Saturday, 10 November 2007

The Gods Are Angry

Still no computer..!

All I want is the LCD screen fixed.

When I phoned the shop at 10:30 this morning and they said "good afternoon" my confidence was not increased.

Last week my laundry lost all my socks, this week they tell me that their ironing service went on holiday for two weeks, so I will have to iron my shirts, for the first time in twenty years.

Ploppy. That's what Life is at the moment. Thx, gods.


Molio: See! Miranda yon, tis shee I loue

Polio: Oh fie!
Shee is a plopsome mayde, scarce worthe
The trouble of the plunging.

[They fight together, with others, with each other, severally and against themselves]

Molio: Alas run through, I dye.

Polio: I too, alas.
Some poyson was there in my pint of sack.

Bolio: Twas I! Though dead, I haue reuenge at laste
Mu ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Thomas Whatfor, "The Tragedian's Tragedy", 1603.

Whatfor, known to his contemporaries as "the Ploppye Playwright", was snarked to death at Wapping Steps before he could complete the manuscript.


I feel a kiddies' TV series coming on... starring Ploppy the Lop-Eared Puppy and Miranda the Magic Lamppost.

As when in autumn the plane trees drop their broad leaves to lie in drifts along the pavement, and the traveller hears the sharpening wind begin to stir them, so I hear the sussuration of banknotes.

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