Some song lyrics misheard over the cafe hubbub…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s slug is the sleek and stylish one.

‘All these years I dragged within…’
‘You burns me, happy-feeling dog.’
‘I don’t believe in secret hair baby.’
‘Life in drag is rising on the tree – liar, liar!’
‘See it in our eyes, written in crows.’
‘September bacon, want it all…’
‘Oh oh oh oh oh! No no no no no!’
‘Shaun Shaun Shaun, not in the evening!’
‘Open up the bees! Everybody, open up the bees!’
‘Son of pitch, you can knock me!’
‘There is no concept, it’s Ken rubbing…’
‘I… I seen it before… the big leaves…’
‘I get a straw, everywhere I go, whoo whoo!’
‘My soul, no body nose, I wish you go…’
‘Girl turtle me shoe in the morning.’
‘I standing – I’m wrong conga, wrong conga.’
‘Love-lay, love-lay banana-mon…’
‘Welcome to my underwear and my party ties…’
‘The dust season, very very solid French.’
‘I can’t hide undefined, paint proud, too much goin’ bad.’
‘Can’t take this X-hole no more.’
‘My arms are singing – I need you eye-e-eye-e-eye…’

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

Posted in art, brain, cafe, cool, creation, drama, Dulltown, existentialism, Hull.UK., humour, information, mind, misheard, music, poetry, serendipity, sex, style, surrealism, words | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Yet not uncomfortable to the touch…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s ancient Egyptian deity, appearing as a man with a goose, or a red crown, on his head, is the God Geb. He is from Heliopolis and his attributes are earth and fertility. (Geb)

Dave, let’s reach up and get that silly book of yours from the top of the bookshelf…
Which one? I have lots of silly books…
Yes, this is quite a boring and drab looking one, so it’s not really worth a photograph of the cover, but here is a picture of the title page to whet your appetite:

It’s 1954!…
No, it isn’t – that’s just the sort of thing the BBC say when they are trying to draw you into some dreary documentary about war, or economics, or social history, or… anything…
But, back in the UK in the 1950s money was short and people maintained and repaired the things they had instead of throwing them away and buying new ones as we do today – and they invented and constructed useful items for the home and the garden – there was even a regular publication for such pursuits, the Gadgets Magazine:
There are two or three items per page, some with nice little accompanying drawings – here are a few titles picked at random: Small Gaskets for Every Job; How to Improvise Insulated Staples; Handy Scoops From Old Tins; Adapt a Play-Pen for Airing Clothes; How to Cure a Slipping Boot or Shoe Tongue; A De-Greasing Solution!, etc.

‘It’s just the thing for wintry nights Madge…’
‘Sorry Albert, did you say something?’
‘Yes, dear, it’s just the thing for wintry nights…’
‘Oh?… What is?… Have you got your nose in that silly magazine again?’
‘Well, yes, but it’s not silly dear – it’s full of interesting and useful…’
‘It’s a waste of money, and the things that you make are always…’
‘Ah, but you wait until winter comes, you’ll be glad of this very clever device here on page three, all we need are a couple of…’
‘Have you finished with that cup of tea?’
‘Not quite Madge, but perhaps a top-up from the pot if you’d… thank you dear… It would be simple as ABC to make, here, have a look.’
‘Hm… do we have any cooking tins that we don’t already use for cooking Albert?’
‘Well, I…’
‘And, you think we are going to snuggle up with – with, metal tins, with electricity running through them, that you have wired up yourself – something you admit you are not an expert at?’
‘No, you see Madge, the idea is that we take them out of the bed before we get in – we’ll be as snug as bugs in rugs Madge.’
‘We have hot water bottles, haven’t we?’
‘Well… It would have been an interesting project though. I wonder how you fasten the tins together – the writer seems to avoid going into detail on that, doesn’t he?’
‘A clip or a strap Albert…’
‘Hm…  a “clip or strap”?… Any ginger nuts left Madge?’
‘Here, and if you dunk, don’t drop bits onto you clean shirt front…’
‘Of course not dear… Yes, rubber hot water bottles are a far better idea… Good thinking Madge…’

Posted in archeology, books, brain, conversation, design, history, humour, information, instruction, serendipity, weather | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Mail Art Postcard No. 4514…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s unusual pencil sharpener is the one shaped like the sound of a dusty midnight thud echoing through a haunted house.

Hm, yes, this is yet another of my mail art postcards, a very simple collage on bright card using clippings from that tawdry British weekly TV listings magazine What’s On TV.
It’s an odd one this, isn’t it?
It’s not my usual laugh-out-loud funny, or even shockingly surreal, but the hand of serendipity, in the selection from the pile of collected clippings, has created a poignant little work here – even the intrusive word ‘new’ in its red ellipse works well alongside the lass with the new eyes. Those eyes, being so large and out of proportion, should be quite upsetting, but for me they are not, they seem to be ‘made for her’ and go quite naturally with the rather sad and puzzled expression on her face.
Yes, well, that’s probably all there is to say about it – but, I could quickly mention that I do like the way the image isn’t snipped out with scissors, but is carefully torn around the girl, almost as if she is looking into a mirror and we are hiding and watching in the next room, just like Norman B in Hitchcock’s Psycho, peeking through a roughly made hole in the motel wall… (NB) Drama indeed!…

Posted in advertising, art, brain, composition, creation, design, drama, Film, history, humour, information, Mail Art, postcards, serendipity, style, surrealism, TV | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

Summer bug cheese dream…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s joke is the one about the Prime Minister’s coconut macaroon dropping into the printer – oh, how we chuckled and guffawed back upstairs in Technical Support.

