Flaxen's Spontaneous Doggerel Moment

And so, I leave upon the morrow for the Philippines for a three-week sojourn. My son has decided in his wisdom to marry his longtime girlfriend at the tender age of 35. And has chosen this tropical land for his nuptials. I have been commanded to attend and will dutifully comply. My speech may not please the bride.

I will post, as is my wont, whilst away, unless internet access is shit.  

 Whilst in my shed, today, I had the compelling urge to compose the following doggerel. May the gods forgive me.

I met a woman whose arse was green, 

She begged earnestly if I would plant a seed.

Her choice of pasture was barren, I decreed,

No doubt a better venue would suit her need.

A better farrow lay close, indeed,

My choice of allotment, little did she heed,

And she shouted, "plough my lot, fertility is not my need."

Gazing upon the green and verdant bush,

The choice of venue was undeniably lush.

But only a fool would plough that tush,

And wisely, I declined the deed,

And went about my day, without disease.

Or leaves, beetles and perhaps aphids etc. 

  

Nip

 

Dramatic Reconstruction of the Climatic Event Sans Reptile

Unnerving news from the quaintly unattractive town of Tipton. Today, it can be revealed that Tipton has been sequestering a dangerous enemy within its truculent appendage. An evil, malingering Japanese sniper has been nestling in the town's capacious bosom and suckling at its expansive teat. It is conjectured that Private Honda Suzuki entered Tipton sometime in 1944 in a midget submarine, which is just as well as he was very small. After navigating the waterways of the West Midlands, he alighted in Tipton's sewer system via the Dudley to Birmingham canal. Once insinuated in the fetid underground tunnels, he quickly gravitated/navigated to the noisome manhole leading directly to Tipton's main thoroughfare. Upon arriving, he set up his sniper position with verve and aplomb and not without a modicum of panache.

His mission was simply defined: To lie in wait, and when the opportunity presented, he would lift the man-hole with his cunningly inscrutable, sloping forehead. Thereupon, he would rest his buck teeth on the metal lip of the hole, thus gaining purchase, traction and stability. Henceforth, he would place his thick, pebbled glasses atop his retrousse, button nose. Due to his diminutive stature, it was necessary for him to perch precariously on a hat box which, when not in use, was secreted within a fold up his small but perfectly formed arse (Arse)- on the second shelf next to the udon noodles. Suitably imbued, he would reach for his Arisaka sniper rifle and take pot shots, not to be confused with pot noodles, at the passing citizenry. Luckily for the Tiponites, Kendo Origami, like all Japanese snipers, was a very poor shot and consequently, no one became discombobulated or inconvenienced. During his 70 years of occupation within the stygian septic conduit, Yamaha Katana managed to remain undetected by the indigenous folk who never took heed that below their feet lurked a loyal soldier of his Imperial Majesty and odious Chief Nip, Hirohito.

The sniper subsisted on a diet comprising/composing entirely of chicken 'fried' nuggets (sans chicken), which alighted in the sewer after cascading from a cunningly fashioned hole in Mr Khan's deep fat fryer. As you will recall, Mr. Khan, of 'Mr. Khan's Halal Greasy Food Emporium' had a takeaway poised lasciviously above Tipton's main drain. Apparently, the arrangement was symbiotic and, hence, reciprocal.

Nothing to see here

However, unbeknownst to our intrepid sniper, there lurked a deadly nemesis. For many years past, Tipton residents had been flushing down their toilet's exotic critters, including alligators.  One fateful day, Mitsubishi Sushi came face to face with a 4-foot alligator. After a brief struggle, our intrepid Lilliputian Nipper was devoured whole. All that remained of Nissan Geisha was his pebble-lensed glasses neatly folded in their resplendent spectacle case.

Those who witnessed the event, including Mr Erstwhile Nintendo, expressed their opinion accordingly:

" The final result is reminiscent of a Geisha's work at its finest. Geisha would often distract their clients with subtle origamic (not a real word) work of exquisite form, in order to delay the inevitable and unrequited, finality."  Wise words Mr. Nintendo.

Later that day, the alligator was hanged by neck until life was relinquished for harbouring a war criminal. There are some who thought there was a Nip in the air, but as it was June, it was considered, unlikely. Arse.      

