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AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 735
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 15, 2004 - 5:47 pm: | 
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Very, very nicely put Robert.
Hip-Hop and a bit of Blake.
This dust that is Jack is most often dust covers on new books these days, but you captured the elemental and essential Jack here.
No dust covers on your words, Robert.
Loved it.
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Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 310
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 15, 2004 - 5:51 pm: |
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Robert
Wow!! 'The Golden Dustman' a fabulous music Hall song but not as good as that!!
Nats
Why giving up the sauce??
Will try to get my head around (or outside) something else tonight...what brought that one on Robert??
Stay in touch..A.P.'s quiet...composing I hope...never face a Catholic from behind..that's what I say!!
Love
Suzi |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1869
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 15, 2004 - 6:21 pm: |
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Thanks very much, folks. I suppose that one came from the same place that most of them come from - teabags!
AP, you're right, I suppose Broadmoor would be the end. But didn't you say recently you thought he may have been briefly institutionalised, and then released again?
Robert |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 316
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 15, 2004 - 6:51 pm: |
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Whaaaaaaaaaat?? Too much tea Robert!! Have suggested to our Swedish friend (Glenn) that we start another thread from the jtr intimacy one purely to talk about old brit flicks!! Have a look at it (jtr intimacy kit) and let me know wht you think..Husband getting involved with this is not to be encouraged but when Iread out my Roy Kinnear bit he felt he should tell me his!!..read it and put us both out of our misery as to what said Western was..sorry to take up Poetry space with this!!)
All v. best
Suzi |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 319
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 15, 2004 - 7:28 pm: |
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Robert and Nats
Told you I'd created a monster!!
Hutch
Waiting and a
Watching
Soon..
Nothing happens..
Why?
I'll wait
a little longer
No
Wait
A passer by..
That's Sarah!
Gawd
She'llrumble me
Then..
I'll have to fly
More hard work
Down Romford way
Must make up a lie....
Suzi
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1874
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 16, 2004 - 4:19 am: |
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Nice one, Suzi. Keep 'em coming.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 736
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 16, 2004 - 6:47 am: |
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Jack and Uncle Charles visit the Seaside. (3)
‘Shall I start with the lesser offences, Charles?’ asked Inspector Race. ‘To soften the blow as it were?’
‘Just pass me that Catholic whore’s infernal hip flask I see poking out of your jacket pocket, Race, there’s a good chap,’ uncle Charles told him.
After the good inspector had done so - and Charles had quaffed alarmingly at the fluid - he began reading from his notebook.
‘On the 3rd August one of my constables was lured into a dark alleyway off Aldgate High Street by the lurid attentions of Jack’s female accomplice -known to you I think Charles as Amelia?’
Charles grunted and took another massive swipe at the hip flask.
‘There he was pounced upon by Jack, and the pair of them then debagged my poor constable, leaving him chained to a lamp post with his own handcuffs, stark naked and with a large parsnip in his mouth… and there he stood for five hours until we received a call of lewd and obscene behaviour from a passing servant girl and went down and arrested the fellow in the morning…’
‘What?’ enquired Charles. ‘You arrested your own constable, Race?’
‘Of course, Charles, the fellow was stark naked… we can’t allow that sort of thing to go on, the next step would be anarchy.’
‘Personally speaking I would have shot the fellow!’ Charles pronounced.
‘As fair as ever, Charles! I must say it is such a pleasure to work alongside one so possessed of a good sense of fair-play!’
‘Never mind that, Race, this damned bottle of jungle juice is quite empty and I have the devil’s thirst upon me today. It must be this sea air I suppose.’
The good inspector handed over the hip flask cunningly concealed in his sock and Uncle Charles gurgled in satisfaction.
‘On the 28th August another one of my constables apprehended Jack at midnight, armed with a large knife mind you, covered from head to foot in blood and mud and carrying a heavily blood-stained package…’
‘Pon my word!’ roared uncle Charles. ‘This sounds very serious, Race!’
‘It is sir!’ confirmed that worthy. ‘For I was called to the scene, and recognising young Jack straight away I demanded an explanation for his condition and behaviour…’
‘And did you get one!?’ demanded uncle Charles. ‘Press on man, I am agog!’
‘I’m afraid I did, Charles, and the consequences of which are very serious indeed. For young Jack explained to me that he had been poaching rabbits in Lord Grimshaw’s allotment and that he had four of the creatures in the package with which he planned a fine Jugged Hare…’
‘Splendid!’ roared uncle Charles. ‘I do enjoy one of Jack’s Jugged Hares!’