No, you see, I think it was what people call a ‘summer bug’. I was feeling a bit ‘off’ the day before too, I didn’t even feel like going to a cafe. But, yesterday morning I did manage to put that ‘half-engineer‘ photo on my blog and write some twaddle about it, and then after that I thought that I should perhaps eat something – baked beans with a couple of tomatoes on small seedy toast with a few clippings of mature cheddar chucked on the top of it. An hour or two later I decided that it would be a good idea to have a lie down on my bed for a few minutes and have a stretch out. It was two hours later that I woke up:

Yes, this is the street… it must be… I’m sure.
See, on the right, a line of panelled front doors of different drab colours in arched brick openings, and their accompanying sash windows also with arched tops, facing the empty straight grey road. Of course, this is where I live. Oh look, someone has left something on my chipped cream-painted window sill, it’s a wrinkled papier-mache head, a young woman’s head, it looks to me like an ancient Greek lady with curly locks.
Let’s see if my key fits into this escutcheoned brass keyhole in her cheek? Well, the key goes in, but won’t turn – perhaps it will go between her head and the wooden window frame – ah, same again – better try it in the front door then. Of course it fits here – it must mustn’t it? I do live here, after all…
Inside, I am surprised because there is no hall, no ‘front passage’, we are straight into the main room from the street – hardly any furniture, bare pale knotty pine floorboards, no plaster on the walls, the faces of the orange-brown bricks are showing all around – but everything is spotlessly clean – on the long wall that leads to the stairs two windows seem to have been bricked up, but there were no windows there – there can’t have been, it’s the wall of the house next door, but whoever did it, they have made a really nice job of it, very neat…
Hearing a faint sound, I turn – there is a very tall thin brown-clad young man sitting on an old oak dining chair.
‘Hello,’ He says. He seems friendly enough. I think I glimpse his small wife bobbing in and out in the background carrying armfuls of things.
I realise now that I must have come into the wrong house – rather like in that episode of ‘Monk‘ I saw a few years ago.
‘I was born in this house,’ I say, ‘this is Franklin Street, isn’t it?’
‘Oh really?’ he says, ‘What number?’
‘Seventy-eight,’ I say.
‘Alright…’ he says, ‘was it better back then?’
‘Yes, it must have been, I’m old now,’ I say, and add, ‘I think I’d better be going.’
‘I’ll walk with you,’ he says.
We walk back up the street, towards the end we look up and see the tilted street name in thick black and white glossy paint on a cast iron plate with round ends, ‘Franklin Street’ it says.
As we approach the junction with the main road there are two trawlers going past, one is towing the other. I say, ‘Look, trawlers are still the same shape they were back then – the perfect curved design for rough seas…’ (T)
There is a crowd of people blocking the way, they are young people dressed all in black hanging about on the corner, other people are trying to get past, I say to them, ‘It’s alright, we’ll be out of your way in a moment.’
I turn to the tall man in brown to thank him for his kindness, I would have shaken his hand (I’m not normally one for shaking hands), but he had disappeared. Then there was the intermittent rumbling sound, a sort of faint gurgling, it was my tummy rumbling, dealing with those beans and the cheese – better change position – over on to my side I think, that’s better… Gosh, is that really the time?…

Posted in brain, drama, dreaming, Dulltown, existentialism, food, history, Hull.UK., humour, information, joke, mind, puzzle, serendipity, surrealism | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

The half-engineer, with plane…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s architectural term is strut: in roofing, a timber, either upright, connecting the tie-beam with the rafter above it, or sloping, connecting a king- or queen-post to the rafter. I hope that you have that clear in your head, I will be questioning you about it tomorrow morning. (Roof)

Here is another photo of mine from about a year ago; it was taken here in Dulltown and shows some boarding, now with peeling advertising material, erected to mask off some derelict land towards the river down near the Marina. I posted another picture taken there a week or two ago, it proved quite popular. (Click here)

