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:old: cough<br> <br> I thought about one more shot at the rabbit before I hit the big sleep. Talking about street preachers the worst I remember was a drunken man with a leer who accosted me while exiting an All Bar One establishment feet first in the earlies . It was in that most disrepuatable part of south of the river London where Arding and Hobbs have stupidly chosen to locate their finest odds and sods store. I think it may stand alone.
The only saving factor about the pavement despoiler was he made some attempt at middle class with a fine pair of striped trousers and an impressive black leather belt to boot, notched in the right hole. He sat up and removed his eye glass before asking me, his unfortunate pavement victim for money.<br> "have you got a shilling gov to get a man who knows where he’s going to his feet " I detached myself from his grip and thinking quickly retorted " I am all bar one " before quickening my walk to hail a taxi exit out of Hobbsville.
Now bleak service
:old:
The reason I decided to write this was I got into gear this morning.
8.05 … I was a few floors up asnooze when I heard a noise I hated more than a rat’s arse coming from the hall area. The siren front door alarm. It was a bleak day, like everyday. The weather only highlight it, the sun making it particualrly worse, showing up all the bleak in contrasting shades.
 Looking at the black and white picture of him he looked like a barman or a retired tailor, but he said <br> " I have got a parcel down here for you to sign for "
Now I was croned in more ways than one and was standing in a pair of stand alone underpants the Met would be proud of and also had on <br>my shrunken Johnny Weissmuller signed singlet making an impressive two stick V sign.
 " You want me to come down " I bleated obediently. The man had less hair was older and somehow had status on me so I popped into trousers a coat and a pair of slippers few humans have seen. He was a servant of the Queen and I somehow his subject.
 When I got down to the front entrance I felt horribly awake and could see my head hairs standing up strangely in the misty galss reflection that was unfortunately me. I looked the man up and down and took an instant dislike to him. I dont think he liked the look of me either.<br>" I’ve changed my mind I said, you must bring that up to my front door and deliver it properly".
" This is as far as I go he said, are you signing for it or shall I leave you a card ? " I felt slightly trapped and signed like a rabbit. but managed to two teeth him about having received an apology from Royal Mail about a similar offence when I complained last time.
"Give me your name I demanded"
"I wont give you my name but you can take my van number if you want. "<br>The van was too far away to see the reg and I had carpet slippers on. The parcel was light about 6 by 9 inches and postmarked panama. Thank god I coould get through the front door, after ascending the stairs, which I had left on the latch. I went to the window and craned for the number.<br> Damned bleak service and I scratched like a chicken at my white bunnytail as I mesmerised myself with the last three letters.
<br>
(Edited by gamble at 6:17 pm on Feb. 28, 2006)
:old:
A few typos and I am feeling rather random to explain it.
I had complained about bleak service before, to the chattering classes, and got nothing bar the memorable words.. this is a cheap rate call and, if you wanted to, you could write in and complain freepost. Glory be and smuthering ducks, now they tell you when the pennies are ratcheting up like brown before the budgie.
It was me standing at the window carrying a foul mood when the rabbit suddenly turned into rottie the rag hound. I found some slip on shoes and still with turnip hair grabbed a coat jingling the keys down the stairs. I had seen the van down the road and made briskly for it but keeping my composure and no canter.
 I tiurned a slight bend to see the van had expectedly moved further up the road. This was getting bleak but postie got out and saw me. That’s when I legged it towards him at tremendous speed. Must have been thirty yards, petrifying action. He looked surprised, disguising any fear, and I in an out of breath fashion, and right in his ear announced, that I was here to complain once again, and that until, until, he openly admitted he was wrong or gave an apology preferably on his queen’s knee he would have to put up with me.
 " Get back your invading my personal space he said "
 " I have decided I will work with you this morning and monitor your actions. "
 " No you wont "
 But of course I did. I followed him two feet behind as he made two failed deliveries.
 " Oh the yellow card, easy isn’t it ?"
 " Look unless you go away I will ring my superiors to get the police, you are committing a breach of the peace "
  " A breach of the peace is it ? Look I am justifiably riled and a very unhappy paying customer, and I have as much right to this pavement as you. Go ahead and ring the police, let’s sort this matter out and get another opinion. "
He removed a mobile from his pocket and started to dial, but chickened suddenly, then he went all frumpish. Wouldn’t say a word.
 " Quiet now aren’t we ?"
 I accompanied him back to his van took the number and told him he would see me again at the depot. A bit harsh, but it got sufficient wind up on a cold day faced with a tight lipper.
 I returned and rang the complaint line.
