Inspired By Another's 55

and by G-Man, ever on the look out for 55 words of wisdom.

I have 3 pairs of orange socks and 3 pairs lime green.  I open my sock drawer in darkness.  How many must I take out to ensure I picked a matching pair?

1.  Give them to Other Mary.  She'll happily lose them for you.
2.  Surely you can see socks like those in the dark?
3.  Three. (Why?)

Ladies . . Look Away Now

Tess's prompt brings out the best in Kubrik and the worst in FTSE(*)

Says he "May I give them a squeeze?"
Says she "You referring to these?
Well listen here, Chum
in years yet to come
they'll prove useful for warming my knees."


Stanley Kubrick for Look Magazine, 1949 

(*) Remember . .  he's a Doctor. He knows about these things.

Mag 173

Tess uses this delightful fantasy by Marc Chagall to float our boats this week.

The Promenade, 1918, by Marc Chagall 

The lassie declared to her mate
"I think it's time I lost some weight."
They didn't see that
she really meant "fat."
Now she can't get around
with both feet on the ground
'cos she's lighter than air
and it's really not fair -
Her husband's been told
he must keep a tight hold
or she could drift far off into space. (*)


(*) I can't claim originality.  The idea that "losing weight" isn't what the overweight really need to do was used by H.G.Wells in 1903 in  a short story "The Truth About Pyecraft."

The Locked Room Mystery

For Mag 172 Tess unlocks our creative urges with this intriguing picture

Charleston Farmhouse Door 

Chorus:     (to be sung to this well known tune)

"Oh dear, what can the matter be?
 Simpleforth got locked in the lavatory
 He's been there since early last Saturday.
 Nobody knew he was there."

He wanted to finish his homework for history.
He thought that the Small Room would offer some privacy
Who would have thought that the door lock was all faulty.
And only the one place to sit.

Chorus:    "Oh, dear . . . etc"

He eyed the resources, remembered some trickery.
You climb knotted bedsheets to make your escapery.
But what came to hand was a roll of white papery
soft but not terribly strong.

Chorus:    "Oh dear . . . etc"

But Simpleforth never has lacked ingenuity.
By standing where you'd sit he soon gained ascendency,
climbed the partition twixt his and the neighbourly
loo - Now he's flushed with success.

and one last time, folks

Chorus:   "Oh dear . . . etc"

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Artificial Intelligence My Arse!

G-Man foresees a totally wired world.   This isn't a fictional 55. But then, truth always is stranger . . . .

What is David Cameron's private telephone number? Or Barak Obama's?  Take your pick.

I know you don't know. But the point is -  you KNOW that you don't know without having to think about it.

A computer has to scan ALL ITS STORED TELEPHONE NUMBERS before it can tell you it doesn't know.

See what I mean?  

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On the Siting of Bathrooms.

This week Tess prompts the inner writer with this picture "Lighthouse Dandelions" by James Wyeth

" I wonder what they do all day?"

"You wonder what who do all day, Simpleforth?"

"Lighthouse keepers, sir.  D'you think they play Scrabble? If there's only one of them, maybe they play Patience.  And of course, they have to clean the lenses. That must be fun. D'you think they see distorted reflections of their faces in the lenses? Do you think if they stand in front of the light at night their giant shadow is flung across the sea every time the light comes round?  D'you think they maybe run round and round fast enough so they're always in the path of the beam and their giant shadow gallops across the waves?  That would scare mariners out at sea, I should think.  What do you think, sir?"

"I think perhaps you're rambling again, Simpleforth. Much as it delights the rest of the class . .   can we get back to Wyeth's picture?"

"Sir, where are the toilets?"

"You've been in the school long enough to know the toilets are off the cloakroom . . "

"No sir. The toilets in a lighthouse.  I mean, if they're at the bottom, it's a long way to go, all the way down the stairs if a keeper needs . . . you know, Sir . . . while he's attending to the light. And if they're at the top, where the light is, and the keeper is downstairs . . . that's just as lacking in . . er . . convenience. So to speak. I think this must have been in Wyeth's mind when he painted the dandelions."

"What must have been in his mind when he painted the dandelions?"

"Where to put the toilets, sir."

"Simpleforth - why do you waste one of the best brains in the class on this twaddle?"

"I think Wyeth knew about dandelions and toilets and has united them in a sort of pictorial joke. He's using dandelions on purpose to make us think about . . . . "

"Think about what? You've stopped, Simpleforth?"

