Old stuff from PLOP…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s joke is the one about the hamsters in the Prime Minister’s sock and underpants drawer. Oh, how we chortled and guffawed behind our handkerchiefs!…

I just came across a dusty old copy of PLOP – the Journal of the Hull Surrealist League that had slipped down behind my bookshelf, it is dated March 1998. Gosh! sixteen years ago! Doesn’t time fly?…
There is a piece of writing in it by Veronica Crush, now living in New York with tall tree surgeon and heir to a multimillion dollar fortune Monty Tick. The piece must have been written during the couple of weeks that she was married to Tony Mayonnaise, a poet from the Hull Surrealist League, because she signed it as ‘Veronica Mayonnaise’. Perhaps dear reader you’d like to have a look at this early and rare piece of Crush?

She Lived in an Hovel.

Kernel Tipman glanced down at his fat watch. He was a little early. The sky over the western moor splashed red and orange light across the deserted flat road. He steered the big car into a lay-by and lit a cigarette. When it was half smoked Kernel glanced in the driving mirror and saw in it the giant pig trotting down the centre of the road towards him. He stubbed the cigarette out and prepared himself.
Paula Flyte sat at the greasy kitchen table. The only light was that from the green numerals of the clock on the window sill. A half-smoked cigarette burned slow and orange in the ashtray. Paula’s hands gripped each other for companionship and she trembled slightly. Her thoughts were dominated by hatred for the giant pig lying in her bed upstairs.
The Empress of Blandings grunted, defecated, and looked around at her surroundings. Golden morning sunlight streamed through the low doorway and sparkled on the occasional stalk of straw. She grunted again, she lived in a novel, the walls of which did not confine her.

Veronica Mayonnaise 1998.

(E of B)


About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in art, brain, drama, dreaming, Dulltown, existentialism, history, Hull.UK., humour, information, mind, serendipity, story, style, surrealism, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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