60.5 Foodge Goes Soft

21 Monday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

Big M, Foodge, granny, O'Hoo

Granny walks O’Way

Episode 60.5 Foodge softens with Age

Written by Big M

For reasons best known to the Sand Man, Foodge arose just as the sun was peeking over Inner Western Cyberia. He pulled the curtains back and his eyes were drawn to an unlikely pair, slowly jogging through the yard. One was short, slight, clearly female and very fit. The other was a big man, who ran slowly and deliberately, as though it was something he hadn’t done for a while. “Crikey, Granny and Merv are a remarkable pair, perhaps I should get back into the gym?” This, we all know is pretty unlikely, as Foodge is, well Foodge.

There was another figure in the yard, some fellow digging and fiddling about at the back of the chook shed. Foodge raced down the stairs and through the back door to find O’Hoo was the mystery man. “What are you up to Mr O’Hoo?” Foodge asked, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Ah, Mr Foodge, you’ve come to help rebuild the storm water drain from the hen house roof!” Exclaimed O’Hoo heartily, who was surrounded by white plastic pipes, angles, glue and tools.

“I thought you eschewed plastic in favour of the more traditional cast iron” commented Foodge, thinking himself rather clever for knowing about workman stuff.

“Yes, well, it makes sense to maintain the historic value of the pub and cast iron pipes are part of the history, but out here in the yard, the chooks will be glad of dry feet, or claws, regardless”. O’Hoo already had the down pipe assembled and was mounting it on brackets. “When I get this connected we should gather up some bum-nuts for brekky

“Bum what’s?” Foodge was more perplexed than usual.

“You know, bum nuts, cackle berries” O’Hoo was already starting to fill the trench that went out to the back lane.

“What, eggs?” Foodge was still bamboozled.

“Chook eggs, just go through that gate and look in their laying boxes…no, not that one, she’s too old to lay” like us all.

Foodge tentatively entered the chook shed, stooping down to check each laying

A chook, sitting on eggs

box. Within a couple of minutes he had a good armful of eggs and O’Hoo held open the gate to let him out. Unfortunately an ISA Brown dashed out between Foodge’s slow moving feet. O’Hoo cornered her in the yard and scooped her up, gently placing her back through the gate.

Foodge, observant as ever. “Why do we get eggs without a rooster?”

“You know what eggs are, don’t you Foodge?”

“Baby chickens?” ventured Foodge.

“Not necessarily” O’Hoo warmed to the subject. “I mean, women don’t need men around to menstruate and men don’t need women around to masturbate, do they?”

Foodge flushed with embarrassment. ‘We don’t need to go there, I mean…,er, um”

“Well, that’s what eggs are” as O’Hoo dumped his tool bag just inside the back door.

Back in the kitchen, O’Hoo already had eggs, bacon and mushrooms frying in a pan, whilst Foodge made some coffee. “So, you’re ready to put the hard word on Granny?” Grinned O’Hoo as bits of yolk cascaded from his mouth, down his unshaven chin.

“Hard word about what?” Foodge was still struggling to get the milk to froth.

“You know!” O’Hoo now had bits of egg and bacon down his shirt.

I know, do I? Foodge was concentrating hard on the angle of the milk jug and manipulating the steam pressure. “Ah, that’s it.” He slid the milky foam into each cup.

“You know, the horizontal samba, playing on the trouser flute?” O’Hoo was becoming exasperated.

“Well, yes, we could go dancing, but neither of us play the flute, I think.” Foodge was now wearing a milk mustache.

“Christ you’re obtuse Foodge, sex, you know S-E-X, sex!”

“Well, um…er”. Foodge chased an errant piece of egg around with his fork.

“Ah, you sly dog, you’ve already been there” said O’Hoo knowingly tapping the side of his nose with his forefinger.

“No, no, I haven’t had sex” stammered Foodge.

“What, you haven’t had sex with Granny?” gasps O’Hoo.

“No, I haven’t had sex, unless you count waking up in bed with you and Granny”, unaware of the preceding ten hours.

