Thursday, 26 August 2010

What colour is your wind?

After too weaks of fierce bloatedness, which only a poisoned pup could identify with. I decided to seek medical assistance. Two say I was blown up like a balloon would be economical with the truth. I was blown up like a zepplin.
Buttons popped and zips were torn asunder as I got bigger and bigger.
As I filled with wind, my trips to the lou hovered on zero on the diddly squat meter.
"Bon Jovi!" I yelped.
"What wool I do? Every hour I increase in size and girth. Know drawers wool circumfrance me. My belly button is protruding like a veritable door knob".
The fruit of my lions laughed and roared.
"Stake yourself to the ground with ropes and keep away from naked flames".
"You ungrateful gulpin" I yelled.
"When you had die-a-rea on a grand and epic scale. Who followed you everywhere with a po in each hand?
YES! Your auld mother. And now that I am suffering grately from horror-endus constitution bordering on a complete bung up you stand there laughing.
"For shame Bon Jovi" I chided.
"For shame. I hope the devil hangs you over the hot fires of hell by the coccyx and pulls every tow nail out of your auld black feet with red, hot pinchers".
"What colour is your wind fatty?" sang my 'orribe off-spring.
I tried to trap the lump of a cub in the corner with my protruding belly, but he slipped away singing.
In an effort to stun my tormenter I broke yet another child of Prague statue against the wall and yelled.
Then I pointed my belly towards Clougher and set off seeking medicational assistance.
After a bout of prodding and poking and prolonged use of a wee torch.
The doctor washed his hands. Dried them on the front of my burgundy twin-set and said.
"Mrs Ryan, you are suffering from irrational bowl syndrome and you also have a plastic colonic".
"By the sacred dung beetle of Luxor" I yelled.
"How could such a hanlin' have came about?"
"The doctor spun round, pointed a rigid diget at me and roared.
"Gluttony Mrs Ryan. Good old fashioned-gluttony. You Mrs Ryan have bean eating for four. You have used your stomach as a wheelie bin. Your pig-like gobbling and slurping has bunged up your large intestinal. You are on the point of brusting. You is a danger too the community. I really should phone the bomb squad".
"KNOW!" I screamed.
"Knot the bomb squad. Oh the ignomy of a controlled explosion going off at one's ars--rear".
The doctor reached me a large brown bottle and said.
"Take this Miss Piggy. It is a very strong laxative, made from senna pods, castrol oil and just a pinch of gun powder. BUT on no account take it until you get home. It is very quick acting and the roads round Clougher have enough cow skitter on them".
When yet a mile from my house I said to myself.
"Why knot take the laxative now? Then when I enter the portal of my abode, all I have to do is find a po and assume the squatting position".
"Oh the folly of a bloated woman" I muttered, from behind a whin bush.
From whin bush to whin bush I made my way home. Each squat making me weaker than before.
I brust through my door yelling to my sun Bon Jovi.
"Garner every po in the house and bring them to my boud-wah immediately!"
As I went through the po's Bon Jovi stood outside singing.
Oh, a day of reckoning will come. And on that day the smiting will be tarra to behold