‘I must say that I am partial to one of Jack’s delicious little casseroles myself,’ admitted Inspector Race. ‘Why only last week I attended dinner at your house, Charles, and it was a jolly splendid evening where Jack positively excelled with his Hot-Pot. I must admit to being quite taken with this Amelia of yours. She has invited me around one evening to play some new-fangled games from the colonies, apparently she ties me up, gags and blindfolds me and then paddles me over every inch of my body with a table tennis bat…’
‘Steady on Race!’ exclaimed Charles. ‘You haven’t been formerly introduced yet, have you?’
The good inspector flushed up a bright crimson.
‘Oh Charles,’ he sighed. ‘If you could but introduce us formally I should be your friend for life. Will your hear this poesie I have in my pocket which I have penned for your dear niece Amelia!’
‘Get a grip on yourself, man!’ roared uncle Charles. ‘And pray continue with the circumstances attached to Jack and this curious incident you speak of.’
‘Quite right, Charles, I do apologise most profusely, but you see it is the mere thought of Amelia that drives me wild with unrequited passion. I see nothing but daffodils and butterflies…’
A staggering series of explosions caused Race to fall off his chair in shock, and clutching his hands to his head he could feel and smell powder burns on his scalp.
Uncle Charles calmly reloaded his service pistol and then placed it on his knee.
‘I would urge you, Race, in the strongest possible terms to continue with the circumstances of the evening you speak,’ advised uncle Charles. ‘Otherwise I just might shoot you down like the Catholic dog I am beginning to imagine you are.’
‘Yes, sir, at once,’ confirmed the good inspector. ‘Well, Charles, I needn’t tell you of the seriousness of the situation, after all the penalty for poaching game from a gentleman’s land is deportation or hanging…’
‘But did you know that Jack had the poached rabbits in the parcel, Race? Did you look, sir?’ enquired uncle Charles.
‘Well of course not, sir, it was Jack, your nephew and I took him at his word. I merely sent him on his way with a promise not to do it again or else I should have to bring it to your own attention,’ explained the inspector.
‘Quite right, Race,’ confirmed uncle Charles. ’And am I right to suppose the reason that we are having this little discussion is that Jack has done it again?’
Inspector Race nodded his head in sad confirmation.
‘I’m afraid so, Charles, on no less than four different occasions young Jack has been apprehended, late at night, covered in blood and mud, and with his knife and bloody packages of rabbits poached from Lord Grimthorpe’s allotment… would you like the dates, Charles?’
‘No matter, Race,’ said uncle Charles sadly. ’I can see that I am going to have to take young Jack under my wing… you don’t have an opening for a young constable or inspector on your beat, do you Race?’
‘Why, I do sir!’ cried Inspector Race. ’For just by coincidence I have yesterday been suspended on half pay for my part in the arrest of young Jack in connection with those silly little incidents in Kennington where he was trying to gaily pin ribbons on the young ladies dresses…’
‘Pon my word!’ roared uncle Charles. ’Which tyrannical despot of a superintendent has suspended you, Race?’
‘Well sir,’ Race hesitated briefly. ‘It was you, sir.’
‘Damn sorry about that, old boy,’ said uncle Charles as he lit up a fine Habana cigar.
‘That’s quite all right, sir,’ the inspector replied joyfully. ‘When I am eventually retired without any pension or any other means of support I shall probably shoot myself in the head.’
‘Not a bad idea, Race,’ uncle Charles agreed. ‘I shall probably do the same thing myself.’
‘Shall I continue with the catalogue, Charles, of Jack’s misdemeanours?’
‘You mean to say that there are more?’ demanded uncle Charles. ’Great suffering Catholic whores! What else has the young bounder been up to?’
‘I’m afraid I have saved the worst till last, Charles, and I would strongly advise you to take on board a large degree of that fine Trinidad rum you are drinking from my hip flask before I recount the final horror.’
Uncle Charles needed no further encouragement and clapped the flask to his lips, drained every last drop and ended the enjoyment with a resounding belch of such proportion that sea gulls resting on nearby rooftops were forced to flee, and young Jack shouted out from the fish pond ’Splendid shot, sir!’
‘Out with it, man!’ instructed uncle Charles.
