News From Bromham - Dateline Sunday 7th July 2013

Bulletin From Bromham: Dateline – Sunday 7^th July 2013

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Bromham:

1.       The radical rural cleric Abu Piglet was finally deported from Bromham to Seend in the early hours of the morning.  Under a heavily armed escort, the prisoner was transferred from Bromham’s top-security prison to a specially-chartered tractor, which left the top field in the glare of the world’s press, before making its arduous 20-minute journey across the frontier into Seend.  Piglet will now be tried under renewed charges for separatist offences alleged to have been committed over ten years ago.

2.       A huge public row has broken out between Ted Willybanned, the leader of the Carrot-Rooters’ Action Party (CRAP), and the head of the Farmers’ United Collective Ko-operative (FUCK), over attempts by the latter to pack the selection committee in the Bromham North-East Ward by-election.  Dave Wentwrong, leader of the Field Land-Owners Party (FLOP), took great delight in this public spat.  He urged CRAP to sort FUCK out once and for all.

3.       For details of these and all other Bromham stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station Carrot FM.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013

The Devil's In The Retail

The Devil’s In The Retail

Doing the shopping is always a chore, pushing a trolley down many an aisle,

But on my last trip down to Tesco, I saw something which forced  me to smile.

I’d come through fresh meat and groceries, and was just picking some bread from the shelf,

When I noticed a miserable presence: in short, it was the Devil himself.

I knew it was him from the pitchfork, his goat’s legs, his horns and the cloak.

There was his red face and his sharp teeth, and all round him there was a faint smell of smoke.

But there was something in his demeanour; I could tell that something wasn’t quite right.

He looked all miserable, pasty and drawn:  the demonic presence looked quite a sight.

Now I’m not a believer in Hades, but I couldn’t bear to see him that way,

So I asked Lucifer of his troubles, and this is what he sadly had to say:

“I’ve got a narrowing job description, and Forces of Darkness are facing huge cuts,

We’re out-sourcing Temptation Services, and minor devils are out on their butts.

And the price of gas goes ever upward, so we can’t afford to run the fires all night.

The Tormentors have asked for higher pay, and Hell’s budget has got very tight.”

Then he swished his forked tail around for a bit, and his visage looked dark, and of Death,

He had a bad case of halitosis, and he could have stopped a horse with his breath.

“You see - there’s a lack of believers; no-one these days gives much of a sod.

That’s meant re-structuring the heavens, and down-sizing imposed by the Lord God.

The Book of Revelation’s been revised, reduced to some lifestyle hints and tips,

The number of The Beast is One-One-One, gone are the Horsemen Of The Apocalypse.

Then there’s all of these Health & Safety rules, and the Human Rights of the bad sinners.

We’re not allowed to keep them all starving – that’s why I’m shopping for ready dinners.

The terrible reports on Trip Advisor were the straw that broke the camel’s back.

We’ve had to close the burning lake of fire, and Beelzebub’s been given the sack.”

Old Harry cut a figure quite forlorn, and he was far from a presager of doom,

The smoke no longer swirled about him, and his features showed up clearly his gloom.

He said he couldn’t stop chatting longer – if he’s late then his dog Cerberus yelps.

So I wished The Evil One “best of luck” – well, they say that “Every Little Helps”.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013

Talking At Last

Talking At Last

It’s been a long time

That we have not been speaking

To one another

But I knew what you were thinking

Understood your motives

And got the messages you were sending me

Through the things I saw you doing

And I watched the videotapes

Of you broadcasting to the world

And there was communication of sorts

And there were some weasel words

Passed through go-betweens

Because neither of us would admit

To our fiercely loyal friends

That there was ever any contact

But now at last we’re talking

It’s all out in the open

And the fighting’s nearly over

Dancing round the subject

Of our long estrangement

And being diplomatic in the desert

Delicate negotiations

Parleying peace terms

Jaw-jaw replacing war-war

So why did we wait so long

And let so many soldiers die?

Did so much time really need to pass

And so much blood have to flow

Before we could concede

And yield to the inevitable

That neither of us could ever win?

So while the warriors stand aside

And slump exhausted to the ground

Having fought themselves to a standstill

The politicians move in to smooth things over

And we are forced to ask ourselves:

Was it really worth it?

And is there any greater understanding now

Than there was so many years ago

When all this first started?

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013

Trout with herb butter & lemon

Recipe for: TROUT with HERB BUTTER & LEMON

Ingredients:

• Two or four trout fillets
• 2 oz butter
• Handful mixed fresh herbs (parsley, chives, thyme, tarragon – whatever is to hand)
• One lemon
• Salt & freshly-ground pepper
• Little olive oil

 Method:

1. Heat the oven to 190C/ 175C fan.
2. If the fish is/ are whole, remove heads, tails & main backbone (or get fishmonger to do it for you).  You want two/ four neat fillets so that the fish can be flattened
3. Oil a large baking sheet
4. Put the fish on the baking sheet, skin-side down
5. In a bowl, mix together the finely-chopped herbs with the butter & salt/ pepper
6. Liberally spread the mixture over the fillets
7. Squeeze the lemon over a small sieve to catch the pips, to let the juice run all over the fish
8. Bake in the oven for about 20/ 25 minutes depending on size/ thickness of fillets

 What else you need to know:

1. Garnish with a wedge of lemon
2. Serve with a simple fresh green salad and some crusty bread to mop up any juices

Farewell My Lovely

Farewell My Lovely

Farewell my lovely, for I must go,

Though I’m not removed by any force,

I think that, for many reasons,

Our relationship has now run its course.

It wasn’t your dog that worried me,

Though his habits were certainly vile,

The postman’s out of hospital now,

And the locals don’t run for a mile.

I didn’t mind that you smoked,

Though sixty a day was over the top,

And though I couldn’t see you through the fog,

I never, ever begged you to stop.

I’d quite got over the look of your face,

Though it was quite odd of a sort,

Your crooked, lop-sided smile,

Topped off with a rectangular wart.

I looked beyond your cauliflower ear,

Your tattoos never gave me a care,

Your broken nose was never an issue,

Nor that your palms were covered in hair.

But I’ll admit that I got a few shocks,

The first time that we went to bed,

Before taking all of your clothes off,

Your whipped your wig off instead.

You know I’m no oil painting myself,

But I can’t deny that I was galled,

Having chatted up a blonde bombshell,

To find I was with a girl who was bald.

The surgical stockings came off next,

Which you hung up on the peg,

Followed by two pairs of tights,

Then unfastened your wooden leg.

I thought that this might un-nerve me,

But I didn’t want to appear pathetic,

Nor appear to be too un-grateful

At the sight of your pink prosthetic.

But when you took out your teeth,

And placed them on the bed-side table,

I could see them grinning at me,

And I didn’t think that I’d be able.

To love you in the way in the way I’d intended.

At that point, you remember, I turned shy,

And I had to look the other way,

As you removed your cheery glass eye.

 You put it there in a glass on the side,

And it gave me a terrible fright,

As it stared at me -  not just at first,

But another twice in the night.

So, you see, darling my dearest,

I’m not usually one to moan,

But I’m still left wondering,

How much of you is your own?

There’s so many parts to your make-up,

That make you look so fetching and fair.

But I’m going to find a new girl-friend,

And I’ll make sure the next one is all there.

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013

My Lips Are Sealed

My Lips Are Sealed

I’ll tell you a tale to make your blood curdle,

From when I went for a walk in the wood.

I saw lights flashing in the night-time sky,

And I knew somebody was up to no good.

I walked through the trees to a clearing,

Where I saw a very strange sight.

I could see a flying-saucer had landed:

There were aliens there in the night.

Little green men were all walking about,

Investigating the things on the ground.

There were scorch-marks in the grass and the trees,

As the ship emitted a deep throbbing sound.

I wondered what I should be doing now,

This throbbing was making me deaf.

Should I be telling the MoD,

Or even calling in the RAF?

But my musings were interrupted.

I’d no time for more thought.

One of them had crept up behind me:

The creatures had now got me caught.

I was frog-marched into their ship,

And I feared there’d be an abduction.

They’d experiment on my body,

And to my feeble brain - apply suction!

I was afraid of this close encounter,

Of their alien experimentation.

I felt it would lead to great suffering,

To pain, and my final elimination.

But the leader, the greenest one of all,

Regarded me with his single blood-shot eye.

His mandibles touched me with interest.

Then he spoke to me all friendly and said “Hi!”

Amazed that he spoke English, I asked him:

“Have you come from a galaxy far away?

Is your planet collapsing around you?

Do you need Earth for somewhere new to stay?

Have you travelled for vast distances?

From the far side of the Universe?

Are you escaping a world that’s in melt-down?

Are you running away from some cosmic curse?”

“Earthling,” he said in a rich and deep voice,

“Our technology is better than yours,

Your understanding is quite puny,

And we don’t do inter-galactic tours.

We don’t want to take your planet’s resources.

We come here just to keep ourselves sane.

We don’t need your interfering.

Nor are we interested in your feeble brain.

We come here to enjoy the peace and quiet,

To get away from our elders and betters,

To have a drink and to take drugs,

And escape from parental fetters.

We can ride our saucers as fast as we like,

And make the weirdest shapes in your sky.

We know that you can’t explain it all,

And we leave you wondering why.

We can’t answer all of your questions,

Nor explain our latest escapades.

You’ll just have to take it from me,

We’ve been visiting Wiltshire for decades.

But, you see, we’d like to keep it that way.

We don’t want our secrets revealed.

You can’t tell anyone what you’ve witnessed.

I’m afraid your lips must remain sealed.”

I don’t remember much after that,

It’s hazy, or so it would seem.

Had I seen those little green men?

Or had it all been just a terrible dream?

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013

Lost In Cyberspace

Lost In Cyberspace

There’s a world out there waiting to be found,

I’m sure you’re willing to agree,

But there’s lots more in cyber-space:

A domain that was quite new to me.

I’d lived happily enough in the real world,

Until in front of my keyboard I was set,

To probe into the mysteries

Of this thing called the Internet.

I started by opening my browser,

And began searching for websites.

And then they came up on the screen,

A whole new world of delights.

You just click on the links – it draws you right in.

I was looking for some “biography”,

And before I knew what I was doing,

I was staring at high-grade pornography.

I saw some things that boggled my mind:

I admit that I was almost quite tempted.

It’s amazing what you can do with your body:

Some positions I’d never attempted.

I thought I’d better move on quickly,

And try to do something worth rating.

So I signed up to this site that I found,

For some online computer dating.

I entered all of my details:

You know - young, good-looking and free,

To see what matches it might find,

And pull up a partner for me.

Before long I’d struck up a friendship,

With this lady who called herself Honey.

But it didn’t take too long in the chatroom,

Before she started asking for money.

She passed on my details to some people she knew,

Who ran a scheme that was a scam.

They bombarded me with emails,

And filled all my inbox with spam.

Before this new time on the computer,

I’d thought that email was often a treat,

And my only experience of Spam

Had been pink luncheon-meat.

I couldn’t believe she’d betrayed me.

The experience had started to suck.

So I sought solace in online friends,

And put my profile up on Facebook.

It was then that I discovered,

How cruel the world could sometimes be.

I wanted to be loved, to be wanted,

But nobody ever poked me.

All this was totally depressing.

I began to feel like some kind of frog.

So I told of my disappointments,

And I began writing a blog.

The online community was waiting, I knew,

For someone who wasn’t a quitter.

I decided to go completely global,

And started tweeting on Twitter.

I sent my message out to all who would listen,

In my attempt to be a great hero,

But I found that I wasn’t that popular:

Number of followers – zero.

Then my firewall appeared to crumble,

My anti-virus started to crack.

With Trojans, Worms and Malware,

It appeared I was under attack.

My cursor started jumping around,

Problems all over just erupted.

My cookies turned very soggy,

And my files came out all corrupted.

So I think I’ve learned a good lesson:

It’s a great hint here I’m dropping.

Just be careful when you log on,

And best stick to online shopping.

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013