As if I wouldn't know about 'The Silly Season'...
Really, you men tonight (tut)
Joke or not Muckty, I have manage to post on:
Stalagmites
Sharting
Nun's knickers
KY
Calcite
Illegal carp fishing
Play Doh
Farts
and good old shagging, I've manage to get that in twice. It's not coarseness - it's versatility.
Go and iron your kilt, or bone a wee haddock, ya would ne bat a freckled, ginger-lashed eyelid if they were a blokes posts.
x
Yeah but me and Spendy, we put our women on a pedestal.
Then we look up their skirts.
Yep...
I can actually imagine you doing that...
Not spends though, I reckon he'd...
linger.
x
Only joking!
going to bed now, afore I get nyself in trouble.
Night all.
Sweet dreams.
But don't tell us about them tomorrow, because that's really boring.
x
One of my mates in the pub is always on about the top ten this and the top ten that. Albums, movies, books. Any shite they can think up to fill up the space on the backsides of the adverts.
So I thought I would offer my top smells. Ten is cliched so I thought I would try a baker's dozen just to be different.
1- Sizzling bacon.
2- Freshly baked bread.
3- New mown hay when you lost your virginity in it.
4- Dead leaves being burned.
5- Cigars in banker's rooms.
6- Damp dogs.
7- Bisto.
8- Jennifer Whiteside's hair after a Loreal shampoo.
9- Fields of marijuana plants being burned by indignant officials getting into the air conditioning on the motorway.
10-The underside of Jennifer Whiteside's tits.
11- Jennifer Whiteside's creamy thighs.
12- The Ladies Toilets on Blackpool front on a busy,hot day.
13- Hydrogen Di-sulphide on the drift in low concentrations.
The non-smokers have stopped coming in the pub recently. The last time they were seen was last Thursday night when it took them 2 hours to reduce a half of shandy to within four inches of the bottom of the glass.
Perhaps they no longer see any point. They must have only come in previously in order to rant about how objectionable other people's disgusting habits are like the good puritans they are and to draw attention to themselves as lifesavers.
They are probably brooding on what they can do next. There's a lot of lives to save so they won't ever run out of obsessions.
After all New Labour "listens". And thus you get government by the noisiest, stupidest bunch of empty vessels that I do believe the world has ever seen.
They actually think price gouging is sinful whilst rooting around the shops for bargains.
They are socialists when they want to be.
Objection. No 7 is invalid. Bisto has no smell.
Mornin!
For what they're worth, here's my favourite smells:
Lavender
'Comfort of Bath' (pipe tobacco)
Coffee
My daughter
My granddaughter
Flowerbomb (my favourite perfume by Victor and Rolf)
Washing - just brought in from the line on a sunny day
Johnson's baby powder
spends hair after any kind of shampoo
Pears soap
x
smorgs wrote:Mornin!
For what they're worth, here's my favourite smells:
Lavender
'Comfort of Bath' (pipe tobacco)
Coffee
My daughter
My granddaughter
Flowerbomb (my favourite perfume by Victor and Rolf)
Washing - just brought in from the line on a sunny day
Johnson's baby powder
spends hair after any kind of shampoo
Pears soap
x
What about the smell of a handsome bloke?
Don't know about you, but I feel a bit sorry for Jennifer Whiteside.
:wink:
I like the smell of the sea, on the west coast, when the tide has gone out.
Baking
New carpets
Lavender you can have too much of, imho
A new book
cut grass, yes
the woods in autumn
woodsmoke- but mind the carcinogens please :wink:
kippers
leather
How about the smell of hell?
Like in "it smells like hell"
smorgs wrote-
Quote:What d'ya make of Bob re-mixing his old stuff then, suspendiosity?
I hate to bring up The Free Trade Hall...
It's just another of those games people play but not important enough to bother dodging. I shouldn't think he would bother if they put them out backwards as long as they send the cheque.
Didn't the Free Tade Hall thingy provide absolute scientific evidence that blurted assertions are not worth a blow on a ragman's trumpet.
The lower middle-class elite of the folk music scene were being wiped out by one man who knew more about folk music than the lot of them put together. And then some.
People in that position often blurt out meaningless assertions. Pete Seeger tried to chop the power cables with an axe at Newport and had to be held down.
Quote:What are you tryin' to overpower me with, the doctrine or the gun?
My back is already to the wall, where can I run?
The tuxedo that you're wearin', the flower in your lapel,
Ooh, I can't stand it, I can't stand it,
You wanna take me down to hell.