‘I’m afraid to tell you Charles, that your dear nephew Jack, on the 31st August did spin a top on the public highway…’
‘Arghhhhhh!’ screamed uncle Charles and clapped his service pistol to his head. ‘I might as well end it all now! All is lost!’
Inspector Race wrestled with him for possession of the pistol and as they tumbled to the ground a single shot rang out.
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1877
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 16, 2004 - 7:35 am: |
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This was side-splitting stuff, AP. It looks lke Jack's been behaving in the most heinous fashion.
I loved the lamp post episode, and the rabbits...I think that any rival for Amelia's affections had better watch out, for if Jack doesn't get him, Amelia will.
Spinning a top! An endless cycle of depravity.
Robert |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 328
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 16, 2004 - 1:22 pm: |
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Robert
Thanks for your post!! Must uncork my muse and then go back and read A.P.'s latest!!
Love Suzi |
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 221
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 16, 2004 - 3:14 pm: |
|
Great stuff,hilarious AP.Enjoyed the idea of the seagulls taking fright there and the crazy business with Rudi in the nudi.But its all very funny and I"m looking forward to the next episode.
Robert.Yours was a bit different from the others of late.I liked it a lot,It struck a note somehow
and although I dont see JtR quite like this but rather more earnestly deluded and very driven
I can actually understand the ferocity of hatred
-for wombs and what not that is emanating from him
and urging him on.Very impressive.
Suzi without my own computer its difficult to try and assess and express what I like about your poems.They get away with being quite vague.You can almost sense the presence of Mary her weight her smell[violets/lavender that kind of thing]her
lack of a hold on anything [except her body up until JtR decided to intervene and destroy it].It tallies with fleeting images I get of her-not taking care of herself regarding broken windows and locks,mostly because of the booze I think
and a feeling that she was a drifter-concerned only with getting by,I dont want to sound judgemental I see her as finding life a bit too much for her to do any differently[and what is the saying-"there but for fortune go you or I"]
but you convey that sense of ennui brilliantly .
Best Natalie
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Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 334
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 16, 2004 - 4:55 pm: |
|
Nats
You've got it!! wish I could have put it so well..if I've conveyed it..thanks but I think there's a bit toooooo much of me in them sometimes!!!
Thanks again..bugger why do you put it so well??(Just had a domestic so am feeling a bit sorry for myself!!..Think I'll go and have a song.....!)
Thanks Nats
Talk soon
Love
suzi |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 335
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 16, 2004 - 4:56 pm: |
|
Nats
When you can email me ..do and I'll fill you in a bit
Cheers
Suzi |
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 222
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 16, 2004 - 5:28 pm: |
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Will do Suzi-remember "don"t let the buggers get you down" love Nats. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1879
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 17, 2004 - 5:40 am: |
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Hi all
BLACK HOLE
Faster and faster, till he entered
His great Black Hole, infinity-centred,
That all the philosophers' laws do flout,
Met his own self coming out.
Strung like spaghetti on merciless loom,
Woven in streaky patterns of doom.
Time did shift, and crunched its gears,
Seconds were minutes, days were years,
And the Before slaughtered the After
While the joke did follow the laughter.
Space wasn't straight, or curved, but jagged,
His heart beat a rhythm rambling and ragged.
Turn eyeglass to event horizon,
There is no trace of him, or the reason
He crossed that line in his dread and his sadness.
All within is eternal madness.
Robert |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 339
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 17, 2004 - 6:26 am: |
|
Nats
This is Sat. am have sent him out shopping!! so I won't..anyone who can be ar***d to go out..when I can't can't be all bad (ish)
Suzi |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1880
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 17, 2004 - 6:53 am: |
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Dear me! Double Event!
WALKING
I walked the streets and gazed around me
Till in Spitalfields I found me,
All humanity was here
Small voice whispered in my ear :
"Every dog must have his chain,
Short or long, polished or plain,
Morals, religion, custom or fear
For the Chasm is always near."
But one man with triumphant shout
Did snap his chain and rush about.
The others scratched their heads,
Tidied their chains and went to their beds.
No one knew how he got loose,
But all agreed he had no excuse.
And now a thousand dogs are yapping
To sound of a thousand chains a-snapping.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 739
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 17, 2004 - 9:09 am: |
|
Robert
what a superb double event!
You certainly saved the best for after the competition closed... for these two without a doubt are your best work yet, still they could always win this year's prize which is a day out with uncle Charles and Jack at the Brighton seaside. Think the winner might need pampers.
