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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1885
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 18, 2004 - 8:34 am: | 
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Thanks Suzie. Liked yours too.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 742
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 18, 2004 - 1:06 pm: |
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Robert
again another one of those poems that creep and tiptoe through the mind, almost unsettling in its mysterious manner.
Very bloody good.
I don't know where you are dragging these out from, but they are truly brilliant works of art.
Lovely little cameos.
I must put me poesie hat on and see if I can't trounce you with something equally provocative and unsettling. |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 743
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 18, 2004 - 1:45 pm: |
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Jack and Uncle Charles visit the Seaside. (5)
After a few hours had elapsed, Jack gave out a particularly harrowing and gruesome cry of pain that moved the good Inspector Race to comment:
‘Charles, my dear fellow, I really think we should attend to the matter of young Jack here.’
‘Quite right, Race!’ replied uncle Charles, slamming the weighty tome shut. ‘But I must say that - by the good kindness of the Papist Pope’s foul breath - after reading all this educative and enlightening material I do feel quite light headed, and fear I need a damn good leeching to restore the powers of my addled brain. Is there a doctor near by, Race, who could as a matter of great urgency draw off some blood for me?’
‘But Charles!’ implored Race. ‘What about poor young Jack?!’
‘Yes, sorry Race, I meant to ask before I got involved with that damn book, isn’t there a way somehow that you and your fellow officers could overlook this small peccadillo on the part of my dear nephew Jack?’
‘Well Charles, I was referring of course to Jack’s present and dangerous condition, but if you must rather discuss the matter of Jack’s foul and heinous crime of spinning said top on public highway then I have no objections. However to be fair to you Charles I should warn you that after my suspension on half pay and the loss of my pension I am not particularly favoured towards such a course of action…’
‘Ah!’ interrupted uncle Charles. ‘So if I read you write, Race, what you are suggesting to me is that if I were to reinstate you to your former position of inspector…’
‘Superintendent, Charles,’ interrupted Race.
‘Yes, Race?’
‘No, Charles, I meant Superintendent Race, me so to speak sir, as a superintendent.’
Uncle Charles glared at Race for a few moments.
‘Well, quite, yes then…’ uncle Charles finally agreed. ‘Superintendent Race it is then. And following that if I were to restore your full pension rights, then you could just possibly see your way to ignoring this very serious charge against my nephew?’
‘Ignore it, sir!?’ cried Superintendent Race. ‘Why sir! It never even happened did it, sir? The whole thing was part of some fiendish Papist and Fenian plot to besmirch the good name of one of Scotland Yard’s finest serving officers.’
‘Thank you, Race,’ murmured uncle Charles. ‘The compliment is appreciated.
‘I was referring to my good self actually, Charles, but never matter. There is but one proviso to this entire affair and that is I’m afraid, Charles, that young Jack will have to disappear for some length of time into some kind of home until the dust settles on this top spinning business.’
‘What sort of ‘home’ do you have in mind, old chap?’ asked uncle Charles.
‘Somewhere suitable for the poor little chap to convalesce for a couple of years, Charles, where he might find peace of mind and not have this strange desire to spin tops on Her Majesty’s highway; the poor little chap will need to recover from his horrendous wounds as well, Charles.’
‘Yes,’ agreed uncle Charles as he gazed at the almost lifeless body of Jack stretched out before them. ‘He is looking a little pale around the gills I must agree.’
‘Why, Charles!’ cried Superintendent Race. ‘I have just had the most marvellous idea!’
‘If you think I am going to promote you to Chief Superintendent above my head,’ uncle Charles warned him. ’Then I would strongly urge you to reconsider because I would rather shoot you down like a dog, sir!’
‘Oh no sir, nothing like that at all,’ Race assured him. ‘I was merely thinking of the superb situation we find ourselves in, for here we are with a young fellow in obvious need of a long spell of convalescence, and here we sit in the Police Seaside Convalescent Home by the bloody seaside, sir!’
‘Pon my word!’ roared uncle Charles. ‘You are not half as stupid as you look, Race. Why we could easily bed Jack down here for a year or so and nobody would be the wiser. He’d be quite happy playing with the frogs and seagulls in the gardens and could always take himself off to the town centre and slaughter a few Catholic whores if he got bored…’
‘Surely you mean rabbits, don’t you Charles?’ asked Race.
‘Slip of the tongue, Race,’ uncle Charles assured him. ’Well, Race I’ll allow you to attend to the necessary details. I’m off to my deck-chair to study this volume in peace. I have discovered the most interesting chapter concerning how one is to punish reluctant maids who have disobeyed their master’s orders.’
‘But Charles!’ implored Race. ‘What about young Jack here!?’
‘Oh, you patch the little blighter up, Race, simple matter, just pour a bottle of brandy on each wound, pour the honey into the cavities, ram the nettles in there - mind you don’t sting yourself though, Race - and then wrap the little chap up tightly in the bed sheets and throw him in a bed. He’ll be as right as rain by the morning.’
‘Right ho, Charles!’ Race obliged. ‘I’ll start this second with this bottle of brandy.’
‘Second thoughts, old boy,’ said uncle Charles as he swiped the bottle of brandy out of Race’s hands. ‘One bottle will do for the boy.’
As Race set about patching up the unfortunate Jack, Inspector Abberline wandered aimlessly through the gardens towards them.
‘Race old boy!’ he called out when he saw them. ‘You haven’t seen my copy of ‘Spanking and Bondage in…’… great heavens, Race, whatever has happened to young Jack!?
‘He has fallen down the stairs I’m afraid, Abberline,’ replied Race.
‘Poor chap!’ exclaimed Abberline. ‘You haven’t seen the book of which I speak have you old boy?’
‘Charles is studying it over there on his gaily striped deck-chair, Race, but if I were you I wouldn’t bother him now, he is in a thunderous mood and would probably shoot you down like a dog as quick as look at you.’
‘Oh well!’ sighed Abberline. ‘I might as well go and work on my memoirs then.’
‘Have you a title yet for the book, Abberline?’ asked Race as he poured honey into Jack’s gaping wounds.
‘I’m thinking of calling the volume ‘Jack the Ripper. I knew Him.’ What do you think, Race?’
‘Has a nice ring to it, Abberline. Had any advances on it yet?’
‘Indeed, my dear chap, why only this morning I received a most handsome banker’s order for five hundred pounds!’ exclaimed Abberline.
‘Capital!’ screamed Race.
‘How are you getting on with your recollections of the crimes, Race, old boy? Got a title yet?’ asked Abberline.
‘Splendidly, Abberline, why I had an advance from my publishers yesterday for six hundred pounds, and have decided on the title ‘Jack the Ripper. I knew Him Better Than You.’
‘Splendid!’ cried Abberline and then asked: ‘What title do you think Charles will give to his memoirs of the case?’
‘I should think our dear old Charles will call his own volume ‘Jack the Ripper. I Shot The Bastard’.
Both men chortled at the thought until Race suddenly screamed out aloud in obvious pain.
‘Why, Race, whatever is the matter my dear old chap? Have you injured yourself?’ asked Abberline in some concern.
‘It’s these damn nettles that I’m trying to shove into Jack’s chest!’ swore Superintendent Race. ‘I’ve stung my bloody hands on them!’
|
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 225
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 18, 2004 - 3:03 pm: |
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Suzi once again your light touch combined with your observations about another important character in the saga allow one to develop a better understanding of that character.Without getting right in there explaining,with just a few hints in fact we can empathise with this george"s predicament and understand his motive.
AP Thankyou for your brilliantly funny and compelling story,
Robert.I can only echo AP.the poem is first rate.
The fractured nightmarish world of Jack is evoked in all it"s maverick and ritualistic monstrosity.
Natalie |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 355
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 18, 2004 - 3:10 pm: |
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Nats-So glad you liked it..sort of fell out late last night when I was feeling a bit sorry for myself..ok now though!! Thanks! How you??
AP- brilliant as ever..loved the sting in the tail!...Ouch!!
Robert-Excellent sir!! I take my (wideawake) hat off to you sir!!
Love
Suzi |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1889
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 18, 2004 - 4:06 pm: |
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Thanks everyone.
Yes, Suzi, your one was nicely done.
AP, this was marvellous. I loved the way the top business keeps reappearing, and Abberline searching for his book, the one-upmanship with the book titles and advances, the stairs...the whole thing was a joy.
My heart was in my mouth for Race when he briefly stood up to Uncle Charles!
The cure for stinging nettles is PC Dixon of Dock Green.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 745
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Monday, January 19, 2004 - 1:57 pm: |
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Freeze Frame Flame.
Fit the freeze to the frame
Take it down and do it again
Fit the freeze to the flame
Take it down and feel the pain.
Blood boils with venom glut
Dirty blood and dirty slut
In ice cold boiling pit
Broils in spat out spit
Shove the frame and frame will fit.
Fit the picture to the frame
Take it down and do it again
Fit the freeze to the flame
Take it down and feel the pain.
Close the eyes and open heart
Skim the cream off the tart
Split the whore to get the spark
Then does great engine start
And right rip the frame apart.
Fit the freeze to the pain
Fit it and fit it and fit it again
Fit the freeze to the flame
Take it down and fit it again.
Find it hot and leave it cold
Leave it bought but not yet sold
Cut the voice before it speak
Pull the plug before it leak
And then is the frame most weak.
Shove the bloody frame
Shove the bloody pain
Burn that bloody flame
And bloody hell
Just do it again.
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Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 365
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Monday, January 19, 2004 - 2:13 pm: |
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Go A.P.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Excellent!
Nats-
I've been called many things..love to think I could be 'understated!!..but you'll never get the art teacher out of the girl!!!or vice versa!!! |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 375
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Monday, January 19, 2004 - 4:57 pm: |
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VERSA!!!?? think I'll call myself that from now on!!!
With apologies to Peter Dawson
Foot slogg,slogging
Slogging down from Romford O
There's one way back
to the whore!!
OOOOps..sorry Peter and sorry George!!..it just came into my head..the song that is!!
Suzi |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1892
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Monday, January 19, 2004 - 6:25 pm: |
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Magnificent, AP. Quite hypnotic, with a - may sound silly - but I was going to say sinister sort of rhythm. I could well imagine this being set to music. With such memorable words, I think you could have a number one on your hands here (but not a Christmas number one).
Re where I drag my poems out from, I suppose I often weave in ideas derived from yourself - quite a few of them should be prefaced "With thanks to AP".
This one's another hip hop experiment. If it's crap say the word.
FIXED
No not me not eat poor Jack
Where go where please please go back
Bygone smell of bygone sink
Poisoned well make sick no drink
I no worm on hook for bite
In the stagnant pools of night
I hate worm just like I should
Cut you out of Jack for good
I...am...in...control!
There! And there! And there!
There, there...
Now beneath me earth not crumble
Me walk fine me never stumble
Sharded shreds and tatters torn
Jack is ripped and Jack reborn
ILLUMINATION
So there came the final rip
Murderous hands did lose their grip
Dropped the useless razor blunted
And the hunter was the hunted
Did he glimpse of self divine?
Turned to gall the bloody wine?
Did he make one wish?
Closed his eyes and said "Pish"
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 746
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, January 20, 2004 - 2:32 am: |
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Yes, Robert
I freely admit that I also take much of my inspiration from your good self... and others, hence does the world spin.
Strangely enough when I penned the poesie of mine above I had very much in my head that hypnotic song 'Bad World'.
Your two poesies again sublime, you seem to be matching your words with complete mastery and not a little bit savagery at the moment, I can only stand back and admire.
I think I'll go back to black comedy until your inspired visions end.
Thanks for your kind words. |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 376
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, January 20, 2004 - 4:25 am: |
|
Robert
Loved the ..and the hunter was the hunted... line
Suzi |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 386
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, January 20, 2004 - 5:04 pm: |
|
Robert and AP
Having spent most of last night trying to 'mend ' my computer..don't ask!!! till 3.00! am so tired now..must get some zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Nats-
GET BACK SOON!!!!!
Hope the beast's working!! email when you can am sure we'll make eachother laugh in an art teachery sort of way!! hope you're good
Suzi |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1894
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, January 20, 2004 - 7:27 pm: |
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Thanks AP, Suzi.
AP, you must be more clued up on pop music than me. I don't think I've heard "Bad World".
JACK TAR
Speck of dust
In the gust,
Shot by thrust,
Born of lust.
Boom and bust.
Lips curl sly
Fairies die -
"That is the way it seems to you,
But you haven't lived in my head
Stuffed with more dreams 'neath the dark, dark blue
Than the slumbering ones abed
When the clouds are the angels' frosty breath
And the moonbeams their harp strings
That I pluck and play to the blind and the deaf
As from shaft to shaft I swing
And now Creation's cupped in my hand
And I slip it inside my coat
And sail away to a far-off land
In a blood-enchanted boat
Rich and red is the song in my heart
Dark and deep is the sea
Crazy and crumpled the funny old chart
And the voyage is always free
The fairies never died
'Twas only the world that lied."
Robert |
Stephen P. Ryder
Board Administrator
Username: Admin
Post Number: 2930
Registered: 10-1997
| | Posted on Wednesday, January 21, 2004 - 9:17 am: |
|
Please note the new location for this thread, under "Creative Writing and Expression". You will need to physically subscribe to this thread if you want email notification (see under "Edit Profile", top-right of page).
All pages in this subheading will be permanently archived, as usual.
Keep the poems flowing!
- Stephen
PS: I think Robert is the de-facto winner of the AP Wolf content... he was the only person ever to send one in for consideration.
Stephen P. Ryder, Editor
Casebook: Jack the Ripper
|
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 750
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, January 21, 2004 - 1:16 pm: |
|
Robert, although apparently a ‘de-facto’ winner I would just like to say that you are the obvious winner of the prize anyway. Your work ranges from the absolute hilarious to the most thought provoking and chilling that it has been my pleasure to read for a long time, and this combined with your speed and agility with the written word makes you a very difficult man to better. Sometimes the sheer speed of your response to a poetic challenge has left me in rags and tatters, and I’m a demon too when it comes to a creative challenge - or drinking brandy.
You have my sincere congratulations for all your efforts over the past year and I take me cap off to you sir!
Just let me know if you would like the still-new copy of the ‘Myth’ signed or left ‘intacto‘. Personally I would have it signed as it will be the only one in the world and you might get a few bob for it when I finally fall down the stairs.
I suppose I better sit down and write another rare volume now so that we have a prize for this year!
Another excellent poem by the way.
I must get to it, for it seems we might now have as many as five readers.
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1898
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, January 21, 2004 - 4:36 pm: |
|
Stephen, thank you for those words. We'll try to keep them coming.
And thank you for judging the competition (even if there wasn't much judging to do!)
More importantly, thanks for permitting this thread. And I'd just like to say again : all welcome. If a tea-swilling sausage-munching guy like me can post poems, anyone can.
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1899
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, January 21, 2004 - 4:49 pm: |
|
AP, what can I say that won't embarrass you? "Pish" maybe?
Your encouragement, and the constant effort of trying to keep up with you, have made me aware of a poetic tendency I never believed I had.
Yes, if you could sign the book, I'll email you.
Hope you won't be falling down the stairs for a long time. But in case of your ever doing it, do you think you could send the book sprinkled with some brandy stains? Just to further authenticate it......
I feel like writing a bit of comedy now, and will try to post something in next day or two.
Robert |
Glenn L Andersson
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Glenna
Post Number: 1036
Registered: 8-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, January 21, 2004 - 7:06 pm: |
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Robert,
I must admit I am not that much of a poetry fan, but I just want to congratulate you (AP and Suzi doesen't come that far behind either). You are a born poet (and song lyricist), and I am indeed greatly impressed.
Good luck with the comedy efforts. You are one of the funniest characters on the Boards, so I expect you to be equally successful in that as well.
All the best
Glenn L Andersson
Crime historian, Sweden
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1901
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Wednesday, January 21, 2004 - 7:36 pm: |
|
Hi Glenn
Thanks very much! You have a great sense of humour yourself.
Yes, I can see I'll have very stiff competition next year. At least, though, I won't have to worry about AP for as long as AP is the one who donates the prizes!
Speaking of lyrics, I seem to remember someone was going to post the words of Abba hits in Swedish, for us to guess the song. I was hoping for "Fernando"...
Robert |
Glenn L Andersson
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Glenna
Post Number: 1037
Registered: 8-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 22, 2004 - 6:18 am: |
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Hi Robert,
Ah yes! I had forgotten about that; maybe I'll put something up in a suitable thread when I have the time. Been rather pressed lately. Fernando is a good one.
Now, get on with the poetry, guys.
All the best
(Message edited by Glenna on January 22, 2004)
Glenn L Andersson
Crime historian, Sweden
|
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 751
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 22, 2004 - 2:01 pm: |
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The Ripposaur
Almost extinct but still thrashing its tail
Doomed to extinction and doomed to fail
The great gravid beast still plods through the scene
Leaving piles of dung to show where it has been.
Its massive and weighty jaws stretch with theory
But then the Ripposaur falls asleep for it is weary.
As its thunderous snores cut right through the night
It doth dream of long past times when it could fight
And cross swords with the world’s best
Now poor old beast just couldn’t care less.
Sad old Ripposaur just likes to lay in his mud
And daydream about whores covered in blood
And of his splendid theories that carried such worth
But now he can’t get his leather belt around his girth.
So on his Zimmer-frame does he give tours
To those who would like to kill whores.
Up and down Whitechapel the Ripposaur lumbers
Dreaming sweet dreams of his approaching slumbers
Dreaming of the days when his voice spoke thunder
And his bright spark and wit did rip world asunder
But now round Tescos with trolley does blunder
And enquires the price of a piece of ham
And is there MSG in that there apricot jam?
So arrives at bed-sit in terrible mood
And decides to send message quite rude
For his ways are sinister when not crude.
‘That’ll teach the bastards to write such prose
I’ll teach the bastards to get up my nose!’
And then he sits back with slippers comfortably
And reads his ‘Ripposaur’ that comes monthly.
Poor old Ripposaur turns to scratch at persistent itch
But because of paunch can’t reach the bitch.
Staggers off to his old bed
To sleep once more, instead.
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1902
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 22, 2004 - 4:01 pm: |
|
AP, that was a perfectly balanced blend of sad and funny, full of memorable images.I loved the changes of mood that the Ripposaur himself undergoes. The bit about giving tours "to those who would like to kill whores" was wonderfully wicked. Marvellous poem, AP.
Robert |
Stephen P. Ryder
Board Administrator
Username: Admin
Post Number: 2933
Registered: 10-1997
| | Posted on Thursday, January 22, 2004 - 5:08 pm: |
|
Domestic Tranquility: Or, Jack after a hard day's work
"Goodnight husband!"
"Farewell father!"
Oh, those two are such a bother.
As I try I find it harder - balance love, and work, and play.
Not once have I wished harm against my wife and child's charm,
And yet now here I stand, alarmed, at the thoughts my mind does say.
Shall I take the famous knife and do the same to my own wife,
Extinguishing her life just like the haggard five before?
Or perhaps my precious daughter will be subject to my slaughter
One night when I have caught her sleeping smugly... little whore.
No.
No, I must in speedy fashion learn to separate and ration
This monstrosity of passion which does bring to mind such thoughts.
Lest thought and action mold, turning warm heart into cold,
Allowing such things to unfold as early use of family plots.
Out there, upon the street; that's where the tiger finds his meat.
Leave the castle to the kitten and forever be discreet.
Stephen P. Ryder, Editor
Casebook: Jack the Ripper
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AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 752
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 22, 2004 - 5:36 pm: |
|
Yes, Stephen I found that exciting, the juxtaposition atwixt the safe harbour of home and the raging sea beyond out on the streets; to put ones feet up before the fire with wife and adoring child or to go out and kill a whore in the dank and damp of a Whitechapel night… choices we do not normally face - and who knows what creates or drives the forces that do? - I must try something similar… have Jack taking off his slippers, slipping on his rubber soled boots, kissing child on head and then saying to his wife ‘sorry, love, I’ve just got to slip out and slit a whore’, just like we might pop down the local for a pint.
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1903
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 22, 2004 - 6:17 pm: |
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Stephen, I thought that was extremely clever, and frightening as well. The idea of a Jack who begins to realise that his hates and passions are starting to turn upon his family rings true to me.
I loved the slightly surprising last word, redolent of Victorian middle-class respectability,
and bringing the poem back to the beginning after the soul-searching in between.
I enjoyed that a lot, Stephen.
Robert |
Stephen P. Ryder
Board Administrator
Username: Admin
Post Number: 2934
Registered: 10-1997
| | Posted on Thursday, January 22, 2004 - 9:00 pm: |
|
AP, Robert, thanks a bunch - I'm afraid that's the only time I've ever felt compelled to try my hand at fiction or poetry in regards to the Ripper case... wrote it 7 or 8 years ago on a lark but never really liked it all that much.
Came across it this evening while poring through some old files and thought I'd post it.
Anyhow, glad you liked it. 
Stephen P. Ryder, Editor
Casebook: Jack the Ripper
|
John Hacker
Inspector
Username: Jhacker
Post Number: 160
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 22, 2004 - 9:11 pm: |
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Truly excellent stuff Stephen!
I started a screenplay once, but never got around to finishing it. :-(
The only completed creative Ripper work I did was a single Haiku:
The Ripperologists Dream:
I know who did it
Give me a large pile of cash
Checks not accepted
|
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1909
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 23, 2004 - 4:19 am: |
|
Hi Stephen, John
Well, Stephen, I hope we don't have to wait seven years for the next one!
John, I suppose an unfinished JTR screenplay would at least reflect the state of the case.
Plus, it leaves the way open for a contract to write the sequel!
Robert
|
Ally
Inspector
Username: Ally
Post Number: 224
Registered: 4-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 23, 2004 - 8:36 am: |
|
Wow. He writes poetry. Wow.
Pondering,
Ally
Ally wrote a poem once but she would never share it because she is shy. And her poetry sucks. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1912
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 23, 2004 - 9:21 am: |
|
Well, shy Ally, why not bang it in? If Stephen takes to wandering off lonely as a cloud, you'll have to do something to pass the time!
Robert |
John Hacker
Inspector
Username: Jhacker
Post Number: 162
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 23, 2004 - 9:23 am: |
|
Robert,
There wouldn't have been any sequel! I started from the ironic ending and was working backwards. :-) Maybe I will go back and finish it someday. With a rewrite it might make a good play if nothing else. |
Ally
Inspector
Username: Ally
Post Number: 231
Registered: 4-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 23, 2004 - 11:40 am: |
|
If Stephen starts doing wordsworth, I plan to take up pole vaulting, or possibly bungee jumping. I'd have much better results than with banging.
Uh..
Going now. |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 754
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 23, 2004 - 1:11 pm: |
|
Well, folks, this year’s poetry prize is to be the following:
‘A mint copy of ‘Who Was Jack the Ripper - a collection of present-day theories and observations.’ Published by Grey House Books in 1995, the copy is a first-edition limited example, numbered 76 out of only 100 copies printed, and retailing at £100.00 in that year. The volume contains approximately 50 original signatures from the many well-known contributors… apart from one certain writer who refused to sign any of the copies, but that person will sign if required thus making it the only fully signed copy in the world.’
Probably worth a few bob, so get to it!
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1916
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 23, 2004 - 5:06 pm: |
|
That sounds like a very nice prize, AP. As before, I'll have a bash, but first I must type out a rather long piece about Jack and Uncle Charles.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 757
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 23, 2004 - 5:36 pm: |
|
I found it in me sock draw, Robert, along with some old CD's of Tina Turner. God, what a sad sod I must have been!
Thank heavens for SSB.
I look forward to your piece. |
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 228
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 23, 2004 - 5:41 pm: |
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Hi everyone-feel its an age since I wrote on here and so much has happened!I liked your poem Stephen it had a very sinister twist to it somehow
-everything is simmering under the surface-and the surface is so respectable!Hope we get more!
Robert ,Well done!Some of your poems have been slendid-and they can be so varied too!
AP felt a little bit sort of uncomfortable reading your last but it was hilarious!
Hope to come back on board soon---It"s still not fixed though.
All the Best Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1918
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 23, 2004 - 7:25 pm: |
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Hi all
Thanks Natalie. Hope you're back soon.
The bell rang, and Uncle Charles opened it to reveal a delivery man staggering under the weight of sixty cases of finest brandy.
"This is a larger quantity than normal, uncle," said Jack.
"Just stow it somewhere convenient, idolatrous bastard!" said Uncle Charles to the startled delivery man. "Well, Jack, I've been – I didn't mean for you to stow it there!" exclaimed Uncle Charles, shooting the delivery man in the stomach.
Blood and brandy gushed from the wound, and the delivery man dropped the bottle he'd been happily imbibing.
"That looks like a fatal wound", said Uncle Charles. "Better call in at an undertaker's and get yourself seen to. This is for your trouble", added Uncle Charles, giving the delivery man a kick.
"And this is for yours", replied the delivery man, giving Uncle Charles a tin of prunes.
By the time that Uncle Charles had absorbed the implications of this, the delivery man had shot off to the nearest cemetery. The result was that Uncle Charles, in a fit of displaced aggression, fired several revolver rounds at the serving wench who was in the act of climbing the stairs, and who successfully dodged the bullets all the way to the top.
"Bloody servants!" complained Uncle Charles. "You just can't get them these days – they will zigzag so!"
"Don’t even know how to fall down the stairs", agreed Jack. "But uncle, have you had a windfall?"
Uncle Charles's brow darkened. "If you're alluding to those prunes, Jack – "
"I mean, whence all this brandy?"
"Ah! I got it with reward money. You see, the City police don't talk to the Met and the Met divisions don't talk to each other. I go to one lot and finger one Catholic bastard as the Whitechapel murderer, then I go to another lot and finger another Catholic bastard".
"And they swallow it, uncle?"
"Absolutely – they've just arrested the Pope. Good old City police! Meanwhile the Met are anxious to trace a Catholic painting bastard called Michelangelo".
"Uncle, surely Michelangelo's alibi is watertight? He's dead".
"Nevertheless, Inspector Cornwell is hot on his trail. She's pulled down the Sistine Chapel in the hope of extracting evidence he may have left while painting it. You see how I kill two birds with one stone?"
Just then the bell rang again. The delivery man had returned.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but could I borrow a shovel? When you're poor, you have to bury yourself, you know".
Uncle Charles swivelled his cannon and blasted an enormous crater in the front garden.
"Just climb in and pull the earth down on top of you".
"Thank 'ee kindly, sir", said the delivery man from the bottom of the crater.
Later that night, Uncle Charles and Jack were doing their accounts.
"Fifty pounds for St Augustine...one hundred pounds for St Ignatius Loyola...
"Don't forget the delivery man", reminded Jack.
"Yes, five pounds for the Catholic prune bastard.…That makes over a thousand pounds, Jack!"
The bell rang 500 times. Uncle Charles opened the door to find 500 policemen standing on his doorstep.
"Charles Cutbush and nephew? We arrest you for the Whitechapel murders. You are not obliged to drink anything, but anything you do drink will be taken down to the station and used in the police canteen", said the officer, grabbing a case of brandy.
"What Catholic bastard gave you our names?" yelled Uncle Charles as he was bundled into a cab.
"It wasn't me!" called out the delivery man cavernously.
"Look!" cried Jack as he was pitched into the cab beside his uncle. Cousin Amelia was waving goodbye at the front door, clutching a wad of banknotes.
"But what made her think of fingering us?" asked Uncle Charles as they were driven away.
Amelia smiled, closed the door, and resumed her reading of 'Jack the Myth'.
Robert
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1922
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 24, 2004 - 5:33 am: |
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HAPPY EVER AFTER
Stick and stab
Smash and grab
Eat the meal and skip the tab
Make it flow
Wash and go
Feel the magic power grow
Off the rails
Switch the scales
Tease the fates and twist their tails
Crying need
Watch it bleed
Reap the corn and kill the seed
Home to bed
Silent tread
Sleep the sleep of living dead
Nothing healed
Naught revealed
Dream is over, lips are sealed
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 758
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 24, 2004 - 8:39 am: |
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NEVER HAPPY AFTER
Stab and stick
Nick and pick
Trash the meal and fill the skip
Stop it grow
Piss in snow
Magic kill with sudden blow
Off the tracks
Stabs in back
Twist the knife to bring up slack
Crying shame
This need for fame
Kill the bitch and take the blame
No home found
Silent sound
Sleep the dead on the ground
Nothing gained
Not even pain
Dream just begun, lips are stained.
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1923
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 24, 2004 - 9:56 am: |
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HIP-HOPPY EVER AFTER
Blows his stack
Heavens crack
Jack is Kate and Kate is Jack
Lips struck mute
Forbidden fruit
Fascination loathsome loot
Brand new deal
Must congeal
Still there spins the same old wheel
For in hole
Digs blind mole
Seeking diamonds finding coal
Veil is stuck
Glued with muck
Rabbit foot is out of luck
Must be more
Can't be sure
Just keep rubbing rabbit paw
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 760
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 24, 2004 - 11:26 am: |
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HIP-HIP-HOP
Stacks his blow
Heavens know
Joe is Jack and Jack is Joe
Mute struck lips
Gently sips
And spits out pips
Same old tune
For new moon
Can’t come too soon
Buried deep
Mole does weep
For the jewels he can’t keep
Open veil
Pinned with nail
Better try a rabbit tail
All dried up
That empty cup
Must try some other luck.
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Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1925
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 24, 2004 - 12:58 pm: |
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So he in a daze departs
Wanders home by fits and starts
Fingers all those bloody parts
Culled from all those filthy tarts
Practises his filthy arts
Tries to recollect his charts
Smiles remembering whores have hearts
In and out the knife still darts
On the ceiling overhead
Far above his tiny bed
On the ceiling where he's fled
Everything is purest red
Far below, the world of lead
Far below, his burning head
Soars on wings above the dead
And to spinning sleep is sped
Dreamed he walked upon high wall
Too high up for help to call
Crouched down low and curled in ball
And his heart did freeze and stall
Slipped and felt the dizzy fall
And he couldn't wake at all
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 761
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 24, 2004 - 1:21 pm: |
|
So in rage he is awake
At decisions whores do make
At parts he took by mistake
And the one he did forsake
Was she real or was she fake?
Where the blade for heaven’s sake?
Grins at thought of slaughter
The way he stabbed the daughter
And there in the clouds of his ceiling
Is the pure blood of pure feeling
Everything is purest blood
Fractured here with earthly mud
And fractured there with hellish crud
Dreamed he fell from dizzy height
Down he went till out of sight
His heart did freeze in dreadful fright
Slipped into the coal black night
Curled in ball, nice and tight.
Sorry that my responses are a bit slow today Robert, but I’m cooking up a Singapore Kampong feast for eight guests and the Maa Mee is giving me a dreadful time regarding its dubious authenticity.
By the way the Cutbush story was hellish good, must read it again when sober. |
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 234
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 24, 2004 - 4:42 pm: |
|
Hi Robert and APThis post dazzles with its brilliance at the moment!Loved your chapter Robert-it fits in neatly with APs and was very funny!
The hip hop stuff is great fun too
Best Natalie |
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