Or Greenpeace.
Greenhouses can grow the stock of a greengrocer,
As well as being an effect and gases.
It’s not ‘green’ to fly, but there are greenfly.
The Green Man is a mythic geezer,
A green card is a visa.
An asthmatic gardener is a green-fingered wheezer.
Gretna Green hosts teenage weddings.
Elizabeth the First’s teeth were reportedly green.
‘The green, green grass of home,’ is a song—
Tom Jones, not as green as he is cabbage looking, moans.
Hughie Green presented ‘Opportunity Knocks.’
Green hues in many shades colours mould,
And, sometimes, pairs of socks.

Thursday, 24 January 2008

RACIST GENETICIST-NAIVE OR NAZI?

A RACIST GENETICIST HAS MADE CONTROVERSIAL CLAIMS ABOUT THE ORIGINS OF BLACK PEOPLE. PROFESSOR I.M. DAAFT SUGGESTS THAT SKIN COLOUR COULD BE DOWN TO A CHROMOSOME HE CLAIMS TO HAVE DISCOVERED, KNOWN AS A MONOCHROMOSOME! IS HE A NAZI OR JUST NAIVE?
Spoof headline #3.

Tuesday, 22 January 2008

MINELLI-YUM! ROBBIE DATES LIZA AT SWISH RESTAURANT

ROBBIE WILLIAMS HAS BEEN SPOTTED WITH HOLLYWOOD LEGEND LIZA MINELLI AT A POSH NOSH OUTLET IN LA
Spoof headline #1.

Wednesday, 16 January 2008

THE PLUMBING NUN

Looking to repair a cistern,
She’s a sister looking stern,
The stern looking sister is working alone,
With God alone to assist her,
Her plumbing helps her earn
Cash and the occasional blister,
Her strange habit of plumbing—
In between her praying and Bible-thumbing—
The nun has become well known.
While some people think she is plumb crazy, I’ll own,
Her holy water maintenance has profits shown,
Defying her critics stoically, she never seems to moan.
Occasionally she sucks sweets in the bathrooms in which—
Fitting suites—she blesses basins, baths and toilets.
On each job she completes,
Trusting in God, her customers don’t ask for receipts.
Both her prayers and plumbing have her on her knees,
Installing central heating systems, so people never freeze,
She never accepts hot drinks at work, but sometimes nibbles cheese,
The nun’s not fun exactly, but her efforts seem to please.

Tuesday, 8 January 2008

+ IS WATER UNDERRATED? +

JUNO RAINCALL ASKS IF WE TAKE WATER FOR GRANTED AS SHE
INVESTIGATES H2O INDIFFERENCE AND ITS OPPOSITE EXTREME, THE WATER REVERENCE SOCIETY.


Water covers more than two-thirds of the planet’s surface. At least 70% of a human being is made of water and no human can survive for very long without it. Yet despite these well-known facts, indicating water’s importance, some people waste this valuable resource, seldom giving the vital fluid more than a passing thought (when they’re passing water). Unless it is to criticise its appearance in the form of rain. However, the same people, frequently, are less critical of its presence when concentrating gallons of it through hoses aimed at their dirty cars. Because it’s literally on tap, many of us simply take water for granted, even when we’re quite thirsty. On a negative level, when water rates increase, the authorities responsible are flooded with complaints from the angry public. Even our own bodily fluids, when excessively produced in the form of sweat and tears; get a generally bad press that gives water a bad name.
Now, according to the newly formed Water Reverence Society, the tide of public opinion is set to change. Their spokesperson, Ivor Drink, issued a statement claiming the WRS, after an initial dry patch, enjoys interest from waves of supporters across the UK. ‘There’s a growing awareness of the versatility of water,’ Ivor said. ‘If there was a drought, there would be no doubt that water is something we cannot be without.’
Not everyone is convinced by Ivor’s message and some sceptics find the WRS message hard to swallow.
‘They’d find it harder to swallow without water!’ Ivor retorts. ‘People need to think. I mean, how on earth could we dilute things without water? Water biscuits, too, would taste awfully dry.’
Ivor is hoping that despite their differences, WRS members and their detractors will eventually share more common ground when they no longer find they are ‘oceans apart.’
He feels both parties could benefit by pooling their resources and attempting to rediscover ‘our natural affinity’ with the wet substance.
‘It’s true that Handel composed “Water Music,” but is our appreciation of H2O long gone, along with this decomposed composer?’ he asks. ‘I certainly hope that’s not the case.’
What do you think? Who gives a dam?

Juno Raincall.

Wednesday, 12 December 2007

*THE END OF A CHEMIST*

Hoarse, the allergic reaction sufferer hissed a mean request for antihistamine at the pharmacist, only, ignored in the chemist’s, not abhorred in the premises but because of the chemist’s premise that to prioritise a farmer’s cist made that man persist. With his right palm on his left wrist, he felt his strong pulse, then missed—a beat, misplaced his feet, which tripped him up in his own store. To send him crashing to the floor by shelves filled with tubular ointments and plastic bottles of pills. His elbow dislodges an opened bottle of shampoo that spills over his legs where he feels strange chills.
‘Are you all right?’ Asks the assistant, in white; helping him up before getting a fright.
The chemist, now livid, shouts with rage, feeling humiliated and twice his age.
‘I should have worked for Boots,’ he cries. Although, usually, this is what he denies. He’s paranoid about them, believing they send him their spies who pose as his customers and pray that he dies. He’s sick of their tactics, their placebo tic-tacs and all of their lies.
His assistant, now terrified, sees he’s insane and no longer wise.
‘Call an ambulance, somebody!’ She shrieks at, and then peeks out, the window as people pass by. ‘Help me—mad chemist! Won’t someone help me, please try?’ She implores the pedestrians looking at the sky.
‘Pains in the neck, with their headaches, racking my brains for relief from their aches and pains remains a bitter pill that I find hard to swallow…’ The chemist, frothing at the mouth rants. His invective directed at his trembling assistant, facing south.
‘I am so sorry,’ she falters. ‘I thought you liked your work…’
His expression never alters as he says, ‘This proves to me you’re insensitive and something of a berk!’
‘Oh how can you be so cruel?’ She weeps, less scared now she feels self-pity and something of a fool.
The crazed chemist does little to remedy the situation as he starts to drool, a manic grin contorting his face. Then, for him, thumb sucking seems cool, urinating down his trouser legs until he stands in a self-made pool. His assistant pulls her hair and as customers flee from the shop, she’s close to panic and despair—won’t anybody stop?
Abruptly, the chemist goes quiet after his one-man riot. She thinks she hears, in the distance, an ambulance sirens wail. On her way to the door, she feels dizzy, sick and quite frail. The chemist is immobile, slumped on the floor, near her feet. His skin looks deathly pale.
Fancy losing your mind, thought the nervous assistant, after making sure he was dead; then to find, on the very same day, your heart, too, will fail!


*EPILOGUE*

Having made certain he was dead; the traumatised assistant went home to bed, leaving his corpse on the shop floor. At least she put the CLOSED sign in the door, leaving, feeling most upset. In fact, now she was jobless, she was completely bereft.