I was humbled by both these works Robert, they both positively stomp through the mind, disturbingly so at times, but this is part of their magik; and both have a weird chord that surely all of us will answer or echo to.
Superb stuff, I shall read them again and again.
And here's something to put a smile on your face: |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 740
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 17, 2004 - 9:15 am: |
|
Jack and Uncle Charles visit the Seaside. (4)
Both men immediately ceased their terrific struggle at the loud report of the pistol, then straight away came a loud cry of anguish from behind them and they both turned just in time to see Jack, arms akimbo, fall backwards into the fish pond with a great splash.
‘You’ve shot Jack!’ screamed Inspector Race, climbing to his feet in a state of some hysteria.
‘It was your bloody hand on the bloody trigger!’ roared uncle Charles, throwing the pistol aside. ‘You have shot my nephew sir! You complete and utter Catholic bastard! If I was not overcome with grief, remorse and shock I would shoot you down like the Catholic dog you are!’
‘It’s your fingerprints on the bloody gun, Charles!’ cried Race.
‘Don’t be daft, old chap, fingerprinting will not be discovered for another twenty years or so,’ uncle Charles admonished him. ‘If you can’t stick to the transcript we shall hire someone else for your role.’
‘Sorry Charles!’ Race quickly apologised. ‘I was quite caught up in the moment there I fear, sir.’
When they arrived at the pond, there lay poor young Jack, the perfect picture of serenity and peace, floating on his back with a sweet smile on his young face, and the white feathers from the recently dismembered seagull floating on the surface of the water added a touch of poignancy to the entire proceedings.
‘Do you think him dead, Charles?’ asked Race in concern.
‘Not a bit of it, my dear fellow!’ roared uncle Charles. ‘Why, I have shot Jack on numerous occasions and the boy has always recovered before. Grab his foot there, Race, and pull the bounder in so that we can have a good look at the little chap.’
When Race pulled Jack over it became quickly obvious that the damage was far more severe than first thought, for the bullet had hit the poor chap just above the heart and blown a hole in his chest the size of a soup bowl, from which gaping wound copious amounts of blood spilled into the fish pond much to the savage delight of the goldfish therein who were in the throes of a feeding frenzy.
‘Great heavens!’ swore Race. ‘The poor chap is done for I fear Charles! Nobody could survive such a crippling wound!’
‘Poppycock!’ roared uncle Charles. ‘Tis but a flesh wound! We’ll have him up and running about in no time, you’ll see! Here, Race, help me haul the bounder out before he drowns in a terrible accident.’
Once Jack was out of the pond the true extent of his injuries could be seen, for the exit wound of the heavy calibre bullet had done just as much damage there as the entry.
‘He’s had it, Charles,’ Race pronounced sadly.
‘Poppycock!’ roared uncle Charles again. ‘He’ll be as right as rain in a few minutes. You pop off into the home and as a matter of some urgency bring me the following items: I’ll require at least three bed sheets, a large pot of honey, three bottles of superior brandy - three star will do but if you can lay your hands on some five star all the better - and then a large handful of the nettles growing wild over there by the hedge, but mind you don’t sting yourself on them, Race.’
‘Yes sir!’ shouted Race and raced off.
‘Raced off!’ chortled uncle Charles as he sat down on the edge of the pond by Jack’s lifeless body and happily lit up a fine Habana cigar.
‘This is a fine old pickle you have got us into, young Jack,’ he told the moribund Jack. ‘Spinning a top on the public highway! What in the Papist belcher’s wind did you think you were up to boy?! You know I have my position to consider! I won’t be able to show my face in society for months!’
Jack’s eyes fluttered slightly and he coughed up a great wad of blood.
‘Uncle, dear uncle…’ he groaned in a deathly whisper.
‘Speak up boy!’ thundered uncle Charles. ‘How many times must I tell you not to mumble so?!’
‘Sorry… dear uncle,’ Jack coughed out with yet more blood. ‘It is just before I go I must confess…’
‘Great thundering Catholic farts and fuses!’ screamed uncle Charles, grabbing Jack around the throat and throttling him with some vigour. ‘Do I look like a Catholic priest to you, boy?! Do you take me for some Papist scum from the confession box?!’
Jack’s eyes fluttered alarmingly and he appeared unable to draw a breath.
‘Where’s your fighting spirit?!’ demanded uncle Charles. ‘Are you telling me that if a horde of foul Papist belchers and heathens came marching up the garden path right now then you would lay there rolling your damn eyes and demanding confession?!’
