As the lists have now closed without any formal entries except those of antianticant, which have been ruled out of order by Judge anticant on grounds of consanguinity, Judge anticant now pronounces his own verdict as to the identity of billstickers. To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, billstickers is:
the inscrutable in pursuit of the ineffable.
If antianticant's entry had not been disqualified, the award would have gone to his surmise that billstickers is the Boojum, from Lewis Carroll's poem "The Hunting of the Snark". The Boojum is thus described by Martin Gardner, annotator of Lewis Carroll's works: "The Boojum is more than death. It is the end of all seaching. It is final, absolute extinction. In a literal sense, Carroll's Boojum means nothing at all. It is the void, the great blank emptiness out of which we miraculously emerged; by which we will ultimately be devoured; through which the absurd galaxies spiral and drift endlessly on their nonsense voyages from nowhere to nowhere."
Recognise yourself, billstickers?
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12 comments:
Ineffable?.
Disagree.
He was told to eff off, in no uncertain terms, by the majority of posters.
Well, if you like you can screw the inscrutable and eff the ineffable.
What is to eat; may we ask?
Who is to smile?
BS doesn't eat or smile.
When shall we three meet again....?.
Always reminds me of the film by Powell and Pressburger :
'Ill Met by Moonlight'.
I remember as a youngster having a blazing row with a sister because I was convinced that the title was actually '3 Met by Moonlight'.
Glanced at The Currant Bun for the latest regarding The Suffolk Strangler. Apparently :
'Stephens had a profile on a social networking site under the username of 'The Bishop'.'
Could this be BillStickers undone?.
Anticant : I agree more than you know but my memories remain dark and yet intact.
The sexual like of a camel
Is greater than anyone thinks.
At the height of the mating season
Makes eyes at the arse of the Sphinx
.....
Oh we are all seers together
.....
I diddle I diddle i diddle i
I diddle I diddle I dum ....
( written by Oscar and sung by many a jester with affection ).
Zola: Camels and Sphinxes are only admitted to my burrow if they wear chaste frilly lace Victorian knickers and scan their rhymes properly. By Order.
As you were Sgt Major
Well!
I am OUTraged.
You can't possibly close down the Quiz til I have had my say......
or..I will scweam and scweam until I am Sthick.
The quiz closed at midnight yesterday. It was clearly stated in the rules. These cannot be bent for V-E Bott, lavenderblue, or even Margaret Thatcher [whom I used to call the V-E Bott of politics, because she used these screaming tactics with great effect towards the Frightful French, the Ghastly Germans and all other effete inhabitants of the European mainland].
I have a neighbour who likes to do this V-E Bott act, and who hasn't spoken to me since last Christmas Eve, when I told her to go home until she had calmed down. Maybe she hasn't, yet.
I also once had a Hampstead landlady who used to indulge in this practice. On one occasion when I and a fellow-lodger had been walking on the Heath and were late for Sunday lunch, she blew her top. My co-lodger, who was a retired colonial civil servant of stately demeanour and wore a monocle, rose from the table, drew himself up and declared: "AY -that's how he pronounced it - have never been spoken to like that before, and I have no intention of allowing it at MAY time of life!" He then took himself off for lunch at a local pub.
Which Heath did he say?
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