Not Everybody Finds Clowns Funny

Clown

Your appearance startles me

As I gaze upon your features

A painted face with rictus smile

Grease-paint make-up

Wide-eyed, red-nosed

The wig, the hat, the jacket

Huge shoes and trousers

Ill-fitting coloured garb

Exaggerated, extravagant and eccentric 

Your gestures make me flinch

Wild anarchic actions

Expansive and grotesque

Slapstick prat-falls, tumbling

To the crash of cymbals

Fool, comedic fall-guy

Miming pain and sorrow

A parade of emotions

And silent appeals to the comic gods 

The crowd’s reaction leaves me cold

Their laughter growing

Building to crescendo

Faces smile-illuminated

Marvelling at the timing

Of the crazy performance

Within the circus ring

Watching Whiteface and Auguste

Conducting clowning chaos 

But your deadpan muzzle leaves me cold

Your sinister expression

Raises phobic fear and terror

My voice sticks in my throat

To me you are no joking jester

Nor clowning priest of mirth

But a chill reminder

Of a nightmare presence

From dark anarchic night

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012

Spiced Poached Clementines

Recipe for: SPICED POACHED CLEMENTINES 

Ingredients:

• 12 clementines
• 5 tblsp maple syrup
• 2 cinnamon sticks
• 6 cloves
• 500ml orange juice

Method: 

1. place clementines in a bowl & cover with boiling water
2. leave to stand for ten minutes, then drain & peel, pulling away all the skin & pith, but being careful to keep the fruits whole
3. place whole fruits into a pan with the maple syrup, cinnamon, cloves & orange juice
4. bring to the boil, then reduce heat, cover & simmer gently for 25 minutes
5. remove fruits from pan with a slotted spoon & place in a serving dish, allowing to cool
6. meanwhile re-boil the remaining liquid & boil rapidly for about 10 minutes until the liquid is thicker & reduced in volume
7. pour over the clementines & allow to cool completely.  Chill in fridge before serving.

What else you need to know: 

1. you can add a little alcohol to the liquid to add some zing
2. best served with yoghurt, crème fraiche, cream or ice cream

Our Cat's A Vicious Bugger

Double Agent

Do not be fooled by the easy manner

His apparently warm, affectionate nature

The well-groomed, tailored coat

Perfect hair and manicured whiskers

Nor his domesticated demeanour 

Do not be taken in by his love of warmth

And cosy, comfortable, curled position

Nor his sleepy, silent gaze

As if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth

Always dozing during daylight

And rubbing round the legs at feeding time 

Do not believe for one moment

That this carefully managed image,

This cool, collected character

Is at all what he purports to be 

For Sam is a double-agent

And licensed to kill

A sleeper, hiding his true identity

Lying low until Agent Moonlight gives the signal

Called from retirement

To carry out his next assignment

Working under cover of the darkness

For another operation in a foreign field 

Passing through the portal

Turning his collar to the night

Nose, ears and senses all alert

Carefully checking his equipment

The teeth, the paws and claws

Razor-sharpened, glinting

Ready for rapid deployment 

Sleek, silent, he slips away

Without a backward glance

Leaving his safe house, out on patrol,

Round his marked and guarded territory

Eyes narrowed, focused

Single-minded, ruthless

A professional, working alone

Driven by his wild, instinctive urges

To taste fresh flesh and warm blood

Each evening before the curfew falls 

This murderous, vicious assassin

Creeping killer in the night

Will make short work

Of anything that scurries and squeaks

Briefly before it dies

Life throttled from its throat

Then brought back trophy-style

To be chewed upon the killing floor

The fur and bones left undigested 

Mission accomplished, victims abandoned

Honour and appetite satisfied

His shady, secret life left behind

He wanders slowly back to base

Reports in for the evening

Meanders to his sleeping quarters

Undertaking thorough ablutions

Before, contented, curling tail beneath

Setting head upon his paws

To take his after-dinner nap

Safely resuming his old identity

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012

News From Bromham - Dateline Sunday 10th June 2012

Bulletin From Bromham: Dateline – 10^th June 2012

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

·         After huge pressure from across the County, the Bromham Bank has finally admitted that it needs a bail-out of nearly £800 to prop up its operations for the rest of the week.  The Finance Minister, Ivor Piglet, blamed the downturn in turnip futures, and the high cost of borrowing against expected carrot returns.

·         The drought continues unchecked, with torrential rain falling nearly every day this week.  Roads and local ponds are flooded, the campsite has had to move to higher ground, and milk deliveries are now regularly being made by boat.  Nevertheless, there is a festive spirit in the area, with villagers turning lengths of banned and unwanted hosepipes into attractive themed sculptures and artworks.  Chairman of the Parish Council, Dave Wentwrong, commented that the villagers were just showing local councillors exactly what they could do with their hosepipes.

·         Sport – the long awaited North Wiltshire Football Tournament has started, this year being hosted in the twin centres of North Bromham and South Bromham.  The first twenty games have already taken place, and all ended in 0-0 draws, so no favourites to take the trophy have yet emerged.  Bromham itself has entered the tournament on a wave of apathy and low expectations, which we fully expect will be met.

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

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012

History Seeps Through The Earth........

