Small but pithy items…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s winner of the Turner Prize is… Oh, sorry I just dozed off…
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Excuses for being late. No. 231.
I’m sorry I’m late, but I had to document a spooky apparition hovering over my battlements.

‘I’m having difficulty bending my knee…’
‘I’m not surprised, it’s your leg that’s supposed to bend, it bends at the knee.’
‘Oh yes, so it does… Look, it’s fine now, I can easily bend my leg…’
‘Well done!’
‘Is it the same for elbows then?’
‘Yes, it’s your arm that bends…’
‘Wow! You’ve changed my life doctor.’
‘That’s what we’re here for…’

A single overheard remark:
‘He’s been recriminating in a psychological way…

You’ve got about as much style as French rock band!…

I went to the cinema last week and saw Mike Leigh’s new film about the painter J. M. W. Turner. It was pretty bad – it was long, dreary, and very theatrical. There was a trailer for the film version the Paddington Bear on too. Whoa!… It looks really unpleasant. Presumably in an attempt to make Paddington ‘cool’ for the current generation of kids, he comes across as a mean unlikeable little bastard… (P.B.)

An observation:
Hm, the charity shop smells of hot mushrooms today…

Oh look, an item of spam in my comments box. It is from someone called soranet.joom:
‘If this language is least familiar to you, then write that which you plan to say in a language that you will be comfortable with and translate later. If you might be driving down the road when something bad happens and you also throw your arms up within the air, screaming what happens in your car...’
Well, thank you soranet, I’ll certainly bear in mind what you have said.

‘Hello?… Yes… Alright… Hm… Yes, about five o’clock… I understand… thank you.’
‘Who was that?’
‘Oh, it was my new fridge ringing to say that something had gone off in its vegetable compartment…’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, it thinks that it’s a bag of carrots. It wanted to know what time I’d be back to deal with it…’
‘Ah, right…

An overheard remark in a gallery:
‘No, I’d rather go to the toilet than look at art…’

 

 

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, conversation, cool, drama, dreaming, Dulltown, existentialism, Film, Hull.UK., humour, information, observations, serendipity, style, surrealism and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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