Poetry corner

The roughage grows dark – by Minty Boffle

Dark-doodle

The dark doodle

Once it may have been true to a point,
That the roughage was rough and the flample was goint,
But when looked down on it’s true that you see,
The flample was pample and goadingly droit

It once looked quite pretty when viewed in the dark,
The roughage, the pample, hung out in the park,
For sitting on swings and going all weeee,
But the droit came upon them and cut them a’grark

The pample did stample and the roughage did yank,
And across the sandpit the pair they did sank,
To rid them both ever of the nether-seen droit,
They pitched up a coodle and had a stout plank

But the roughage not covered beneath the pitch coodle,
Was exposed to the droit right on to his noodle,
And the pample did peek out a safe word to utter,
But the roughage was lost with it’s memory a doodle

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Life of Si

MonkeyBroth’s own life-style guru, agony aunt and part time goat hunter, Simon Thrombosis helps you with those tricky life decisions and problems. And with no formal training too!

 

Fungus

Terrifying.

Darby Dale of Flab Corner writes: Dear Si, I’ve recently started having panic attacks when presented with mushrooms and other fungi. For most, this wouldn’t be a problem, but my work with the Forestry Commission means that these things are part and parcel of my day. It’s become so bad that during the scoping of a fire break project in Ashdown forest, I came face to face with a plate fungus and ran for over 4 hours to get away from it, eventually taking up a hiding place under the table of the Red Lion pub in Chelwood Gate. I laughed it off as a prank to my colleagues, but I’m not sure they bought in to my explanation. Please help!

Si writes: Hey Darby, irrational fears are so named because they are both fears and irrational. That’s a fact! But, we have to trace the fear back to its nucleus. I suspect that you had an occurrence such as a break in by burglars disguised as Toad from Super Mario or some such. Without that centre, it’s difficult to help, but can I suggest that you tell your colleagues? You may run the risk of being forever ridiculed, losing your job and the respect of your peers, but needs must eh? You’re welcome.

 

Thumb

Henchman.

Dekin Dumpvalve from Leaky Grange writes: Since I was a boy, I always feared that my thumbs are plotting with my spleen to take over my cognitive functions and cause carnage. I swear that I can hear them whispering to one another just before I fall asleep. Does this happen to other people or am I special? I’d love to be special.

Si writes: OK Leaky, this may sound a little strange to you, but usually in these occasions, it’s your bladder that is the puppet master and the thumbs and spleens are just henchmen doing its bidding. I’d say go with it. The bladder is actually quite an astute character and I know number of high-profile celebrities that gave over control and never looked back. They do tend to spend quite a lot of time in the lavatory, but you have to take the rough with the smooth. Happy to help.

 

Grater

Faulty.

Jervis Practicalmouse from Skive writes: Last month, I lost my entire collection of Roy Hattersley signed prints in a house fire caused by a faulty cheese grater. Somewhat understandably, I’m distraught as the collection was both irreplaceable and implausible. Last week, I physically harmed a man who was loudly talking derogatively about Roy’s time working under Dennis Healey whilst shopping in Budgens. I feel it’s now somewhat out of my control. Stop my grief. Make the pain go away…

SI writes: I’m very sorry for your loss Jervis. I’m afraid that the grieving process has to be carried through before you can feel better. But in the meantime, can I suggest you avoid situations that are likely to present Roy as a subject of everyday conversation? Your trip to Budgens was particularly risky when viewed from that perspective. I’d also avoid steelworks. Glad to have been of assistance.

 

Well, that was concise and well advised as usual. Si will return mainly because we believe he’s found somewhere to live in the heating system and maintenance has been unable to flush him out.


Poorly conceived advertising campaign of the week!

VW campaign image

VW Polo. The advertising campaign with the hole.


Disco Pig

Pig in a 2CVHubbida hubbida, wik, wik, wikki, wha, full on BOOOOM! Ya, da pig return for moar mayhem init!

Disco pig been away on one of dem foreign exchange programmes. Big up to ma main Frenchies Monsour et Madam Porc who bin puttin’ up wiv me for six months while Disco Pig been improving meself. Da ladies love da French talk init! C’est combien mon pretty pretty? Guaranteed pullin’ powwa!

Anyway, me still bin keepin’ up with all da latest choons so here’s ma chart throw down…. Frappant Mélodie!

 

Peter Fry up and the Desk Clocks – I got that feeling of goat in me

PoorlyR4t – Mocha latta chatter flatter platter

Captain Spoonwright – What’s good for the moose is good for the Flanders

Hurdy-Schmurdy-Glockenspiel – The fox obviously says ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH’

The Dickinson – Tan come, Tan go

Massive Economic Landslide Panda Car Collective – You can’t crack nuts with celebrity butts

The Focaccias – Honestly Betty, I thought it was going to stain the wilton.

