WHOLESOME TALES

I like your herring ode Wisey

Oh Mrs Figg
you are so sweet
and I repeat:
you are so sweet.

Channelled from his own thoughts:

Wisey Banks

Whats that word of yours Mrs Figg? Oh yes, 'blurg' wasn't it!

How unkind, Petty. Wisey is never horrid to you, now is he?

I'm in a crabbit mood- Paw is drinking all my buckie- and now Wisey is taking up wooing instead of drinking.
There's too much bloomin' lovey-doveyness around here of late, it aint natural and no good will come of it, you mark my words!

THE ORRID SCOTSHOBBITS

They sail with hairy chests the seas,
Setting out from the Scottish Hebrides,
Their faces dark with hate and scorn,
Their ragged greasy beards unshorn;

Across the sea they sail, those rogues,
Some in kilts and some in brogues,
To fish for fisk, they do not care,
For fisk daughters and their despair.

Oh hairy, buckie-ridden, rotten sods,
With hearts of stone and heads like logs,
With their greedy eyes, knobbly knees,
Sailing, fishing, as they please.

Oh how I would like Eru, Our Lord,
To find their ships and come on board,
And chop them up to little bits,
Those horrid Scotshobbit pricks."

Urik Hegglespecklekratz from his "Angry and Offended" period.

Channelled by Wisey Banks.

Wisey wisey youre so sweet
from your bushy beard
to your woolly feet
Petty thinks its all too much
and wants us all to be more butch
but just ignore him
if you dare
cos under those bandages
theres nothin there.

Pettytyrant101 wrote:I'm in a crabbit mood- Paw is drinking all my buckie- and now Wisey is taking up wooing instead of drinking.
There's too much bloomin' lovey-doveyness around here of late, it aint natural and no good will come of it, you mark my words!

I think Wisey has channeled up all the "crabbit" you could ever desire, Petty.

Oh Mrs Figg we remember -
we who dwell
in Forumshire -
proper manners
in spite of Petty's complaints
like spanners
thrown into the works
of romance
and dream
he's such a sad little
hobbit being.

Channelled from Orwell's thoughts,

Wisey Banks.

Hey!

Wisey Banks wrote:THE ORRID SCOTSHOBBITS

Wisey Banks wrote:THE ORRID SCOTSHOBBITS

They sail with hairy chests the seas,
Setting out from the Scottish Hebrides,
Their faces dark with hate and scorn,
Their ragged greasy beards unshorn;

Across the sea they sail, those rogues,
Some in kilts and some in brogues,
To fish for fisk, they do not care,
For fisk daughters and their despair.

Oh hairy, buckie-ridden, rotten sods,
With hearts of stone and heads like logs,
With their greedy eyes, knobbly knees,
Sailing, fishing, as they please.

Oh how I would like Eru, Our Lord,
To find their ships and come on board,
And chop them up to little bits,
Those horrid Scotshobbit pricks."

Urik Hegglespecklekratz from his "Angry and Offended" period.

Channelled by Wisey Banks.

Oh this does bring back memories, we Fjordlandian hobbits use this as a nursery rhyme!

THE TALE OF OF SQUIGGLY AND SQUABBLY

Once upon a time in a place called Wibblywobbly, where carrots grow as big as trees and mountains are the size of molehills, there lived two little people, Squiggly and Squabbly. A Great Magician had made them out of jelly, and a Great Sorcerous had given them musk sticks for bones, and a Great Priest and given them Life, having prayed to Illuvatar to act through him to give them Life. In those days, Wibblywobbly was a small town in the North Farthing.

They were good little people and when they became of school age they would go to school without demur. They were the apple of their Foster-Mother's and two Foster-Fathers' eye, in fact.

One day, Squiggly and Squabbly were galumphing along the road to school, when Squiggly said, "One day, when I'm a grownup jelly-person, I plan to rescue a beautiful Princess from the clutches of a fierce dragon, and I'll marry her."

"Is that really possible?" said Squabbly.

"In Forumshire almost everything is possible," Squiggly said.

They galumphed a bit further along the way and Squabbly mulled over the matter. At last, Squabbly said, "What if your Princess wants children?"

"Well, then I will ask our Foster Parent's to make some for us - as many as my Princess wants."

This answer pleased Squabbly, for he had been musing uneasily on how a jelly person and a beautiful Princess were going to be able to procreate.

"Squiggly?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I might one day rescue a beautiful Princess and rescue her from a fierce Dragon?"

"In theory, it's posible."

"But what if there is only one Princess that needs to be saved?"

"What, by the time we grow up?"

"Yes."

"That's an interesting thought, I grant you. Would you be prepared to rescue a beautiful Princess from an Evil Alchemist in Aldershot instead, but only if that situation should ever come to pass?"

"I guess I would, if such a Princess was available at that future time."

"Excellent."

They galumphed for a bit longer, but Squabbly's mind could find no rest. "Squiggly?"

"Yes, Squabbly?"

"What if it came to pass that the Evil Alchemist in Aldershot did not have a beautiful Princess in his clutches?"

"Mmm..." Squiggly mused. "That would present a problem, and no doubt."

"And what if he had one, but she was older than me?"

"A cougar Princess would surely be experienced in the ways of the world." Squiggly thought aloud. "I guess that might work."

"But I would want a Princess around my own age, for then we could grow together, and one would not seek to dominate the other. We would be equals."

"You present a fine argument, Squabbly. And we wouldn't want you to be dominated by such a lady."