Osmosis

Wandering, walking through this island

From its northern shore, end to end

Crossing mountains and hard-stone ridges,

Following ancient paths and causeways

Through fields and farms,

Henges, hills and hollows

I feel an ancient architecture and archaeology

Lying buried deep, holding within the ground

Secrets of the past, hidden history,

Trapped below my travelling, tramping feet

Times now forgotten, unheard of and unknown. 

Not just kings and courtiers

But common people lately lived here

Survived a frail, precarious existence,

For just one instant, a mere blink of an eye

And were gone, returned to dirt and dust

Into the soil from which they sprang 

Not coins, swords and buckles

Bubbling up to the surface,

Not tactile objects, much rusted,

But whispers of daring deeds, untold tales

And the very breath that made them happen

Sealed and captured, held within

Rooted in earth, their atoms still surviving

Ghosts, shadows and stories beneath,

Sounds, voices frozen long ago,

Warriors, heroes, villains,

Love, death, peace and war,

Deception and deceit, valour and victory,

Religious faith confessed and renounced,

Blood spilt aeons ago seeped into the soil

Through many ages, absorbed within,

An elemental memory of peoples,

Hopes and fears, actions and battles,

Their raw emotions, feelings

Now desiccated within this crust 

This land has made me

Where I was born and grew,

Draw nurture and live to tell my own tale

Makes me true descendant of this past

A heritage that is part of me

Still lives within my bones and blood

And every breath I take

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012

Organic Panic

Don't get me wrong - I like and I buy a lot of organic produce.  But I do wonder sometimes if there isn't a section of the food-producing community, especially the supermarkets, that isn't taking the piss.

Organic Panic (or why mud can be good)

Each time I go off to the market in town,

There’s something I see,

Which brings to my face a terrible frown.

It annoys me and it’s getting me down.

I feel they’re treating me like I’m a clown.

It’s when I see the label organic,

That I enter a mood near to panic,

And people nearby think that I’m manic. 

It’s when I read the back of the label,

That it alarms me.

For in among all the country fable,

Is all the truth that’s not on the table.

This really ought to bug and annoy you,

That even in summer, and this is not new,

Green beans are being flown in from Peru. 

What madness is this that they are doing?

To fool us all badly.

It’s causing pollution we’ll be ruing,

On this planet that’s now started stewing.

There’s trouble ahead that we’re brewing.

We can’t go on madly.

We’re killing seasonality and taste,

Raising food in too much hurry & haste,

Leaving behind us trails of carbon waste. 

I don’t want hormones or drugs in my meat:

It’s not natural.

Nor genetically modified wheat,

But nor do I want a planet that’s beat,

Or a climate that will soon over-heat.

But we’re exhausting what’s left of the land,

And it’s time that we took it back in to hand,

Before the time comes that it’s panned. 

The supermarkets must share in the blame,

With their approach.

They are taking us for fools in this game,

And their excuses are becoming more lame.

They ought to be reddening in their shame,

For covering up all of these airmiles,

And all of their plastic packaging guiles.

I’m putting their marketing in the frame,

Cos knobbly veggies taste just the same. 

They don’t need to be perfect & straight,

To be edible.

Nor do they need to have a sell-by date.

We can work it out at our own rate,

Whether it’s best to eat now, or to wait.

But I’d certainly object if I could,

That farmers’ markets shouldn’t try to be good,

And charge more for carrots covered in mud.

This whole thing’s become tattered and frayed,

At the edges.

Words like “free-range” and “pure” have become greyed,

And nobody’s sure any more what’s Fairtrade,

Or who’s making the profits or being paid.

There’s something confusing about food,

Where real meanings have become skewed,

And the labels try to shape our attitude. 

Wasn’t all food once “organic” and real?

Or am I naïve?

What we want back right now is the real deal,

With veggies that you can fondle & feel.

Let’s get rid of the packages and labels,

Get the stuff all laid out on the tables,

And banish this marketing-house Babel.

So let’s have dirty spuds and bent parsnips,

And let us get back to having real chips.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012

Recipe for Fried Fish in Polenta & Orange

Recipe for: PAN-FRIED WHITE FISH with POLENTA & ORANGE CRUST

Ingredients:

 

• Fillets of white fish, preferably skinless & boned (cod, haddock, Pollack)
• 2 tblsp plain flour
• 4 tblsp fine polenta
• Grated zest of an orange (or lemon or lime)
• 1 tblsp dried or fresh herbs (e.g. parsley, thyme)
• 1 egg, beaten
• 25g butter
• 2 tblsp olive oil

Method: 

1. in a bowl mix the flour, polenta, orange zest, herbs and salt/ pepper
2. in a second bowl have the beaten egg ready
3. dip each fillet of fish into the egg, allowing excess to drain off, then dip/ roll in the flour/ polenta mixture
4. fillets can now be chilled in the fridge until you’re to eat
5. heat the butter & oil in a non-stick frying pan until foaming
6. cook two fillets at a time on a medium/ low heat.  Allow one side to become golden brown, then turn over to cook the other side, ensuring that the fillets are cooked through.
7. drain fillets briefly on kitchen paper & keep warm (if you are cooking a second batch)
8. serve with orange/ lemon wedges

What else you need to know: 

1. the coating should become quite crunchy/ crispy