Monday, 18 December 2006
"AH DUNNO!"
I returned from my pilgrimage to the shrine of Josephine Butler just in time to prevent the feckless apprentice from chopping the two bucket-wielding halves of the broomstick into even smaller pieces and thus adding to the general sogginess of the burrow. The wretched trovato will spend today mopping up, cleaning and polishing, under strict orders to produce some better stories in future. Meanwhile, this anecdotal slot is open to you lot. Burrow rules: no smut, no knickers!
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The wretched trovato emerged briefly from the broom cupboard to recommend a piece of festive reading alongside the new Thomas Pynchon blockbuster [unkindly described by 'Private Eye' as 'this gargantuan tub of suet']. His choice is 'The Autobiography of a Flea', described as 'an intimate memoir of the Victorians at play'. It is, apparently, the picaresque tale of an intrepid wee mite with an insatiable propensity for leaping from bush to bush [so to speak].
Anticant has ruled that this tome is totally unsuitable for anyone aged under 25, and has put the erring ben on bread and water for the rest of the day, instead of his usual beer and skittles.
Ah! Skittles....now there's another rich real-life mine of Victorian memoir!
Poor old Ben
bended down again
On his hands and knees
feeling the sqeeze.
No wonder
he likes skittles. ( K25 )
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