Quaxlod

Friday, June 25th 2010

A synthesiser losing the plot ...

quaxlod

The Hideous Wongle

Thursday, June 24th 2010

The Hideous Wongle

He lurches and he lurks,

He creeps and he clunks,

The hideous, lolloping wongle thurtles as he thunks.

He stalks at bungled angles,

And adjusts his distended fangle,

Boffering and twisting his grunkledtenkle-fankle!

He chews on the wangled wumchum tree,

And clanks his boney, warty knees,

Churkling as he coggles his nesterated maximeee.

Beware the wongle!

It's merciless beast!

His toes crackle as he creeps!

The hideous, wicked wongle, gurkling his fumchum feast.

Mrumnias Crank

Wednesday, June 23rd 2010

Mrumnias Crank

Mrumnias Crank has big, black boots,

As big as boots can be,

He wears a big, black cape,

And coughs and splutters nastily.

Mrumnias Crank has a big, black feather,

Nestled in his cap,

He limps through the shadows,

And carries a big, black sack.

Mrumnias Crank is diligent in his work,

He is a conscientious man,

His job is the get you,

That's his mendacious plan.

He's the baddest of the bad,

Of that there's no doubt,

When Mrumnias Crank comes 'round,

You'd better watch out!

Pissing

Tuesday, June 22nd 2010

It was early morning. The desert scape was very deserty. The sort of desert scape one associates with postcards from faraway distant lands filled with Clint Eastwood impersonators.

Standing beside a rock there was a charismatic figure taking a piss. It was a charismatic pissing, the sort of pissing one would expect from a charismatic figure, and he was periodically grunting with satisfaction.

"Ah," he said in a manly fashion.

When he had concluded his urination, which was a long drawn out affair, the figure pulled his poncho about him and started walking.

In the distance a mountain range perched on the horizon. Between the man and mountains there was a wide flat bit of deserty scene strewn with rocks, pock marked with a few craters, and covered with few jutty, sandy sort of things. It looked like a golf-course that hadn't been watered in a few hundred years.

Until now, of course.

Fame

Monday, June 21st 2010

Fame is a measure of worth used by people who have no taste.

:-)

The Free Market and the Island of Reindeer Problem

Saturday, June 19th 2010

It was 1970. A group of apparatchiks from the Soviet Union visited a local council people in the UK. One of the apparatchiks was amazed by the bread distribution system in London. He wanted to know how it worked. Who was the genius reponsible? He asked:

"... who organises the bread supply in London?"

To confusion of the folks from the USSR, the English council member just said:

"No-one."

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