TO BE CONTINUED UNFORTUNATELY

Nurse Barbara – Gravel Rock meets SAVLON

19 Saturday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark, Vivienne

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Foodge, Mark, Nurse Barbara, Savlon, Vivienne

Written by HOO aka Mark

“Why don’t people in these stories ever answer their phones, isn’t that why they were created” says Nurse Barbara to herself, odd seeing she actually is alone and no one is actually answering the phone. Sandy won’t answer, Gordon is watching TV and the Bish is smoking in his den. My bet is they’re down the pub. I’d tell the Bishop but he’ll just say lets bring it up at the meeting and then has any one ordered the pizza’s yet, a true leader as her thoughts waft to anchovy and olive pizza, hmm.

Anyhoo, down at the pub Foodge was feeling a little edgy till a Little Edgy moved away from Foodge to the end of the bar. See Little Edgy was a girls only kind of guy and didn’t like Foodge feeling him but lets face who would want to feel a Little Edgy all the time. Hmm.

“What’s with you Foodge?” asks Merv noticing Foodge, looking like he was a Little Edgy, given the few pints or so he had for breakfast and focusing postprandial is never a good time for Merv.

“Well Sandy won’t get out of bed. Now I have to take Nurse Barbara out to the farm, somethings happened” bemoans Foodge.

“I’ll take my bloody self” says Nurse Barbara as she strides into the bar. “Pass me the phone thingy on the counter Merv, I’m ringing Viv and she can come with me. None of you layabouts are any good to me” asserts Barbara.

“It’s Saturday afternoon for Gordon sake, every one will be on the grog or just about to” informs Merv in his laconic rasp.

“Not us nurses mate, never off duty” says Nurse Barbara.

The phone rings out on the farm. Viv’s Husband answers the phone “Hello, Hollow Hollow here, Viv’s Husband speaking” says Viv’s Husband surprisingly.

“Viv” continues Viv’s husband, as my fingers wish I had thought of shorter name to call him “It’s the telephone, you know with the wires and stuff, like the tin cans with strings, like in the good old days, it’s Nurse Barbara” laments you know who.

“Yes Nurse Barbara” Viv states as she marvels at the technology built into these tales, how quaint “come over now and pick me up or at worst follow the script. It’s the girls, they’re into this new fad, gravel rock it’s called, No Through Road is the album they just all must have” continues Viv in concern for her two daughters DeeOne and DeeTwo, phew says my fingers.

“What’s the name of the band?” asks Nurse Barbara as she orders a pint at the bar. Bloody smokes, she thinks must give them up one day, next we will know that they’re harmful, can’t have that now can we.

“Boom Crash Opera or Severe Tonsillitis, something like that” says Viv thinking back to the good old days of gramophone records and that dinner music band, hmm, ACDC.

“I’ll be there straight away” says Nurse Barbara downing her pint and butting her fag out.

Nurse Barbara arrives at the farm and is greeted by Viv along with DeeOne and DeeTwo.

“Now it’s good to see that you girls are alright after that gravel rock, knock, knock, crying sort of stuff, music as you loosely describe it but it can causing bleeding and permanent damage” says Nurse Barbara.

“Oh, look Nurse Barbara” cries Viv, “My husbands toe has just dropped off” as the astonishment builds so much here it’s almost palpable, palpable a nice word used to describe something that barely has a pulse.

“Damn” says Viv’s Husband “was going to work on the lawn but looks like I might have to put up what remains of my feet and watch the cricket, cheery oh” as he strides to the lounge room via the fridge to get a beer. Now that’s a man.

“See girls” says Nurse Barbara as she shakes her head at the waste of it all

Tacit pause while all players readjust their priorities. Usually happens after an event like this, a debrief so to speak, yes folks, gravel rock can ruin your life unless you have SAVLON(Super Anti Vaccine Lancomycin On NetGel), yes an acronym, finally, you all say.

“No Barb it’s not wasted” says Viv as the typing gets harder “what you need is SAVLON see up and to the left of screen, yeah that will fix any girls desire for gravel rock, or boom crash crying whatever” talks Viv, as seen on TV, “even tipped some in hubby’s port, hasn’t had a drink since”

“But…” interjects Nurse Barbara as her hit count drops.

“Barb, I’m telling you, this will stop sheep’s guts from going rotten, seen it myself I did, own two eyes, yep, sheep lived long enough to make it to market, er, um, to, er, be, um….” says Viv

“Sheet Viv, sheet” is all Barbara could muster, eyes widened as the authors BGL levels diminish.

Nurse Barbara – Are you Serious?

19 Saturday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark, Vivienne

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

Beechworth, Mark, Nurse Barbara, Viv, Vivienne

Written by Mark. True stories by Vivienne.

