Doom and the vegetables…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s unusual pencil sharpener is the one shaped like the sound of a golf ball dropping down a hole.

One of my favourite cafes is the one on the north-east side of the square called Saturday Market in the town of Beverley a few miles north of Dulltown; I think it’s called Saturday Market because they have a market there on Saturdays.
As I looked out of the front window of that cafe a couple of Saturdays ago, guzzling tea and nibbling a Belgian chocolate brownie, I notice an agitated crowd forming around one of the stalls, it was a fruit and veg stall. After a few moments I became aware of the flashing blue lights of a police van which was trying to make headway towards the disturbance. It jerked to a standstill and two overweight shaven-headed cops jumped out and waded through the jostling throng. I finished the remains of my tea and sauntered outside to find out what was up.
A big hairy, but friendly, red-faced farmer kindly explained that some jumped-up city poet had been asked by the proprietor of the stall to look after business for a few minutes while he went off to sort out some problem broccoli. The jumped-up poet who had had a few pints of ale in The White Horse (Nellie’s), instead of serving the customers, began reciting one of his recent works to the them in a loud and patronising voice. Apparently they didn’t think much of his performance and told him so in no uncertain terms. Things escalated, tomatoes, carrots, and cucumbers were thrown, in both directions, and some ineffectual blows were exchanged…
The perpetrator turned out to be, of course, my ‘friend’ Simon Doom, poet from the glory days of the Hull Surrealist League. As he was eventually carried, screaming and still reciting as he went, to the police van by the two blank-faced cops, he spotted me on the pavement. He managed to throw me a copy of his ‘spoem’ (spoof poem) before the back doors slammed over his sweaty grinning face:

Papple scoom upthat wem diddamoi,
Dummel bux upthat kym plangobs.
Fagmost veagle psoom danky-danky,
Bogololmolol rhaspe flookery dex!

Emopta spinkle dockty wem diddamoi,
Feermee spox dockty wenwe doono.
Fagmost junitz parn octy-octy,
Oidmentalion frape doggle dux!

Hoppermoi gusp ferrit wem diddamoi,
Blutt sampee ferrit noibus-fyn.
Fagmost tunnymonny nunny-nunny,
Jhebonnaset soss motter pungin dix!

Tagranander buth septag wem diddamoi,
Pulg septer septag thething doop.
Fagmost plangobs quisp cuppy-cuppy,
Chellodyne knellage upthat dox!

Simon Doom 2017.

Posted in art, brain, cafe, composition, drama, existentialism, Hull.UK., humour, information, observations, poetry, style, surrealism, swearing, words, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Ecstasy, gambling, and a limb…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s dictionary words are: mofussil, mofette, moggan, mohur, mobby, mockado, and femerell. Please have these words looked up and placed in suitable sentences ready for Professor Mouldie first thing after breakfast tomorrow morning. Should the professor arrive in the garb of a ‘lady of the night’, you should not let this distract you from your studies.

Good god Dave! What the hell is that?!…
No, it’s alright dear reader, it’s only an innocuous elbow.
I took this picture about a year ago; I seem to recall that this was some advertising material stuck on the inside of a shop window; perhaps a shop that didn’t sell things any more and had been turned into a bingo place, or ‘parlour’ as they are sometimes called. I think this tilting happy lady might have just won some cash.
I was walking along past the place, and as I glanced to my right I saw this looming great elbow at my eye level – I couldn’t identify it for a moment as it was filling my field of view, but I thought it did look meaty, or fleshy, and possibly human – but then as I moved back a little I realised what it was – and I thought that I should perhaps ‘document’ the experience, so I got my little camera out… Click!…
So what do you think of it as a photograph?
There was a bit of fine judgement involved in the composition, the framing, of it – I wanted it to be puzzling, but not unsolvable. How much of the lady’s face, with her open moist ecstatic mouth, and her dress, should be included? Too much and it would give the game away, too little and the foreshortened meaty limb would be almost, er, abstract.
The rather lumpy glossy blue painted edge to the window frame I included balances all those orange/fawn hues nicely doesn’t it? Oh, and by the way, if you look carefully you can also see a faint poignant sunset reflected in the glass.
Oh, an update:
This isn’t a shop window at all – it is the side window of a large cinema here in the centre of Dulltown that many years ago was converted to do full-time bingo – it used to be the ‘Cecil‘ cinema.

