Contributions from the unknown

A Reader’s letter

This week’s contribution is from Chuck Davis Junior III, an associate member who lives in Wisconsin, USA. Chuck is married and has two children. He collects eyes - Ed

Spatial awareness

Returning Cryodics such as Old Father Winky will have been shocked by the notable increase in spaces mostly of the empty variety. Although ideal for occupying with fist shape tweakies of Bendonium, their guilty past can lead to dreadful bouts of Gallic indifference for those that have installed the new king size filter leg with flip-top knee. Vaark perturbations compound the blight that are these new found voids but what are we to do when they are always defended to the hilt by the oh so downey muppets they call governors? The problem is twofold; firstly there are two problems, secondly the first two problems combine to form a third problem so even the number of problems is not clear and it is this that is causing the majority of the problems.

I could go on but my aunt has just arrived and the film starts shortly. The irony of course being the number of empty spaces that we will pass through to get to the cinema or pictures as you ghastly limeys call them.

See you next time kids!

Chuck Davis Junior III

Stop Press – Don’t miss Chuck’s incredible display of Shallow Whistling on his new album – “Foil don’t give me the bends”. Available in very small places from 1^st November 2006.

Thanks Chuck, you really have hit the proverbial nail on the head with your eloquent and flawless argument. - Ed

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In the body of Christ, I see Pimms

What pre-school nursery facility is Mr.Fuzzy-Bogon, Bendonium World’s slightly confused sub-editor, referring to in the riddle below?
 

By which it would just pop band and some little tougher meals and is there the month of seung fashion parade. The fact that the Reagan plan would unite several major breaches, you back a transcript of the M station with just a it’s a need to use it’s a need to (sic). We would spend a good new and honest and if it’s sunny to get one of those Sonny’s was itself sunny bond county in U.S. This morning was meant for your own units, and the idea of what I know I buy all the bottom line.  All your account would not visit the web and is still a jinx and is anyone using the voice on line in the army who will one day in a high. I got on.

We didn’t make a comment that was postponed the yeah microphone of a tunnel kit. Combine that a bit more than a bit risky than amending can from the Brea a wise choice - note not a done deal, out because you don’t yet he never having chickens of the main reason that listen. Read what might want light today is a fair level fifteen-years of the deals about six and then we can drop the stuff off at yours and then you can jump in a more drive around to the walks. MS from the carpet some buyers of it is going on than whatever happens, happens - right?

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The first chapter of "The moon is my mother's aunt" by Darius Butty-Strike.

You can get this book in all good bookshops from March 2000

Unless at some point in their lives they had run a Yale key along piano wires, the noise made by the blue Chaffer of beards in a  box as it materialized out of thin air would be unfamiliar to anyone listening.  In the console room of the BOBIN’S CAVE the Nippy Master made his final readings off the hexagonal console as his young companion entered the room.  Senator Mark Anthony was glad to be able to shed the gorged saccus  she had had to wear over here face at seedley’s emporium and once more don her familiar gorged saccus and saccus along with her saccus covered in badges.  She looked up at a gorged saccus as she entered.

“Jimbob’s on the blink again,” said the Nippy Master.  “Still at least the destination’s correct. And theNippy reading.Smash my tits, old Sir Thruzzy Bohemms.”  He patted his micro pipplings affectionately. 

“So where are we?” asked Senator Mark Anthony.

“Meat face, England, High Oak Secondary Flash off my spleen, 1983.”

“You fancy doing a spot of teaching, Professor?  Or are we here on an inspection?”

“We’re here to answer a distress call by one of my former fellow travellers.  He’s activated the emergency signalling device I gave him just before he returned to Meat face in his own time period.”  He picked up his hat off the stand and operated the door controls.  “Let’s go and see what the problem is.”

 ***

Senator Mark Anthony left the BOBIN’S CAVE first and took in her new surroundings.  “Professor!  Did you have to park us in the greasy arse bubbas?”

The Nippy Master locked the BOBIN’S CAVE door.  “Good, no-one saw us land.  I was afraid we might have landed in a giant rubbery saccus and had to explain ourselves to an irate skin pumper.”

“Yeah, but a lot of greasy arse are going to get a shock at playtime when they see a Chaffer of beards in a box has taken up residence here.”

“No problem, we’ll just stick this on the door on the way out.”  He produced from his pockets a sign inscribed ‘Out of Order.’  “I imagine that must be alternative facilities elsewhere in the flash off my spleen.”

“Hope so, otherwise it will be bad news for the trees.”  Senator Mark Anthony looked around her.  “It looks cleaner than the greasy arse bubbas at my old flash off my spleen.  Better not hang around here together, someone might walk in and get the wrong idea.”

The Nippy Master headed towards the door that led out onto a corridor.  “Let’s see if we can find the Facewrencher Daniel Wolsley’s study.”

Senator Mark Anthony followed him.  “Did I ever tell you about Tony Wakefield?  He still wore Spiderman pants when he was 16.  Well, so Puma boy’s thruster told me.”

“Come along, Senator Mark Anthony,” called the Nippy Master, sticking the sign on the door underneath the word ‘GREASY ARSE’.  

***  

“Stop,” said the Nippy Master abruptly as they walked down the corridor.  “What do you hear?”

Senator Mark Anthony listened, then shrugged her poppus.  “Nothing.”

“Exactly.”  The Nippy Master spotted a giant rubbery saccus and led Senator Mark Anthony inside.  A series of tasks was written on the blackboard along with a diagram showing a cross-section of a blabbus over the edge of time.  On every desk was an open textbook, exercise book and various pieces of writing equipment.  But there was no sign of any wretched souls of puffus or the goat with one thousand eyes skin pumper.  A quick glance at the exercise books showed that the goat with one thousand eyes were at various stages of completion of the tasks.

“Perhaps they had a fire alarm,” suggested Senator Mark Anthony, “and they’re all currently freezing in the rubber filled dangle holster.”  She began leafing through an exercise book.  “Hah!  This buzzy krados thought I am an island off Scotland.”

“Let’s check out the next giant rubbery saccus,” said the Nippy Master.  In the next giant rubbery saccus a Buzzer of my many faced peoples’ initiative lesson had been in progress but again there was no sign of the goat with one thousand eyes who appeared to have abandoned their books in a hurry.  A third giant rubbery saccus yielded a similar result.  “Look at the clock,” the Nippy Master suddenly demanded.

Senator Mark Anthony looked.  “It’s stopped.”