A few short but pithy items…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s Sir Arthur Conan Doyle quotation is from The Adventure of the Cardboard Box:
Watson:
Finding that Holmes was too absorbed for conversation I had tossed aside the barren paper, and leaning back in my chair I fell into a brown study. Suddenly my companion’s voice broke in on my thoughts:

“You are right, Watson,” said he. “It does seem a most preposterous way of settling a dispute.”
“Most preposterous,” I exclaimed, and then suddenly realising how he had echoed the most inmost thought of my soul, I sat up in my chair and stared at him in blank amazement.
“What is this, Holmes!” I cried.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Excuses for being late. No. 329.
‘I’m sorry I’m late, but I was trying on top hats…’

A single overheard remark:
‘No Tom! It was borderline inappropriate!…’

Well, I suspected that this would happen:
Someone mentioned to Tony Mayonnaise, poet from the glory days of the Hull Surrealist League, that I had briefly pretended to be a poet myself, and had written a little something in the cafe and had subsequently posted it on my blog. (Click) He phoned me up drunk at 2 am last night and told me how very bad my poem was, and said that I shouldn’t do any more of them (I have omitted the expletives, colourful though they were.) He added that he had mentioned this to Simon Doom, another poet from the glory days of the Hull Surrealist League, and that I should expect a call from him too; he would apparently be giving me a lengthy criticism of my piece, and would also be advising me to steer clear of any future dabbling in the medium.
Can’t wait…

Yes, I’m thinking of changing my name to Sue Panda-Roll.

Oh dear! Another item of spam! This one seems to be from someone called Jimmyfox:
I’ll immesdiately seize ykur rss feed ass I can’t to find ypour email subscription hyperlink oor e-newsletter service. Do you’ve any?
Kihndy let me realize soo thawt I could subscribe. Thanks. I have been browsing online greater thgan 3 hours nowadays, yeet I never folund anyy attention-grabbing article like yours.
It iss loively valye enough foor me. Personally iif aal site oqners and blokgers maade excellent contgent mateerial as you did, the webb can be utch ore useful tuan ever before.
Ahaa its nice dialogue concerning this piece.
Well thank you Jimmyfox, I will certainly bear in mind what you have said, and I’m glad to hear that you find my site loively valye. Best wishes, and I look forward to hearing from you again very soon.

An observation:
An old man sitting alone in the cafe is making loud clicking noises with his mouth and staring at his hands as if he had never noticed them before.
I hope this isn’t a little glimpse of my future…

‘Good god! That young man over there is bleeding from his ears!’
‘No, no, it’s alright, he’s just wearing headphone buds with red wires…’
‘Oh, how very disappointing…’

A single overheard remark:
‘Would it be alright is she did monk hair?…’

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 brain, cafe, conversation, cool, creation, Dulltown, existentialism, Hull.UK., humour, information, observations, overheard, poetry, reading, serendipity, surrealism, words, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to A few short but pithy items…

  1. Oh these poets never like anyone stepping on their toes, do they? Horribly competitive! And the man in the cafe, don’t let the “old man” disguise fool you – oh no, he was probably in deep communication with his own people about how to take over the world! You should have bought him tea and listened in! 😀

  2. Dana Doran says:

    Borderline inappropriate (smiling)…everyone hedges their opinions these days, I suppose to have a fallback position in case they are proven wrong (or inadvertently uttered the word ‘beauty’)? Mr. M was just startled by your poem, pointing to the sudden realization that most people aren’t prone to being airborne while exiting a bar or tavern—nor did they utter the words, even softly under their breath, “sorry.”

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