Posted in advertising, art, brain, composition, history, Hull.UK., information, observations, photography, puzzle, seeing, serendipity, surrealism, words | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Some snatches of overheard and misheard cafe conversation…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s financial forecast is for rich people to be thin and healthy and poor people to be really really fat and ugly.

‘No no, I’m not laughing at you!’
‘You want deja?…’
‘I paint athletics.’
‘There was a bird on the end Simon.’
‘I try to make V-V-V nasal…’
‘It’s not just when I theorise you know!’
‘Barbara in a horrible car?’
‘A maze me…’
‘Any pale white? You are weird!’
‘No, really?… Busty Sondheim?’
‘It was only when I was watering.’
‘Guilty or sad, I hope, I hope, I hope…’
‘Terri, this tune is no words!’
‘No, I will not do boxes!’
‘A, or R, or A…?’
‘The words were on a weekly style.’
‘I use you awake you know.’
‘Rust just waits…’
‘So hard my heart!’
‘A worm-term, I will make safety.’
‘It was an effect in my devotion Terri.’
‘The worst thing is in the afternoon.’
‘Those poor rehearsal victims.’
‘Will you on me for you?’
‘When reading on a club bus.’
‘A no-go butter-pack?

For some information on how these lines are complied you could click here.

Posted in art, brain, cafe, conversation, drama, Dulltown, existentialism, finance, Hull.UK., humour, information, misheard, money, overheard, people, poetry, serendipity, surrealism, Uncategorized, words | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Spatter Painting No. 37…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s expletive is an Australian one – Bovril!
It is a euphemism for Bullshit! – Bovril being an old-fashioned dark beefy sticky meat extract often consumed diluted in hot water as a revolting salty drink. (B)

Shall we today have a look at another of my ‘spatter’ paintings dear reader?

Spatter No. 37. Acrylic paint and black ink on paper about 29″ x 21″.

Hm… Intricate!…
‘Intricate’? – Yes, this is the point in the blog post, when having just stuck a picture on, I feel obliged to say something about it and also to fill up the space below it. I suppose I could just leave it as ‘intricate’, couldn’t I?
Or, I could start throwing questions at you? That’s the thing about abstract art, nobody knows what the hell to say, do they?
We could go for a surreal approach:
‘Dave, why did you have the tabby cat in it when it’s all supposed to be random and serendipitous?…’ Yes, that sort of thing.
Or, ‘Dave, I can see from this fine work that you had a very troubled childhood – I feel your pain… no, no, you are no longer alone…’
That’s enough of that tosh!
So, is there too much of that dark blue in it, or just the right amount, or is there too little? And what about that central off-centre spattered arc of it?
‘Arc’ is a funny word isn’t it? It just doesn’t look right – me, I always fancy having another letter after the ‘c’ – I don’t know what it would be though. Then there’s the confusion with the word ‘ark’, Noah never had an arc, but let’s not get too deep in this, after all we are just filling the space under this rather silly picture, aren’t we?…
There now, that’s about enough. Image and text nicely balanced…

Posted in art, brain, colours, composition, conversation, cool, creation, expletives, humour, information, painting, serendipity, surrealism, words | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

The Fabergé egg…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s hippopotamus is the one pondering about the odd cluster of ‘P’s and vowels in the middle of his name.