 Yes I have had a few like that, but it is not the commonest complaint. I am emailing the depot manager now and he’ll get back usually within 48 hours with his staple response " I will speak to the member of staff responsible "
Bleak
(now for the edits}
 <br>
(Edited by gamble at 5:59 pm on Feb. 28, 2006)
… though we do have a model on here now, twanging her sussies and getting a few of the old boys stirred up
Pray who is that Mr P …..I do fancy a post from the king of Sheep is imminent though ….its been too long
ps nice to see Clivex posting again ….the man exudes class
Ricky
Ricky, it’s the lovely Eliza. Agent Provocateur model.
http://i55.tinypic.com/33z93j8.jpg
And yes, it would be good to hear from Gamble.
Pray who is that Mr P …..I do fancy a post from the king of Sheep is imminent though ….its been too long
ps nice to see Clivex posting again ….the man exudes class
Ricky
Or do you mean which ‘old boys’? In which case I have absolutely no comment to make
I make a fleeting bleating return
for the history of it.
Your trolling of rusty,
dog-eared, well matured, posts
Mr Pilsen is a reminder of
many wet afternoon sniffs for me
back then
when I was centred
and felt the energy
of the walls in here
reverberating with the discord
emanating from the strange
and the unhinged
and ze grinding sound
as they rubbed shoulders
with the normals.The all bar one character
was of course Razeen
whose voice I have managed
to Stephen Hawkingize
a little in the edge thread
but without the nuance and lip.
It would be a rare pleasure
to re-read that old thread.
My useless search for it
this evening brought nothing.
Funnily enough I rang up the
establishment in Clapham
all those years ago
to ask if they had ejected a
man in striped trousers
and received a very bleak reply.I did put up a long post
entitled Bleak House
the sunday night of the
recent double banger weekend.
The post failed
and the subsequent one.
Very bleak and I turned
in tired at about 1 am
having had a bleak drink
to settle my bleaking nerves.My successful posting
encourages me to do another
on what is a bleak night;
The News referred to a perfect storm
Weather to be on the cold side (down to minus 2)My fruitless search was for
the all bar one thread
whatever the title was
and not, repeat not,
the edge of reezan.
I am trying to paper
over cracks in the previous posting
and am determined to avoid edit.Some threads only remain in the mind,
and likely only in one or two minds,
Nothing is permanent.I certainly hope to
do the odd post
when time allows
and the central theme;The past
Good to see you visit, Gamble, even if only a bleating one
A heady smell of decay, and possibly death, hangs over this forum.You should think about staying a while. We need all able-bodied men, women and sheep to do their duty for Auld Lang Syne.
Not sure of the thread you’re looking for, any more clues what it was about?
I used to watch the old westerns
mainly to view the undertakers.
An odd bunch, thinly framed,
bit part actors on the wrong
side of sixty but worthy of
a rewind.No I am comfortable in the presence
of ghouls and memories that taunt
a wine bottle empty.Be careful Mr pilsen
if you re-create the Clapham
incident too perfectly
with few cracks and with speed
I may pin several murders on you !Rosemary’s Baby
was a two horned classic
but the proms was good too
…Land of Hope and GoryI am on fairtrade wine tonight
(pouring a final glass)
and good there’s still something
fair left to trade on !Clues – sorry missed that bit.
I don’t really have any
only that Razeen wrote
of the night his trousers
were horizontalized in Clappem.Could have been any old thread
definitely bearded though
it would be old, very old
as old as the
vicars recurring dream
of the dog collar that
bit him repeatedly
then dared to ask for more
forgivenessI have just eaten
four slices of cheddar cheese,
what’s new – I used to eat lumps
now it’s slices
but I lack control
after midnightThere was always
an underlying
sense of decay in here
it was Daylight’s wish
as he SUNK the lounge
to the bottom
of the ladder as a trip stone
and far away from horse racing
as possible !I have read a lot of
posts in here
and there is a distinct
underlying after taste
Not tannis root but
could be cheese,
or the chalky dry mould, left
by the old word association gangsA bit of an edgy performance
on a bleak night and very
untooting hours to finish on.As for my bizarre almost
riotous actions
against the postman
in bleak citi
that long morning ago
there is no regret
but a little bit of surprise
I did not think quick enough
to climb into
a pair of big boots.Thank you Mr Pilsen for
for re-awakening the old memory
as the thread had slipped my mind.Greetings to the small number
who still keep the dust moving in here
not forgetting the long forgotten
buried deep beneathMr Pilsen if I unwittingly
referred to you as a ghoul
it was no malapropism
and far from my intention
to have you down as a grave robbing demon,
but I write with little pre-thought
and sometimes suffer dire consequences
and early morning contrition.The word comes from the arabic
word ghul meaning to sieze.
A seizer of dead posts.
Hope you might be happy
with that large slice
of corrective contortion
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