Category: Creativity

The Epic poem result

It won’t be long until The Chariot Epic poem (Earth- stranger visits third rock from the sun) is read in universities around the world. The tale of Marvin’s wander through the wonders of this world will thrill generations to come. I’d like to thank the three contributors to this ambitious enterprise: Janus, John Mackie and FEEG.

JM used the opposite tactic of mine of not sucking up to the judge. His anti-Glasgow verses flowed smoother than Edinburgh trams and made me laugh. His poem was a stoater.

FEEG’s account of nasty politicians was anything but feeble. Some inspired rhymes in his denunciations- CO2, poo, venturi, Alpha Centuri. High definition poetical stuff.

Janus took Marvin all over the place. Marv will be glad to see the backside of him. Of the many J odes I particularly liked the Yorkshire moors one. And me being a Lancashire CCC man, born and nurtured. Janus book-ended the epic nicely meaning I didn’t have to insert one of my eccentric codas.

And the winner is… Continue reading “The Epic poem result”

Radio Blah

In this digital age it remains a mystery how the “before its time” digital watch never took over the world. A useful invention for people who didn’t understand the Roman numerals on their dial or the intricacies of hour and minute hands, the digital version had in some versions red neon numbers. A special button also illuminated the watch in the dark. And the stopwatch, wow, this was ground breaking stuff. Now obsolete at least we have digital radio to amuse us. So many stations, so much choice. I like the soap operas on Radio Blah. These everyday gothic soap stories might not be to everyone’s taste as yarns ain’t like they used to be.

    The laptop with the faulty battery

Continue reading “Radio Blah”

Welcome , Marvin, to our world!

Sing along to the tune of Walzing Matilda

Boadicea’s Chariot, Boadicea’s Chariot
Cyberspace’s answer to Baden Powell’s brigade!
We’ve got cubs and we’ve got brownies
And growed-up scouts – and girl-guides too.
We are the stuff of which glory is made!

Once upon a time we chatted oop at t’Big House
And some of us left, some were booted right out!
But we followed the Bear
(Does he do it? Yes, of course he does!) –
We’re cherished and we know it and we all proudly shout:

Boadicea’s Chariot, Boadicea’s Chariot
Cyberspace’s answer to Baden Powell’s brigade!
We’ve got cubs and we’ve got brownies
And growed-up scouts – and girl-guides too.
We are the stuff of which glory is made!

Epic reminder

Two weeks left for the poets out there to enter this month’s Epic contest. This ambitious project has so far enticed only two authors to pen their verses. Details of the competition can be found here.
https://charioteers.org/2013/09/02/epic-september-poetry-competition/

Memo to admin- could you please update the side bar. Thanks.

Dontchya just love ’em?

A newly discovered painting by the peerless (and earless) Vincent Van Gogh has been dubbed ‘clogged and clumsy’, an ‘uncharismatic daub’ by a Grauniad hack. So judge for yourself.

File:Sunset at Montmajour 1888 Van Gogh.jpg

Backside reckons he would like it on his half of the wall, even if he had to excuse his affrontery whenever a self-acclaimed art journalist dropped in. Luckily, being mere punters, we are brave enough to say we like it.

http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/jonathanjonesblog/2013/sep/10/van-gogh-sunset-at-montmajour

The day the alien saw a wedding

In the distance
Bells
Church bells
Church bells ringing
“It’s a wedding” said Magellan
“What’s a wedding? asked Marvin
“It‘s when a man and a woman join together on holy matrimony”
“But it’s two men. What is all this baloney?” Continue reading “The day the alien saw a wedding”

By ‘eck!

The residents of Slacky Bottom will be celebrating tonight, quaffing t’ local brew, gorging themselves on pickled onions ‘n t’ tripe, secure in the knowledge that Yarkshire is best.

http://www.theguardian.com/travel/2013/sep/03/yorkshire

So, Marvin, do drop in on your travels. (The name of the pub: Dew Drop Inn. Gerrit?)

Some talk of Alexandria and of Herculaneum,
Of Hexham and Lyme Regis
And of such great names as them.
But of all the world’s great hang-outs
There’s none you’ll choose from yours
Like yon heather and t’ becks, like t’ sheep and like t’ pubs
Of the God-giv’n Yarkshire Moors.