Sunday, 25 November 2007


Grandpa Wolfie’s cottage in the forest. Grandpa Wolfie is entertaining El Wook and a troupe of lewd maidens, who have just arrived by spaceship. The maidens are in the throes of their Dance of the Seven Veils when Little Red Riding Boots enters.

LRRB: Lawks a mussy, Grandpa, whatever’s going on here? I traipse all through the dark and dangerous forest to relieve your solitude and bring you festive fare from the good Anticant and Dame Barbara, and what do I find? Wicked wassail with Wook!

El Wook: Have no fear, little lady, these scantily clad damsels are your new sisters, and your grandpa has agreed [for a consideration] that you shall join my roving troupe.

LRRB: Not on your Nellie! I never take my clothes off for strange men – unless they own a few diamond mines and a swathe of oil wells.

Grandpa Wolfie: But, my dear, this charming Magus has made a bargain with me that will be highly advantageous to us both. Surely you would not deny your impoverished old Grandpa a break after he has been so ignominiously ejected from his cushy job at the World Bank?

LRRB: As my Great-Aunt Eartha used to sing, I want an old-fashioned millionaire – not a clapped-out old pauper like you. Good Fairy LavenderBlue has granted my three wishes. I summon her to my aid!

Good Fairy LB materialises:

GFLB: What is it, my dear?

LLRB: You promised I would be a Queen, and stinking rich, with swarms of admirers, but now I find I have been sold willy nilly to this old mountebank and his sordid circus.

GFLB: My dear, there are many roads to one’s cherished goals, and though performing lascivious dances in nightclubs may not be the most immediately desirable, I can assure you that it has paved the way to diamond tiaras and wads of greenbacks for many a worthier wench than yourself. In this instance I fear I cannot intervene with the fate that awaits you in the harem of El Wook.

She vanishes. The lewd maidens surround LRRB and whisk her into an increasingly frenzied bacchanal, cheered on by Grandpa Wolfie and El Wook.


Meanwhile, back at Castle Anticant……But that’s Scene 5.

Saturday, 24 November 2007


Ben Trovato has been surfing the internet [again!] and has come up with the following:


A man checked into a hotel in Australia. There was a computer in his room. He decided to send an e-mail to his wife. Unfortunately he clicked on the wrong address.

Meanwhile, a friend’s widow had just returned from her husband’s funeral. She checked her e-mail, expecting to find condolences from relatives and friends. After reading the first message, she fainted. Her son rushed in and found her on the floor. Then he looked at the message on the computer screen, which read:

To: My Loving Wife

Subject: I’ve Arrived

“I know you’re surprised to hear from me. They have computers here now, and you’re allowed to send e-mails to your loved ones. I’ve just arrived and have been checked in. I see that everything has been prepared for your arrival tomorrow. Looking forward to seeing you then! Hope your journey is as uneventful as mine was.

PS It’s damned hot down here!!

And, for Wook:


An old farmer had a pond in his back field which was OK for swimming. One evening he went down to see everything was alright, and heard people splashing about and laughing. As he drew nearer he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping. They retreated into the deep end of the pond, and one of them shouted “We’re not coming out until you leave!” The canny old man replied: “I didn’t come down here to watch you ladies swim or make you get out of the pond. I only came to feed my alligators.”

Thursday, 22 November 2007


ben trovato writes:

According to an article in today's Independent, the 80-year-old 'Archbishop' of an Atlanta Protestant mega-church told one of his congregation that sleeping with him was "the surest path to eternal salvation". He then proceeded to have a 14-year affair with her, and also borrowed $400,000 from her husband - a pastor at the church - to settle a suit from a member of his congregation who claimed she had been sexually assaulted by him since she was seven years old.

Now, a paternity test has revealed that the Archbishop fathered a 34-year-old son - who is now the church's head pastor! - by his brother's wife.

The Archbishop has been praised by President Bush for "his extraordinary work for God and the community".

Yes indeed! This outfit gives a whole new meaning to the Love of God. Carry on bonking and pass the collection plate......

Saturday, 17 November 2007


A gloomy forest. Little Red-faced Red Riding Boots appears, threading her way through the trees. She sees a bright light ahead of her in a clearing, and moves towards it. As she steps out into the clearing, a radiant beautifully dressed lady with a star in her hair and a magic wand appears:

Good Fairy:

“I am your fairy godmother, LavenderBlue.

