A Saturday Meeting. In Chinese.

No, not dead yet, just crazy busy writing my thesis. And then I get interrupted to go into college on a Saturday as some Chinese sponsors are coming to visit. Chinese sponsors who don't speak English, which makes my attendance a waste of time of chocolate teapotish proportions.

The meeting was taking place all in Chinese
The English girl agonised "just help me, please!
I'm now suicidally, desperately bored
I need a white knight with bright armour and sword.
A rescuing hero to help this fair maid
To storm this interminable meeting, invade
And take me away for adventures unique
In a world filled with magic, exciting mystique"

Just then there flashed lightning which blinded their eyes
The meeting erupted to panic and cries
The speaker now paused to ask "what's going on?
Quite where has this terrible light show come from?"
It seemed someone answered our heroine's prayer
To disrupt the talks and remove her from there
But after the delegates regained their sight
Presentations continued and on went her plight.

The scientists wittered in jargonish speak
Still mumbling in Chinese (or possibly Greek)
Our girl still presented a keen outward face
While silently begging to leave that grim place.
Then out rang a shot, all was chaos once more
And as all others ducked our girl turned to the door
But instead of her hero in armour so bright
Loomed a villainous creature in black dark as night.

"I'm sorry my angel," he said with a sneer,
"You're knight's battled monsters quite fierce to get here
But thanks to my tricks he'll arrive much too late
Instead it's in my hands that now rests your fate.
The lightning which earlier made the room shake
Was caused as he fought into this world too break
But I'm by far better at magic, you see
So I was the victor, now you'll come with me."

Surprisingly, though, she was hardly dismayed
Her total demeanour was calm, unafraid
"If you've come for me I'll go with you right now
I'm desperate to leave here and not fussy how.
Whoever you are you'll remove me from here
Remaining behind is my heart's darkest fear.
Wherever you take me [here granting a kiss]
My hero, your world must be better than this."

Sunday Scribblings: View

On a glorious day at Corfe Castle
We set out to the hills for a hike
When through all of the touristic bustle
Came a butterfly riding a bike

(In the works of mythologic masters
Think of Titian or Watts or Van Dyke
Is there such a surreal disaster
As a butterfly riding a bike?)

So we walked with all Purbeck before us
To the cliffs where the waves pound and strike
And the breakers themselves beat a chorus
Of a butterfly riding a bike

Now in Dorset pubs often they mutter
Of the legend all swear by alike
Maybe one day you too will hear flutters
Of that butterfly riding her bike

Monster

The monster rose up from the crypt
A creature straight from horror tales
From fangs, the caustic venom dripped
It plates its great hunched frame with scales
The slashing tail swung and whipped
And vicious talons stood for nails
Escaping from deep underground
It terrorized all those around

To save from being killed and maimed
The people chose to pay the price
That demon for their safety claimed
Which was a human sacrifice
No other way it could be tamed
(Forgive the hackneyed plot device)
It taxed them, to their great despair
The price of one young maiden, fair.

The girl they chose for this was smart
Could knit and crochet, sew and darn.
She prised the monster’s scales apart
She stabbed, without a hint to warn,
Her knitting needle in its heart.
So here’s the message of my yarn:
(Though clear to those with any wits)
You NEVER mess with girls who knit.

3WW: Sacrifice, caustic, hunch

The Alcoholic

The greatest star in all the land
A huge celeb, so famed and grand
He’s coming to our town, it’s said
The luminary named “Big Ted”

So what demands does he decree?
What satisfies this VIP?
Fine caviar and coats of mink
But most of all, our Ted wants drink

Ten bottles of top French champagne
And best Rioja straight from Spain
Tequila with fresh limes and salt

Plus Scottish whisky, single malt

The moment for his act draws near
They’re waiting for him to appear
The girls are screaming “where’s our hunk?”
He’s passed out on the bed, dead drunk

Sunday Scribblings: Demands

The Pigeon

With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe...

One night I studied, weak and weary, over tomes of quantum theory
Trying to decipher what it meant for physics’s laws
While a migraine starting stinging, all at once I heard a pinging
As of someone gently ringing, ringing at my flat’s front door
“’Tis some drunken fool,” I muttered, “Ringing at my flat’s front door
Only this and nothing more”

No clue what was to befall me, how those ideas could enthral me
The breakthroughs and the struggles of researchers gone before
As I sat absorbed in reading, concepts through my head were speeding
Brain on crazy theories feeding, feeding on Einstein and Bohr
Avidly digesting works of Einstein, Planck and Bohr
Craving to learn even more

While my pulse beat ever faster, apprehending much disaster
Through the spell there rang the bell again of my front door
Like a shard cut through my dreaming, through the notions and the scheming
Twisting through my mind and streaming, streaming with chaotic roar
Over the confused abstractions crying with chaotic roar
Loud the doorbell rang once more