If you haven’t read the first part go here

Nurse Barbara Bees Lips Misses Finger

After all this time writing here and elsewhere I have rarely written anything serious or should I say real or factual. This will be different for us both. No pictures but stick with me, I think this is important.

I have recently had some conversations with Vivienne asking if she could provide some snippets about Nurse Barbara, as you know Vivienne and Nurse Barbara are the same person. Vivienne sent half a dozen snippets or so and gave me editorial control of that information to use here at the Arms.

I used humour on some of the ones that had ready to go material in them but the real story is quite different. It shows a multiple skill set application used by someone who lives somewhat isolated. That skill set develops over time and often comes from events. Mainly these events are urgent however you usually have to do something or you know that something bad is going to happen. So you do something. This needs to be recognised.

Now the dog was bitten on the lip by a bee, Viv’ husband called out to her that the dog didn’t look right and Nurse Barbara better come and attend. Nurse Barbara removed the sting and applied Beechworth honey to the wound. The dog recovered half an hour later. The name Nurse Barbara has stuck ever since.

The said friend did have his finger saved by Nurse Barbara and the gag about the finger going the wrong way came from Viv or one of her family going to hospital and being asked why they thought their finger was broken to which they replied “well, it’s pointing in the opposite direction for a start…”

All what we would call the nursing process, assess, plan, implement and review.

Now here’s a first, well at the Arms any way. Here’s the next episode of Nurse Barbara but the truth first, Dr HOO’s version will come second. I’m combining these two snippets in to one story but I want you to hear the real ones first, unedited.

Road gravel and broken wrist

“Viv’s daughters were riding their bikes one Saturday afternoon. The road was safe, a gravel no through road. It was good as daughter No.2 had just recovered from a severe bout of tonsillitis. A lovely spring day too. Then knock knock and crying could be heard. Viv opened door to the sight of daughter No.1 covered in blood and crying in pain and panic. Daughter No.2 was okay but they were both exhausted. They’d crashed into each other. One hit the gravel badly. Nurse Barbara went into action. Where was the source of the blood. To the bathroom and a lot of gentle washing and picking out of gravel from chin and knees and hands. Then finally – oh dear, broken wrist. Panadol first, then phone off duty doctor. Drive to town. Doc wants an X-ray. Off to hospital –what a bugger. Back to doc who confirms what Nurse Barbara said – broken wrist (really!). Finally back home. The next day hubby cut off his big toe in ride-on mower accident. This time Nurse Barbara called the ambulance. She then hosed the blood off the verandah. Next day she fixed the mower so it automatically cut out the mower when no one on it. Then ensued three months of nursing. The toe did not grow back.”

That’s a busy weekend and when I read it, I could strongly identify with most of the aspects of the work. One of my nursing roles was, you’re it, look after anyone that comes through that door.

The other issue here is outcome. Injury and illness cause consequence. At many stages on our journey through life the truth tells us what those consequences really mean. Humour can but won’t necessarily do all of that for us. Again this requires recognition.

Now I am going to tie all this in with this gem. Excellent work here by Nurse Barbara.

The Mauled Lamb

“Savlon to the rescue. The lamb’s stomach was ripped open. Nurse Barbara – we have to save it says hubby as he pours himself a port. Do something! All I’ve got is Savlon and a sheet. Squeezed whole contents of tube of Savlon into open wound, cuts up sheet, winds it around lamb’s body, put lamb into laundry with a Hessian sack covering whole body. Next day – it was alive and got up and took off to join the other sheep. It recovered – sheet gradually unravelled after a few days. Got top money at market a year later.”

Clever work for certain. Now the Dr HOO version isn’t written yet but it will be soon as the writing bug continues. Nurse Barbara will have to go herself because Sandy won’t want to get out of bed, Gordon is busy watching TV and the Bish is in the den smoking. Can’t wait.

Cheers

Mark

Songs from the Past

18 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Algernon, Bands at the Pig's Arms

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Algernon, Mariachi, music

Songs from the Past

Songs from the past.
Playlist by Algernon

The Legend of Xanadu – Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky Mick and Tich

In the year 2525 – Zager and Evans
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=It7107ELQvY
Ring of Fire – Johnny Cash

Cancion Del Mariachi (Morena de Mi Corazon) – Los Lobos & Antonio Banderas

Guantanamera – Playing for change

Guantanamera – The Sandpipers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AqZceAQSJvc
Soul Sacrifice – Santana

In a gadda da vida – Iron Butterfly

Mas que nada – Sergio Mendes and the Brasil 66

The Lonely Bull- Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass

Corcovado – Astrud Giberto

Fly me to the moon – Astrud Giberto

Comin Home Baby – Herbie Mann
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h9KQbbheFcM
Popurii – Mariachi Los Camperos

Nurse Barbara – Bee’s Lips Misses Finger

18 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Vivienne

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Nurse Barbara, Viv

The 4WD

Based on trues stories by Vivienne

Hi all, Sandy here from Inner Cyberia. The Bish wants me to investigate this amazing, well actually incredibly amazing story that a bee’s lips misses someone’s finger and here I am in the four wheel drive heading way back out the back of out there somewhere, hmm.

Anyhoo I have brought along with me Nurse Barbara. “Say hello Barbara”

“Hello Barbara” says Nurse Barbara “been wantin’ to that one for years. Got any cigarettes, hidden stash, bottle, cash?” asks Barbara “Nah, didn’t think so, don’t seem the type.”

“I hope you can fix this poor person” I inform “it’s a lady called Viv, but it’s not Viv” I ramble.

“So, you purse carrying nancy boy, you are dragging me out here to see someone who was called Viv but then it changed and then it became Viv again! Crikey you have a nerve” completes Nurse Barbara.

“It’s Viv’s husband, not Viv.” I say.

“What’s his name ?”asks Nurse Barbara.

“Viv’s Husband, er, um, yeah that’s right, it’s Viv’s Husband for certain, yes his bee’s lips have missed someones finger” I confabulate wonderfully.

“Turn in here” points Nurse Barbara. Waiting at the gate is Viv and we pull over and get out and meet her.

“That bloody husband of mine let that bloody dog in the back yard and yelled ‘Nurse Barbara’ so we thought it must have been yours” says Viv.

“Nah not mine” says Nurse Barbara with typical nurse authority, “Oh and what happened to all of those things in the title, see read it at the top of the screen. It says Bee’s Lips Misses Finger.”

So cute

“That’s true, guess we got Nurse Barbara bit so far then it says ‘Bee’s Lips’. That’s right the script goes, well I looked at the dog, the dog wasn’t right, or left for that matter and her mouth was swollen bigger than big, right” continues Viv.

“Sit, stay” says Nurse Barbara to the cute little dog who is simulated on the right, opened up her magnificent and world famous chest and with her best and finest tweezers and skilfully removed a bee sting from the dogs lip.

“I’ll put Beechworth honey on those lips and they’ll be fine in half an hour. Fancy a sherry Nurse Barbara?” asks Viv. “The men can sit out side and scratch their nuts, lets face it, that’s all they are good at aren’t they, oh that and the reproductive organ” laughed the girls as they strolled arm in arm up to the veranda in the shade.

“Now what about Misses Finger?” asks Nurse Barbara reading the rest of the story title.

“Oh Mrs Finger, she lived down the road and round the corner. Moved on ages ago anyhoo a friend, who shall remain nameless, was doing a little chainsaw work for her. Due to a lack of attention said friend sawed off the said side of his right said forefinger.” say Viv, totally ignoring tense due to “said” overuse in the last sentence. Thankfully at this moment her cat and keyboard are no where in sight.

Nurse Barbara

What would Nurse Barbara do, hmm thinks Viv– I don’t have a big enough bandaid. “Please sit down while I drive to town for some supplies.” Can’t you just hear the Benny Hill Theme Song playing here. At the chemist Viv found just the ticket – a couple of metres of continuous fine medical material, gloves and an internal applicator (with instructions and gel!). Hmm.

“Every day Nurse Barbara” says Viv now returning to tense and sense “I re-bandaged the finger until it had healed. Miraculously the finger also grew back.”

“You’re saint Viv, me and you are like minded” gushes Nurse Barbara.

