worse
still, did the dirty job himself! (See below) . Mind you, Stan would have kicked his sorry ass if he
found out, as Stan was six foot six of muscle, so it’s doubtful
Fulke got a sniff.
The Fulkes were
obviously early predecessors to the Fockers, and Stratford locals
may have joked about ‘meeting the Fulkers, and all the little
Fulkers’. Who knows? History is contrived bollocks anyway, and so,
what I’ve written is exactly correct ... what does it matter?”
Author AWL
Saunders wrote:
"I compiled a
profile of Greville and compared it to the folio profile and was
amazed to discover that he was an exact, one could say quite
perfect, match with the profile of 'William Shakespeare'."
And I the
author say ... The West Midlands is famous because of a
‘woman’.
There’s one for
women’s lib, or rather, lib-eratum.
Fulke Greville
(?).
What a
haircut!
As they had no
photography, this statue was carved very quickly by a statuographer
from Chiselblock Statuography (a local Midlands business at the
time), just after he was told of the new ruling at school, i.e. six
whole weeks summer holiday for all his kids. But not only that; his
stressed wife (you would be with all that washing and ironing,
especially with no washing machine) had discovered that she felt
much better after a long shopping session (and she liked shoes). Or
… it could have been just after the barber showed him his haircut
in the mirror?
Actually, since
I began asking about Fulke, I can’t seem to find the statue, and
so, I’ve used only the hair from a picture shown to me by a
stranger, via e mail. The haircut will therefore suffice.
If anyone comes
along with a proper picture, or, if I find where the tomb is, I’ll
add it, plus I’ll stick it on the website (FL, Author).
***
And now, A
SONNET, by ‘OUR GILLIAN
© Stan
Stashaway.
THE RIVER
ARROW
The river Arrow
is bothe, wide and thinne,
It looks so
very refreshing, so fully clothed, don’t jumppe in,
Or thou wilt
gettest thy clothes, all wette!
And maybe then,
a chill you’ll gette.
Idyllic bridge,
and duckes a floating,
Maybe thou,
with thou lady, wouldst go boating?
Or sitteth on
the bank, with thous lovest onne?
And stareth
into their eyes, until the daylight hath gonne.
Then, as the
evening meltts in, and the midges do humme,
And you bothe
arise, each with a grassy bumme,
Forth onto the
tavern, for a cuppe of fine ale,
A good day to
have in Alcester, thou can-nottest fail!
Cometh then to
Alcester! A quaint Hamlett so fine,
Now that it
hast been a tempted, the soul, it will pine,
And although we
have rivers, no lakes wilt thou findest here,
And this sonnet
challenges all blurbbe, by William Shakespeare. (She must have been
in a bad mood with him to say that ... PMT??)
The River
Arrow. There is a prize for anyone who can spot a plassy bottle, or
a can thrown in by a jealous Stratfordian.
Month 3
“Hello again
from me the Mole (an ME), and of course, indirectly from the FAT
Bs. In this edition, a LITTER special, I’d like to tell you about
the FAT Bs undercover trip to Stratford, which we took after we got
the news that they’re getting a large amount of money from
‘Advantage West Midlands’ to help clean the place up. We discussed
this, and decided that the body awarding the cash are treating an
effect and not a cause, or in other words, they are putting a
‘bandage on a corpse.’
Clean the town
up and the ‘chavvy’ residents will muck it up again, and therefore
waste money that would be better awarded to Alcester Council, who
could stick it in a high interest account, and use it to save us
making phone calls, and hire an expensive detective to keep track
of the mayor (usually found either singing or table dancing, or
both, in a pub), should he ever be needed at short notice for a
civic reception for some rich tourists from any rich nation you
like.
We could even
use some
still, did the dirty job himself! (See below) . Mind you, Stan would have kicked his sorry ass if he
found out, as Stan was six foot six of muscle, so it’s doubtful
Fulke got a sniff.
The Fulkes were
obviously early predecessors to the Fockers, and Stratford locals
may have joked about ‘meeting the Fulkers, and all the little
Fulkers’. Who knows? History is contrived bollocks anyway, and so,
what I’ve written is exactly correct ... what does it matter?”
Author AWL
Saunders wrote:
"I compiled a
profile of Greville and compared it to the folio profile and was
amazed to discover that he was an exact, one could say quite
perfect, match with the profile of 'William Shakespeare'."
And I the
author say ... The West Midlands is famous because of a
‘woman’.
There’s one for
women’s lib, or rather, lib-eratum.
Fulke Greville
(?).
What a
haircut!
As they had no
photography, this statue was carved very quickly by a statuographer
from Chiselblock Statuography (a local Midlands business at the
time), just after he was told of the new ruling at school, i.e. six
whole weeks summer holiday for all his kids. But not only that; his
stressed wife (you would be with all that washing and ironing,
especially with no washing machine) had discovered that she felt
much better after a long shopping session (and she liked shoes). Or
… it could have been just after the barber showed him his haircut
in the mirror?
Actually, since
I began asking about Fulke, I can’t seem to find the statue, and
so, I’ve used only the hair from a picture shown to me by a
stranger, via e mail. The haircut will therefore suffice.
If anyone comes
along with a proper picture, or, if I find where the tomb is, I’ll
add it, plus I’ll stick it on the website (FL, Author).
***
And now, A
SONNET, by ‘OUR GILLIAN
© Stan
Stashaway.
THE RIVER
ARROW
The river Arrow
is bothe, wide and thinne,
It looks so
very refreshing, so fully clothed, don’t jumppe in,
Or thou wilt
gettest thy clothes, all wette!
And maybe then,
a chill you’ll gette.
Idyllic bridge,
and duckes a floating,
Maybe thou,
with thou lady, wouldst go boating?
Or sitteth on
the bank, with thous lovest onne?
And stareth
into their eyes, until the daylight hath gonne.
Then, as the
evening meltts in, and the midges do humme,
And you bothe
arise, each with a grassy bumme,
Forth onto the
tavern, for a cuppe of fine ale,
A good day to
have in Alcester, thou can-nottest fail!
Cometh then to
Alcester! A quaint Hamlett so fine,
Now that it
hast been a tempted, the soul, it will pine,
And although we
have rivers, no lakes wilt thou findest here,
And this sonnet
challenges all blurbbe, by William Shakespeare. (She must have been
in a bad mood with him to say that ... PMT??)
The River
Arrow. There is a prize for anyone who can spot a plassy bottle, or
a can thrown in by a jealous Stratfordian.
Month 3
“Hello again
from me the Mole (an ME), and of course, indirectly from the FAT
Bs. In this edition, a LITTER special, I’d like to tell you about
the FAT Bs undercover trip to Stratford, which we took after we got
the news that they’re getting a large amount of money from
‘Advantage West Midlands’ to help clean the place up. We discussed
this, and decided that the body awarding the cash are treating an
effect and not a cause, or in other words, they are putting a
‘bandage on a corpse.’
Clean the town
up and the ‘chavvy’ residents will muck it up again, and therefore
waste money that would be better awarded to Alcester Council, who
could stick it in a high interest account, and use it to save us
making phone calls, and hire an expensive detective to keep track
of the mayor (usually found either singing or table dancing, or
both, in a pub), should he ever be needed at short notice for a
civic reception for some rich tourists from any rich nation you
like.
We could even
use some
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