Saturday, 21 August 2010


'Twas on a pleasant, clement Autumnal morning that the occurance occured.
On the day in question by sun Bon Jovi and I were sitting round the hearth. Trying to figure out why dark matter exerted such a gravitational pull on the Universe.
"The answer is out there!" roared Bon Jovi.
"Yet for all my cyphering and complicated and wild Hi replied mathamatics the answer still eludes me.
I have squared pie until I am blew in the face".
"Did you remember to carry the wan?" I said.
Bon Jovi threw the coal shovel at me and roared.
"Why am I anchored, hobbled and shackled with a stupid old bag who could knot tell her einboga from her Uranus".
"Hauld on!" I yelled.
"Hauld on! Was it knot me who discovered dark matter, when a shower of suit fell down the chimney and attached itself to my visage with fierce magnetic energy?"
"SHUT UP!" roared Bon Jovi.
"How can I transport my brane to the edge of the Universe, if you are going to sit there gibbering and babbling like the Queen of the village idiots".
I leapt up and yelled.
"How dare you! How dare you, you grotesque gulpin.
By the hub caps of the star ship Enterprise I wool knock the big astroid head of you".
"Woe is me" yelled Bon Jovi.
"To have sprung from the lions of a head-banger like YOU!. Fate conspired that I sprang from a brane dead, red faced, zombie and knot the lions of Einstein, Hawkins or Patrick Moore".
I snapped and went for the cub with a child of Prague statue held above my head.
"Beam me up Scotty" roared Bon Jovi.
THEN! An awful bang and a strange scratching sound came from the roof.
"Aliens!" I yelled.
Bon Jovi and I ran out in some confusion and it must be said-fierce apprehension.
I took in the seen at once. A large cormorant and three roof slates lay on the ground. The oily black flying see bird must have bean flying low on automatic pilot when it ran into the roof of my abode. The cormorant lay on the broad of its back with both legs sticking up in the air.
Bon Jovi ran to the bird. Give it the kiss of life and a push and soon it was flying in a zig-zag manner towards Gortin and surrounding districts.
Bon Jovi looked up at the big whole in the roof and yelled to me.
"Don't just stand there Dumbo, get a ladder and fix the roof".
"I kan't climb a ladder" I cried.
"You no fine well I suffer from Gertie-Go".
"Gertie-Go my ant Sammy" roared Bon Jovi. "Stand back and I'll do it myself".
Bon Jovi climbed the ladder like a red-arsed baboon and soon had the slates back on the roof. As the cub stood admiring his Andy-Work he made a fatal mistake.
YES! The cub broke wind. The jet propulsion sent Bon Jovi forwards.
In an effort to regain his eek-way-lib-ray-um the cub over compensated by leaning too far backwards and fell of the roof with a sodden PLOP!.
"Ah, holy God" roared Bon Jovi.
"My two legs are broken in 18 places".
I ran to the fone. Know ambulance was to be had. With super human strength, I threw Bon Jovi into the wheel barrow and galloped the too mile to Clougher surgery. On the big downward hill that leads into Clougher. I lost control and mummy, sun and wheel barrow went careering through the surgery doors.
As I rolled and tumbled I shrieked.
"EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! Cub in wheel barrow with injuries to the lower extremities".
After the doctor examined Bon Jovi he came to the collusion that there was nothing rong with the gulpin. In fact, the doctor called the cub a malingering, malignant knave.
Then the doctor took a look at and found I had slipped a disc in my back due to wheeling the gulpin two mile in a wheel barrow. On what the doctor laughingly called a wild cormorant chase.
The up shot was Bon Jovi had too wheel me home in the wheel barrow!.
As the son set in the West and heavy lumbering, weary crows made their way home. The expletives exchanged between mother and sun were, crude, vulgar, many and varied.

Saturday, 14 August 2010

Why So Sorrowful?

Why dost thou stand there sorrowing?"
I said to my sun Bon Jovi, as he stood at the haggard with a look of pastural passivity on his pale pasty face.
I looked with love at he who had sprang from lions like a grotesque Tasmanian devil in the dead of nite.
To my everlasting shame I remember roaring too the genie-colagist.
"KNOW! KNOW! Put it back! Put it BACK!"
The midwife slapped me across the face twenty-seven times to bring me to my senses.
I blame the epi-dural. God knows what was in that needle. It could have bean drugs are anything!.
Bon Jovi gazed boninely across the vast panoramic expance of bog.
Broke wind alfrescoly and replied.
"Alas, a few daze and a few daze more and I must return two my seat of learing at saint Judas skool in Clougher".
"But you like skool Bon Jovi" I said.
"And in a short thyme your academic life wool come two an end.
Your brane is fare stuffed with headucation. All that remains is a bit off topping off two make sure you are filled to the brim".
Bon Jovi cleaned his nose dexterously with a quick wipe of both coat sleeves and sighed.
"'Tis the dog daze of Summer. My hart always fills with grate grief and sadness during the canine daze of Summer.
What's it all about?" yelled the lump of a cub.
"What is my mission, my vacation in life? The atom has bean split and the wheel invented. What else is left too do for a juvunile student whose brain is stuffed and brusting with headucation like what mine is?"
"What did the careering officer say when you saw her last" I said.
"WORDS!" cried Bon Jovi.
"That's all I got from the careering officer. She used words like, unique, special, unnatural one of a kind, oddity, but as to my career?. She said I should stay near home and look both ways before I crossed the road".
"And your teechers?" I asked.
"What do those who have taut you think of your undoubted genius?
Do they talk of Eaten, Oxford, Cambridge, even-Strangways which I am reliably informed is a renowed institution for boys of your ilk?"
Cleverly using the wind as an extraction fan. Bon Jovi broke wind again and replied.
"I heerd auld Miss Krackling and Miss McGroaper talking about me while they were having a crafty fag.
Auld Miss Krackling said.
"Wool we ever sea another cub at saint Judas skool with the stupendous cranial deficiency of master Bon Jovi Ryan"?
"Miss McGroaper let a shriek out of her like a korn crake and screamed.
"Never, Never, NEVER! Lightening never strikes twice in the same plaice".
"Hi praise indeed!" I cried.
"Coming from too teechers whose intellicect is unapparelled".
Mother and sun stood there, looking over the ever changing bog.
Birds flew on Hi. Rabbits and rodents scurried through the dead and dying flora and fauna.
Peaceful. So peaceful.
Bon Jovi coughed and said.
"I rote a wee poem mammy. Do you want two heer it"?
"Want to heer it?" I yelled.
"I want too heer it with every bone, muscle and fibre in my body".
Bon Jovi closed his eyes and roared.
"There is sadness in my sadness when I'm sad.
There is gladness in my gladness when I'm glad.
There is madness in my madness when I'm mad.
But the sadness in my sadness
and the gladness in my gladness
And the madness in my madness
Are nothing to my badness when I'm bad".
I stood open-mouthed and agog. Then I yelled.
"You're rotten Bon Jovi. Rotten with branes!".

Getting Ready For September

Grate back two skool sail at Adolf Ramsbottom and daughters drapery shop in Clougher.
I got my sun, wee Bon Jovi too pear of long jon's with a flap at the back.
"I'm a big boy now mammy" said the wee doat.
"Yes you is Bon Jovi" I said.
"But don't depend on the flaps. Be dilligent and precocious at all times"
I also got the cub too pare of knew secondhand hobnailed boots.
A blazer with the crest of the desert rats on the front.
And a pear of Ex-Israeli, Mosat camaflage trousers with a big pocket too carry a Ussi sub machine gun.
Bon Jovi will cut some figure when he gets on the skool bus in September.
Jelly, please play,
"What in the world has come over you".
For auld Pete (The weseal) McSideways who has just scene his wifes face after the comestic surgery.
Apparently the three sheep dogs went beserk and bit auld Pete all over the derriere, before disapearing into the nite. Ah, wee Cleo is ruined.When the parish priest saw her he said. "Ah Cleo, was anyone else hurt in the accident?" Did knot saint Paul say. "Vanitory! All is-Vanitory!
From your living doll.
Mrs Rosie Ryan. xxx

The Clougher Annual Donkey Derby

Peeple came from as far away as Gortin and Plumbridge on Sonday two watch the annual Clougher donkey Grand Pricks derby. The donkeys run round the streets of Clougher. Turning Clougher into another Monty Carlo.
There were seven pedigree donkeys in the race. Their names were.
"Paddy's Pride.
McSwiveller's Flyer.
Micky's Delight.
Jump The Shuck.
Bray Away
And Mucky Lane ridden bye by sun Bon Jovi.
The flag fell and they were off. McSwiveller's Flyer was left at the starting post. A thistle under the tale soon got him going and the race was on.
Down past the Pound shop they thundered. A sharp rite into Hobo street and then a left into Bog Hole Crescent. Up Hi street they galloped with Bray Away nose to nose with Elvis and Bon Jovi making ground on Mucky Lane. Bon Jovi broke through to take the lead. Then-kalamity! A Spar shopping bag blowing in the wind settled over Bon Jovi's head and the cub went careering into McTiddlers drapery shop. Knocking over three display stands of Winter simmets and long johns. Bon Jovi got a slight concussion, but thank goodness was knot put down.
Your dream honey,
Mrs Rosie Ryan xxx
Oh, racing aficionados mite like two no that Elvis won by a no's at seven too wan!.

Thursday, 5 August 2010


Imagine my condensation when I picked up my stylish designer "Tuff Boy" hobnailed boots and found them knot fit for porpoise.
"Knackered!" laughed my sun Bon Jovi.
"Rosie's big size fourteens are knackered".
"Shut your gub, you demonic elf" I yelled.
"Only a gulpin of un-un-unpresulmptuous evil malignancy bordering on mischievous wickedness wood talk two his auld mammy like that".
"I told you two keep off the midden" roared Bon Jovi.
"Every thyme I look out the winda. There you are, standing on top of the midden like an auld red faced rooster. The dung has eaten through the souls of your big hobnailed boots and left you bare footed and bereft of footwear. Maybe now you wool sit dozing at the fire the way a big, fat stupid, doting auld bag should".
"Bye the Count of Monty Cristo" I yelled.
"How dare you bring aggrevation and- and-zelophobic trouble and stress to the portal of your mater".
"NICKERS!" roared Bon Jovi.
"Yes!-NICKERS!. Don't take your-your-irrational ire out on the lump of a cub. I fear you knot! I look into your big, red bleezer of a face and retort-NICKERS!".
"Bye the seven Spanish angels, I'll cut the big head of you" I roared.
And I reached for the scythe that was leaning up against the child of Prague and took a swing at the jet black imp from hell. Bon Jovi did an Ali shuffle. Leaped the half door like a donkey on Red Bull and disappeared into the wide blue yonder.
As the cub ran he yelled.
"Nickers two Rosie and her auld hobnailed boots".
I sighed and put on my auld wellingtons. After working out that the green wellington went on the rite foot and the black wellington went on the left foot, I toggled myself into my late mammies brown duffle coat and set off for Clougher.
I frog marched into Coochies the cobblers and yelled.
"ACHTUNG! ACHTUNG! Das boots. Das hobnailed boots. SCHNELL! SCHNELL!".
Auld Dynamo Coochie made a spalter to hide the polygenetic magazine he was reeding and cried.
"Rite away Mrs Ryan. Rite away. You take size 14, the biggest size we have in the shop?".
"JA!" I yelled. "SCHNELL! Das Boots. SCHNELL!, SCHNELL!".
Soon I was on my way home with the knew boots in a box the size of small coffin.
I entered my abode to the aroma of cullinary delights.
"Bon Jovi leapt up like a Jackeen in the box and said.
"You must be hungry mammy. When you were gone I made you five fried eggs, half a pound of streaky bacon, three and a half sausages and a veritable mound of fried bread".
With tears in my eyes I hugged my cub and said.
"Bon Jovi, you are a bon cabellero. A good amigo. Is my meel in the oven?"
"What meel?" said Bon Jovi.
"The meel you prepared for me" I said.
"Oh THAT meel" said Bon Jovi.
"You were away so long, I got hungry and ate it myself. Hard cheddar mater".
Once again I grabbed the scythe and yelled.
"You stinking, rotten excuse for a sun.
Bye the rivers of Babby-Lon I will sever your big, round head from your body".
I made a swipe with the scythe. The fruit of my lions scampered out the window and took off over the bog with me behind him.
"GULPIN!" I yelled.
"NICKERS!" roared Bon Jovi.
And so it went on 'till the gloom of the nite enveloped the both of us.
What a cub!
But he is some hanlin'.