Brilliant. He was a great character.
Goodnight Mr Zen, sleep snug.
I’m not an avid tennis fan but the Murray and Nadal match is good just now.
New balls please 🙂
Zen – I read somewhere that sterility is hereditary. Dorma bem.
Val – I saw on the news that the Jockanese sulk lost in something called straight sets to an apparently competent tennis player. Good. That’s a well deserved hoof in the nethers for those stupid wimmin with saltires painted all over their jowls. 🙂
I watched Holland’s unexpected and exciting victory over Brasil at home this afternoon and am off to The Bar shortly where Uruguay vs Ghana is being screened.
OZ
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
Apologies to those of a sensitive disposition but blame it on Mr Larkin!
OZ, yep, Nadal is in the final, Murray isn’t, cheers all round. Nadal deserves to win just for having a great Spanish bum….sorry 😉
Araminta, brilliant.
Have a Nice Day
Spike Milligan
‘Help, help, ‘ said a man. ‘I’m drowning.’
‘Hang on, ‘ said a man from the shore.
‘Help, help, ‘ said the man. ‘I’m not clowning.’
‘Yes, I know, I heard you before.
Be patient dear man who is drowning,
You, see I’ve got a disease.
I’m waiting for a Doctor J. Browning.
So do be patient please.’
‘How long, ‘ said the man who was drowning. ‘Will it take for the Doc to arrive? ‘
‘Not very long, ‘ said the man with the disease. ‘Till then try staying alive.’
‘Very well, ‘ said the man who was drowning. ‘I’ll try and stay afloat.
By reciting the poems of Browning
And other things he wrote.’
‘Help, help, ‘ said the man with the disease, ‘I suddenly feel quite ill.’
‘Keep calm.’ said the man who was drowning, ‘ Breathe deeply and lie quite still.’
‘Oh dear, ‘ said the man with the awful disease. ‘I think I’m going to die.’
‘Farewell, ‘ said the man who was drowning.
Said the man with the disease, ‘goodbye.’
So the man who was drowning, drownded
And the man with the disease past away.
But apart from that,
And a fire in my flat,
It’s been a very nice day.
Spike at his best.
OZ
Good evening. I fear that we may never be real friends now.
The better player by a mile won, but A Murray Esq never gave up and never gave in, unlike a certain other great British white hope of tennis or the entire English football team, in my opinion. And I still think that he’ll be back and, presumably therefore, British in certain eyes at some point in the future.
Just out of interest, did you actually watch the game? Did he sulk or was he just as gracious in defeat as Nadal was in victory? Is this just a standard anti-Sweaty shot without any real basis other than it’s almost certainly all our fault for starting it and provoking all of you into retaliation?
Fair enough if it is. It’s what some of you feel the need to do! Smiley thing but my sense of humour is severely strained at the moment, to be fair. But I’ll be back too.
I watched most of the match, John, and Mr Murray put up a good show!
Thank you, Val but all credit to Philip Larkin. 🙂
OK Ara, I’m still speaking to you then.
Valzone is, however, hanging by a thread. I am no expert on bums (never felt the need) but Mrs M assures me that, whilst Rafa has a fine posterior, there’s not a lot wrong with Andy’s.
We would, of course, have to put them both in kilts for a proper test.
Oh John, when it comes to bums, Rafa wins. Those buttocks are like a bulldog clip.
And on that note, I’d better go and eat my supper now, the lettuce is looking very limp:-)
Araminta – I am shocked that you ever knew such words. Probably the influence of you-know-who who is presently asleep downstairs with the kittens.
JM – I hope that we will personally become friends. 🙂 No, I didn’t watch the match itself and that is not what my howl is all about. It is just that the sight of St. Andrew’s cross sets my fur into ‘defensive’ mode every time, especially when waved by our stereotypical republican, French-loving neighbours north of the border. I mean, there was even some talk about whether or not the graveside personality would bow to The Queen when Her Majesty graced Wimbledon with Her Presence earlier this week. Bolleaux! Get on your knees, you unpleasant, surly person and just thank God for your skills and for the fact that you are not also ginger.
Val – Cold shower, young lady. Right now.
OZ
Oz: I copied and pasted them with my eyes firmly shut!
Best place for the little toad, if you don’t have an secure attic. I hope to see you alive and well tomorrow. Has she been fed, if not I don’t think the Firballs are completely safe.
I trust you followed the instructions and have a lock on your door and a shot gun handy?
Araminta – Glad to hear it re: Philip Larkin.
As for the other, your obvious hostility may be the root cause of Ethel’s, erm, problems, which are still being probed. Here, she is being fed three times daily and Das Fürballen are quite safe and are very fond of her, as am I after giving the little dear the keys to her room downstairs while keeping my own upstairs.
OZ
Death is heredity.
“They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.”
Ara, in muzza’s case, double faults and fluffed returns.
Don’t care about the tennis. I don’t like any sport where you can’t main you opponent legally!
My favourite Milligan poem:
I must go down to the sea again,
to the lonely sea and the sky;
I left my shoes and socks there –
I wonder if they’re dry?
Spike Milligan
Oh yes, brilliant feeg.
I liked Spike’s book on how he won the war – driving trucks over minefields with a carefree “Happy, darling?”