When at last my door I’d unlocked, when the entrance hall I’d unblocked
What a bizarre creature landed on my parquet floor
Serious as true religion, feathers ruffled up a smidgeon
Into my flat there flew a pigeon, pigeon with much filth and gore
Ugly as a gargoyle’s mother, stinking of trash cans and gore
Difficult, that, to ignore

Once that bird had found a free perch then my mind returned to research
To the world of physics I was longing to explore
“Now this obsession hath befell me, an addiction to enspell me,
bird, I ask you, won’t you tell me, tell me pigeon I implore:
How long will last this compulsion? Tell me pigeon, I implore”
Quoth the pigeon, “Evermore.”

“Though I know that it’s imprudent, I shall become a grad student
A creature that the working world doth distain and abhor
Though it fills me with misgiving that is how I’ll earn my living,
From the research unforgiving, unforgiving and paid poor
Bird, how long shall I be overworked and far too poor?”
Quoth the pigeon “Evermore”

So here I sit at my computer hiding from my college tutor
Trying to do research cutting edge and quite hardcore
Trying not to waste time moping, looking for new ways of coping
And forever I’ll be hoping, hoping that the end’s in store
Hoping that a PhD at last's what lies in store
Else I’ll be here evermore.

3WW: shard, pulse, weary

3WW: A Calamitous Saga of Misfortune and Failure

So here’s a sad thing to occur
A tale of great catastrophe
And tender souls may just prefer
To skip this blog entirely.
Those readers this does not deter
I hope you all will quite agree
That nowhere else on earth exists
A story so forlorn as this.

The drama starts one stormy night
Within a castle far away
A flash of lightning, clear and bright
Reveals a scene of old cliché:
A vampire, veiled as bat in flight
Intrudes in search of easy prey
Evading guards in dark and gloom
He enters a damsel’s bedroom.

So, there she lies, quite fast asleep
The type on whom brave heroes dote
Her blonde locks elegantly sweep
About a diamond at her throat
The sight of her could make men weep
And of her beauty much is wrote
But while she dreams in comfort fine
That vampire bold prepares to dine.

What tragedy was to ensue!
(I pray, forgive the Sturm und Drang)
He tried the lady’s neck to chew
But with a most emphatic twang
He bit her diamond pendant true
And thus was broke a sharpened fang.
Where tidy teeth once were aligned
A ragged hole now was defined.

With that awoke the sleeping dame
Who laughed in our poor hero's face.
His sorry ailment drew great fame
And all made fun of his disgrace
Unable to live with the shame
He disappeared without a trace.
For the saddest thing, and that’s the truth
Is a vampire with a broken tooth.

The 3WW words are occur, ragged and tidy

3WW: Ghost story

Here’s a tale that’s quite unique
Never have you heard this freak
An adventure strange and weird
Dreadful exploits to be feared

Typically began the day
On a morning wet and gray
When at dawn I lurched downstairs
For a new day to prepare

Stepping through the kitchen door
What a chilling scene I saw
Just beside the breakfast bar
Sat a creature so bizarre

Quite transparent, freezing cold
Odours of decay and mould
Yes, a phantom rested there
Sitting in my kitchen chair

Frantically, my heart beat loud
Here’s a spectre in a shroud!
Why’s it here, and apropos
How do I get it to go?

I tried not to swoon or shriek
As that ghoul began to speak
It perused my cupboard shelf
Muttering unto itself:

“Peanut butter, chocolate spread
What should I put on my bread?
Bramble jelly, lemon curd
So much choice is quite absurd”

Clearly, I had gone insane
Seeing apparitions plain.
In the early morning gloom
Common sense had left the room

“Sir, excuse me please,” I said,
“Won’t you tell me, aren’t you dead?
Why are you (at my expense)
Eating in my residence?”

“Don’t mind me,” replied the ghost,
“I’m just here as I need toast
And if you hoard all the bread
I’ll feast on your flesh instead.”

“But why toast,” I tried once more,
Wanting occult to explore,
“And why me, why my abode,
Why this city, why this road?”

“Look, shut up,” it screamed at me,
“Some things mortals should not see.
If you ask me any more
Well then, I’ll eat you for sure.”

Then I really did pass out
Terrified beyond all doubt
Waking, it had left my den
Never to be seen again

The words are frantic, lurch and odour (ignoring the peculiar American obsession with avoiding the letter “u”)

Ballad for a Sleepy Sunday

This won't make much sense without having read Part 1. Actually it probably won't make much sense anyway. Basically, Miss Marple has discovered that The Joker is in fact a cat in disguise, a realisation which lead to his arrest.

