hirez: More graf. Same place as the other one. (psyche-out (ii))
Or something like that.

I was challenged with '4 x the illustrated Betjeman', which was rather good fun.

We begin with the poem 'Bristol', which contains the verse

Ringers in an oil-lit belfry - Bitton? Kelston? who shall say? -
Smoothly practicing a plain course, caverned out the dying day
As their melancholy music flooded up and ebbed away.




'In a Bath Teashop'. Obviously.



After that, things became a bit random.

'How to get on in society' begins like this:

Phone for the fish knives, Norman
As cook is a little unnerved;
You kiddies have crumpled the serviettes
And I must have things daintily served.


... and carries on in similarly splendid vein. I don't keep fish-knives, a cruet or a bog-cosy, but I know a shop that does. Probably.



Finally, this:



Guess. Go on.
hirez: (Cooper-Clarke)
Maslow's heirarchy of tea: The mental calculation involved in working out the most efficient beverage distribution plan when it's your turn to brew up.

Corporeal punishment: Having to be somewhere you'd rather not.


Oh. And. Top game idea from this (pub) lunchtime: Al Murray's Landlord Challenge for Nintendo wii. Tap barrels, pull pints and lob wrong'uns into the street. Skill levels run from 'Real Ale' via 'Bottle-lobbing tart fuel' to 'Carling or Fosters'.

It'll be a top seller.
hirez: (Armalite rifle)
If you lived in the sort of house where they kept shotguns and green wellies, your parents had this poem on a teatowel. (Bottom half of the page) Good and obvious advice that's clearly never troubled the alleged ruling elite in Septic-land.

This story sums it up well for me. (Useless bunch of bastards not fit to run a sweetshop and play with cap-guns, in short)

May 2025

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