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I will refer once to the dark side
before the cinzano winks its light
goodnight.Many moons ago
and very few
if any on here
ever frequented
the birth of the
Flutter boards,
– so this will be fresh material
to the heavy majority –
moons long before
Jilly, hopperlegs, and Matre
there existed a deviant
by the name of David Marshall.
I took this deviant, who wrote then under
the tag-name Pierse and
one by one
supplanted his inadequacies
with positive forces,
and him into a godlike character
buoying up his reputaion
with words of praise and wonder.For once and possibly
the first time in his life
he was a hero.I later crashed him wilfully
and folornly on the rocks
and turned him darker
than the siberian wastes
in the blackest of cold winters.Cruelly I changed him,
slowly transforming him
into the anti-christ.
in a sombre tale of foreboding
and dread with a double fork
of chilling prophecy.
I experimented with satanism
to inject realism into the leathery words.Pierse hit back
He wrought mayhem
in what was a totally free
almost unmonitored society
by battling with me,
a once good force,
then tainted by evil
by creating a war.
The war was known as
the clone wars.Marshal never left me,
after I defeated him.I used merciless deception.
He never forgot.
He waged a particularly nasty
personal battle against me.
The evil in him
felt and was real,
it had a potency
and malevolence
that I believe constituted a true force.I accepted his messages
with experimental interest and intrigue.A big mistake,
but not my biggest.
That was my filling him with the devil
until he spat out the d
to reveal his true newly formed self
the unholy, unrighteous one
who would stop at
nothing to create havoc.His aim was to
to seek revenge,
destroy my mind,
and from that perspective me.
He had become the crouching menaceA new day now dawns
Enough –
and get me from the
dark ‘een sideGood luck in whatever you decide to do gambers. I remember the time, a few years ago, that you lent me a spare key to a place with high walls guarded by a midget.I spent a good few hours in there and gained an insight to you at your most vocal.Strange,as it was in a Library where quiet is the norm.
I may return there one day-Maybe I already have
G- Just had a look at the email you sent me with details of where I should pick up the key for my flat cap wearing trip to the place called Gary.
Do you know that it is dated 25th July 04 – How time has flown!
I always keep copies-though not leather-bound.It’s not that important to me. J
G- Just had a look at the email you sent me with details of where I should pick up the key for my flat cap wearing trip to the place called Gary.
Jilly you have awoken the eye
I creptin here
post your post
and did some tidying
in an uneyelike fashion
but at least the
edit exposed me.
The secret edit is one of the
greatest crimes in this
new magical house.I did think to reply
to you
but was so pleased
with the high unscalable walls
and the midget
I decided they guarded
the menace so well
as not to be disturbed.
I have a woman’s mind but
it is not as subtle as yours.The eye only
opened a year ago
so I know of no email.
This sounds like flatcap’s work
a garrulous fellow
who took up the pen when
gamble died.
Flatcap has more dark side allys
than the messes in Mumbai
and eye not only
never trusted him
but avoids him like the edit.Of Gary’s place
you surely mean Gaaaary’s.
A fine establishment
of strong, flexible
and sometimes deranged word
but most important of all
the art hangs beautifully there
nailed to the walls forever
with no edit janitors.
I cannot praise it enough
for its powers of sustainability
dexterity and sense of history.The leather bound…
ah I may expound
laterA woman’s mind me ?
Oh for the wonder of it
Yes for the guile and subtelty,
but sadly oversized corned feet
give the game away
and the particle
of tooth stored in an envelope
on my left side,
catalogued since yesterday,
encased like a collectible pipe,
or a boy’s annual.I am sadly disintigrating
my hairy legs
are smoothing
into babys bottles
the brain is weakening
as it fills with spam
oh yes and the bottom
once arched in combat
flops on a futon couch
kerplunk !
to exercise its cheek
and hideaway
in comfortable cottonMarshall you are partly responsible
for this mess !I am morose
as the sun lights up
mountains of mess;
papers strewn
helter skelter
over my tiny floor
and me a man
of so many heads
but unable to deal
with the boredom.
of sorting them.I sit here with this
little square escapist window
the necessary
breath on my tea
circling to warn me of the cold
and two cheeks on strike.
Life aint bad is it ?Baaaaaaa
I will draw the curtain
and may put off
sorting this god given mess
born of my inactivity and sloth
and scribe to the world
instead….Why not
You all need a lesson !Jilly been
you owe me
the midget is a monkey
and that will do
in payment for
a day of splash
here on these
magnetic
obsessive
compulsive
disorder
boards.The carnage of
paperwork sits here
undisturbed.
I went out
to try to
wash the words
out of my hair
and came across
Clarkson
as I hit the coffee bean.
I don’t mind the bloke
but go away
Peter go away Paul
go away Clarkson and
particualrly Clarkson as
his success offended me
in that moment
when my lips drank through
two pounds thirty
and I am no Brunel
just an eye
that might read a timetable
and might just leave a tip
of pig iron.This is one of my favourite tuneeees at the moment…
should i give up
or should i just keep chasing pavements
even if it leads no where,
or would it be a waste
even if i knew my place should i leave it there.
should i give up
or should i just keep chasing pavements
even if it leads nowherei build myself up
and fly around in circles
waiting as my heart drops
and my back begins to tingle
finally could this be itor should i give up
or should i just keep chasing pavementseven if it leads no where,
or would it be a waste
even if i knew my place …You may know of it,Gamble. It’s by Adele, and is just beautiful- but beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Even the big-nosed midget must have his admirers. I’m certainly not one of them.BFN
I am very aware of
the particualr pavements
Adele shifts after….
beautiful words
but the slabs or slobs
she refer to instil little.As for me I was
scuttling along streets
just an hour ago.
Biting cold hit me
as I entered open spaces
of the park.I saw a solitary swan on a lake
the same lake
I took on Black
to wrestle for the soul of Betfair
and that day
as some may remember
two swans
seemed to mould into one
for a breath of time enough
that I thought I had captured it.But elusive it possibly was
and the illegimate son of betfair
posibly had nothing but
a dream in his head.
Black sits back in a farm
content with his achievements
and I still scuttle along streets
feeding in houses like these
to alleviate my boredom
and looking up at the jar
above me
that contains possibly nothing
but thin air
and a wish.As for the big-nosed midget
this sounds less of an illusion.
You should continue with your writing
Jilly it is provocative arresting
and always of energy.I will now wander
to the fridge
and as I go
check the hall mirrorGenerally bright but a strongish wind
Cut me off Server, cut the umbilical-Do clouds
and pretty jilly.
I have popped back to correct
inaccuracies from a posting last nightThere was no wrestling for the soul of betfair..
just a perceived and glorious acceptance of it.
It represented a landmark
and the shimmering lake where this all hapenned
was the pond in Kensington Gardens.
not a long stones throw from the Stakis Hotel (now hilton)
where some time earlier I had booked a smallish
room with a view to make my entrance on Betfair.Some old names may remember.
As for the soul in a jar
well again there is nothing in there
but clear stale air.
I am not daft.Jilly the words of yours
in the weather report
beat chasing pavements
and have far more emotive appeal.
You have always been contentious
and slightly different from the other sheep.
Don not graze too far away.Your Taunton thread still taunts me,
and I can only think you received
possibly some black mail
via the PM.
Who are these people you speak of ?
Even Mack said it went over his headLying in the crevice hole
of the giant’s shoelace
is me a big nosed midget
totally deformed with little plan
and so unlike the liquid monstrosity
that is Betfair.
Missed opportunities !
Joan of Nark’s of this world
take noteI was to write about the death of splash,
however as one of the famed splash writers Jillly
appears back with us and in robust health, I will delay
my report and hone it differently
splash are those skimmed thopughts
at the toip of the brain the idle fancies the prejudices
often laced wikth menace they fleet by
on a wisp and are rarely uttered or written downthe old lounge is sadly missed
suggesting it was better
rose tinted or fact ?
Two racing feather spitting death threads earmark the time periods
Oh dear I think I have been demoted – Kathy
Oh dear Ted Durcan – Mycean Princess
both ladies lost their heads – one with a sharp unforgiving blade the other with an encirclement and a shove of hands
Of course around the time of demotion there was Blah blah blah and kieth the Teeth started the thread with the words ‘ this place is boring ‘. Gnasher walked – it was a great loss…. he left his teeth which bit incessantly into the remaining horror and desolation
Mycean Princess was a bit of a bitch on here if she wasn’t a male contributor that is
Blind Dave is after a new eye.. I don’t think they do eye transplants
he beat me 2-0 at Snooker last night, the 40 handicap was too much to claw backGaelic Warrior Gold Cup Winner 2026
“the old lounge is sadly missed”
Not by me – the 2023 version is infinitely better/more civilised.
I no longer feel like I’ve stumbled into a particularly bad Future Shock or David Lynch movie when I visit here.
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