I have the lousy task of overseeing you.

I don’t much like what you get up to,

But here’s three wishes I’ll make come true.”


“O Godmother, I want to be a Queen

And make my rivals sick with envy green.

I long to be so stinking rich

They’ll never dare to call me horrid bitch.

I want men at my beck and call

So life will be one endless ball.”


“All these I grant, but mark my words:

Pleasures and troubles come in herds,

And when you’ve had your bit of fun

Troubles will follow at a run”.


“Your sombre forecasts don’t dismay me –

I’m off to find a man to lay me.”

She exits in the direction of Grandpa Wolfie’s cottage. LavenderBlue shakes her head and murmurs: “Little does she know what awaits here there…..”


Ben Trovato writes:

We’re just reading a most entertaining book which would be the ideal Christmas present for anyone interested in 19th century rural history and quaint anecdotes. It’s Recollections of a Sussex Parson, by the Rev. E.B. Ellman, who was Rector of Berwick, near Lewes, for over half a century. The book is crammed full of interesting and amusing stories, and is beautifully produced in a new edition illustrated with modern woodcuts by a local artist. It’s obtainable from Mrs. L Hallums, 2 Roman Close, Bishopstone, Seaford, East Sussex BN25 2SW and costs £15 plus £3.80 postage and packing, cheques payable to ‘Berwick P.C.C’.

To give you the book’s flavour, just one of the many reminiscences is the tale of a rather grand old lady who always lunched on a mutton chop served promptly at 2 o’clock by her elderly butler, who had been in her service for thirty years. One day, as he was about to take the chop in to her, he dropped down dead. While the other servants were debating how to break the sad news to their mistress, she rang the bell violently and demanded to know where her chop was. They explained that the butler had just died. Her response was: “That is no reason why I should be kept waiting. Is there not anyone else who can bring in my chop?”


Mrs Malaprop, as she is constantly reminding us, is a respectable woman. Now the Beadle has at long last plucked up the courage to make her an honest one. Their wedding will take place shortly before Christmas, to chime in with the Festive Season. Anticant will give the bride away, and Ben Trovato will be best man.

Dame Barbara is offering a seasonal prize - a magnum of champagne - for the best verses in celebration of this happy event, when there will be much wassailing in the Burrow. Wooffie is already choosing his new necklace to wear on this occasion, and LavenderBlue is busy with a portrait of the bride who has promised that on this unique occasion she will exchange her usual Jaeger stockings for sheen silk ones.

Wednesday, 14 November 2007


Dame Barbara’s Bedroom. The Crafty Chambermaid peeps out between the curtains of the four-poster:

“I am the Crafty Chambermaid
Gentlemen’s beds remain unmade
Till I’ve been well and truly laid.

“I’ve toyed with young Ben now and then
But fun with Zola is much much droller
He pants and heaves like a steam roller

Though what I find really arouses
Me is a good romp with naughty Trousers
Who sorts me out as safe as houses.…”

She is interrupted by the entrance of Dame Barbara:

“What are you saying, you foul slut?
Just keep that big mouth firmly shut
Or I will whack you in the gut!

We want no naughty dalliance here
Such goings-on will interfere
With our good name. Is that quite clear?”


“T’was but a turn of speech, dear madam
I like these guys but never had ‘em
Except in my ecstatic dreams
Where champagne flows in endless streams.

So dear Dame B pray don’t dismiss me
I swear I shall let no man kiss me.”

Dame Barbara:

“You’d better not, or fear the worst!
Unchastity is roundly cursed
In Anticant’s domain. Now go
And keep those too loose lips well pursed.

‘Tis time you journeyed through the wood –
Your grandpapa is off his food.”

The Crafty Chambermaid curtseys and exits, blowing a raspberry at Dame Barbara’s back as she does so.


The Great Hall, Castle Anticant

Enter Judge Anticant, muttering to himself:

“The Festive Season is upon us

A pantomime would be a bonus

With thrills and spills for lovers true

And spells by Fairy LavvyBlue.

I’ll get Dame Barbara to write it

And Wizard Zola to ignite it

With spicy wit and lots of booze –

A surefire winner, we can’t lose….”

