Thursday 11 June 2009

Hi Brow Poetry

Deer Gerry, what a blessed relief it is too sea you back from far off shores and sunny climes. Bon Jovi, my Sun and air was feard that you mite be kidnapped by gorillas. Did you get back for the poetic extravaganza about TS Elliot on the BBC?
I didn't understand a word Gerry, so I was sure I was getting a good tightener of Hi brow arts and kulture.
The late, dead Sir Alec Guiness came on with a face as long as a Dungannon turf spade and went into a long monotonous dirge that had me on the edge of my seat, trying too work out what the hell he was talking about. I looked at Bon Jovi who was removing the appendix from a dead stoat with the bread knife and said, "This is the real McCoy. This is premier, top shelf poetry, you don't get this kind of stuff in Ireland's Own or Our Boys". Then Sheamus Heany, crouched in a corner and wearing a heavy wool gansey made some comments that greatly added to the confusion of the artisic experience. I came away from it with my head light and a bit of a stagger in my step, but I new I was stuffed, stuffed to the gunnels with Hi brow, poetry, like what is taut in Eaten the primary skool for young gentlemen. My advice to your listeners is this, When seeking menthol stimulation, aim Hi, Come away from the, Hi-diddle-diddle stuff and get stuck into the real hard core stuff. Go into Eason's and say too the cuttie, "I want a book on obscure, Hi-brow poetry and if I understand one word of it, I wool return the book and demand my money back". Unlike the Northern Ireland team we must set goals in our lives. I have red 69 pages of Miltons Paradise Lost and I am pleased to say that knot one word made a titter of sense. It's not supposed too. Books like that are like Mount Everest, you read them simply because they are there! I got some poems by the Roman poet the Cicro Kid, I can't wait to get stuck into them. Aim Hi Gerry. Aim Hi in life. Don't settle for the mundane and you wool be the life and sole of cock-tale parties in Shantallow-and surrounding districts.
Gerry, pleese play, "Hay there, you with the stars in your eyes" for auld Zeeter McPossum who fell off his bicycle--again! I blame Clougher council, what a stupid place to put a corner. Mrs Rosie Ryan XXX

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