theroyalist

A quick press about monetary matters

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The British monarchy has a full house (Royal Flush?) of Kings waiting in line to succeed the Happy and Glorious Queen Elizabeth II. As a counterpoint to this surge of manliness the Bank of England has decided to put Jane Austen instead of Winston Churchill on the new £10 note. Suffragettes everywhere can start rejoicing. Me, I don’t really look at the mug shots on the dosh, it’s just money, isn’t it? They could put Steve Austin on there for all I care. However, maybe he’s on the American six million dollar note.

Plant eaters of the world, we salute you

The T-Rexes weren’t so tough, couldn’t get it on
One little cold spell and they bit the dust
Survival of the fittest and the Herbivores won
We warmed to the Ice Age while the rest went bust

So me and Barry the Bronto, the last of our breeds
We’re never in one place, we roam from jungle to forest
with a hup two, three, four, dress it up, two, three, four
Searching for a verbosari or two to nibble for breakfast

And then we espy a gringomere herb that we’ve not tasted in years
Jurassic Park! There’s a girl using it as a sun bed
And she’s got a hundred and one guardians around her
Times like this us herbies wish we were T-Rexes instead

Undervalued: Jeremy Clarkson

The pre-season rumour mill has Manchester United purportedly offering Barca £24million for Cesc Fabregas. For just over half that sum the Red Devils could buy Jeremy Clarkson. The divine JC took home a £14million salary from the BBC last year for his work on Top Gear. That’s fourteen million reasons to pay the license fee, if you ask me. Continue reading “Undervalued: Jeremy Clarkson”

Walk

England v Australia, First Test, Trent Bridge, day 3.

The Great RonnieO, master of the game of snooker, always held his hand up when he made an infringement on the cue ball. My tip caressed the white as I was lining up the shot, he would admit. Sadly, not all sportsmen are sportsmen. I am referring to the nasty/clever ( delete where applicable) machinations of one Stuart Broad.

As an England cricket fan, not born and bred more along the lines of nurture, I am appalled by his actions. I’ve never taken to Broad. Skinny frame, film star looks, there was always something of the night about him. He was blatantly out yet stood his ground. At the end of the Test I wonder if he’ll look back on his batting figures with pride. Continue reading “Walk”

Hit came from Outer Space

While cleaning out my old blogs I came across this. This is a slightly revised version and didn’t we all love revision.

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The plethora of teenage slasher movies in recent years are all based on the true story of a mysterious assailant who targeted schoolchildren in a Scottish school circa 1982. All of the following is true.

One of the perks given to the fifth and sixth year pupils in the comprehensive was that they could take their lunch in the games room far away from the pell-mell. The games room had comfortable chairs that ringed-a-round the perimeter walls, though the various cliques rearranged the seating in their preferred way; normally an enclosed circle. Three net less table tennis tables stood in the centre of the room, nobody played on them, there were no bats, there were no balls, they kept getting pinched. These tables were used as overspill seating and tabling for late coming pupils. Continue reading “Hit came from Outer Space”

A Spaghetti Westcentric

You could tell it was going to end in trouble. Let’s have a Mexican night, said one of the gang. So there we were- sombreros, ponchos and Zapata moustaches sitting in the back garden swigging tequila from the bottle waiting for the senoritas to bring us our grub. It was just as the jalapeno poppers stuffed with cheese and crab was placed on the table that this dangerous specimen crawled out of the woodwork.

Continue reading “A Spaghetti Westcentric”

A toast to the Laughing Cavalier

There have been many men of words that have written essays on how to brew a nice cup of tea. Amongst them have been celebrated literates such as George Orwell and Christopher Hitchens. It seems futile to follow in their foootsteps so I’ll leave the tea bags to the experts and concentrate on a more stronger brew.

McEwans Export has been my poison for all my adult life. Naturally, I do drink other beers when the occasion arises due to supply issues but given the choice I’d swallow ME firstly and foremostly. If I ever won the lottery and I was luxuriating in the Ritz, Bali, Indonesia I’d demand a McEwans Export from the proprietors. Demand. Because I’m filthy rich. Cue a Milk Tray Ritz Lady (role reversal time) storming the Seven Seas to Scotland to bring me back some brews. Continue reading “A toast to the Laughing Cavalier”

June Magic competition result

This is the part we all hate- choosing a winner. Still, it must be done. Only four entries but what the competition lacked in quantity it made up for in quality.

It was quite Testing for me reading Soutie’s paean to an upcoming star in the world of rugby. It also begs the question just how many Petersens/Pietersens are there in South Africa? Nonetheless a fine ode and no derogatory rugger snipes from me.

The mighty Janus once again made his rhyming so effortless in his story of a relative that is a clockwork genius. Living in the land of Lego as he does, I’m sure Janus is no mean constructor and destructor of blocks himself. Very interesting thread in his post as well.

Bilby has proven herself to be an accomplished wordsmith. Beautifully written with an emotional ending. Proof indeed that are many talents on board the Chariot.

PapaG’s entry had me chuckling from the start. Best title for a poem in a long while. His manic romp through a magic show conjured many images. He really got in the act of this theme. Very funny and it did appeal to me.

Thank you to all who entered, you’re all stars. The winner is… Continue reading “June Magic competition result”

The shortest horror story ever written

The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door.

This terrifying tale, Knock, was written by Fredric Brown based on a plot by Thomas Bailey Aldrich. It’s a little story with a big history.

Seeing this yarn as a challenge to myself because I do write exceedingly short stories I wanted to outdo or out little perhaps Brown’s vignette. The bin was overflowing with discarded foolscap of inferior text and threatening to drown me with paper. Struggling to breathe over the sea of A4 at last I finished my saga.

I tap your shoulder. Boo.

These five little words are cinematic in their scope. Consider it, how many times has the camera frightened the audience by giving them a sudden jerk by revealing quickly an unknown entity in their midst. This trick is called in the game- the jump scare. My “jump scare” short story may be filmed, we’ll have to wait and see. The text is frightening enough what will it be like accompanied by creepy music?

My publisher informed me that Quick Books are interested in my work. Quick books are a new company that specialise in condensing major pieces of fiction making them accessible for readers that don’t have time to complete the full novel. Therefore they will be printing an abridged version of my tour-de-force. I am quite happy to re-print the Quick Books adaptation here for your delectation.

Boo.

At the end of the page

What I don’t understand is why anyone would want to own or read The Mystery of Edwin Drood or The Love of the Last Tycoon. These unfinished masters are best left alone just as it’s wasteful listening to a rough uncut demo from a rock band; this is not the polished diamond of official recordings. Schubert’s unfinished symphony is another case in point. Only two movements long (personally I think one movement is enough but that’s another story) it doesn’t last the formal distance. These incomplete bodies of work leave too many questions dangling as to their ending. It can be Continue reading “At the end of the page”