‘Did you read that interesting article in yesterday’s Daily Stuffed?’
‘Which one?’
‘Do you get the Daily Stuffed?’
‘You’ll have missed it then.’
‘What was it about?’
‘The increase in daftness.’
‘Oh? In Britain?’
‘No, the world.’
‘Do you look at the BBC’s Smug Week programme on your television set?’
‘On my television set?… I know of it, but I have never watched it in earnest.’
“In earnest?” Alright… So, Mr… er… So, tell me, why are you applying for this position?’
‘Oh, I didn’t know it was a position, it didn’t say that in the paper.’
‘Which paper was that?’
‘The Evening Cretin. I thought that it was just a job, rather than a...’
‘No, it is a position Mr… Everyone knows that holding a position is always much better than just having a job, everyone knows that…’
‘Oh right… Do you hold a position?’
‘Of course I do, look at me. I’m sitting here and you are…’
‘Sitting here as well.’
‘Yes, yes, but I am interviewing you, aren’t I?’
‘Excuse me, but don’t you mean, am I not?’
‘Oh, quite right… Are you sure you’re not applying for a position?’
‘I’m sure, really I’d just like a job.’
‘I see… Do you subscribe to the Black Skull Gazette?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t think so? Don’t you know? How about the East Anglia Plywood Newsletter?’
Butterscotch Dove Weekly?’
‘Only occasionally – where is all this leading?’
‘We do like to assess prospective applicants by the sort of periodicals that they…’
‘Is that a Fabergé egg on your desk?’
‘No… and I’m asking the questions here, you are here to answer.’
‘On my own volition…’
‘Your own volition? I could offer you a position, just on the strength of your saying that!’
‘How about a hundred K a year?’
‘It was a crossword clue – I had to look it up in the dictionary.’
‘What was? Volition?’
‘Which crossword was it? The Sunday Sneeze?’
‘No, the one in the back of the Plywood Newsletter.’
‘Aha! You said that you didn’t read the PN!’
‘What do you mean “Aha!”? – Someone left a ripped out back page in the haberdasher’s, I did it there whilst waiting for my zip.’
‘So, apparently, they have a dictionary in the haberdasher’s?… Aha!…’
‘No, I always carry a Snapshaw’s Mini pocket one.’
‘You seem to be very well equipped with answers today Mr…’
‘A hundred K you say… Would I get my own desk?’
‘I should think so.’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘Well yes, of course I…’
‘What would the wood be?’
‘Would the wood be?’
‘Yes, not would-be plywood though… Eh? Eh?…’
‘Ho ho ho… I see that you’d be very easy to get along with Mr…’
‘By the way, what is your name? You don’t seem to have one of those name nice plaques on your desk – if you don’t mind my asking?’
‘Oh, “mind my asking” – you are definitely ‘position’ material. My name is Glove, Mr Glove, but we are free and easy in the office so everyone calls me Marigold.’
‘About my desk though – could it be an ebony one well rubbed with carnauba wax?’
‘You do drive a hard bargain Tommy.’
‘Tommy?… Listen carefully Marigold, my name is not Tommy, it’s Bob – there was a Tommy in the waiting room, a chunky bald chap, said he was interested in hardwood office equipment and waxes, he was reading a tattered copy of Frog Monthly.’
‘Not Tommy! And hey! Marigold indeed! It’s Mr Glove to you! You haven’t assumed the position yet you rascal! Damn it!… All is clear now! You waltz in here, in the guise of a Tommy, feigning a knowledge of journals and periodicals, cleverly bluffing your way, then admiring my Fabergé bloody egg and… and… everything!…’
‘I could say, at this point, Marigold, that I am actually down from head office for the day, and all this has been a test of your interviewing skills.’
‘But I won’t… Come on let’s talk more about desks… By the way, I do like the way you have your hair…’

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Stella and the nasty creations…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s ancient Egyptian deity, appearing as a ram, or man with a ram’s head, is the god Khnum. His cult centres are Elephantine and Esna, his attributes: creator, potter, cataract, fertile soil. (Khnum)

‘Aphrodite at the Waterhole’ No. 25. (2010) Charcoal on paper probably about 24″ x 18″.