Blink One One Eight – Repetitive, irritating, meaningless and moustached

Tiresome – They appear not to be at home Samual

Goodwood Illness – Throwin’ up in a Yaris

The Rubbish Bodgers – A colander does not a good boat maketh…

Literal Steve – This is a song that I wrote about some emotions that I once experienced

Data Moth Light bulb binary


Natural wonders – with Jacob Binatone

Often overlooked due to their dour markings, the Pocket Snake is surely one of our most fascinating indigenous Biffordshire creatures.

toilets

There’s bound to be one in there somewhere.

The uninteresting skin of the Pocket snake is, in fact, one of its greatest defences. In the 1920s, the dandy Biffordshire blades around town would use the quality of their belts as a mark of their aristocratic social status. Only a lowly social climber would ever stoop to a belt made from the pelt of the dowdy Pocket Snake meaning their numbers remained high.

Due to their commonality, and their unusual preferred habitat, they are regarded as a pest by many. The Pocket Snake is attracted by the strong odour of ammonia and thus tend to take up residence in men’s toilets. Indeed, I’m sure you’ll agree that it is almost impossible to use the lavatories at a public house with seeing a Pocket Snake or two.

Because of their unusual choice of residence, the Pocket Snake has developed an extraordinary diet, feasting as they do on urinal cakes. This has caused the species to become the focus of a number of studies headed by the Biffordshire Polytechnic College.

Bryan Flocculation – Assistant Technician explains – “When we first heard reports of the Pocket Snake’s evolving eating habits, we couldn’t understand how the creature had adapted its biological makeup to safely digest urinal cakes. What’s more interesting is that we still don’t. Possibly never will. That’s why we’re studying it I suppose.

“We’ve currently setting up test centres within over 10 local pub toilets so that we can study Pocket Snakes more closely.”

Due to their docility, Pocket Snakes are becoming the pet of choice for trendy youngsters. Many clubs have sprung up to cater for this latest fad and are fast becoming a favourite hangout for the Biffordshire youth.

Dylan O’Ermatron of the Cleft Pocket Snake Handlers explains the attraction – “We get together as often as possible to show off our Snakes. They are such affectionate creatures and love to be stroked and played with.

“They are the perfect pets as they generally don’t grow too big to manage, although our treasurer Clifford has a fully grown adult that is over 12 inches long! That is quite a size for a Pocket Snake!

“They are addictive and difficult to put down as they are lovely to handle – so smooth and sleek. Although I do have to put ‘Little Dylan’ away at dinner time as my Mother won’t let me have him on the table.

“A word of warning to anyone thinking about owning a Pocket Snake though, is to not buy one off the street. I was offered one by a man in a long coat who was hanging around the park the other day. I’m not sure what it was that he showed me, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a Pocket Snake. It certainly wasn’t any species that I’ve ever seen before as it only had one eye.”


MonkeyBroth Classifieds

Going cheap – Chicks!
Geddit?!? Eh? Ay?!? No seriously, we have some chicks for sale and they are reasonably priced.
Call Ben Whitecliffs on Bletch 784 523

Ford Ming 19.1 L, 17 valve
In suspicious fawn with full veneer and artichoke interior. FSH. 6 sleeve gearbox, Elastic windows, Icyfox seats, Front frogs, Artbags and alloy weevils. CL, GSOH, WLTM, LOL, TL;DR, AFAIR. Comes with 12 mins MOT and Tics.
Call Dunkly Musk on a phone if possible

Concrete driveway for sale
Due to having my driving licence taken away from me, I have no need for my driveway. Much loved but has to go to make way for a bike rack. Buyer collects.
Call Mungo on Upper Crunge 564 125

Bargain books
For sale, my Complete Works of Danny Dyer box set. Includes ‘My F#$kin’ Britain’, ‘Sh*t me it’s a Weasel’ and his much loved ‘Christ I C@cking’ Love Bridgend trilogy. I’ll throw in a rare first edition of ‘Knitting Sh*te for Geezers’ for the right price.
Email arglebarglebeagle@botchmail.co.uk


Poetry corner

The Soon Spoon – by Hilliard Ever-Soslightly

A deadly spoon

Precious…..

Oooo wasn’t it a bendy spoon,
It made light and yet made gloom,
It stayed all bendy until noon,
And then became so stiff

With a spoon like that you’d be the boss,
You would never suffer loss,
If you did you’d barely give a toss,
And should you care – you shouldn’t

When stiff it could become a sword,
When bendy makes you feel a Lord,
Your subjects ever overawed,
That spoon could crumble empires

Destroyer of worlds the spoon became,
Sheer power of it never tamed,
And you will never be the same,
Now you are in its thrall.

A weapon beyond the realms of man,
It weighs a tonne and yet a gram,
You borrowed it from your old Nan,
Part of her picnic hamper