Hazard of Parsnips Chapter 7

and so the greatest love story/epistolary novel/writing experiment continues.  Catch up with previous HoP Chapters here:

http://sherby57.co.uk/2008/10/09/a-hazard-of-parsnips-chapters-1-2/

https://worldofsheds.wordpress.com/2009/08/27/a-hazard-of-parsnips-chapter-3/

https://worldofsheds.wordpress.com/2009/10/14/hazard-of-parnsips-chapter-4/

https://worldofsheds.wordpress.com/2009/10/14/hazard-of-parsnips-chapter-5-get-it-here/

https://worldofsheds.wordpress.com/2009/10/15/oh-no-not-another-hazard-of-parsnips-chapter-6-by-sherby-57/

https://worldofsheds.wordpress.com/2009/12/01/letters-to-dr-angel/ Chapter 6a

https://worldofsheds.wordpress.com/2009/12/02/dr-angel-replies/ Chapter 6b

Dearest Clarence

I am writing this in the past. It’s obviously the present as I’m writing this, but as you’re reading this it’s from the past. Keep up.

Today the sun roused me, like an egyptian pharmacist or maybe a psychiatrist prescribing ritalin off-licence. With that sun and that pharmacist came a sense of heightened awareness, the likes that I have not been aware of for many a year. For it is today, o beauteous day, that I am TRULY conscious for the first time in my whole miserable life.  Today, I love you.

I know it is only 24 hours since we met. O, sweet knave, so much can happen in 24 hours. Thou couldest watch Hollyoaks and Hollyoaks ‘in the city’ as well as a full ‘Come Dine with me’ when it was 5 episodes, each of one hours duration.  It was yesterday that I alighted the ‘cumfybus’ and took the sweet, sweet trip into Wigan to the Emporium of Cash Converting where I was to selleth my Sega Drive of  Megas.  O, handsome knave, it had been a lean month.  Lord Karl of Kennedy had been out of the country on tour with Sir Ricky of Martin and had not sent his usual brace of rabbits to my father.  As you may know, my father is Lord Kennedy’s gigolo. Lord Kennedy prefers the term ‘Man-thang’. My father said that the job descrption said ‘gigolo’ and he didn’t spend 3 years doing a doctorate in Gigology to be called a ‘Man-thang’. My father is a proud, proud gentleman, Clarence. I said your name incase you drifted off. Did it work?

It was in the Emporium of Converting Cash that our chance encounter occured. You were looking in the glass cases at an amp for your flying V guitar, but I watched you settle on a gold ganja leaf chain. O, how fine you looked as you tried it on.I knew it was poor manners, but I couldn’t tear my hot eyes away. O happy ganja leaf! O happy chain! O, what I would not have given to be lying around your neck, nestling into your chest.

It was then you became aware of my forbidden glances. You manoevered your bulk into position so you could take a full look upon my person and my countenance. O, unhappy moment.  My yearning fell upon your cold soul. My longing fell like seeds onto a pavement. You held my gaze and gruffly ejaculated “why are you looking at me weird?”.

I stare into your very soul. a long intense gaze. Desperately my eyes search yours. I try and move your frozen heart with my thoughts. Every fibre of my being wills your affections towards my unworthy brow. Your eyes slowly close, in abject ecstasy, I reckon, your breath quickens and you softly sigh “what’s that on your top lip?”.

I put my hand up to my face and realise there was an unwelcome invader to our beautiful tryste.  My sausage roll from Greggs the Bakers had left soft pastry interlopers upon my lip and had become affixed to my Collection 2000 lipgloss.

Your face changed. Not literally. You didn’t get someone elses face.You know this, so I’m not sure why I’m telling you. what I mean is that your countenance did change to form a picture of abject disgust.  Your jaw jutted and your eyebrows did plow great furrows into your forehead. Your chin did wrinkle and pucker and you looked like Sir Gordon Ramsay.

“This wench has herpes” you bellowed. To no one in particular. I fled from the shop, hand to my lip, desperately wiping every last crumb of sausage roll. I ran and ran. In my anger and shame I kicked a can of Red Bull at Greggs in an act of wanton futility and my cheeks burned like the fire that Take That and Lulu were keen to ignite.

