Thought of the day

Thought of the day

My definition of hell on earth is to be a landscape painter in Afghanistan, go out for a nice day’s painting and find that you have forgotten your brown.

You have all the other colours- greens and blues for Constable style, reds and oranges for a Turner sunset or even purples in case you come across some water lilies a la Monet.

But no, you are in Afghanistan and everything is as brown as brown can be. No wonder painters get browned off and cut their ears off, pardon?

What there is a real need for is a visit from Ground Force. A couple of hours with Charlie Dimmock and it would soon change their attitude to women.

PS. I want all of our troops to drive in the middle of the road to avoid the bombs.

Bring the boys back home and give peace a chance!

Addicted to pain

You’re out there chasing rainbows in your own sweet way

You’re a child of the night with designer grey

The wolves are a-howling by your dark mountain stream

you slide round in circles the mist a part of the dream

You came too soon for the sweet harvest moon it was over before you began

you could see you were not free so into the forest you ran

With your savage addiction to pain

You take your readings from tarot

Then do your own thing

the power comes from the brimstone cast in  a velvet ring

Dazed and confused by the subtle abuse you went off on your own

Pearls in your hair devil may care though your tears were made of stone

With your savage addiction to pain

And the words you spoke to me didn’t rhyme most of the time

So what of the future do you know what’s going to hold

Will you be dancing with the devil dining out on the secrets you sold

Lost on a wall no problems at all losing control of the reins

It was complete you were so effete and that poison scouring your veins

With your savage addiction to pain

Ode to Justin

Lowestoft has the largest wind turbine in Britain, and there was a competition in the Lowestoft Journal to give it a name. They chose ‘Gulliver’.

In the Triangle pub there was an Ode to Gulliver which was pure drivel and the author even included his age, 72.

I have decided that whenever I start prefacing my age with ‘and’ it would be kinder if someone pulls the trigger.

I told Susie Hawkin about the poem. She found it amusing.

Ode to Justin

Wind turbine proud and erect

Gulliver its given name

It does not travel so

Defoe surely would be put to shame

It needs a change from what it is now known

More fitting Lowestoft

Something home grown

Justin a name of fitting renown

The biggest thing in this tiny town

As it sits spinning upon point Ness

It’s just in time to save us

From total Darkness.

Thought of the day

Why are they called laptops when the only place you cannot use them is anywhere near your privates. This is a bigger problem for men.

Just imagine the scenario as the Y-fronts come down and the partner sees the todger, glowing like a beetroot.

“What the hell have you been doing?”

“Er, working online.”

“Yeah, right!”

Chic Chantelle

Chic Chantelle

Walked down from Montmartre with a nonchalant air Was on the Pont Neuf I saw her standing there Clothes by Bon Marche showed all she'd got Man, her savoir faire made me real hot Chic Chantelle from the Place Pigale With a je'nais se quoi que je adore Chic Chantelle I got an eyeful by that famous tower We ran for cover from a passing shower Into the Louvre and had a crepe Man, that rive droit was tres tres hep Chic Chantelle from the Place Pigale With a je'nais se quoi que je adore Chic Chantelle Walked by the river after the rain Knew if I fell in I would be insane This femme fatale had me in her spell She French kissed me on the Boulevade St Michel Chic Chantelle from the Place Pigale With a je'nais se que je adore Chic Chantelle She said “Do have a Dubonnet” by the Etoile Jolly mademoiselle, Joir de vivre style Her apartment Art Noveau Felt just like Brando in the Last Tango, (as I buttered her up) Chic Chantelle from the Place Pigale With a je'nais se quoi que je adore Like Cezanne she made a good impression Entente cordial in our consummation Her souixant neuf took me much higher It was tres tres difficile to say 'Au Revior' to Chic Chantelle from the Place Pigale Je ne regret rein avec Chic Chantelle