"I was just thinking, sir, that Marcel Duchamp's "Fountain" in a patch of dandelions would have made the point better . . . "

(At this point the tannoy beeped for the end of the lesson.  The class began to collect their books and notes and head for the door, Simpleforth leading the way. The Art Master opened his laptop and Googled "Duchamp, fountain" followed by "dandelions."  He read quietly for a while, then smiled.)

"I think the best advice we can give to lighthouse keepers is - don't eat dandelion leaves at bedtime, wherever the toilets are. And no doubt young Simpleforth will continue to surprise us . . . "

Breaking News.

G-Man requests our inventive fol-de-rols as an antidote to Friday, in 55 words. Here goes.

A gang held up a truck delivering toilet rolls to a Tesco Convenience store.   When the driver tried to tell the thieves his load had little value they got annoyed and sprayed his truck with bullets. He escaped unharmed, his cab being fitted with bullet proof glass. But there was a lot of soft tissue damage.

  .

But Not Necessarily in the Right Order!

Here's a little effort in response to Marian's IGWRT challenge on April 30th. to write an "Alphabetic Word Embedded Sequence Ode, Metrics Excluded" poem

Attention!  Brian Clough, drunken egomaniac,
footballing genius, harangues 'imself jocularly.
"Kick lover-man's nuts!"
"Obvious penalty!" quoth referee, shouting.
Truculent Uruguayan veteran winger
xclaimed - "You zombie!"

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What Was That Again?

This week, Tess takes as her prompt a scene from a wonderful children's story for adults . . .

illustration by Helen Ward 

To begin with a thumping cliché - Simpleforth woke with a start.  "Wha . .?" he cried "Bodger? Wind?"  He added, largely as insurance in case he had woken up during English "Yes sir!" 

The blackboard, and Joe Plug, Head of English, B.A.(Cantab), real name Vradovic Vradovicka, came into focus. "Ahh . . I see young Simpleforth has returned to the fold. Or should I say, the River Bank. Welcome!  We were discussing the role of Badger in the operation 'Reclaim Toad Hall.' Does this ring any bells, Simpleforth, um? Um?"

Privately, Simplforth wondered why the class was required to read this juvenille shite. 'Wind in the Willows.' I ask you.

"Sir, I think he wanted to clear the weasels out of the Hall by nutting them with his stout cudgel. But . . ."

"But, Simpleforth? But?  But the class no buts and cudgel them no cudgels"  

"But cudgelling folk is old fashioned and tends to be messy. Blood spatter. That sort of thing. There are better methods."  Simpleforth was awake now. He knew the value of the dramatic pause, and paused dramatically.

"We're waiting, Major Simpleforth."

"Badger has a secret weapon, sir."  He paused again. The class turned to look at him. 

"Which is?"

"T.B.  It's all over the news, sir. Badgers spread T.B. Their droppings are the vector. So Badger should . . . "

"I think we've heard enough! Badger had his stout cudgel, and his friends, Ratty and Mole. And Mister Toad."

"But sir! Up against weasels a toad would be about as much use as a chocolate teapot. They'd make toadmince of him in no time. Probably molemince and rat, too. Only Badger would stand a chance.  He'd whack a few skulls before he went down, fighting to the last.  Whereas if he made spreading T.B parson partle of  his seige strategy . .  "

"Forgive me interrupting.  Who is Parson Partle?  I don't recollect a parson person in 'Will in the Windows'."

For a moment, Simpleforth was confounded. But only for a moment.

"Oh, sorry, sir.  I was momentarily infected, not by T.B. but by Mrs. Malaprop.  When I said Parson Partle, I meant of course 'part 'n parcel'  . . .  and you meant 'Wind in the Willows' not 'Will in the Windows' just now "

I will end here, friends and followers,  pointing out that it was Jinksy who challenged me to get 'Wind In The Willows', Simpleforth and Parson Partle into this week's Mag. She owes me twenty quid.

ONE A DAY #21

The Poem a Day Challenge invites poets to pen something new every day during April. This offering is for Day 21. 

Brave New Worlds - April 21st 1992

Two astronomers, Wolszczan and Frail
announced in a joyful eMail
"We've found a new planet! (*)
There may be no one on it -
but - fire off some nukes without fail."

(*) Orbiting a pulsar a mere 1000 light years from our Sun.  But you never know. That's in our Galaxy! The Milky Way could be swarming with dangerous Little Green Men, and what's the point of having a Second Amendment if we don't defend ourselves by bombing the bastards before they land in our backyards?