Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 7th January 2018

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 7^th January 2018

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:

                                                  

1.      In light of the forthcoming wedding of the posh bloke in the Big House to the foreign D-List Celebrity, the Town Council have decided to clean up the streets of D-Town in preparation.  The homeless, scammers, beggars, double-glazing salespeople, those sleeping rough, and the destitute will be swept up in a concerted operation next week before being placed in a skip for recycling.  Cars parked for too long will be towed away and crushed.  Pensioners are being warned not to linger too long outside shop windows, and young mothers are being advised to never let go of the handles of baby buggies.

2.      And the leader of the Town Council has been strongly criticised for attempting to suppress a new book regarding his habits in the Town Hall (the big white building on Long Street).  In a stunning expose, the book lifts the lid on the daily life of this major leader of the Free World.  He is said to go to bed very early each day, including some days before he has even got up.  It is also reported that he eats pizza in bed and spends most of his time on the phone to other civic leaders.  He is alleged to have told the Mayor of Trowbridge that he has a much bigger belly-button than him.  No form of literature was used in the publishing of this book.

3.      For details of these and all other Devizes stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station D-Town F-Off.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

The Shopping Forecast

The Shopping Forecast

And now for the Shopping Forecast,

Issued by the Met Office today.

They want to clear out their sales goods,

And they think this is a good way.

There are warnings of Sales in these areas:

The bargains are quite striking.

And to help with this new ploy,

The manager’s dressed like a Viking.

Chippenham High Street and town centre -

Depressing & occasionally poor.

Increasing number of pound shops,

And charity outlets at every door.

Woolworths has long gone now,

And many shops have gone silent.

After dark it gets much worse -

Dangerous, occasionally violent.

Somerfield and The Co-op – moderate,

Though there’s not much in the aisles.

Tesco, Asda and Sainsbury

Are out of town – five miles.

But small shops on the High Street,

And others of such propensity,

Then there’s Bejam and Safeway,

Finally losing their identity.

Lidl & Aldi – very depressing,

But a bargain or two in the process.

Backing up at the checkouts:

Expected to get better – I guess.

Piles of goods – poor visibility.

Bright coloured trolleys – veering.

Unclear why they don’t fix them,

And try to improve on the steering.

Although there are local variations,

Getting around there is erratic.

It takes a Force 8 to push them,

Then you get to the checkout - automatic

The general position in Devizes:

Moderate or good – price marking.

Bear, Pelican and Black Swan:

Market Place – good parking.

Corsham – fast foods & some bargains,

Kebab shops – always increasing.

Markets on Tuesday – improving.

Discounts - never ceasing.

Marlborough – posh shops & Waitrose;

Prosperous and very well-heeled.

Punters with more money than sense,

Though some were born in a field.

  

M4 motorway – veering west:

Bath & Bristol – always enticing.

Wallet - slowly emptying.

At Iceland – moderate icing.

Cribbs Causeway – intimidating.

To get in there’s a big deal.

Debenhams, and House of Fraser -

Credit card – beginning to squeal.

So here is the general Synopsis:

If you run out funds you must borrow.

Depressingly the same I’m afraid,

But improving – better tomorrow.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Lost In Cyberspace

Lost in Cyberspace (or the dangers of the online world to the unwary)

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 2018

The Bottom-Pincher of Old Trowbridge Town

The Bottom-Pincher of Old Trowbridge Town (the latest in a line starting with Milligan/ Goons’ Dreaded Batter Pudding-Hurler of Bexhill-on-Sea, and Milligan/ Two Ronnies’ The Raspberry-Blower of Old London Town)

There’s a town in West Wiltshire,

That stands out proud beyond the A4.

Let me tell you a tale of old Trowbridge,

That you’ve not heard of before.

For in this quiet, peaceful corner,

With its old High Street & its shopping,

Things most nefarious were afoot,

Which would have your jaw dropping.

The old Village Pump had its characters,

Near The Lamb there were girls and old punks,

The bag-ladies, and kebab-sellers,

And the usual winos & drunks.

Trow-Vegas car parks and the toilets,

The back-streets and the alleys,

But surrounded by great country,

With rolling hills & some valleys.

T’was a peaceful town it’s reported:

In the Gazette there was an article,

About the town’s small Hadron collider

And the search for the Chippenham particle.

But then this peace was suddenly broken:

The ladies there broke into a sweat,

For out on the streets one day,

Emerged a terrible new threat.

An elusive figure, a pimpernel,

His crime was a clincher:

Creeping up behind ladies:

The phantom bottom-pincher.

At first they were all in an outrage,

For he didn’t seem really to choose

The attractive younger ladies:

It was the older ones he tended to goose.

But soon they felt themselves flattered:

I just have this to mention,

It may have been a bad thing to do,

But really they liked the attention.

For shopping in Trowbridge was boring,

Thrills could be quite hard to find,

Even if the criminal was unknown

At least someone’d touched their behinds.

So no-one ever reported the crime,

The police were powerless to act,

But the ladies’ husbands became annoyed

And vowed vengeance - that’s a fact.

  

The provisional wing of the Salvation Army

Were brought in to scout,

But they never spotted the crime,

They never caught the chap out.

The bum-pincher became a popular figure,

Of his habit he took fully his fill,

There was no-one to get cross with,

For the victims shared in the thrill

So you’ll find if you go into Trowbridge,

It’s a town of wonderful places,

But now you know the deep secret

Of so many smiling faces.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Health, Wealth & Happiness

Health, wealth & happiness: (or how I was persuaded to seek health & youth, but gave it all up for booze & fags)

Now I’m the first to admit,

Although I’m certainly not wealthy,

I’d like to try & live as long as I can,

And that includes being healthy.

My other half – she looked hard at me,

And cast her critical eye.

“You need to get into shape” she said

And here are some ideas you can try.

She reeled off a number of therapies:

In fact she became quite verbal.

They were mostly New Age & Modern:

Some were Chinese and some were herbal.

I started on aroma therapy

Which created a wonderful smell.

But that just made me sleepy,

And off the treatment table I fell.

So nursing some bumps & some bruises,

I went to see a chiropractor.

She caused me so much pain that I cried.

And I’m afraid that I then sacked her.

So seeking for calmer approaches,

I tried ayurvedic head massage.

It brought a smile to my lips,

And peace to my ugly visage.

Hypnotherapy, meditation & yoga,

And various types of new diet:

Wheat-free, dairy-free and Atkins -

If it was faddy, I just had to try it.

Reflexology, and ear candling,

And all sorts of new medication.

Then finally I built myself up to try

Transcendental meditation.

This led to a new feeling of calmness:

My chakras were all in a line.

I started to feel so much better:

I fact I felt really quite fine.

And this was all very well for a while,

But it merely calmed my mental state:

I needed something else for my body -

A new person I wanted to create.

So I started to become more ambitious:

It’s what you do at such a juncture. -

Manipulation, electro-therapy,

And finally some acupuncture.

  

With needles all over my body,

My wellness began to increase.

If I could just push to the next stage -

Well – wonders might never cease.

I looked out for more treatments:

Anything health-like related.

Until finally I succumbed,

And had my colon irrigated.

It’s called hydro-therapy,

But there’s no need to sob -

It was all quite pleasant really,

And much easier than my later boob-job.

For I’d become addicted to nips and to tucks:

I didn’t need to be urged on.

I was even getting a discount

From my cosmetic surgeon.

But I suppose it’s the human condition,

To look for something more exotic,

When your diet gets increasingly boring,

And everything’s become pro-biotic.

Then finally the treatments stopped working:

What was once tight now only sags.

Anyway I’ve discovered a new diet –

It consists of chips, of beer and of fags.

So let this story become a warning to you:

Don’t think you can make yourself healthy.

Just stick with what you know,

And that way you might keep yourself wealthy.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Passed Over Again

Passed Over Again

I’ve waited in all day, pacing up and down,

Hoping that the telephone would ring,

That some flunkey from Buckingham palace

Some long-expected news would bring.

I’d counted on a proper letter at first,

Coming through Her Majesty’s Royal Mail:

Cream envelope, thick embossed writing -

But that route appears to have failed.

Morning after morning, nothing on the mat,

Time getting short as we come up to the date,

Perhaps lost in the post or delivered elsewhere,

I’m on tenterhooks to discover my fate.

After all - I am a firm monarchist,

A believer in our great constitution,

And I’ve been a good chap now for long enough,

So it’s time to recognise my contribution.

For outstanding services to my country,

I’m wondering what my honour will be:

So many types and levels to choose from -

Might it be an OBE or MBE?

I can just see my name up on the list,

You see, I’ve always fancied a knight-hood:

Some sort of title would distinguish me -

“Sir Andy Fawthrop” will look pretty good.

But there is no point printing new stationery,

Nor ordering any new business cards,

Until we’ve settled on the right handle,

Then I’ll be a knight amongst bards!

I can see me going to the palace,

For my investiture with the Queen,

Then photos outside with the medal,

My face all over the press will be seen.

I’ll be gently famous and renowned,

I’ll sign autographs whenever I‘m able,

And merely mentioning my name,

Will secure any restaurant table.

And people will whisper reverently,

When my personage is passing them by,

Speaking of my modest achievements,

And asking themselves the main question: Why?

  

I mean, obviously, why not them?

Well – honours are reserved for the cream!

If they just gave them to everyone,

How do you think that that would seem?

…..But hang on a second – what’s just happened?

The full list’s been announced on the BBC!

There’s nothing in there for services to poetry -

There’s to be no Honour for me!

Surely there’s been some mistake?

It seems, yet again, I’ve been overlooked,

I’ve been looking forward all over Christmas,

But now it seems my goose has been cooked.

Of course I’m not bitter – how could I be?

It’s an anachronistic system of State,

Discredited rewards for old cronies!

I wouldn’t want one of those, mate!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

New Year, Old Year

New Year, Old Year

And so the question comes around again,

About hopes and wishes and resolution,

Determinations for another new year,

Or to simply avoid it – that’d be a solution!

Whether to create new personal targets,

To set oneself up for yet another fall,

Or be more realistic of weaknesses,

And admit that you’ll fail at them all.

As if a New Year creates a new life,

Where things will be different and strange,

Rather than some random point in time,

Invented by humans to mark out a change.

It’s just a certain mark in the calendar,

A cold counting of months and of days,

And to track the moon’s movements,

The lunar waxings and wanings of ways.

Just cast your mind back to last year -

What were all the things you promised you’d do?

No - I can’t remember them either!

All forgotten – isn’t that true?

So what’s the point of doing it all over?

You won’t get any fitter or slimmer,

You probably won’t save any more money -

There isn’t a chance – not a glimmer!

Life will continue the way it always does

The only sure things are death and tax,

So just be a little more practical -

Be at peace with yourself - and relax!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018