Depiction of the intrepid event, in bronze

Meet Bob

 

Battle of Agincourt as Portrayed in Bister

Summer is but a month away in the southern hemisphere unless you are a Flat Earther. Frankly, I'm not really sure what these folk believe as they do seem to have diverse independent theories and opinions on the subject. There is a lady hereabouts in Nuzzieland, not far from the ice wall, who has the strident belief that humans are capable of photosynthesis- I blame the edumication system! Anyway, I'm straying away from the topic at hand.

Every year in my part of the world, at the height of summer, there is held a fayre of mind-boggling proportions. The town where it is held becomes swamped by numerous stores, various. Folk from all over this fair land flock to the town to set up stalls and sell their wares. Up to 500 stalls grace the land, selling food, crafts, clothes, and a host of sundry items. Up to 25,000 people gather to attend and spend. My son and I come along and set up our goods for review and sale. Together, we run a small internet-driven company selling traditional bows and assorted archery-themed accessories, and this is the only annual event we attend to showcase our goods. This year, we are adding an item that is not for sale. Its presence is there to attract attention and comment. In this way, we can engage potential customers and regale them with historical nick-nacks concerning archery and war. Thus, titillating their innate curiosity and thirst for knowledge. And who knows, we may increase sales in this very difficult commercial environment.

Let me introduce: Bob 

As you can see, he is not well, and it might have something to do with the iron arrowhead sticking out of his cranium. Of course, this is not a real skeletal bonce. Tis amazing what you can buy on the internet these days. This skull has been cunningly crafted from resin, probably using a 3D printer. Actually, I'm impressed with the anatomical accuracy. It just requires a modicum of applied patina to represent and accentuate the fiction I would like to portray. The skull will have pride of place in the centre of the stall, and next to the artefact, there will be a piece of A4 paper describing the item's provenance according to my bewildering and, at times, bizarre imagination. Here goes.......

Behold Bob, and Weep!

Bob, or more likely, Robeirre, was a French combatant at the battle of Agincourt in 1415, on St Crispin's Day. On this day, a seminal battle was fought between the English and French, a critical battle in the ongoing 100-year war between these nations. 

At the battle of Agincourt, the flower of the French nobility, displayed in armoured array, was cut to pieces by the unrelenting and accurate archery devastatingly delivered by the English and Welsh longbowmen.

Bob was likely part of the 'men at arms' that comprised the majority of the French host of 20,000 men.

 As an aside, the French armour available to the knights of this period was a majestic feat of engineering. Due to previous escapades involving the English longbowmen, the armour had evolved. Steel plates were face-hardened and cunningly fashioned to deflect arrows. The 'Great Helm' of earlier times had been transformed into the popular depiction of the 'Knight's Helm'. An elongated visor articulated with a sloped conical 'bowl' gave maximal protection, although it did come with the hindrance of restricted vision and hearing. Many a French eschewed the protection it afforded by raising the visor to the delight of the English bowmen. 

Clearly, Bob was not of the knightly class. If he had been so, his well-crafted helm would have been more than adequate to deflect the missile that ended his life. More likely, he would have sported an iron sale that would have provided scant protection from a plummeting English arrow as graphically portrayed here. Perhaps the arrow was not fatal in itself, as it barely pierced his skull. Indeed, it is likely that the wound merely induced an insensible state, and poor Bob was rendered helpless to the follow-up coup de grace delivered by axe, sword, halberd or mace (perhaps all four at once- we will never know).       

Bob's skull was unearthed during an archaeological dig at the site of the battle conducted and presided over by Prof. Horatio Van der Pump in the mid-1970s. All that remained of Bob's skeletal form was has his skull and, of course, the head of the offending arrow.

Our business, Saxon Archery, purchased 'Bob' in an auction of artefacts conducted last year. We received the skull in its present state. It is to be noted that the skull has been patiently/patently cleaned of attached detritus, and the insults of the ages have been removed with due care, leaving behind a delicate and subtle patina with sepia hues.

It is to be noted that the small size of the skull indicates that the owner was rather young in age and no more than 18 years old.

I think that will do, otherwise, passing folk will determine that my composition is too much to read and will swiftly browse elsewhere. Have any of my imaginative readers any additional suggestions to render my ploy more effective in reeling in potential customers/suckers?