Missing muses
I sat down today with several ideas in mind.
I thought about doing a wee piece about Betty, the Queer of England who is going to drop by sometime this year.
Then I thought about doing a wee piece about our new gubmint, and how it looks like we have just elected a replica of the last shower of wankers.
Then I decided that there was nothing interesting there, and that I would do a little article about the time I was a travelling minstrel, when I used to travel Ireland [and overseas] singing for my supper and pints.
I started to write, but I didn’t like the first sentence so I erased it. I wrote it again, but I didn’t like that either. In fact I tried numerous times but each time I typed, I ended up with a garbled string of words that made even less sense than my usual garbled string of words. Then it struck me what was wrong – my Muse has fucked off somewhere, leaving me in the lurch.
I have taken to giving my Muse a day off on Saturday, in case she wants to go shopping or something, but it looks like she hasn’t come back. I have looked everywhere but there isn’t a sign of her. As result I am unable to write.
It is a bit of a pain. Once again, I have the subject matters but the words just refuse to come. Some would call it writer’s block, but it isn’t that. Writers block means you can’t think what to write next. Lack of Muse means you know what to write next but the fucking words refuse to fall into place.
Seeing as I have nothing for you to read today, I will do something a little different. I will give you a little puzzle to solve while I wait for my Muse to return.
All you have to do is print the image and cut the pieces out. It is worth it. It is a fine photograph of Headrambles Manor.
“The Queen, she came to call on us ..
She wanted to see all of us ..
I’m glad she didn’t fall on us ..
She’s eighteen stone” ..
Well not quite .. but I’m sure you get the picture .. 😉
Thanks Luke .. and RIP …
Did you have to come up with the collective noun “shower” for a multitude of wankers?
I pray for a failure of the imagination.
Regards, Jim
Queen Betty’s visit is the final humiliation for the Irish people I can see it now thousands lining the streets with their flags all showing that at heart they are all slaves.
Nice family Prince Andrew is in trouble over his friendship with a child abuser and his ex wife took £15k from the same scumbag.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1363636/Abuser-paid-Fergies-debt-Pressure-grows-Andrew-revelation-duchess-accepted-15-000-billionaire-sex-offender-friend.html
There is a huge house in our street. The extended
family is run by a grumpy old woman with a pack of
irritable dogs allowed to run without leads. Her car
isn’t taxed or insured and doesn’t even have a
number plate, but the police still do nothing.
To the best of my knowledge, she has never worked
in her life. Her bad-tempered old man is notorious
for his racist comments. A shopkeeper blamed him
for arranging the murder of his son and his son’s
girl-friend, but nothing has ever been proved.
All their kids have broken marriages except the
youngest, who everyone thought was gay. Two
grandsons are meant to be in the Army but are
always out partying in nightclubs. It is not known if
they have the same father. They are both out of
control.
I hate living near Windsor Castle!
Jim – Heh! You got me thinking there. I had to do a search on the Interweb but I finally found “shower” defined – Noun. A derogatory and all encompassing term for a motley group of people.
Yiz all seem very keen to comment on Betty’s forthcoming visit? Doubtless I will have an opinion as the time grows nearer, but quite honestly I don’t have one at the moment.
Possibly I’m as thick as some people have been heard to say, but either it’s a joke that’s gone right over my head or else nobody noticed that you referred to her mumness as the ‘Queer’ of England.