Part II: In which the felines take their dreadful revenge

The world was so glad the detective
Had captured the villain deranged
To broadcast the lady’s perspective
Was a press conference swiftly arranged

One asked, “In the great press corps sewer
I never saw magic like that
How is it a master wrongdoer
Can actually be a small cat?”

She said, “My job’s catching the killer
I did that eight blog posts ago
My genre’s not magical thriller
I’m not Harry Potter, you know”

Just then they were all interrupted
By felines with claws out in threat
While all was completely disrupted
They kidnapped our star from the set

When litters of cats so malignant
Had snatched her from under their nose
The public grew highly indignant
At the cunning revenge of their foes

The Joker’s release was demanded-
A ransom that couldn’t be paid
The FBI chief then commanded
Their best man should go to her aid

Thus just as Miss Marple, so nervous,
Quite thought that she’d seen her last hour
A shot rang out loud, and with purpose
There stormed in her saviour, Jack Bauer

And while she sat tied-up and useless
The agent got on with the fight
With trademark revenge truly ruthless
He shot every kitty in sight

Coming soon- Part III: In which Jack Bauer is cruelly persecuted by the RSPCA

The Ballad of the Coventry Ring Road

Visiting relatives in Coventry this weekend. The city is home to what one survivor calls "the road equivalent of a fairground ride - frightening but an awful lot of fun"

One morning Lucifer awoke
To a new day in hell
"I had a dream last night," he spoke,
"An idea for a spell
It's time I had some depraved fun
For I'd become quite bored
This new plan's such a wicked one
It has to be explored."

On well-aged rage he based the brew
Then stirred in conc. despair
And extract of confusion, too
Was whisked in with a flair
Five metric tonnes of distilled stress
The potion mixed and flowed
The sum of all this fiendishness?
The Coventry Ring Road.

Now, some minds less innovative
May think this story junk.
The realists alternative:
The road planners were drunk.
Whichever way it came about,
I hope you will agree,
The ring road is, without a doubt,
A scary place to be.

You'd have to be gazelle-like deft
To stop at each red light
And when that sign back there said "left"
It really meant "turn right".
You think you're in the fastest lane
That much, at least, you know
But once you've turned the bend it's plain
You're really in the slow.

The roundabouts all intersect,
A dainty looping chain
You think you know what to expect
But then you're lost again.
This great ouroboros-like snake
Defies logic or plan,
You realise with a double take
You're back where you began.

The final word on this subject has to go to h2g2 "One of the features of the Coventry Ring Road that appeals to a great many people...is that it provides access to high speed roads that lead away from Coventry"

Ballad for a sleepy saturday

Part I: In which an unlikely superhero saves the day

One evening from dark Gotham City
A message was sent, short and tense
“The Joker’s returned." What a pity
And now let the mayhem commence

It was sent to the UN headquarters
Whose president, wise Ban Ki-Moon
Announced to the gathered reporters
He’d sort out this problem quite soon

“Now Batman’s got early retirement,
Does nothing but lie on a beach,
Who else is there meets our requirement
Of ridding the world of this leach?

Although we are quite apprehensive
Our ‘maniac’ budget’s been shred
Now Spiderman’s too damn expensive
We’ll send in Miss Marple instead”

They flew in the nosy old biddy
She interviewed Jokers old gang
Including the rap star P Diddy
Who once with the villain had sang

Her break came when Joker’s old crony
First mentioned his fondness for trout
“I knew that the fiend was a phony
His secret at last is found out

In a twist that’s not unmediocre
(I know this is quite a surprise)
The creature we know as ‘The Joker’
Is Blofeld’s white cat in disguise”

And with that fact, later or sooner
The criminal now could be found
They baited a trap with tinned tuna
And sent that cat back to the pound

Coming Soon~ Part II: In which the tabbies take their dreadful revenge

3WW: The Quest

The words this week are meddle, ambush, hideous

A knight and his lady from old Camelot
Were walking one day in a fine beauty spot
When an ambush came on them, and down from above
Swooped a dragon, abducting the knight’s lady love

Our hero was plunged into abject despair
That a hideous monster should take one so fair
He vowed he’d give all, for his lady to save
And embarked on a quest to the creature’s home cave

Such adventures he had and such people he met!
What beautiful sights that he’d never forget!
Brave deeds he accomplished, great battles he fought
Til at last to his quarry our young knight was brought

And when he arrived there, exhausted and sore
Oh, what a peculiar sight lay in store
In the lady's sweet presence, the beast had reformed
Its temper was peaceful, its heart had been warmed

“My lady, I’ve struggled through numerous fights
Why didn’t you send word that you were alright?”
“My lord, you seemed glad there was praise to be won
I hated to meddle and ruin your fun”