Author: theroyalist

They shoot banthas, don’t they?

 In the history of ridiculous things we might just have topped the lot with this one. As ever, probably it will be another unfulfilled ambition. Sometimes though, the planning is better than the actual event. Timing is everything and if myself and three friends can coordinate work and family commitments we are going to watch the six Star Wars films in the one sitting. One after the other after the other…

Originally George Lucas wanted to make nine films and it’s any one’s guess what order he would have made the other trilogy. Would the next instalments be films 7, 8 and 9 or minus 1, 2 and 3? As it stands at the moment, six it is. Continue reading “They shoot banthas, don’t they?”

The Brush Travelogue (Nov C/W Comp)

“Maybe we should execute him. After all, we are the executive.”

The board of directors were used to Cranberry’s sour interjections. Recently, when Brian Brush the younger was almost killed while skiing in the Matterhorn, Cranberry said the papers should have headlined with:
A Brush with Death.
Still, young Brian’s behaviour was no laughing matter. After the death of the Blessed Brian Brush the older, sole control of the Brush conglomerate was passed onto the younger Brush.

“We must stop the young one’s wanderings. One of these days the private investigators will lose track of him like they did when he went caving in Indonesia and we’ll never hear from him again.” Chairman May was not amused. Behind him looking down on the gathering of members was the painted imposing figure of the Blessed Brain Brush the older. He would not be amused either. “Where has he got to this time?” Continue reading “The Brush Travelogue (Nov C/W Comp)”

Zoot tunes

There’s a young man lives up the road that every night plays his saxophone. Silhouetted behind the curtain, the notes are pleasant enough. While admitting that jazz is not my scene, I’ve always admired the sax solos of the late, great Clarence Clemons of E-Street band fame. Having never met a sax player before, a chance meeting in the street got me acquainted with my neighbour. He told me playing the sax is his job. Continue reading “Zoot tunes”

Subliminally yours,

Bleuebelle’s recent comment on coded messages in heavy metal music reminded me of the infamous trial involving Judas Priest. On their cover version of Spooky Tooth’s, Better by you, Better than me, it was alleged that the song made allusions to suicide. It was claimed two fans heard the message “do it” and they both shot themselves. One died instantly the other (dying much later) had horrific facial injuries. Judas Priest were found not guilty. Continue reading “Subliminally yours,”

Newly Dead

The top floor of the building of Moss and Rose had a room the two antique dealers liked to call the Overgrown Patch. Pete Moss and Herb Rose were hard at work in OP trying to organise the unwanted clutter into some semblance of order. A table was littered with dozens of copies of Shakespeare first folios. To give them some work space, Pistol Pete, with a sweeping backhand toppled the books to the floor creasing the pages. Managing to survive this manuscript massacre was a key. It sparkled amidst the dust on the table.

“Any idea what this key is for, Pete?”

“I’ve not seen that before. I wonder how long the key’s been there and more importantly what it’s for.” Continue reading “Newly Dead”

Lucky tracks

Luck seems to follow me everywhere. Today in Tractor World as I was about to buy a packet of tractor Top Trump cards alarms started hooting and confetti fell from the skies. It turned out I was the 1,000,000th customer. Managers surrounded me, flash bulbs took my photo and I was told I had won a prize.
A week’s free hire of a tractor. Continue reading “Lucky tracks”