Jack’s eyes lit up briefly at the delightful prospect of the great slaughter of a Papist horde, and his little hands even clutched at the air as if in search of his wicked cut-throat razor, but then his eyes closed again just as Race arrived back at the pond with the supplies requested by uncle Charles.
‘Charles!’ shouted Inspector Race. ‘Whatever are you doing with your hands round the poor boy’s throat? You’ll kill the poor little fellow!’
‘Never mind that, Race,’ replied uncle Charles taking his hands away from Jack’s throat. ‘Give me that damned bottle of brandy you are clutching for I have an urgent need of it!’
Without let or hesitation uncle Charles smashed the neck of the brandy bottle against the side of the pond and poured half the contents of the bottle down his throat in one large gulp.
‘By the Papist Pope’s pox ridden arse!’ he bellowed. ‘What splendid brandy! Where in the devil’s private parts did you manage to unearth a bottle of Metaxa six star in this seagull ridden seaside resort, Race?!
‘Well, funny you should mention that, sir,’ replied Race. ‘For to obtain the bed sheets you required it proved necessary to strip Abberline’s bed, and in doing so I was forced to move the bed, and well, bless my soul, there underneath the bed I found not one but three bottles of this very rare Metaxa six star of which you seem inordinately fond, but not only that I also discovered under the bed this highly interesting volume entitled ‘Spanking and Bondage in the Modern Victorian Household’ which I carry in my hand…’
‘Not any more you don’t!’ screamed uncle Charles as he ripped the heavy volume out of the inspector’s good hands and proceeded to study it with great diligence and application.
Inspector Race sat down beside uncle Charles and the two of them studied the volume with great intensity and passion, the only interruption being the occasional pitiful and heart-rending cries of Jack interspersed with the mewing of gulls about their seaside business.
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1882
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 17, 2004 - 4:29 pm: |
|
Thanks very much, AP. Much appreciated.
Your piece was a real tonic, better than Metaxa six star. I was laughing away as usual. What weird and wacky orders of priorities these people have! And these characters that you have created really live. Wonderful stuff.
Robert |
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 223
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 17, 2004 - 4:58 pm: |
|
Hi Robert AP and Suzi
have just posted a meesage to you all which for some reason has been submitted to the message queue.Nevermind[just hope this isnt too as its going to be a week or so before I get my own computer back]
loved your two poems Robert and enjoyed your last episode enormously AP
Suzi do keep on your lovely work.
Best Natalie |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 349
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 17, 2004 - 5:10 pm: |
|
Nats
Guess it was the demon drink talking through me!! Glad you enjoyed..get writing you!!
Get back tomorrow..still getting the Hmmmmmm when I go on..! hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Get back soon Suzi |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 351
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 17, 2004 - 6:26 pm: |
|
Hi all
The devil told me write this! (Disguised as the demon drink I guess!!)
From George-
6d
Sixpence
If I had sixpence
I'd have a bed
Wait now
Think again
Wait
Wait and
Watch
Maybe
Just maybe
A bed for
Free
Cold
Wet
Best maybe just
keep walking
Soon be light
Light?
Ah yes
Light!
suzi |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1884
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 18, 2004 - 7:48 am: |
|
Thanks, Natalie.
WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS
They thought their lives were their own, those girls.
Spinning like tops in their everyday whirls.
Rounds in pubs and rounds of police,
Rounds of punters, gin's giddy release.
Same performance each new day,
Same old lines in the same old play.
But fated they were to play their roles
For him who liked to stick pins in dolls.
Crazy potter misshaping the clay
Whirled on his wheel for Judgement Day.
Thrusts home the magical pins,
Turns on his heel and grins.
Angel with nowhere left to fall,
His is the voice behind the wall,
Muttering indistinct and low,
Far off seeming, pacing slow.
Then the wall doth crack,
Turn at the last, for it's Jack.
Robert |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 354
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 18, 2004 - 8:29 am: |
|
Thats great Robert!!
Suzi |
severntest123
Unregistered guest
| | Posted on Saturday, January 17, 2004 - 4:49 pm: |
|
Curiouser and curiouser AP-loved it and chuckled a lot at the outrageous behaviour of uncle Charles,Look forward to more fun next time!
Suzi look forward to your next poem.Love the "unstated " in them.
Robert;AP is right both poems do you great credit
quite magical.
Natalie. |
|
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