As my cheeks burned hot, it was then I understood:

I love you. Yet, you were repulsed by my very form.

What could I do? I needed a strategy to excite and delight your very eye. A way to woo you. Some form of sexual voodoo, white witchery. Anything. You had to be mine. I alighted the cumfybus to return to Hesketh Bank and my Father’s lodge on the estate of Lord Kennedy’s. On the bus, I was suprised to see my girlhood companion, Lady Spinderella, on the backseat. I sat next to her, and we made our usual greetings. She noticed my flushed countenance and I noticed several blueblack bites of love poorly concealed under the collar of her Naff co 54 coat.

“I see you have sweet marks of love on your neck, Spinderella. What knave makes these black holes of love and how did you entice him? I’m not being funny or anything, good lady, but you smell like a butcher’s shop”.

“Ah!” began the good lady “I am courting Sir P of Diddington. These black holes of love that you see before you, poorly concealed were hard won, lady. For Sir P did not care for my glances when we met at Prince’s Nightclub. No, he only had eyes for Lady Jennifer of Lopez. However, I entered a hot body show in Burnley, and won. News of my victory spread far and wide and Sir P heard of the felicitatious knowledge. Consequently, he felt a yearning so strong that no remedy could abate, not even calpol. He could contain himself no longer and he had to have me, like a black and decker workbench or Stream of Soda”.

It was then I knew. My course of action was charted for me, like a great sea adventure. My voyage began. I picked up my quill and began to write to the only person I knew could help me…

To be continued…

Lady Sandra Growbag

Dr. Angel Replies

https://worldofsheds.wordpress.com/2009/12/01/letters-to-dr-angel/

Dear Lady Salt

You have indeed arrived on the very door that can affix the nosebag of knowledge to your snout. 

I have entered many a ‘hot body show’ and they are indeed elaborate and complex affairs.  Dare I say, almost a ritual. Hot Body Shows were invented in 1432 by Sir Special K who insisted on guests to his parties wearing red leotards, by which he would judge them on the well known dimensions of: goitre, guttage, truncheon, and haunces.  The Winner would be declared ‘the winner’, then everyone would down some thunderbird and run up and down the stairs, then do a ouijaboard, get freaked out then their mum’s and dad’s pick them up.

Today, few of Sir Special K’s traditions remain other than haunches and goitre. Truncheon and guttage have been replaced by the dimensions of sturdiness and attention seeking. Let me walk you through what you might expect:

You enter the hot body show through the Tuba monster section of Carlisle. Just next to the airport, home of Stobart Air.

You will be carrying a marrow with the words ‘thumbscrews’ implanted into it’s DNA.

The Hot Body Show will take place at ‘Carlisle Mike’s Beard Arena’.  You will enter by the ‘Wandering hand in a Sauna’ Gate.

The first dimension you will be judged on, of course, is haunches. There’s only one way for haunches to be and that’s powerful, like a powerful horse.   You will be asked to rear up, from your normal four legged rested state, onto your hindquarters, and pretend to throw an impertinent Orator off.  The judges will be looking closely for a flourish for your rear, and will be looking for tendons, sinewy. 

Tomorrow, dear Lady Salt, I will tell you about the further dimensions of goitre, sturdiness and attention-seeking.

That boy is in the bag!

Laterz

Letters to the Doctor

Dear Dr. Angel

I blush as I write this. Such an imperitnent and frivolous question to one so important. However, my heart clamours for answers and I know such answers can only be dispensed from one as wise as you.

Doctor, for many years now I have been admiring a young gentleman. I understand he has a personal fortune of a million lira a year, but o! Sweet Doctor, I care not for this.  This young man has a heart so gentle, a word so light, a guffaw so warm, and a butt that you could bend a spoon on, if you so desire it. I dare say he would handwash a cardigan that you had just bought, and didn’t want to put in the wash incase it ran.  It can be a bit Russian roulette you know, dear doctor. He has a countenance that would imply that he wouldn’t go to a strip club and that.

