Busy, busy, busy! That's my excuse, anyway. The planned review of 2011 will have
to wait a day or two yet. Groida has suggested my nerve has gone and I daren't
risk my sanity by looking back at the maelstrom of events which have made up the
year.
I am confident my followers recognise me as a mantis of fortitude, conscience and
humility, who would never shy away from reflecting on lessons that might be
learned from life's turbulent journey. It was when the spiteful bugger called me a
morally weak fantasist and indolent toerag that I got the red mist and lamped him
between the eyes with a tin of greengages in light syrup.
When he regained consciousness, I pointed out that he has been wasting his own
allotted span recently by fooling about constructing Cludgiebreath, a ventriloquist's
dummy made of driftwood and items stolen from charity shops. Hopefully when he has
given it a few licks of Humbrol, he will donate it to a real vent. His own grotesque
attempts to throw his voice sound like a combination of an exorcism and a lunatic in
the throes of drowning. He was more intelligible when recently babbling away in his
lingua faux, Ohara.
More to the point, I would have thought that tinkering with this absurd mannequin
warranted a lower priority to tracking down his previous monstrosity, Mr Prendergast, the renegade automaton who has been missing, presumed on the loose for close on a year since we attempted to commit him to the sod just outside Macclesfield. That's Groida for you. I think I will clump him again, on the stroke of midnight.
I must get on. Auntie P has asked me to think up the ten worst things it is possible
to do with a spatula and a gherkin. Not content with her reign of terror at the
Krazy Kurnow tea rooms, she now wants to acquire Hairy Jacob's Fish Bar and is determined to persuade him it is a good idea.
Happy new year! Oh, I can taste the chips, cod roe, saveloys, pies, curry sauce ... hehehe!
No comments:
Post a Comment