"No, I wouldn't, as I don't think, when I grow up, that I would ever be into such a lifestyle."

"No, you certainly don't appear the type. You are a gentle, well mannered jelly-person. Haven't we always known that?"

"Always."

They walked for a bit longer. School was only a few minutes away. Mrs McMullin, their Head Mistress, would be waiting at the gate with a big smile on her face. She was a lovely hobbit, and she was especially fond of Squiggly and Squabbly, in no small measure because of the special circumstance of their creation which she thought not only cute but also quite amazing.

"Squiggly?"

"Yes, Squabbly?"

"What if we were to find a dragon with two Princesses?"

"I see immediately what you're getting at. That would prevent any chance of conflict."

"It would indeed."

And with this happy thought in mind, they happily walked along the road.

And, sure enough, Mrs McMullin met them at the school gate, and she gave them a great benevolent welcoming smile as they came through.

THE END

Did they find their princesses?

I'm keen to know myself, as I do like a happy ending - and Wholesome Tales don't always give you one. Maybe, I should ask Anon what he's sources are - and if there are other tales about Squiggly and Squabbly.

Cwidegied sylfum Orwell

My heart feels such pain,
tell me how to stop my tears.
No Orwell post for hours
I am going insane!

I feel so numb inside and
it's a terrible way to feel.
I can't even read a thread
without thinking about an eel!
There's some one missing from Forumshire
who can never be replaced.
I must go on living,
but my whole life has changed!

I've been asking myself
where did I go wrong?
Why can't why I write a poem like Wisey
turning words into poems and beautiful song!

If I've got to deal with this
why not start today?
I'll plagiarise the internet
and write a song that way!

ARGH, this is getting boring
this verse will be the end
I know you're the most popular male
but I am your friend!

spoken like the Master Himself.

Im almost moved to shed a tear. But that would be for my ole drinking buddy Wisey - Orwell on the otherhand is all yours Ally.

How romantic! *sniff*

CAPTAIN IN LOVE: A ROMANTIC SAWGUH


Captain Orwell McOdo (the Third) had fallen on pensive times. Even his cabin girls Mincy, Prancy and Ho Ming had begun to notice. While he never failed to keep them satisfied to full and utter sufficiency, every day, every time, there was just something missing.

"When Love-cuddles canoodled me last night," Ho Ming said one day to her cabin-sisters, "He had a far away gleam in his eye. He did his job, of course, as only Orwell can, but..."

"Yes," averred Mincy. "I know what you mean. When our Joy-machine set me off like a firecracker this morning, I could have sworn he was thinking of England..."

"Well," said Prancy, all hot and panting, "Funny you should mention England. I've only just come up from my after-dinner morsel, and I swear I heard Juice-bucket sighing under his breath, 'Tuscany, oh sweet land with the scent of vines -Tuscany!'"

"Tuscany isn't in England," said Ho Ming.

"Oh isn't it?" said Mincy and Prancy in surprise, them having lived much of their lives before their abduction in Liverpool.

"There is nothing for it," Ho Ming cried suddenly. "We must all go and see him and sort the matter out."

They hurried up to Orwell's cabin and burst in on him.

"We wish to speak to you.... privately..." said Ho Ming in a voice that did not brook dissent.

So the First Mate gor dressed and left immediately.

"What is it, Ladies?" Orwell said distractedly, his mournful gaze as he lay resplendantly on his big four poster bed, fixed up at the circle of blue sky beyond the cabin's port hole.

"There is something wrong," Prancy said. "We know it."

"Nothing a bit of three-to-one won't fix," said Orwell in his usual jovial voice, but his eyes stayed fixed on his bit of sky.

"You must talk to us," said Ho MIng as she sat by him on the bed and began to caress the part of him he most liked to be caressed.

"Oh it's worse than we thought," cried Mincy. "Oh look! His Love Monster is as floppy as a lamb!"

And the three cabin-girls burst into tears.

"He doesn't lust for us anymore!" wept Prancy.

"He can't be right," said Mincy. "It's soooo unlike him.... to be so... flaccid...."

Ho Ming gathered herself and asked sternly. "It's another Woman, isn't it?"

"Why should that be a worry," said Mincy. "I mean, another cabin-girl would take some of the pressure off you know... Three girls can only ever cope with so much loving... not that I'm complaining, mind...."

"No, I've seen that look he has in his eye before," Ho Ming gasped. "He's not in 'lust', he's in 'love.'"

"Oh dear Eru, you're right!" cried Prancy.

"Orwell, Orwell - who is she?" Mincy wanted to know.

"Ha! What's the point?" Orwell sighed. "It's not like I can ever sail to Tuscany, it's quite a distance inland - or at least according to my maps...." And he fell silent, his face forelorn, and his eyes showing a deep and reflective sad masculine intelligence. "If only the Sweet Louise had wings I'd go to her. No, this ship just can't fly."

"He's right, " Ho Ming whispered to the other girls, devastated to see her Handsome Hunkster so sad.

"Could we buy a jet engine and afix it to the mast?" Prancy suggested hopefully.

"Where would we ever get a jet engine in Forumshire?" Ho Ming asked incredulously.

"That's the rub," said Mincy, in a litte lost voice. "We can't."


THE END

Dream on, Orwell. {{{ But keep writing too, this is great! }}}

The visuals this Tale is conjuring up is truly awesomely disturbing, but DO continue Dear Bugle it saves me taking laxatives.

I've always been moved, as you know Mrs Figg, by the strangeness of strangeness!

Wow, I never would have guessed that.