Boadicea's Chariot 
Brilliant. He was a great character.
Goodnight Mr Zen, sleep snug.
I’m not an avid tennis fan but the Murray and Nadal match is good just now.
New balls please 🙂
Zen – I read somewhere that sterility is hereditary. Dorma bem.
Val – I saw on the news that the Jockanese sulk lost in something called straight sets to an apparently competent tennis player. Good. That’s a well deserved hoof in the nethers for those stupid wimmin with saltires painted all over their jowls. 🙂
I watched Holland’s unexpected and exciting victory over Brasil at home this afternoon and am off to The Bar shortly where Uruguay vs Ghana is being screened.
OZ
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
Apologies to those of a sensitive disposition but blame it on Mr Larkin!
OZ, yep, Nadal is in the final, Murray isn’t, cheers all round. Nadal deserves to win just for having a great Spanish bum….sorry 😉
Araminta, brilliant.
Have a Nice Day
Spike Milligan
‘Help, help, ‘ said a man. ‘I’m drowning.’
‘Hang on, ‘ said a man from the shore.
‘Help, help, ‘ said the man. ‘I’m not clowning.’
‘Yes, I know, I heard you before.
Be patient dear man who is drowning,
You, see I’ve got a disease.
I’m waiting for a Doctor J. Browning.
So do be patient please.’
‘How long, ‘ said the man who was drowning. ‘Will it take for the Doc to arrive? ‘
‘Not very long, ‘ said the man with the disease. ‘Till then try staying alive.’
‘Very well, ‘ said the man who was drowning. ‘I’ll try and stay afloat.
By reciting the poems of Browning
And other things he wrote.’
‘Help, help, ‘ said the man with the disease, ‘I suddenly feel quite ill.’
‘Keep calm.’ said the man who was drowning, ‘ Breathe deeply and lie quite still.’
‘Oh dear, ‘ said the man with the awful disease. ‘I think I’m going to die.’
‘Farewell, ‘ said the man who was drowning.
Said the man with the disease, ‘goodbye.’
So the man who was drowning, drownded
And the man with the disease past away.
But apart from that,
And a fire in my flat,
It’s been a very nice day.
Spike at his best.
OZ
Good evening. I fear that we may never be real friends now.
The better player by a mile won, but A Murray Esq never gave up and never gave in, unlike a certain other great British white hope of tennis or the entire English football team, in my opinion. And I still think that he’ll be back and, presumably therefore, British in certain eyes at some point in the future.
Just out of interest, did you actually watch the game? Did he sulk or was he just as gracious in defeat as Nadal was in victory? Is this just a standard anti-Sweaty shot without any real basis other than it’s almost certainly all our fault for starting it and provoking all of you into retaliation?
Fair enough if it is. It’s what some of you feel the need to do! Smiley thing but my sense of humour is severely strained at the moment, to be fair. But I’ll be back too.
I watched most of the match, John, and Mr Murray put up a good show!
Thank you, Val but all credit to Philip Larkin. 🙂
OK Ara, I’m still speaking to you then.
Valzone is, however, hanging by a thread. I am no expert on bums (never felt the need) but Mrs M assures me that, whilst Rafa has a fine posterior, there’s not a lot wrong with Andy’s.
We would, of course, have to put them both in kilts for a proper test.
Oh John, when it comes to bums, Rafa wins. Those buttocks are like a bulldog clip.
And on that note, I’d better go and eat my supper now, the lettuce is looking very limp:-)
Araminta – I am shocked that you ever knew such words. Probably the influence of you-know-who who is presently asleep downstairs with the kittens.
JM – I hope that we will personally become friends. 🙂 No, I didn’t watch the match itself and that is not what my howl is all about. It is just that the sight of St. Andrew’s cross sets my fur into ‘defensive’ mode every time, especially when waved by our stereotypical republican, French-loving neighbours north of the border. I mean, there was even some talk about whether or not the graveside personality would bow to The Queen when Her Majesty graced Wimbledon with Her Presence earlier this week. Bolleaux! Get on your knees, you unpleasant, surly person and just thank God for your skills and for the fact that you are not also ginger.
Val – Cold shower, young lady. Right now.
OZ
Oz: I copied and pasted them with my eyes firmly shut!
Best place for the little toad, if you don’t have an secure attic. I hope to see you alive and well tomorrow. Has she been fed, if not I don’t think the Firballs are completely safe.
I trust you followed the instructions and have a lock on your door and a shot gun handy?
Araminta – Glad to hear it re: Philip Larkin.
As for the other, your obvious hostility may be the root cause of Ethel’s, erm, problems, which are still being probed. Here, she is being fed three times daily and Das Fürballen are quite safe and are very fond of her, as am I after giving the little dear the keys to her room downstairs while keeping my own upstairs.
OZ
Death is heredity.
“They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.”
Ara, in muzza’s case, double faults and fluffed returns.
Don’t care about the tennis. I don’t like any sport where you can’t main you opponent legally!
My favourite Milligan poem:
I must go down to the sea again,
to the lonely sea and the sky;
I left my shoes and socks there –
I wonder if they’re dry?
Spike Milligan
Oh yes, brilliant feeg.
I liked Spike’s book on how he won the war – driving trucks over minefields with a carefree “Happy, darling?”