“Well there is only one tiny little problem” fesses Viv “Well I put the finger on the wrong way…”

Foodge – 60.4 – The Plot Thickens

16 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Big M, Foodge, Glenda's House of Pain, granny, O'Hoo

O’Hoo warming up the Zephyr

Episode 60.4 – The plot thickens just like when you add cornflour…

Story by Big M

Granny was doubly grateful this afternoon, one, that she hadn’t been semi-fatally damaged by falling on the cellar floor, thus being written out of the story, and, two, that she was stepping, or rather, driving out with her beloved, Foodge. ‘Is there anyone to compare with him?’ She thought. ‘Ruggedly handsome, powerfully built, reflexes like a panther….’ She had just returned from a brief visit to Glenda’s House of Pain for moustache and ear waxing, and a general tidy up around the place, in a depilatory manner, if you know what I mean.

Foodge stood in front of the bathroom mirror, having had a Very Close Shave (you know the sort of shave one has prior to a date), a quick pluck of assorted nose/ear/stray hairs, and a generous splash of Eau de Pheromone, from his own library of custom smells scents. Foodge was pretty sure the perfumier was joking about ‘extract of groin of Sumo’. Anyhoo, this wasn’t getting the picnic basket packed. In fact, was there a picnic basket? Foodge rushed down to the Gentleman’s Bar, where O’Hoo held the floor. ‘Septic was overflowing…yes, a shitload, oh, Mr Foodge.’

Foodge sidled up to have a word in O’Hoo’s pink, shell like. ‘Do we have a picnic basket around here?’

‘Do we have a picnic basket?’ O’Hoo exclaimed. ‘Do WE have a picnic basket? No,

The Big Z

but you, Mr Foodge have a luxury picnic basket for two, replete with hand selected items, selected by my own hands!’ O’Hoo whipped a rather large basket, covered in pink cellophane, from under the bar.

‘Mr O’Hoo, I could kiss you.’ Which was only partly true, because Mr Foodge was mainly heterosexual. Foodge took the basket straight out to the Zephyr, hiding the basket under a blanket on the back seat.

Foodge returned to the Gent’s (Bar, not Dunny) to find Mr O’Hoo regaling the entire Hell’s Angles with some Pleece detecting story. ‘Hey, Foodge you remember, Summer Hill Train Station!!’

Foodge was about to mention something about fare evasion being as bad as fax evasion when there was a hush in the room. Everyone turned to the main stairs where, a pair of black stilettoes emerged, followed by a pair of shapely ankles, clad in silk stockings, with perfectly straight seams down the back, terminating in little bows (Big M let out a small groan), then the calves, then, you guessed it, the knees, then a very short black dress. The figure was petite, yet had all of the curves in the right places, the face that followed was our own Granny. Not old, fiddle with the kegs, cook some eggs, brew up some more ale Granny, but a younger, softer Granny. The silence was interrupted by a voice. ‘Christ, I’d do her!’

‘Shut up you disrespectful mongrel.’ Yelled Our Foodge.

The room suddenly darkened, as if a partial solar eclipse was occurring. Everyone looked to the front doors. There stood Mr Merv in his best boxin’ shorts, and Pigs Arms T-shirt (are there any more of those Emmjay??). ‘Hallo me lovelies’ Grinned Merv.
Granny kicked off her stilettos and sprinted across the room, hugging Merv in a slightly less asphyxia embrace than Foodge received this morning. ‘My boy’s back!!’

Naturally the whole picnic, go for a drive, end up where it takes us thing didn’t happen, but, Pink Drinks and Pale Ale flowed, wedges were fried, sour cream dolloped, eggs scrambled, and so on. At the end of it al, when Merv and the family had gone to bed, the inebriates ejected and the pub locked up, Foodge sat on the back step with Granny. Her head conveniently leaned against his shoulder. ‘Another night, Love?’

‘Another night, Granny!’

Foodge 60.3 bits

15 Tuesday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

≈ 23 Comments

Tags

Angler, Foodge, granny, Hung, Mark, Merv, Nurse Barbara, O'Hoo, Yvonne

Earnest Moncrieff, from a previous story but out there somewhere…

Story by Mark aka Hung

“What’s this, a fucking clip Merv or Drumpf with a haircut?” larfs Angler On, an anagram of Algernon seeing no one got the Earnest Moncrieff connection, the sparrow killing associate of Gib W, who this story isn’t about therefore both Gib and Angler are sure to get many mentions, as you do here at Foodge Inc. Earnest has gracefully retired for Angler, get the picture. Sweet…

“I’m guessing that shirt fitting doesn’t hold the same appeal for you that it once did” says Foodge, seeing I can say “says” here, this is early in the story, plus Angler was smart enough to laugh his comment, even though he then couldn’t spell it, gave me another one of those ad somethings they belted into you at school, I can use them to embellish the conversation. I deliberately forgot all of that stuff from my skool daze just to get even. Now Emmjay has talked me into writing, the bastard, I have to learn to write, pfft, I wished I listened to what my parents said and no, I don’t know what they said because I didn’t listen. Is this Catch 22 or Deja Vu? I digress.