Well, what a plethora of visual detail! (As you can imagine dear reader, I don’t use the word ‘plethora’ very often, but this is a very good opportunity to slip it in.) And just look at all those colours! Plenty of subtle shades, but all in a kind of harmony, none of them clashing or jarring – I particularly like the area of green (the colour of pea soup) with the half-O on it, on the far right.
And what about the aircraft just disappearing over the buildings to the left – in a pale orange sky? Or would you say it was pink? Then there are the out-of-focus shades of blue to the chap’s left – a convincing illusion of depth and distance.
Now to our chap: he looks rather more ‘real’ than he should doesn’t he? A photograph of a photograph generally gives no indication of what in the subject it ‘real’ and what is a flat printed image. He looks pretty ‘real’ here, except for that fold of paper/fabric curling off from the boarding – the orange sky with white stripes and wooden batten definitely goes behind his image, which easily gives the game away.
I think he must be an engineer, he is oldish, with a hard hat, ear defenders, and hi-vis jacket, but certainly not a labourer, yes, a high ranking engineer I think – look, half a warm smile is discernible in his one visible eye and half-mouth… He’s probably thinking about his fee…
A thought:
That could have been me, if I hadn’t given up a civil engineering degree course in favour of the mad mad world of art.
Phew, what a lucky escape!…

Posted in advertising, architecture, art, brain, colours, composition, design, green, Hull.UK., humour, information, observations, photography, seeing, serendipity, smiling, surrealism, words | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Good triumphs in the end, every week…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s dictionary words are: abthane, scriggle, posteen, gay-you, windring couchee, and pugging. 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 just a paper towel from the staff toilets, and carrying a halberd, you must not let this distract you from your studies. (H)

Yes, I do occasionally watch those US ‘real life’ forensic/crime detective shows on TV. I find it quite satisfying the way cold hard science can bring those awful cocky miscreants to justice. The shows do get a bit exploitative and gory though, especially when they re-enact the crime for us at the end – with odd coloured lighting, tilted camera angles, and dramatic music, to show us how (apparently in slow motion) it was perpetrated.
A couple of things that I have noticed in passing about the American police is that a lot of them seem to be rather overweight, have funny names, have remarkably bad skin, and that the ones in country regions seem very keen on wearing big hats, even when indoors – big hats indoors? I don’t get that at all…
I watched one of these shows last night and jotted down a few items from the voice-over to give you a feel of the thing dear reader:

Some disturbing scenes – a sturdy reliable place – you don’t expect this to happen – on his noon-hour – off the beaten track – he raced to the scene – far more shocking – pretty much covered in – nothing that looked like a crime scene – matched the description of – was well enough preserved – a huge argument had ensued – ran out of the door – for several days – body temperature – things aren’t always what they seem – sober enough – their worse nightmare – fear in the community – combed his car for clues – grilled by detectives – lab results reveal – back to square one – a strange coincidence – now he is free to go – reaching out for tips – that chilly autumn night – he was no stranger to trouble – zero in – take a polygraph – a damning piece of information – detectives were certain – a living nightmare – jumped out of the window – sent out a bulletin – scoured it for clues – no trace – nothing concrete to go on – police clearly on edge – a stone cold case – a startling omission – a bunch of lies –  a wake-up call – the clock is ticking – outside the box – he had a weird presence – delve into his background – he had a dream – just to piece it together – a 25 to 60 year sentence – he was that bad guy…

Posted in drama, humour, information, jobs, learning, physics, poetry, science, serendipity, style, surrealism, TV | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

One or two short, but pithy items…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s instruction is to hold a hard-boiled egg in each hand, close your eyes, wiggle your toes up and down, and sing a verse or two of Ten Green Bottles.

Excuses for being late. No. 339.
I’m sorry I’m late, but I was Googling ‘Excuses for being late’.

A single overheard remark:
‘Chee-ching, chee-ching, it’s all you could hear, everywhere, chee-ching, chee-ching…’

Dave’s definitions:
Adventurer: Someone with too much money who embarks on difficult, but pointless, projects and publicises them just to show off.
e.g. Sails round the world in fairly small boat, walks to the North Pole carrying a large anvil, climbs Mount Everest (without oxygen) carrying a large anvil, etc.

Yes, we social workers often like to have interviews with our clients in the neutral atmosphere of a cafe rather than back at the office; it promotes a more relaxed feel for both the client and the interviewer. We also enjoy discussing private and confidential matters openly in loud clear voices so that the other cafe customers can hear – it gives them an insight into the kind of interesting and sensitive work that we social workers do – it also it gives us the chance to show off our well-practised communication skills to a wider public.
This piece is based on an observation I made during a cafe visit last week.

Aha! An item of spam in my comments box. It seems to be from someone called Jack-fin:
Nicely, I’m stunned you all left the very further greatest one for me? Daddy said with a teasing smile. ?It?s the hee despatched Jesus too die for uss and give us life eternally and ever dand that becajse of the we are going to be a family in heaven for hundreds of thousands of years. That?s fairly ood isn’t it?
Well, thank you Jack-fin, it certainly is fairly ood as you say. But nevertheless I do hope to hear from you again soon – Daddy is such a tease, isn’t he?

Here’s a link to a short video from 1980 that someone sent me – it is rather good. (Tango)

An observation:
In town yesterday all the men were walking emphasising their forearms and all the women their buttocks.

Yes, I’m thinking of changing my name to Jan Glee-Ringtone.

A single overheard remark:
Two bobbles!… I like it!…’

Posted in brain, conversation, cool, drama, existentialism, Film, Grumpiness, Hull.UK., humour, information, instruction, observations, overheard, people, religion, seeing, serendipity, style, surrealism, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments