Creativity – Page 8 – Boadicea's Chariot

The Poor Folk are at it again

PREFACE

I know that short stories are not really in demand on The Chariot these days but after reading a few Russian novels I decided to throw up a fable set in the Motherland. I wrote it quickly as I was Russian to finish it in time for tea. There are a few modern influences in the tale though the joke is an old one. However, as the story takes place in the 1850s maybe this was its first airing. Apologies for any grammatical errors in advance. I know what you lot are like.

Read it or don’t read it. You have your choice. I have a massive back catalogue of blogs on MYT with no views and no comments so I’m not bothered if this is sent to Siberia.

Pass me the wooly hat. Continue reading “The Poor Folk are at it again”

Seemed like a nice boy

1964. Interviewed about long hair…….

R.I.P.

Haggis schmaggis

The DT today gives rein to a Scotch cook called Callaghan (is that genuine Scotch?) who blasphemes to the effect that haggis originates from the Vikings and was made with venison – hence his ‘staggis’. And a Norse etymologist finds a link between haggis and ‘haggwa’ or chopped food.

The modern Danes call haggis ‘hachis’ which is French, from a root meaning ‘chopped food’ so the haggwa isn’t so far away, innit?

But dare we refuse the Scots their glorious invention? Er, yes. Because homo sapiens has been stuffing animal meat into conveniently shaped animal organs since Adam was a lad. Think sausage.

Verdict? Callaghan is good at PR but a poor linguist. 😳

Spell check mess

Proof readers were never fool-proof but editors now rely on blind electronics to check their texts.

So just yesterday I was treated to a corpse ‘lying prostate’. Well, it is in the dictionary. While the DT today advises that ‘the border force will compromise of…..’ thereby conflating two errors of syntax – one of which is getting ever more frequent, ‘comprise OF’ for ‘comprise’.

Do you get hot under the collar too?

Flushed with success – eventually

No, seriously, it was a crisis! Suddenly our (cough) pipes of pan were blocked. In fact nothing would leave the bathroom at all. So I said to Mrs J, who was a girl guide before the Flood, ‘Doesn’t Arkela do it in the woods?’ If looks could kill.

Within a desperately long five hours (y’know how it is – when yer gotta go….), Monsewer Rasmussen drove up in his ‘normous tanker. In a trice he exposed our person-holes (very pc ‘ere, innit?), thrust his long black tube therein and sucked fit to bust, pointing out that we have a diameter problem; which was nothing we could fix without rebuilding the house. Apparently size is everything in his business. He could even smile, seeming happy with his lot.

So it all panned out well. I suppose we could have called the cops, but they’d have had nothing to go on.

Call yourself a poet?

This is the deal: complete a couplet which begins

‘Yuletide comes but once a year…..’

e.g

‘I’m going to sleep until New Year.’

So do your worst, cherished versifiers!

Are you an unsung poet?

Clive James is a wordsmith of the first order. For example:

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2015/nov/21/clive-james-poets-sitwell-auden-gerbils

And he strikes a familiar chord for me, fascinated as I am by the spoken and written word, its etymology, philology and sheer existence in this otherwise technological world.