My ultimate aim is to be the winner of a ‘Hot body show’.  My esteemed friend, Lady Spinderella, says the only sure-fire strategem to win his freaky-deaky hear, is to enter a show of such hot bodies. tI understand that you are an expert on ‘hot body shows’ and was wondering whether you dispense any advice on such a persuit.I understand you cam first in the Hot Body Exhibition in Crystal Palace, where many people were committed to mental asylums, after pure exhaustion upon looking ‘pon your very frame.
O Doctor, can you advise me? How can you prepare oneself to win the hot body show.  I know I have to be number one.  I know I need to ‘push it’ in some form, but I know not what to ‘push’ and in what direction. Do I push it Eastwards? What if this interferes with East 17? If I push it West, might this infringe on Go West? Doctor, can you tell me what exactly is involved in a Hot Body Show?

O! and a thousand questions.

Much love

 

Lady Salt of Pepper

to be continued…

Get on the Gravy Boat

http://poursomegravyonme.co.uk/2009/11/25/the-gravy-boat-episode-1/

If you’re not already listening to the Gravy Boat podcast, what the fuck is wrong with you?  I bet you spit on the pavement as well. You disgust me. 

The Gravyboat podcast consists of the holy trinity of my pal, Sherby57 and his mates ‘Shaky’ Greg and  and Rev. Boris.  Not really. But what you need to know is that it’s a weekly podcast from the Wazza (warrington) based trio and it’s rather good.It’s a humerous, meandering, freestyling conversation.  It will make you punch the air.   Find out more about it on the above link and subscribe to it (free) on i-tunes.  There have been two episodes thus far (episodes 0 and 1) and on episode one, yours truly featured, so it’s got to be worth a listen eh? EH?

You can also become a friend on Facebook and follow their tweets on twitter.

Listen to it. Do it today.

Letters to Dr. Angel

Dear Dr. Angel

I blush as I write this. Such an imperitnent and frivolous question to one so important. However, my heart clamours for answers and I know such answers can only be dispensed from one as wise as you.

Doctor, for many years now I have been admiring a young gentleman. I understand he has a personal fortune of a million lira a year, but o! Sweet Doctor, I care not for this.  This young man has a heart so gentle, a word so light, a guffaw so warm, and a butt that you could bend a spoon on, if you so desire it. I dare say he would handwash a cardigan that you had just bought, and didn’t want to put in the wash incase it ran.  It can be a bit Russian roulette you know, dear doctor. He has a countenance that would imply that he wouldn’t go to a strip club and that.

My ultimate aim is to be the winner of a ‘Hot body show’.  My esteemed friend, Lady Spinderella, says the only sure-fire strategem to win his freaky-deaky hear, is to enter a show of such hot bodies. tI understand that you are an expert on ‘hot body shows’ and was wondering whether you dispense any advice on such a persuit.I understand you cam first in the Hot Body Exhibition in Crystal Palace, where many people were committed to mental asylums, after pure exhaustion upon looking ‘pon your very frame.
O Doctor, can you advise me? How can you prepare oneself to win the hot body show.  I know I have to be number one.  I know I need to ‘push it’ in some form, but I know not what to ‘push’ and in what direction. Do I push it Eastwards? What if this interferes with East 17? If I push it West, might this infringe on Go West? Doctor, can you tell me what exactly is involved in a Hot Body Show?

O! and a thousand questions.

Much love

 

Lady Salt of Pepper

to be continued…

New Angel Initiative

Hola,

‘Tis I, returneth, so please wipe that bead of sweat from your consumptive brow.  I will pour pungent balm on your fevered head and cure all that ails thee.  If I get time anyway. 

I wish to update you on a pyramid scheme that I’d like you all to take part it.  You all give me a fiver, then you get your mates to give me a tenner, then you get their mates to give me £20. YES!  IT’S THAT EASY TO MAKE MONEY!  T o find out my secret formula to gaining riches of that pharoahs, please send a cheque made payable to me for £586970707.09999 in 4.2 easy payments.  Is that too much to ask for a SURE FIRE way to make money?  I think not. 

 

In other news, I have mostly been spending my time

a) ploughing Gordon Ramsay’s chin (again)

2) inciting tollpuddle martyrs.

iii) become 20% jaunty, 20% pleasant and 60%  Carry on film

 

I await, as usual, your friend