Enter the Housekeeper, Dame Malaprop:

“What’s this? Anticant talking to himself?

The poor old boy’s long past the shelf!

I’d better fetch the trusty Beadle

Who knows the Master how to wheedle.

And if that fails, I’ll send for Ben –

Old Anticant likes younger men.”


“Now, Dame, tut, tut, pray don’t presume

To throw your weight around the room,

Just set to work and wield your broom.

We’ve company arriving soon,

A spaceship from the blogosphere

I’m told will very soon be here

And it will be sore heavy laden

With Ogre Wook and umpteen maiden

Ladies he describes as ‘lewd’.

I hope they’re not arriving nude!”

Enter the Castle Beadle:

“Don’t fear, Sire Anticant, for I will stop it!

Anyone naked won’t half cop it.

They will be put into the stocks

And pelted with marshmallow rocks

Until they are all moist and sticky

And then they won’t feel very tricky.

Just to ensure there is no hassle

I’ll post a notice in the castle

To warn any incoming boarder:


Exit Dame Malaprop and the Beadle. Anticant shakes his head doubtfully……

Tuesday, 13 November 2007


With the pending advent of the Christmas Season, Anticant, Dame Barbara, and Ben Trovato are deep in consultation scripting the Burrow Grand Christmas Pantomime, Anticant and the Naughty Bloggers.There will be a star-studded cast including Good Fairy LavenderBlue, Zola the Magician, Toyboy Trousers, Mad Merkin, Wicked Wookie, a punch and judy show performed by the Beadle and Mrs Malaprop, and return appearances of 'Wolfy' Wolfowitz and the Crafty Chambermaid as Little Red-faced Ridingboots. Wooffie, of course, will steal the show with his Dance of the Seven Pearlstrings.

Watch this space!

Saturday, 10 November 2007


As Emmett has raised the question of the pervasive snoopers who surround us all these days - there are no CCTV cameras in the Burrow, btw - this seems a good moment to voice my distaste at one of the most obnoxious government broadcast announcements I've ever heard. It is directed at benefit fraudsters, and tells them that they are being WATCHED and have nowhere to hide. "We will track you down", the message says; "we may even be standing next to you at this very moment".

If this squalid threat doesn't reek of Big Brother, I'll eat Dame Barbara's handbag. I have no time for benefit scroungers, and certainly wish them to be caught. But not with this creepy, spine-shivering stuff from a government agency. I grew up during WW2, when we were rightly admonished that 'careless talk costs lives' and that we should 'keep mum'. There were spivs and swindlers around then too, who were viewed disdainfully. But SNOOPERS - government or private - who spied upon and informed against their fellow-citizens were regarded with far greater contempt, as the lowest of the low in fact. That, surely, was a far healthier attitude than this brazen , bullying brag that "we know where you are, and are coming to get you".

Most of the time they don't, of course. And the culprits know they don't. So why waste public money on this STASI type stuff? It's high time this ghastly government grew up - or better still, got thrown out.

Wednesday, 7 November 2007


THE BEADLE has been researching the history of his ancient office, and has come up with the following:

“Beadles’ duties varied from parish to parish and ranged from acting as a kind of parochial town crier to a position of power more akin to a village constable. In larger parishes they had overall charge of the night watchmen, setting their hours and ensuring that they turned up for duty. A typical list of tasks was:

To keep order in the parish; to prevent the lurking of beggars and vagabonds; to keep general order and to prevent youths and boys from disturbing the peace by noisy sports, playing, gaming and general mischief.

The beadle would also attend church as part of his duties, ensuring churchgoers were attentive to the sermon and reprimanding noisy children and adults who talked during the service. He was also a kind of latter-day traffic warden, ensuring horses and carriages did not cause problems when parked outside the church. In Sunbury, Middlesex, in 1858 the beadle was in charge of the fire engine!

Many beadles, but certainly not all, received an annual salary plus various fees. They would also receive an annual allowance for a uniform, which generally consisted of a cloak and hat. The parish would own the staff of office, which he carried on duty.

[From an article on 'Parish Officials' by Colin Waters in issue 58 of Your Family Tree magazine. Reproduced by permission.]

Friday, 2 November 2007


Anticant had a night out yesterday. Have a look in the Arena.