“Pertinent and very Aristotletic. It took a dinkum swagman to tell it like it was. Loved it. He looks like he will be the publican nominee. He’s a modern day Hitler and the followers are hoodwinked dopes.” reflects Gib really worried now that the author assigned him to this statement. Gib didn’t understand most of it just like the rest of us.

“No help then for me and ewe Sister” moans O’Hoo as he searchers his pockets for weapons. Something does, after a while, bulge down there but only a distant memory now days.

“As I’ve said before – well sorted. I did something similar about 12 years ago. I told them their sums were wrong” laments Yvonne as she sips slowly on her Pink Drink, Campari of course, well probably, this is Foodge after all, I mean, is this chick style, I doubt the drink is metho and Eno’s, surely not but hey. “I have a special 5H enema if you’re ever suffering from ennui again” grins Yvonne, cheshirely.

Nurse Barbara at 3 weeks

“Thanks Sister” says Nurse Barbara dropping in here, out of no where, as you do in Foodge “Needless to say, the custom designed enema is no longer necessary. Now I just need to get my shit together. I thought I’d better print this before it disappeared from screen. Oops, shit, missed it.” Don’t worry about an enema thinks Nurse Barbara, I’ve just read Mark’s story. Bum burner, hot on the way in hot on the way out.

“Now, that’s a worry! ..but then again there are a lot of crazies out there who should be looked after inside white coloured rooms with padding with a really good printers especially any one from the Pigs Arms” replies Yvonne, rolling her eyes and hoping that eye rolling can somehow be classified as a true exercise, me I relate to this, some how or rather, the story is only going to get worse from here on, not better, unless it gets better, I think so, jury’s out mate.

“We don’t need to fly anyone in, Paul. We just send the work overseas via the internet, works for me” says The Other John, a prick from somewhere near somewhere else. Foodge stands erect, well so he told me later, he went to the car-park and retrieved the shot gun from the Zephyr.

By the time he returned Merv had already unloaded two rounds into The Other

Smoochy smoochy, The Other John

John, may Gordon bless us with more of the same. The 457 visa workers had actually already started to remove the body and clear up the mess. 47 cents an hour and they have temerity to complain, bastards.

“And for other selfish arseholes who game the system” retorts Arse Upwards(AU), “No, Angler, the ABC only seems to air the opinion of anuses and Onanists, these days. That’s why all of us here get published heaps” continues AU, Oh, please really think this through. Me, I can’t stop laughing at myself.

Nurse Barbara the other version

“This is funny Nurse Barbara. I’m trying to reply to Gorf(Frog in a blender) who replied to you, who replied to Merv, who replied to Hung, who replied to Emmjay who replied to Viv, who replied to Gerard but to no avail. I tried to say “the comment is devoid of compassion for the victims of lactose intolerance etc”. Why the fuck do the moderators don’t like me? Pfft. They favour the fucking heartless monsters! Why!” says fucking someone, bloody hell, name withheld due to a technical issue, I’ve lost control of this story. AI is here.

“That Pink Drink is a special mixture of tinctures and herbs, concocted by Granny, and safeguarded by Mr Merv. It will put lead in your pencil, that is, if you wanted a lead pencil” says Gib obviously seriously concerned about heavy metals.

“Hallelujah, brother, I’ve been restored to health” states Yvonne seeing “says” has been done enough.

Perhaps, Mark, you could have your own episode of “Call the Bigwife”

Hmm, thinks Hung eager to get one mention in the story.

Foodge 60. 2 bits

14 Monday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Big M, Foodge Private Dick, The Dining Room

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

Foodge, paracetamol

Story by Big M

I have no idea why I like this photo but Foodge does it every time.

Foodge stood at the bar absentmindedly polishing a pint glass with a cloth sans dead flies. It was mid morning so O’Hoo wandered in for his usual morning tea of Trotters Ale, followed by Trotters Best, then a Granny’s Special IPA, Imodium, paracetamol and aspirin, that’s what IPA stands for, don’t it. “You’ve been making a right racquet in front of the pub.” Foodge observed, for observation was his forte, as a Very Private Dick.