Dead man, dead man,
When will you arise?
Cobwebs in your mind,
Dust upon your eyes.
It seems that the Brown government's priorities lack Blair's obsession with law'n'order as defined by the Mail/Sun axis.
Just my tuppence.
spendius wrote:
The lower middle-class elite of the folk music scene were being wiped out by one man who knew more about folk music than the lot of them put together. And then some.
[/quote]
What a lot of twaddle.
I don't mind Dylan, myself, but he had only a smattering of Woody Guthrie and a nodding acquaintance with some folk repertoire, and he used that to launch himself from there. His genius then took over. Okay he's a poet and a song-writer, but don't puff him as a folklore guru. That he ain't.
That simply goes to show that you don't know anything about folk music either. It's a lot more than a poseur's way of looking superior and concerned and sitting in clubs meeting the "right sort of people." That stuff's lifeless. I've seen people singing "folk songs" and you could tell by looking that they didn't have the faintest notion what the song meant. It was nothing but a performance vehicle. In three chords. A top gun US guitarist said that Dylan knew more chords than he ever thought might exist.
Philip Larkin said that Tambourine Man was the best song ever written.
Nettie Moore is a superb folk song.
"A nodding acqaintance" my Aunt Fanny. You just don't know the facts.
Smorgs gets up, as the feline effer is rattling the bedroom door handle. Turns computer on, goes into kitchen and puts kettle on (while the PC 'warms up'). Considers eating a scone from yesterday for breakfast, but decides on shreddies 'cos 'they keep hunger locked up 'till lunch', or in her case 9.30 a.m. Smorgs lets cat back in as it's holding up an entreating paw at the kitchen window. Smorgs puts down food for the beloved moggy. The moggy sniffs at it tentatively, then turns to smorgs with a look that says "there's no way, on God's good earth, I'm EVER going to eat that! And I don't care how much you paid for it, or whether it says 'real flakes of fish' on the tin, or whether the label's gold and it cost 20p extra, just put some crunchies down, I'll manage with them till lunch". Smorgs mumbles 'feline effer' as she takes brew into living room, and hopes feline effer didn't hear as smorgs is still sporting large gash on back of hand just for simply wafting catnip mouse under feline effer's nose. Smorgs has the urge to say "it's not self-harming, it's the feline effer" when carrying out money transactions.
Smorgs scratches botty, sits down at PC and posts:
All quiet on the British front last night?
Mornin' all!
x
spendius wrote:That simply goes to show that you don't know anything about folk music either. It's a lot more than a poseur's way of looking superior and concerned and sitting in clubs meeting the "right sort of people." That stuff's lifeless. I've seen people singing "folk songs" and you could tell by looking that they didn't have the faintest notion what the song meant. It was nothing but a performance vehicle. In three chords. A top gun US guitarist said that Dylan knew more chords than he ever thought might exist.
Philip Larkin said that Tambourine Man was the best song ever written.
Nettie Moore is a superb folk song.
"A nodding acqaintance" my Aunt Fanny. You just don't know the facts.
Zimmerman just used folk music, by which I mean traditional music, as a stepping-stone to Dylan.
And good luck to him.
There was a recent documentary (Martin Scorsese's) which dealt with this in some detail.
The first time I went abroad, not counting Kewwick, Cumberland, we started a hitch-hiking tour in Holland and the soundtrack of that holiday seemed to be The Byrds singing Mr Tambourine Man.
I've loved Holland and that song ever since.
Morning, Smorgs, hope scratched hand and botty are okay.
Mac wrote-
Quote:There was a recent documentary (Martin Scorsese's) which dealt with this in some detail.
I have a copy natch. When it comes to detail it hardly touches the books and magazines. The Telegraph, a Manchester inspiration, ran to 48 (I think) issues before the founder, John Bauldie, was killed in a helicopter crash after a Chelsea/Bolton match. The Greil Marcus and Paul Williams books go into real detail on the "folk" aspect.
Quote:Folk songs are evasive--the truth about life, and life is more or less a lie, but then again that's exactly the way we want it to be. We wouldn't be comfortable with it any other way. A folk song has over a thousand faces and you must meet them all if you want to play this stuff. A folk song might vary in meaning and it might not appear the same from one moment to the next. It depends on who's playing and who's listening.
Bob Dylan Chronicles Vol 1.
The Byrds Tambourine Man is gruesome. Check out a 1981 tour four verse version sometime. You'll get a better idea what Larkin meant.
"Look out kid-they keep it all hid."