‘Hello?… Hello? Who’s that?’
‘It’s me you idiot! Open the door, it’s raining!’
‘Have you come to read my electricity meter?’
‘David! Let me in!… You nitwit!’
‘Ah, Stella my dear, it’s you, do come in, it’s always a pleasure to…’
‘Just shut up and get me a beverage, I’m right parched…’
‘The kettle is boiling as I speak… “Right parched”, are you being deliberately ‘Yorkshire’ today? I expect that you’ll be wanting a mug of Taylors of Harrogate Yorkshire Tea then?’
‘No David, a large glass of Chardonnay…’
‘Tea and biscuits! You buffoon! And what the hell is this supposed to be? A piece of old squashed fruit?’
‘It’s a charcoal drawing from…’
‘Ah, I see bourbon biscuits! Let’s have some of those, we can dunk.’
‘Yes, we can, bourbons are fine for dunking Stella.’
‘This drawing’s a bit slapdash and scrappy isn’t it? Perhaps you were having an off day?’
‘Hm… I see you are your usual sensitive and generous self today Stella?… Me, I think I’d call it vigorous and spontaneous.’
‘Is that the title? Vigorous and Spontaneous? This tea is definitely hitting the spot, as they say.’
‘Do they?’
‘Yes, how long have you had these biscuits? They’re a bit bendy and stale’
‘No, they’re not, the packet’s only been open half-an-hour… So no, the drawing isn’t called that my dear, the title is Aphrodite at the Waterhole No. 25.’
‘How very pretentious! Where’d you dig that up?’
‘I’ve told you before, it’s from a 1960s comedy film about an artist who…’
‘Oh, yes, that dreary old thing! Is it a piece of squashed fruit then?’
‘If you like…’
‘I suppose you could say that the central, bulbous, dominating form, with its pathetic wiggling protuberances, is there representing the natural, living, soft, rounded, life on the planet – Mother N’s fauna and flora – surrounded by the spiky nasty creations of mankind – the discarded, slow to decay detritus of industry and capitalism, left to pollute and poison everything on the beautiful serene face of this gentle green sphere… I’ll have another mug of tea if you are putting the kettle on… Is that what you’d say about your drawing David?’
‘No, not really…’

Posted in adjectives, art, British film, conversation, creation, drawing, existentialism, Film, green, history, humour, religion, style, surrealism | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Some more Crush characters in the post…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s dictionary words are: Zuni, Zoophorus, Zoilism, zopilote, zwitterion, zoea, and blawort. Please have these words looked up and placed in suitable sentences ready for Professor Mouldie first thing after breakfast tomorrow morning. Should the professor turn up wearing a Lenin hat, singing The Red Flag, and carrying a large rolled up banner, you should not allow this to distract you from your studies. (LH)

I received a slim blue envelope in the post this morning – it had an airmail sticker and a USA stamp on it. Yes, it was from Veronica Crush, writer from the glory days of the Hull Surrealist League, now living in New York with tall tree surgeon and heir to a multimillion dollar fortune, Monty Tick.
She says that her work is going well, and that she is re-reading and being stimulated by A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole, and that she will mail me her copy when she’s finished. She also says that she is constantly thinking up and jotting down names for possible characters in her stories, and that this has almost become an obsession.
There was a slip of paper with some of these listed – to use myself, or to pass on to others:

Shylock Erms
Jonah Bona-Toner
Eddy ‘the hog’ Fopdale
Cynthia Duck-Zatzer
Johnny and Molly Calliper
Hilda Tilda
Candy Larborough
Dr Sybil Milkpan-Tipz
Stamford Fordstam
Petroc Saliver BA(Hons)
Major Morris Minor
Manuela Capodastro
Jean-Jacques Jummel
Dorothy Spink-Monsoon
Arrabella Snaz
The Very Reverend Maynard Hoot-Toop
Hutch Toulette
Dame Marbella Gullet
Group Captain Lupin Todge


Posted in art, books, brain, creation, history, Hull.UK., humour, information, reading, surrealism, words, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments