ALTHOUGH I wasn't exactly a fan of Tony Blair's New Labour government,they DID do one great thing that has almost certainly resulted in an IMPROVEMENT to people's health- the banning of smoking in ALL public places.I'd like to see the Chancellor of whatever administration increase taxation to the point where a packet of 20 gaspers cost ten quid,or 50 pence per puff!The ever-increasing cost of killing oneself is absolutely outrageous,or as the Germans would say,Schrechlich!I can envisage a time when a packet of Benson and Hedges cost more than heroin!

Strange synchronicity...

ON Saturday morning,at around 9.0am,something very strange occurred...I had what is called a LUCID DREAM,that is,I saw myself shopping in Sainsburys,twas so vivid,in fact,I even dreamed I met Social Worker,John White,though of course,I didn't because,as said,twas but a DREAM,and had no foundation in reality whatsoever.I awoke sweating like a pig- phew- it was unreal after all!What REALLY happened is that John White saw my doppelganger,whereas the real me was safe at home in bed...John went quite white when he saw the spooky -looking apparition...I'll be dreaming am on the stage of The Metropolitan Opera in the Big Apple next....La Donna E Mobile...Che Chelida Manina...Vesti La Guibba..Nessun Dorma.Talk about Synchronicity,a term coined by the greatest psychiatrist and psychologist who ever lived,Carl Gustav Jung....

If I had left the house a few minutes earlier or later,I would NOT have found myself looking at John White in the fruit and veg aisle!Incredible.

SEVERAL days ago,I contacted an American Maestro with a view to having him assess my singing voice over the telephone....I suggested that he might like to pour himself a drink,since he would soon be needing it to calm his jangled nerves after having his delicate shell-likes damaged beyond repair...The eminent Maestro laughed nervously as he decanted into a glass a particularly fine claret...After fortifying himself with Dutch courage,he directed me to begin singing the diatonic scales,in other words,Doh,Re,Mi, a' la The Sound Of Music,which I refused to do,since such a practice bores me silly.I informed Marcus the Maestro that my fave aria is Vesti La Guibba,which apparently translates as On With The Motley,which features a very loud and ear-splitting laugh just one-minute into the song..Foolishly,the by-now -well-oiled Maestro invited me to sing the passage which ends with the said laugh...With the double-glazed windows firmly closed,and having drunk a glass of water,I began my audition...I gave the guffaw so much wellie that I didn't even hear the worse-for-wear Maestro as he hit the deck with a resounding crash.

MANY MOONS ago,in fact way back in the early 1960s,my parents would hire an ancient washing machine,one with an ugly-looking mangle!What I loved about this piece of ancient junk was the fact that it would vibrate to the point where it would gracefully waltz across the concrete lean-to floor...Even better was the fact that,when it collided with an object,water would spill over the top,creating a mini tidal wave...

SEVERAL days ago,I was working in the front garden when I stubbed my bare tootsies on a  concrete gnome...aaaaarrrrrgggghhhhhhhh!!However,I'm a great believer in a tooth for a tooth,karma,if you like...The said gnome de plume has now been suitably dealt with,and is at the bottom of the garden,behind the shed,to be precise-RIP- Rest In Pieces!!

KITCHEN THAT TIME FORGOT

MY KITCHEN is not the most modern in the world,indeed,it is positively ancient,Jurassic,in fact.

TAKE the fabulous fitted furniture,for example.The quality,tasteful table is coated with a nice printed - on veneer,not your cheap,solid Oak or Mahogany.No,Siree.The very attractive fitted wall cupboards are something else again,really gorgeous,fake wood grain,coated with a heavy-duty poxy,sorry,epoxy resin to protect from woodworm,not that any self-respecting woodworm would go near it.

THE COOKER,which is fueled by genuine North Sea Gas,is a very interesting oddity indeed.What I love about it is the fascinating,heat-hardened,baked-on gravy stains reminiscent of a Picasso  abstract painting.But there's more.The fridge,which is powered by fresh air,works wonderfully well in the very cold months of the year,but is totally useless during a sweltering hot summer,when the quality meat pies go completely putrid,and the veg manky.Surprisingly,the ice-cubes melt also.Still,only another 6 months to Christmas when,once again the entire contents of the fridge will be nice and fresh.

THE best thing about the state -of-the-fart kitchen is the lovely brown Axminster carpet,which was brand -new in 1975,or thereabouts.I particularly like the interesting and artistic designer rips and tears,which give the impression that the brown eyesore has been trampled on by a million hobnail boots. The carpet underlay is composed of crumbling concrete,which shouldn't cost much more than a couple of thousand quid to make good.

SEVERAL weeks ago,an Estate Agent asked if the kitchen had been nuked...I replied NO.He surprised me by commenting that it was a great pity it had NOT been nuked,since the only way to modernize it is to start over.We have since completely updated the eyesore,but not before employing a demonic demolition dude to level the ugliest and most antiquated eyesore of a kitchen in the entire country.

BEING very religious and God -fearing,I have ALWAYS observed the all important Sabbath ,which of course must be kept holy,and all that garbage.

I'd love to board my home- made TARDIS,which looks far bigger on the INSIDE than it does on the outside- naturally.An optical illusion,of course...I understand the first individual to use a Time Machine was a Doctor....Who was it,do you know?Why not peruse the journal Whose Who?I won't bother,as its longer than WAR AND PEACE.Nonsense!I once read WAR AND PEACE prior to retiring to bed...

I'd program it to take me back twenty centuries to the time of Jesus Christ when the toe-rags in The Temple,the old- time Sunday traders who were taking liberties with the rules and regulations set down by those Ancient Roman,bastards...I would see our Saviour don his steel-toecap sandles,and proceed to give those who would have the temerity to trade on the Sabbath such a good,hard kicking that the feckless fellows would either not be able to sit down for a month,or so much friction would be generated that their Y-Fronts would catch FIRE,and would need to be extinguished with copious quantities of holy water....

My Time Machine was knocked up in the garage...Although it does play up from time to time,on the whole it works very Wells.The interior of my TARDIS is very untidy and looks like a World War Three BOMB has hit it.

MANY moons ago,I belonged to a bodybuilding and power- lifting gym in Walthamstow,London,E17.The owner of the super- successful Gym,former Mr Universe,Len Sell did NOT suffer fools gladly- he did not suffer ME gladly!Although I did not particularly like Len.I did respect him for his MAGNIFICENT physique,which was far more impressive than all the other bodybuilders put together.

Len was so strong that he could Bench Press 500 pounds with ease- 220 pounds was my max,and for only one rep!For his party piece,Len would nonchalantly grab hold of a 200-pound barbell and hoist it above his head with ONE hand!His other impressive feat was juggling with three 50-pound dumbells,one of which came crashing down on his big bonce,necessitating major titanium cranium reconstruction surgery...

Len,who was always most happy to sell sundry useless supplements to suckers like myself,sported a Jack Charlton,that is,a COMB - OVER to disguise the fact that  he was as bald as a billiard.

One of the mysteries I was never able to solve,and probably never will do,was the FACT that no-one ever took the PISS out of his ill- disguised chrome-dome...Could it possibly have had something to do with the fact that he had the strength of three men,and was a master of sarcasm,his nickname being Sarky Sell.

UNFORTUNATELY,Len is now in his 70s and well past his Sell-by Date...

 

 


 

 

BECAUSE of today's mighty tempest, I,Captain Birdseye, have just this minute resumed work on my boat,The Cutty Ark,which should soon be sea-worthy,it needing just a few hundred planks of gopher wood to complete the top deck,a piece of piss!!The waters are rising as I write- marvelous.With a bit of luck.it shouldn't be too long before old Wacko Clacko goes the same way as the legendary Lost Continent of Atlantis some 12,000 years ago.There is a REAL risk that the Amusement Arcade might end up at the bottom of the grey-green brine,which would be truly tragic.Bloody hell,I don't like the look of that towering tidal wave.....

Edging God Out...

THE WORD Ego means...Edging God Out!Even the greatest and most enlightened being ever to walk the earth,Jesus Christ,had an EGO while he was here,even though he may be totally egoless NOW.One day,meaning many,many thousands of years and many more incarnations,we,too,may be totally egoless,Ascended Masters.That is WHY we are here!We are here to return to our ageless,Primordial Self,or Higher Consciousness,as some people call It..Only when the dark storm clouds of EGO are finally dispersed can the blindingly- bright light of the Solar Self shine forth,as it did in Jesus Christ some twenty centuries ago.Those who have been granted a brief glimpse of the Inner light report that It is many,many times more intense than the Sun in its full strength!!I should be an Ascended Master in about- a million years,give or take....Not long.

The Primordial Self is an uninmaginally vast Being,which is shared by every entity who exists in the Universe!!It is the One Son/Daughter which God created before time was,before the physical universe came into being,before the collective Sonship created it as a hiding place from God.Goddess...There IS no hiding place from Source,of course!Yes,even those we call ETs share this same ancient,Primordial Presence...

Mahogany Overcoat...

I,LEONARDO da Finchi,have just returned from a meeting with my very understanding and underhand undertakers,B'Stard's Upmarket Burials,Wacko Clacko's most esteemed - and expensive- Funeral Directors,whose funerals start at a very reasonable TEN-THOUSAND quid.Once my corpse has been pickled,that is,embalmed- for I wish to remain intact for as long as possible- my remains will be placed in a solid mahogany overcoat resplendent with gold- plated fittings,handles- don't want the pall- bearers to drop the damn thing- and solid- brass plate,which will bear the following inscription:'Herein lies the pickled corpse of the late,and extremely lamented,Leonardo da Finchi,renowned for his Art,Comedic Comments,Mario Lanza Impressions,Insults,Caustic Remarks and other endearing qualities for which he was infamous....He will be sadly missed by all the many thousands who came to love him...

Leo lied- he FULLY intends to be around for many years to come...I have commented before,that there are swimming in Clacko's turquoise sea a shoal of voracious Great White Sharks...

I HAVE a dream...In the not -so -idle dream I see a magnificent luxury automobile slowly pull up outside my Great Clacko home,a humble abode in the area known as Lymitonia Lynxadia...

Because it is warm and sunny,a large number of individuals are milling around a very strange -looking parade of shops and buildings,including a small church,,butchers,bakers,candlestick makers,confectioners,betting shop,barbers,and a knocking shop-well,it IS a red- light district...Vicar doesn't like it one bit- shame.More cucumber sandwiches,Rev?

I am wondering why there is congregating outside my home such a large group of excited - looking individuals...Then I see it.Taking up three parking spaces is a magnificent sight,an enormous gold-plated Rolls Royce Golden Phantom resplendent with the large,gold-plated radiator grill and the iconic,solid - gold Spirit of Ecstasy symbol,the most magnificent and splendid insignia in all of automobile history...The windows are tinted violet and the heavy,gold- plating of the larger -than -life wheels shine and sparkle in the late afternoon sun.There is no mistaking the stately appearance of one of the most expensive and magnificent -looking cars the world has ever known.After gazing for sometime at the dream -like luster of the gleaming,gold -plated bodywork one of the 4 armor- plated doors of the legendary luxury car slowly opens...From the depths of the posh,plush interior emerges the very imposing figure of a very tall and broad-shouldered chauffeur resplendent in full uniform...He gestures to me to get inside the cavernous interior of what must weigh several tonnes...I slide into one of the soft leather seats,unsure as to whether or not I am dreaming...The interior smells of both leather and money...Once settled,the chauffeur asks me if I would perhaps like a drink from the Roller's cocktail cabinet,or perhaps a little Beluga Caviar...I am aware of the quiet hum of the air- conditioning...
After drinking a glass of fine red wine and sampling some Beluga Caviar at more than a hundred and fifty pounds an ounce,we head for the open road,..Because the road is very straight and almost clear of any traffic,we are able to accelerate up to a speed of more than a hundred and twenty miles an hour-bollocks to the law.Bridges,landmarks and road signs streak by in a flash,and although there are a number of potholes in the middle of the main road,the ride is as smooth as silk,there being not the slightest bump as the fast- moving Golden Phantom easily negotiates the biggest of Clacko's craters...What is that wailing sound?Is it a banshee?No,its Clacko's Finest,Almighty Plod....

THERE IS,in my humble abode,a boring,brain-dead robot,which is activated every time the phone is picked up... How can one best deal with an automaton,one which automatically spouts the same old crap every time one puts one's delicate shell -likes against the ear-piece?Well,there is something which one could try,though am not certain it would totally resolve the situation..Yes?I'm all ears,please proceed to give me the benefit of your great wisdom and experience in handling such tedious,tiresome technological pains in the butt...Okay,you asked for my advice,and you are going to get it whether you like it or not,and I suspect that you,or at least,the robot,will NOT like it...Go into the garage and get a great big sledgehammer - and proceed to smash Sir Alexander Graham Bell's celebrated invention to the point where only bits of wire, plastic and metal remain....There would then be no telephone,and no droning telephone robot,it having been permanently silenced...Ah-I have a better idea,one which does not involve GRH - Grievous Robotic Harm.What?Use a Public Call Box-assuming it has not already been vandalized by a demonic demolition dude wielding a massive sledgehammer a' la the wonderful comedic character,Basil Fawlty!!A phone given the full Basil treatment will most definitely end up very faulty indeed!

In my opinion,Fawlty Towers is by far the finest sitcom ever created.The reason why only 12 episodes were ever made is because the BBC refused to pay the brilliant John Cleese the money he felt he was worth...Of the twelve episodes,The Germans is the funniest- witness Cleese's hilarious Addie Hitler impression!Wunderbar!

Feeling the Ovefdraft....

SEVERAL WEEKS ago,my beloved Bank hit me,Leonardo da Monetbags with a 50 quid overdraft fee which,being the peaceful,Buddha-like chappy that I am,was met with a feeling of total good will and equanimity towards the baskets responsible,namely the bank- shirkers themselves.Yes,Leo clearly remembers his extremely peaceful reaction on reading the welcome,and eloquently-worded epistle:'Dear Mr L. Monetbags,Esq.,We at Arklays Bank are delighted to inform you  that you are now fifty pounds to the poor after having incurred a well - deserved overdraft penalty for going into the red by the sum of £66.06...Is that not the Number of the Beast?We bank- workers very much hope that you will not see red and go into Incredible Hulk mode,as is the usual custom with cussed  customers such as yourself.Please forgive us,Mr Monetbags Esq.,but we have wet ourselves with mirth at your expensive expense!Now you know how we greedy bankers make our billions!Oops,almost used the W-word!

Yours insincerely,

The faceless Bank Staff.

PS.Could Arklays Bank offer you a loan to help pay off the overdraft fee?At a suitable high rate of interest,of course...With a bit of luck,you will once again go into the red,thus owing us another fifty quid- every little helps!'

I RECENTLY read on the Internet that one of our greatest living geniuses,Stephen Fry,attempted to kill himself whilst filming for the BBC in 2012..I have enormous admiration for what I call the Old Fry-Up,who has used his celebrity to help bring  Bipolar Disorder out into the open.It would have been a great loss to the world had Stephen Fry succeeded in taking his own life.Although I'm not a genius,I can be very creative and productive whilst in manic mode which,unlike it's opposite polarity,the Black Abyss,is relatively tolerable.In my opinion,the strong flow of creative energy,manic energy,issues forth from the soul,or Solar Self,as I prefer to call it.Both the famous Dutch artist,Vincent van Gogh and the late comedian,Spike Milligan,suffered from Bipolar Disorder,or Manic Depression,as the condition was called up to 20 or more years ago.I call the deep,dark,depressive mode the Black Shithole of Calcutta,or Zone of The Zombies!

Shocking Visitation...

SEVERAL DAYS ago,whilst I was having a phone chat with a friend in deepest,darkest Cornwall,I was forced to face a life-long fear...I opened the frontdoor to see a very attractive woman police officer,who asked me re phone calls which I had been making to a certain female painter and decorator in the wee hours of the morning....The said officer said that,should it happen again,I would be arrested and charged with making nuisance phone calls.I told the police officer,who was very nice,that I have Bipolar Disorder,and tend to do unwise things when in Manic Mode,which is true.

Twenty four hours later,I heard a very insistent ring at my frontdoor....I intuitively knew it was the Old Bill!However,this time it was not a woman police officer,but a guy resembling the Incredible Hulk!!The police officer,who wore spectacles,asked if he could come in....he was at least 6feet 2 inches in height and almost as broad- he had feet like flipping plod,sorry,clod -hoppers- must have weighed at least 16 stone- I almost shit a pile of bricks!He was actually a very decent guy,but I was so terrified I could not utter a single word...

WILL VERY soon be a YAP- a Young -Aged Pensioner!I absolutely refuse to grow old gracefully...I somehow do not think too many people of my age can sing like I can,though there are one or two individuals who appear to take great pleasure in informing me that,as a singer,I am total rubbish.Such remarks really help one to aspire to be the best that they can possibly be...The FACT is,that however good or otherwise one's voice maybe,singing is excellent exercise for both the lungs and diaphragm;it also helps to raise one's mood,or vibrational energy,and THAT must be a very good thing indeed.I will never allow other people's put-downs to stop me from doing what I know to be one of the most beneficial of all activities and exercises- never!Those who DO allow others to stifle their self-expression and vibrancy of being often prematurely end up resting peacefully in what I call a wooden overcoat,or coffin.Conformity is deadly to one's spiritual,mental and physical well-being.I am absolutely certain that one of the very greatest and most enlightened medical doctors of the last hundred years,Dr Patch Adams,would wholeheartedly agree with these sentiments.

In my view,the greatest lyrical tenor of all time was not Mario Lanza or Enrico Caruso,but Beniamino Gigli,who died in 1957 at the age of 67 years.Interestingly,not one of the great operatic tenors have lived beyond the age of 70- Caruso was just 47 when he died of TB in 1921.Mario,who died at the very young age of 38,was very special in that he was so very versatile and oozed the X-factor from every pore of his being.And of course.he was extremely handsome,as is the blind tenor,Andrea Bocelli.Beniamino Gigli's voice combined sweetness of tone with great power and volume.So very vibrant and resonant was the celebrated tenor's  voice,that his pianissimo could be clearly heard from a considerable distance..Of all the great operatic tenors,Andrea Bocelli is the only one who is relatively slim- both Lanza and Luciano Pavarotti were very heavily built.Luciano was exceptionally handsome when in his twenties and thirties,in fact he was even more good- looking than was Magnificent Mario.

THE SAID Scottish Samaritan called Bob found my chat very entertaining,in fact he assured me I am more than comical enough to be a successful Stand-Up Comedian a' la Lee Evans- if only I could find the COURAGE to step onto the stage!!Lovely Leela also feels I have a gift of comedy,and I thank her for that comment...No hard feelings,Leela!And ditto John,who is brill at what he does,as am I.

I HAVE just this minute finished speaking to a Samaritan,who was both very helpful and understanding.The Sam,who is based in Colchester,is a Scotsman and comes from the formerly very tough city of Glasgow.Although I'm in the Black Abyss,and feel and look far more dead than alive,I could not resist the temptation to slowly morph into my very convincing Scottish accent!Of all the dozen Sams I have spoken to during the past few months,he is the only one who originates North of the Border.Like all Samaritan Volunteers,he refused to talk about himself,which is fair enough.He,J,has some knowledge of Bipolar Disorder,which is more than can be said for the other volunteers with whom I have spoken.A nice guy.I actually told him my real name- I ALWAYS say my name is Leo...I doubt whether there are many people called Leonardo in this country.In Italy,perhaps,but not the UK,and certainly not in Wacko Clacko!As I have commented in an earlier Blog post,I have never had to wait more than 15 seconds before hearing the familiar words,"The Samaritans,how can I help you?"And calls cost less than 1.5 Pence a minute after 7.0PM.Despite the rather petty rules and regulations governing volunteers total anonymity,The Samaritans are an absolute god-send,a god-send peculiar to the UK only.

More beings than there are grains of sand...

I HAVE,on several occasions,commented that there might be more intelligent beings in the Universe than there are grains of sand in the Sahara Desert...Let us look at the ASTRONOMICAL FACTS...According to Astronomers,there are literally thousands of millions of galaxies,some of which will be comprised of billions of Stars,and many of those will have their own Planetary Systems....Our own galaxy,The Milky Way,is said to contain more than one hundred billion Stars...Our magnificent galactic neighbor,Andromeda,may contain even more mighty Suns...Some sources believe there might be intelligent beings on the Red Planet,meaning,of course,Mars...It's quite possible given that Mars is a very Earth-like planet in that it has canyons,peaks- Olympus Mons is the highest mountain in the Solar System- icecaps and,of course,deserts...and, perhaps,vast quantities of liquid water,also...There could well be literally thousands of trillions of Earth-like planets in the Universe....In which case,there might be more sentient beings in the Cosmos than there are grains of sand in the largest desert on Earth...And many of these Extraterrestrial Beings will be awesome and extremely frightening to behold,so strange and different to us are they in their appearance.Many of us have heard of The Mantis,so-called because of their close resemblance to the strange-looking insects known as the Praying Mantis...I,for one,would NOT wish to have a Close Encounter with one of those very cuddly-looking entities!

Have commented before,that every person who has ever lived,and will live,has what I call an Inner Stephen Fry,or Genii....But...millions of people,for whatever reason,never get to access it..Some believe Genius is for others,not for them,still others have been mesmerized into believing that mediocrity is something to be greatly admired,and will be rewarded in some never,never land called heaven-yawn!I have enormous admiration for Stephen,whom I call The Old Fry- Up.

There's a shining spirit called Joan,
Who in life was accident- prone,
She was dealt a big blow,
When stubbed she her toe,
On a garden gnome made of stone.

my late father,Harry..

ALTHOUGH MY late Dad,Harry,could be a real pain in the butt - an understatement!- he most definitely had many redeeming qualities,and was far more talented than all his other siblings put together.

He was a highly- skilled Engineer,a very good Carpenter,a good Gardener,something of an Inventor,not bad at Painting and Decorating and could make a mean pancake- and he was pretty damn Intuitive,also.In my book,that makes him a mini Leonardo,which is now a byword for great genius.As an artist,however,he was total crap and could NOT pen a poem to save his life.He also had an open mind and pretty much believed in life after death during the last few years of his life.Oh,he was also pretty handy at both plumbing and electrics!So,I take my hat off to you,Dad,wherever you are...

HAVE SAID this before,and it is true.If J.M.W.Turner was alive today,and he had at his disposal literally thousands of paints and painting tools,the works that he would produce would be beyond awesome,in fact,they would appear as if they had been produced by Goddess herself,which of course would be absolutely true and accurate.Monet was nowhere near as brilliant as England's greatest- ever painter,neither was Augustus Renoir or John Constable,whose paintingsI have never liked.

THERE IS no spot where Spirit is not...There is no space where Goddess is not,for space is as Omnipresent as God/Goddess/Spirit/All That Is...There is a vast amount of space within an Atom...Space is within ALL things,and ALL things are within space,both outer and inner space...As every physicist knows,there are,within every ATOM, infinitely-tiny particles of energy- or planets- orbiting their respective infinitely- tiny starry spheres...The Microcosm and the mighty Macrocosm...A universe in miniature...

An Atom,is in fact,a solar system in miniature....Do you agree,Professor Stephen Hawking?!

Basher limerick II...

There once was an ET called Basher,
Who would breakfast on eggs and a rasher,
As direct as they come,
Was the masterful One
The brash bashful bash called Basher.

Death Comes Unexpectedly...

This is the title of a sermon in the wonderful,feel- good story Pollyanna,the film version of which I have seen several times over a period of many years.It was Karl Maldan, not Haley Mills,who was the real star of the 1960 big -screen version of Pollyanna.The famous Streets Of San Francisco actor played a punchy preacher,whose fiery sermons were about as popular as toothache!Actor,Karl Maldan,was a Serbian -American,who was born in March,1912,just weeks before the most iconic ship in history,R.M.S.Titanic hit an iceberg before slowly sinking beneath the freezing,turbulent waters of the North Atlantic Ocean...

The fact is, that death almost always comes unexpectedly- even for those whose demise is expected.My mother,Joan,died suddenly and unexpectedly whilst sitting on the loo;my father,Harry's death was unexpected,as was my twin sister,who was still -born almost 65 years ago.The death of Joan's much-loved father,Arthur was totally unexpected - he was killed in a tragic road accident on 20th July,1936...The same could be said for some of the most famous individuals who have ever lived;Princess Diana,JFK,Martin Luther King,Mahatma Gandhi,Mario Lanza,James Dean,the list could go on and on.

Leonardo da Monetbags once read, with enormous mirth and amusement,of a certain infamous Guru called PowzeovNowze,also known as Trolle,as in off his trolley,who,unfortunately,had one of his super- expensive Rollers half-inched by a notorious automobile tea-leaf.....It was the eminent Guru's own fault as he neglected to lock his luxury motor...But all was well as the said esteemed spiritual teacher,because of his vast soul evolution,was easily able to remain in the present moment....for only a moment....Several nanoseconds later, the peacefully- meditating Guru's inner Incredible Hulk came surging to the surface,causing the masterful Master to totally lose the allotment,or plot,with the result that he ranted and raged to the point where he went puce in the face.

The upshot of this totally true story, is that his gold-plated Rolls Royce was found a wee while later with both its Wheels and Engine missing..Alas,his Insurance was invalid,so the poor, calm, tranquilized One was NOT an amused bunny...Shame,pity....Its only a pile of super-expensive junk..Now,Now Mr E.Trolle.

Joan

At 11.0PM,on the 9th of March,2014,our sweet and loving Mum,Joan,suddenly collapsed and died whilst sitting on the loo....The horrific sight of her dead,Soul-vacated body is one which both Peter and myself will never,ever forget- it was horrible,the stuff of nightmares.My belief in an after life is of no comfort whatsoever!!No-one,not even psychic mediums escape the agonizing,god- awful pain of grief and bereavement - especially the loss of a sweet and loving Mum like Joan the Moan,as I sometimes affectionately called her.Am sure that most people who have lost a mother will concur with me.Hopefully,Mum will soon be reunited with her beloved father,Arthur,who was killed in a tragic road accident when she was just 14 years of age.The fact is,that Joan was more Christ- like than are many Christians -she done a very good Imitation of the Christ,to echo the title of Thomas A' Kempis' famous book,which I read some 22 years ago.Possibly,Mum is presently convalescing in one of the many temples of healing which are said to exist on the Other Side of our closed eyes,as Jesus Christ once eloquently put it...

Almost 57 years ago to the day,a very old- fashioned but wise doctor by the name of Doctor Chilton,told my parents of his experiences of being a Japanese prisoner -of -war..It is well- known that some of the Japanese were more sadistic even than the Nazis,and that's saying something!!!I clearly remember Doctor Chilton commenting that he would not have missed that god-awful experience for the world!!He appeared to harbor no bitterness or hatred towards his former captors..

It was on the night of 2nd of March,1957..........

Pile of painter puns...

In Augustus of last year,an art thief called Pablo D'Ablo broke into the Loover Museum in order to half - inch Leonardo's most famous painting Moaner Lisa,which he hoped would sell for loads  of lovely Monet...However,the Whistler was blown with the result that,several hours later  the said tea leaf was promptly arrested by a burly Constable,who banged poor Pablo up in a police cell....Following the trial,the Judge, J.M.W Gurner asked the luckless thief if there was anything he would like to say prior to sentencing....Pablo said...Yes,Mallordy...After wetting himself with mirth,Gurner, not noted for his sense of humor,remarked to Mister D'Ablo....What a Turner - up for the book!!

a few facts...

I am going to state some ABSOLUTE FACTS with regard to true originality...and I Challenge Anyone to Disprove what I Know to be True.....

Unless an Artwork, long Poem or something like a Comedy Script has been deliberately copied - and it would take a very skilled artist to produce an almost carbon -copy of an extremely fine painting,even,say,a painting by one of the Old Masters, it would be absolutely impossible for there to be anything like it anywhere in the world - regardless of the size of the population which,currently,is approximately Seven Billion and counting....

Some Artworks are so large and complex,that there will likely not be anything absolutely identical anywhere in the Universe,let alone the World!!!I challenge anyone to prove me wrong!

Put another way.....There is far more chance of the Complete Works Of Shakespeare resulting from An Explosion In A Print Shop !!!!!!
 

flatpack limerick...

There once was a chippie called Jack,
Who purchased a wardrobe flatpack,
After one of his binges,
Doors hung off their hinges,
A well -pissed  Jack blew his stack.

Leo's Ark.....

Leo''s Ark,which has been many months in the making,and is currently sitting in the back yard,is very close to completion...I am currently awaiting delivery of a couple of hundred planks of seasoned  gopher wood to complete the top deck...Problem is that, until the advent of the Great Flood where Clacton - On -Sea goes under the sea,the said Ark,the timbers of which have yet to be tarred,will forever remain as a gigantic blot on the local landscape,for it cannot of course embark on its maiden voyage until the massive inundation begins...

A couple of days ago,one of our neighbors complained that my Ark was blocking out the sunlight,and would I care to relocate it...I told him to eff off and that I hoped that he would not drown in the coming Great Flood,which my Oracle has predicted will happen in the near future...I commented to the said neighbor that to ig- Noah the signs was pure folly,and that he would be welcome aboard Leo'sArk,which will eventually come to rest who knows where...

It is now,once again,pissing down,in fact,the flood waters are rising as I type,so hopefully,it won't be too long before Leo's Ark leaves the shipyard bound for the pinnacle of a certain Turkish Mountain,which will be an absolute delight... Mount Marrowfat??I just hope the damn thing doesn't spring a leak -you know what flat- packs are like...If it does,I'll complain to God,who commanded me to build the damn thing...One final word...I have not bothered to equip my Ark with lifeboats or life -jackets,as it is constructed on such a titanic scale that it cannot possibly capsize....Full steam ahead,Cap'ain Leo... and be alert for any icebergs...

Maz and Del- last-ever version.

Maz once had a mean 'n' mingy man,
To whom money was a god,
Worshipped he his wallet,
Where he kept a weighty wad,
So very tight was Derek,
That nearly every night,
Stripped off he by street lamp,
To save a tad on light.
All went well with Maz and Del,
Til in a fit of folly,
Sought she to make him part,
With lots of his lovely lolly,
"My dear Del",fawned she,
"We could have so much fun,
If to Jamaica flew we,
Where there's lots of sun,
I'll not take no for an answer,
We'll soon be beside the sea,
You in your baggy bermudas,
Me in my teeny bikini,
Like a milk bottle you look like,
In a word,white,
Several days in the searng sun,
Shall surely put that right,
To a casino we will go,
Where we'll play the wheel,
All at your expense, of course,
How does that make you feel?
Come on Del,hang the expense,
For once please be drastic,
You always go wan and white,
When I want to spend your plastic".
Derek hated nothing more,
Than spending loads of money,
Mazza had to go,and quick,
Her dumping would not be funny,
At one Sunday teatime,
The bombshell Del did drop,
"My dearest,you are dumped,
Please do not blow your top."
Like a roaring,raging bull,
All Maz saw was red,
"You useless waste of space,
You're as good as dead!"
Rose he from the table,
And, with great alarm,
Sought he to escape,
Grievous bodily harm.
Between him and safety,
Was she who must be obeyed,
The painful price for spurning,
Would not be long delayed,
Stuffed she into her handbag,
Several horseshoes very mucky,
For Derek they'd be less than lucky.
He never saw it coming,
Maz would not be mocked,
A mighty swipe later,
And Del's bonce was soundly socked.
Eyes as glazed as windows,
Staggered he slowly along the floor,
A big boot to the butt,
Sent Del Boy flying thro' the door.

Somewhere over........

If I look very long and hard,
I can see in God's calling card,
An extra two color strands,
Making in all nine arching bands,
Orange,gold and yellow,too,
Turquoise,indigo and blue,
Seamlessly the bands do blend,
The colors never really end.
The lovely,lovely rainbow light,
Bands of radiant colors bright.

Solar Solitaire II

All is deathly still and hush,
No song comes from lark or thrush,
Moon crawls across the face so bright,
Heavens turn from day to night,
I now behold a sight so rare,
The solar diamond solitaire,
Bailey's beads can now be seen,
In the velvet vault serene,  
The silvern disk moves away,
Sky quickly turns from night to day,
Birds once more resume their song,
Oblivious of the sight now gone.