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Thursday, 3 December 2009
Dead or alive

Has-been, absurdly leftist but occasionally funny, Liverpudlian Jewish comedian Alexei Sayle's best sketch is the simplest. It juxtaposes the quick (and not so quick) and the dead, and, with no trace of nuance, asks why:

Jimi Hendrix - dead. Phil Collins - alive. Ginger Rogers - dead. Sue Pollard - alive. Francis Bacon - dead. That bloke out of Kula Shaker - alive. Death be not proud - who wrote that? That's right, it was John Dunne. He of course has snuffed it, whereas Sir Andrew Lloyd Stinking Sir Bloody Webber is still stinking bloody with us! Shakespeare - dead. The wankers who wrote 'Three lions on a shirt! Football's cummin 'ome!' - still alive. Bill Shankley - dead. Graham Taylor - alive. Karen Carpenter - dead. The carpenter who fucked up my bleeding kitchen! Alive! It's as if God has developed a nasty mean streak. Anybody the least bit decent and wallop! Up they go! And what are we left with? The shite - that's what! I'll give you some more examples - bloke down the pub who said he'd do my accounts and introduce me to some powerful people in American television - dead. Bloke down the pub, 120 years old, spits in his beer, tells me about the great war - doesn't sound so bleedin great to me - he's still alive. Bloke down the pub owes me 80 quid - dead. Bloke down the pub who says he's going to rearrange my testicles if I don't find the electric hedge trimmers that he lent me six months ago - alive, alive, cockles and muscles bleedin o! Bill Hicks, John Lennon, Orson Welles - dead. Michael Bolton... Michael bleeding Bolton - alive. Roger Whittaker... Roger leaveitalone bleeding stinky poxy Durham Town Whittaker still bleeding alive! I'll give you another example - bloke down the pub, he said to me 'Charlie,' cos he's always too pissed to remember my bleeding name, he said 'Charlie, life is like a double-decker bus. It's red, it's got an upstairs and a downstairs. Sometimes there's a conductor, but these days usually just a driver.' And yes, you've guessed it - he's still alive, the twat! I mean if you're mean, if you're selfish, if you've got no bleeding talent you can do what you like forever. But if you're the least bit good, if you're the least bit talented then...... No. It's alright. I'm shite!

I'll put in my two penn'orth:

Maggie Jones, who played Coronation Street's Blanche Hunt with a tongue like a viper and no hint of rhyming slang, is dead. From The Times:  

Maggie Jones, the actress best known for portraying the sharp-tongued Blanche Hunt in Coronation Street, has died at the age of 75.


Maggie Jones [...] will be missed. Hugely. To many Coronation Street fans Blanche was a finer battleaxe than the legendary Ena Sharples. To many (including myself), Blanche — who came back to the Street full-time in 1998 after odd appearances down the years — was our favourite character. She gleefully defied the maxim that if you hadn’t anything nice to say about somebody, you shouldn’t bother saying it. Instead, she broadcast her malevolence from the rooftops and to her victims’ astonished, deeply offended faces.

In contrast, Abdelbaset Ali Mohmed Al Megrahi, the Lockerbie bomber whose name Cockneys could not conjure with, and who was released, in August, on the "compassionate" grounds that he had but three months to live, is alive and bloody kicking.

Posted on 12/03/2009 4:22 PM by Mary Jackson
3 Dec 2009
Send an emailreactionry
Bent Spinster & Bachelor*
Or: Cream Cougar, Cream Jeans
Or: Fair To Middling Diddling
Or: Not With A Wimpole, Barrett Or Browning
      But Between & A Twang
-Nothing wrong with a double D, though an erstwhile NER writer -what was his name? - John Humbertshire? - might argue that after say, age 18, such measurements could be tailored as a "38 Long."  I myself am in sort of a fuddle because of the oblong puddle which forms below the rim job of my trouser legs as soon as there's a glint in the eye of a woman suggesting the slightest glimmer of interest.  Over to Johnny again: such a glance would likely turn him to stone, much like a "mad neurologist's testament" (here quoting -what was it? - "The Origin of Onegin"?) to "Medusa" oblongata.
To once again, as a schoolmarm might say, "compare and contrast": whereas Darby Barbieshire might simply glare at the oblong "headlights" of a cream (or creamy or as a dealer might say, "dreamy cream puff") cougar (that is to say, a woman over 40) and declare that it's "a good night for nothing," I would be so inclined or reclined to begin with "butterfly kisses" and end, enchanted, bewitched and between, or, as the French or Brits might udder or utter, middle, or muddle, through the twin peaks of interest. 
Modifying some tripe previously posted:
England swings like the pendulous do,
Oblong boobies, two by two.
Wish I could see you at Niagra Falls - or is it Viagra Fails?
Prematurely & Agingly Yours,
* See Take it to the fossa max


3 Dec 2009
Send an emailMary Jackson

And what's wrong with a double D?

Alright, alright - I stepped into a puddle right up to my middle. Now just do one, alright? Go and fiddle the leckie like a proper Scouser.

3 Dec 2009

Two d's in Liverpudlian?



3 Dec 2009
Hugh Fitzgerald