Author: theroyalist

Love Story (Janus pet comp)

Waiting for my discoverer
I lounge on the decking of lust
‘Neath the flower pots of flowers that I do not know
Crocus, narcissus, aramanthus?

As the sun smiles with a shiny face
There is a buzz about the place
The air is alive with a kaleidoscope of a thousand Joseph coats
I open my drawbridge and drain my moat
The beautiful Princess of the air nears me
She has ignored -I don’t know- violet, daisy and… Andy?

My vivid clothing has attracted her
She gives my chest the lightest kiss
With dry lips I watch her go
Goodbye, my sweet Miss

Horror and more Horror

Ralph let out a weak sigh as he missed another easy putt on the green. “I don’t know what’s the matter with my game today.” he said.

Ralph’s friend, Jeff, was his rival at today‘s friendly match play contest. Jeff had an answer.
“You’ve got the yips.”

“The what?” Ralph, although a keen golfer was unfamiliar with this saying.

“The yips, you‘ve got them. I know yips when I see them. You’re yipping all over the place.” yapped Jeff and he proceeded to give a demonstration of yipping using his putter.

“Does the yips hurt?” asked Ralph.

“No, it’s just a spasm you get before you putt. It’s psychological not physical.” muttered Jeff. Continue reading “Horror and more Horror”

It’s all in the game, yo

Those of the older generation will think it is blasphemous to compare or, The Others take you, prefer the Harry Potter series to Lord of the Rings. Both fantasies have their fans and detractors in equal measure. You get the odd fanatic that swings bisexually embracing the two creations. Splitting the pie chart further are ones that favour the books over the films and vice versa.

The Tolkien/Potter saga with all those various permutations didn’t see the dark Dothraki horse coming up on the outside. Into the mix comes a third way: Game of Thrones.

The second season of Game of Thrones finished recently (for the record, I thought the first one was better) on Sky Atlantic. The TV series centres around a set of medieval fantasy books written by George R. R. Martin. There’s a bit of everything in the stories for the male audience: sword fights, sorcery, astounding landscapes varying from fire to ice, violence with heaps of blood, political intrigues with sharp dialogue and a smattering of soft porn. For the females, there’s Sean Bean and stuff like that.

It takes awhile to “learn” the character and machinations of the various cast ensemble that is pretty large (ugly large in the Hound’s case). It is annoying when just as you get to know and like a particular cast member they are killed; the body count is high. Most of the actors and actresses play their roles brilliantly. My own favourites are the dwarf, Peter Dinklage, who steals every scene he is in. And, remarkably, Jerome Flynn, yes that Jerome Flynn, as Dinklage’s bodyguard.

Continue reading “It’s all in the game, yo”

Roads not taken

Not for nothing did Marvel Comics Group immodestly call themselves “the House of Ideas”. They ran a series of stories, over 150 in all, based on the concept of -what if something different happened at certain crucial stages of stories already published. The magazine, although uninspiringly entitled “What If…”, ran for a long time because the scripts were so good. The writers could run riot with the established Marvel universe and kill off major characters as they created alternative realities. They were fictionalising what was already fiction. Brilliant, if you ask me.

Coming back to reality we have all wished we could have made different decisions and turned that unrelenting ticking clock backwards just like we do in autumn time. At the moment it is not possible to revisit pivotal moments in our own little personal history. Maybe as progress progresses, in the future we might be able to go back to the past. Then, no one need suffer from l’esprit d’escalier; we could all be first floor repartee artistes.

On to the bigger picture there are some major what ifs that could have changed the world immeasurably. What if Kipling never wrote if? What if Apollo Creed had finished the bum and went home? What if at the end of Lonely Street there was no Heartbreak Hotel? What if William Webb Ellis could have applied himself and learned to kick a ball?

Superbrat didn’t sweat

There’s a few traits about today’s tennis professionals that make me want to shout. They are so fussy about the balls they receive before they serve. They’ll have three in their hand and after analysing them will discard a few to the slave ball boy. Honestly these sportsmen are a spoiled lot; they should see the balls I play with. Also, the rejected balls are rolled along the ground to the ball boys forcing the child to stoop to pick them up. What’s up with bouncing the balls back to the ball boys? Give the ball boys a break, for goodness sake. Continue reading “Superbrat didn’t sweat”

The minor league tennis champion

Summer-lovin’- self-pity- reluctant acceptance- minefield- Oh I say!- there’s always one- a knife scraping on a plate- as bad as Murray’s maw- Doctor, Doctor, I’ve got tennis elbow- non-rugby conversion- love fifteen – mega bucks

In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love, in the summer it turns to tennis. Without bumping my gums too much, if I had a bigger serve you’d never have heard of Jamie Murray. Failing to make it at the highest level hasn’t bothered me and my life took on a new career track. Continue reading “The minor league tennis champion”

The War Journal: Break the Chain

If you had a roll call on campus or military parade or on a multi-authored, multi-nationed blogsite there would be a variety of responses. Twas not always so. Previously, the world was a lot bigger and less integrated.

For instance, at my first year class at secondary school there were thirty of us on the register. All with nondescript names like Malcolm, Gordon or Roger. Tell a lie, there was one called Sebastian that we liked to stick pencils into; none of us were saints in those days. Having similar traits we were practically automatons. We were one living entity. Continue reading “The War Journal: Break the Chain”

Three men and a Plane

Some time ago during summer months three of us used to take our lunch break out on the canteen landing. This idyllic setting was on the first floor. After a few weeks one of the men said.
“There goes my plane.” I asked him what he meant and he said. “Every day at this same time that plane flies right over us.”
For the next week we monitored his statement and judged that he was correct. This small plane did indeed fly overhead routinely at the same time. Continue reading “Three men and a Plane”