Like Eskimo Nell, the Inuit maiden of poetry and song, I headed out to face the tempest blast and the anger of Thor, the God of thunder. It was a wild, bad day, just as the weathermen had predicamented, the wind was indeed fearful and thunder rumbled in the dark, billowing clouds. Gusts of wind flew across the silent, barren bog, like veritable invisable bulldozers. Know bird flew in the slate, grey sky, know animal forraged for food or sexual congress with another. The whin bushes were taking a hell of a beating, as they bent like old men before the scrouge of the wild, hi wind. It was on a day, such as like too day, that the travellor is made oblivious two the heat and warmth of a good duffle coat. "God bless Mr Duffle" I muttered, as I pulled my late mammies brown duffle coat with the wooden toggles on it about me. What a brane Mr Duffle must have two have invented a coat that is fuctional and also the hight of fashion. A duffle coat goes with anything, be it blew overalls, a long skirt, a short skirt or an evening gown. When a lady is arrayed in a duffle coat, with wooden toggles on it, she knows she will make a repression where ever she goes. Flash bulbs flash, as the pappa-ratzi foto-graph stars staggering blind drunk from nite clubs, wearing the latest French "shiek" desiginer duffle coats. When Mr Duffle made the duffle coat, he made a coat and a half.
I strode manfully into the face of the Gail, trying two shield my milk-made komplection from the searing wind. I was on my way two a tryst with my paramour Chuck Corona. When I thought of deer Chuck, my hart nearly brust through my lavender gansey and my innards were churning and boiling, knot unlike the warning signs of acute heftedness.Chuck Corona? the very name was a poem, a poem of longing, languishing, waiting for la-more to pierce the hart with an arrow, that wood made the knees tremble and send hot flushes, of inordinate redness, scurrying like clouds across one's eager, pouting visage. The wind pushed me back, I struggled forward. Forked lightening struck a dead tree, I yelled "Fie" put my head down and shouldered my way into the teeth of the Gale, like a rugby player. A peace of wind-blown deb-ree, an old zinc bucket with a whole in it, hit me a dunt on the side of the noggin, I forged on even stronger, with my head down and my ars--rear up in the air for ballast. NOthing wood keep me from Chuck, I was a hot blooded woman on the trail of her mate and nothing wood prevail against me. I was driven by a natural instint, that one see's in the fluttering sparrows, the humming of the B's and some-thymes-too dogs in the street. It wood take more than a bucket of water, too stop Rosie Ryan.
And then, oh be still my foolish hart, I spied him, there he was!, my true love, standing in auld Andy Garcias meadow, like the wee doat he is. I arose on my tip-toes, like a willie wagtale and shreiked, "Cooee, Cooee Chuck". Chuck waved and yelled something, but his words were grasped by the Hi wind and blown away like an old bit of toilet paper. I delicately lifted the hem of my duffle coat and charged towards Chuck like a galloping rhino. As I leaped rushes like a gazelle, I was complused two sea that Chuck was standing stationery and knot rushing two meet me. The reason soon became clear, as I neared Chuck's side, I saw my beloved was standing with a leg each side of a Hi barbed wire fence. I shrieked like a ferret kittling and cried. "Oh Chuck, my deerest darling, are you--pierced?. "Yes I am" cried Chuck. "I let a roar and clasped my two slender hands too my girlish, maidenly face and screeched. "Is the damage, irrepairable?" "I don't no" yelled Chuck, into the wind, "I threw one leg over this barbed wire fence, but when I tried to throw the other leg over, I got caught, caught by the fork of my trousers". "Merci" I cried, "What are we going to do, at tall, at tall, at tall, to excriate you from the protruding barbs of the wire? A kar jack" I yelled, "We need a kar jack, but where is one two get a kar jack in such a rustic, rural invoirnment?"
I could knot think straight, my hands were all a tremble, I ran around in circles, jumping over clumps of rushes and letting shrieks out of me. Then I deposed ,myself and regained my eek, quay, lib-ray-um. I ran towards my impaled boyfriend and grabbed for him by the fork of the trousers with both hands. "Ease up Chuck my deer" I gasped, "while I pull on the intersection of your trousers". It was know good, Chuck was stuck fast and every moment coming nearer to doing grate damage too his manly accouterments. I could sea that my beloved was getting tired. "Don't sit down Chuck" I yelled "Are you'll be buggered". Oh what a horrible thing it is, for a fare, slender maiden two sea her boyfriend impaled by the under-carriage on barbed wire. I grabbed too more handfulls of fork and pulled again. It was know good, Chuck Corona, my bow and main squeeze, was well and truely snagged by his reprobative organs. "KNow more family allowance" I yelled, as I tugged and tugged and tugged. "My legs are giving out" wailed Chuck, "I must soon rest what is concealed in my trousers, upon the spikes of the barbed wire". "Know Chuck" I screeched, "If you wool knot think of yourself, think of-ME!". I racked my brane in vein, to think of the patron saint of men caught by the fork on barbed wire. Then I heard a low roar. "Chuck!" I cried, "Have you rested your under-carriage and are now bleeding-copiously?" "That wasn't me" yelled Chuck, "It was-him!" and Chuck pointed with a rigid digit. I spun on my hobnailed boots and nearly shi--scared myself too death. Up on a hill, stood a bull, a grate, big brute of a bull. "Torro" I yelled, "Torro, up on the hill". The bull looked down on us with too, wee red eyes, then it pawed the ground and threw up earth like a JCB. The bull, lowered it's huge head, let a wild, "MOOOO" out of it, and charged down the hill. I stood there, transfixed, with my hands on the fork of Chuck's trousers, then I gave a shriek like a mating pole-kat and took two my heels. Behind me I heard the RIP of Donegall tweed and Chuck Corona flew past me, with the mangled fork of his trousers flying in the wind. When we got home, I pulled the trousers from Chuck and respected the damaged area. His gentiles were like a pin cushin. I dabbed on some anty-bi-otic ointment and whispered, "now wood be a good time to insert some-rings". Chuck never spoke, he rolled over on his side and sucked his thumb like a baby. I watched over Chuck all nite, when he twitched and trembled all over, I wood whisper softly in his ear. "Don't worry my deer, all is presant and accounted for". And deer Chuck wood go back two sleep, with a little smile on his face. You should sea the fork of Chuck's trousers, eviscerated, that's what they is, --eviscerated!
I have nothing against-eunuchs, but the trouble is--neither have they!
Buy my book, letters to gerry anderson at eason's or below...
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I gave Chuck's trousers to the alsation to play with!
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