Author: theroyalist

The Road to Nowhere

The Roadwork’s on the M8 have been causing traffic chaos for over four years now. It looks like what began as a four week detail has turned into a job for life. Soutie wants links and I’ll give him links. Hear,  Hear and here.

At night at least one part of the motorway is closed and long diversions are in place. To my independent eye there doesn’t seem to be a lot of work going on. There are a lot of yellow jacketed guys hanging about and maybe one guy digging. Steamrollers stand idle, not even idling. Passing motorists are not too happy when they see this and rancour is not uncommon. Continue reading “The Road to Nowhere”

Dear Miss Lonely Hearts

 Lonely Boy

1 Solitaire Avenue

Solosoho

Forlornland

13th August 2010

 

Dear Miss Lonely Hearts,
I had to write this letter. To tell you how I came to meet her. She was sweet but I dated her sister. That’s how I made my mistake and I can’t forget her. I felt depressed. Till a friend of mine suggested that I write to this address. So unless you can find a cure for my loneliness. It will persist, it will persist.

Yours faithfully,

Lonely Boy.

Tidal Wave (August creative comp)

It was a great afternoon session. Pints after pint of Furstenberg’s were going down the hatch in the lusty tavern that soaked with Teutonic testosterone. Boris was enjoying his lunchtime tipple and had held fast to one of his father’s dictums: Go to the loo only when it’s really due. The reasoning being, your first visit is a starter for ten. Everyone else had relieved themselves bar Boris when it was time to leave.

Some of the party made a detour into the bookmakers for a quick punt. Boris gambled on Leek Soup in the big race. It was a poor starter and the gelding pulled up lame as the basin that was Boris’s bladder began to gurgle. He willed away the notion to urinate as one pee will lead to another and he had no time for a flood as he had to go back to work in his office block. Continue reading “Tidal Wave (August creative comp)”

Wheelie’s the name (His latest flame)

Vandalism takes many forms and it can change from generation to generation. Writing on walls and smashing windows was always considered a laugh for the youth that was wasted on the young. Dropping litter and spitting with Spit the dog abandon transformed into the setting off of fire hydrants and “bricking” the incoming firemen/women who arrived on the scene. Continue reading “Wheelie’s the name (His latest flame)”

More than a Toy Story

So far I’ve seen Toy Story 3 twice and will try and tag along when my sister’s family decides to see it. Without sounding over the top I have to say this film is absolutely flawless. Four years in the making, Pixar refused to make a cash in quick follow up to Toy Story 2 (a film sequel better than the original, IMO); they’ve created a masterpiece. Continue reading “More than a Toy Story”

We move, the wheel must always move

The stress of moving house can be emotionally traumatic for most people. The hassle of informing friends of a new address, dealing with solicitors, possible new utility providers and a whole host of other unforeseen calamities that can arise puts pressure on the most resilient human being. Luckily, I have no responsibility for these matters and am assigned the manual task of moving the furniture and stuff from A to B.

Before I go on, I know there are some super rich on here who pay others to do this service. Maybe you get a decorator in to paint your house as well. Well, good for you, I’m in the camp that says honest labour never killed anybody. Continue reading “We move, the wheel must always move”

A little Gothic story

The main attraction at The Festival of Horror was garnering rave reviews in the press.

-Prepare to scream.

-More beastly than Brand, more Galloway than Merrick.

-Your tingling spine will porcupine.

-One level below Hell and almost two.

Reading these haunting words of fear the terror aficionados, Wart and Acne, looked forward to the show. It was a long time since they were scared. The last time was the first time they saw Saw.  They were greeted at the door by a six-fingered man, obviously he hails from Coatbridge.

Moving down the corridors of doom Continue reading “A little Gothic story”