O’Hoo wiped a foamy mustache away from his upper lip. “Big job, Mr Foodge, those old, cast iron down pipes leak like a busted arse when it rains, rusted to buggery.”

Foodge didn’t think that busted arse’s and buggery would go together that well. “So, you intend to put plastic ones in?” This sounded good in Foodge’s mind, like playing with Airfix model.

“Nah that would look like shit!” O’Hoo picked up another canoe (no, not a kayak, the place won’t run to kayaks, or litres for that matter). “I’m hitting them with some you-beaut rust converter, and then I’ll paint ‘em the same colour as the tiles. They used to have seals in each joint made of jute, or hemp, or some such thing, but I reckon we can afford some silicone!” says someone, sorry looking through the database I think this comes from O’Hoo, yes, no, maybe, yes, it is definitely O’Hoo.

Foodge was starting to get uncomfortable with all of the tradesman’s talk. “Yes, indeed, that will come up a treat.” The only silicone that Foodge had any experience was at Glenda’s House of Pain (and depilatory services).

“Foodge.” O’Hoo leaned forward. “Have you had that chat with Granny, yet?”

“Did you have to bring that up?” Foodge started polishing a glass with a great deal of nervous vigor. “I don’t know how to go about it. I’ve asked Mr Merv for advice, I asked Big M, and I even asked my accountant. They all said. Be yourself, just relax…’’

“Sounds like pretty fair advice, I mean, you have to snort things out, she’s obviously sweet on you! ” says someone, pretty damn good advice actually.

“Yes, I am Mr O’Hoo!” Granny had been in the doorway to the bar the whole time. And why wouldn’t she be sweet on him?

Mr Foodge, former Pleece Prosecutor, Private Dick, and handsome to boot, could have any girl in Inner Western Cyberia, but chooses to hang out here, in our humble pub. Granny turned hurriedly, wiping a tear on her sleeve as she descended the concrete steps to the cool and quiet of the cellar, tripping semi-fatally suffering a sub-epidural hemorrhage enabling the script writers to kill her off and never mention her again.

Foodge stepped through the doorway to catch up with her. ‘Ah, shit, mate, let her go, you’ll never understand sheilas.’ O’Hoo had slipped behind the bar to pull a fresh ale.

Foodge ignored O’Hoo’s sage advice, and caught up with Granny who was hunched over in the corner, the only sign of her crying was that periodic shuddering of her shoulders. ‘Granny.’

Granny turned away.

‘Er, um…Granny, what about if we, that is, just you and I take the Zephyr for a spin, and end up where we end up’

Granny turned to face Foodge. ‘Really, just us?’

‘Of course, O’Hoo can man the bar’

Foodge found himself in an embrace that was so tight; he thought he would never breath again.

Album Review: Oremi

14 Monday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Bands at the Pig's Arms, Mark

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Angelique Kidjo, Oremi

“Angélique Kpasseloko Hinto Hounsinou Kandjo Manta Zogbin Kidjo,^[1]^[2]^[3] known as Angélique Kidjo (born July 14, 1960), is a Beninese-born American Grammy Award winning singer-songwriter and activist, noted for her diverse musical influences and creative music videos. Time magazine has called her “Africa’s premier diva”.^[4] The BBC has included Kidjo in its list of the African continent’s 50 most iconic figures” Thanks again Wiki, you know it all. If you want to read more go here

Wiki the Know All tells us more about Ang

The album this time is Oremi. A very eclectic mix of music styles and her voice is simply outstanding.

Now the obvious song on the album is a version of Jim Hendrix’s Voodoo Chile. You can watch that here.

Voodoo Chile at Youtube

My favorite you can watch here. As usual very hard to pick one over the other to be honest. This track, Itche Koutche is a bit more upbeat but another track on the album called Never Know is also very special.

Itche Koutche thanks Youtube

The whole album is here. Enjoy folks.

Angélique Kidjo Oremi

Sam Cooke’s the Books

13 Sunday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Algernon, Bands at the Pig's Arms

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Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding, Sam Cooke

Sam Cooke and the microphone from heaven.

Sam, Otis, Marvin and Curtis Revisited
Playlist by Algernon
Please enjoy this list first presented in May 2013.
Sam Cooke
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pX6QlnlMqjE
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