WHOLESOME TALES

oh that story wonder how a birmingham trousers looks like

I still dont know what Birmingham trousers are, is it Ffyordlandian?

Just about everything on this thread is Fjordian, Mrs Figg. Did you know Fjordianlandia was named after the country's first psychoanalyst, Sissiman Fjord? Thus, everything has a 'Fjordian" meaning --- and Fjordianlandia is the home of meanings! Hope that helps!

Mrs Figg wrote:

I quote Mrs Figg..

If I recall correctly, that is exactly the look old Sissimun often had when dealing with his (Fjordianlandian) patients.

what in the name of the dark end of a horse are you implying?

if they are grey does the horse have a dark end? surely horses have two dark ends one at either end so to speak? one of them neighs and the other one sprays.

one end is shit, the other bites and the middle is a hell of a bumpy ride.

Orwell wrote:If I recall correctly, that is exactly the look old Sissimun often had when dealing with his (Fjordianlandian) patients.

I think Norc's behaviour would cause an effect according to my former recollection!

Orwell wrote:

Orwell wrote:If I recall correctly, that is exactly the look old Sissimun often had when dealing with his (Fjordianlandian) patients.

I think Norc's behaviour would cause an effect according to my former recollection!

I'm on my best behavious here!

THE TALE OF THE FJORDIANLANDIAN GIRL: BASED ON AN ENTRY IN SISSIMUN FJORD'S CASEBOOK: 1489 S.R.

It came to be that the pioneering hobbit psychologist, Sissimun Fjord, had chance to have attend his offfice (a backroom of his mansehole in Stuffyuppinburg, Fjordianlandia, north-west of its provincial centre, Skattykatzenfjord) a young girl of dubious antecedents, namely Hilda, usually known now by her nickname, S'norc.

Doctor Sissimun Fjord: Take a seat my dear, though hang up first your fleecy dufflecoat upon the peg on the southmost wall, where a hookrack has been attached for just such a purpose.

S'norc: [Angrily] Would you be wishing me to go naked in the rooms of an elderly hobbit of uncertain propensities then?

DSF: Not at all. Are you then naked beneath that coat?

S: [Suspiciously] I am not. And if I was, what would it be to you then, old man with a long fluffy beard - Sir?"

DSF: Aha! Then I have in my office a teenager come. I shall tick a box upon the form I am filling in, thus... just so... Your name is S'norc, is that the case?"

S: [Defensively] Why wouldn't it be, you old professional-type person - Sir? What of my coat?

DSF: I see! I see! Keep your coat upon you, if that makes you comfortabler of disposition.

S: [Affirmatively] What? And have the snow upon it melt and wet the fibres? I shall put it upon the hook after all - Sir. But not because you tell me - Sir!

DSF: I shall tick the box - Female thus... just so...

S: And why wouldn't you? Does my coat hide my female body completely from your rude eye, you old codger - Sir?

DSF: Not now you have taken off your coat and showed your long wolf-hair dress dyed in several colours of feminine taste. Please to recline on this couch put there for such reclining purposes.

S: I shall sit - Sir!

DSF: Indeed, do as you please.

S: I shall, now as I have thought upon it, lie upon this couch.

DSF: As you please.

S: What! Can't you make up your mind - Sir? Shall I sit or shall I recline?

DSF: You must do as you please - after the time honoured traditions of youthful femininity.

S: Mmmmm.... I'll recline.... or should I sit? ... No, I'll recline.

DSF: Are you now comfortaby reclined?

S: As if you care about my comfort, old hobbit with eggnog-stained breastcoat - Sir!

DSF: Shall we begin?

S: What a stupid question? Why else am I here? Are you sure you're a Doctor of Psychotherapy - that newfangled Arcane Art lately devised by you and brought by you to Fordianlandia?

[[[Note to the discerning reader - "Fjordianlandia" was only so named after Sissimun Fjord himself, but much later (for reasons no longer apparent). "Fjordianlandia" in those days was called "Norwigglylund" - but I shall use here throughout the modern name for that snow and icebound land of rock, fjord, seal and fisk]]].

DSF: Now, lass, tell me about this elephant you have lately reinvented to ride to school after formerly denying it's existence, except as a made-up story, but now claiming it to be a REAL elephant after all?

S: It was my teacher Stig who disavowed me from the TRUTH of the matter with a clever ruse, telling me my Headmaster was angered by his foot being stood painfully upon by one of my elephant's large feet. I immediatey denied it happening, claiming that my elephant was made-up by me, and therefore proving that it could not stand on my Headmaster's foot, this due essentially to it's non-existence - my elephant, that is, not my Headmasters foot.

DSF: If we were to analyse the whole business closely, we would surely find problems with coherence, continuity and confluence in this whole said business.

S: I agree, so let's deal only with the current perambulation then.

DSF: And this 'current perambultion' is that you now (again) believe you ride an elephant to school.

S: Exactly! And that way some kind of sense can be brought to bear upon the situation of my visit here which otherwise may not make much sense at all.

DSF: Complete sense, you mean? It may make 'partial' sense.

S: As you will.... Anyhow I have an elephant. It is the size of a large pig. It is grey, but not black and white.

DSF: And where did this elephant come from?

S: Africa, of course! You old twit - Sir! Where else would it come from - Havana?

DSF: There are, of course, elephants in India, my dear.

S: Has my elephant then got large ears, or small?

DSF: I have no idea,

S: No, you clearly don't!

DSF: Anyway, about this elephant... When did you first start thinking you had an elephant which you rode to school?

S: At the beginning of last Semester. I picked it up from the Post Office and...

DSF: Pardon? You say, you picked up your elephant from the Post Office?

S: That's what I said. Are you then deaf as well as stupid - Sir? It came in by Eagle Airlines.

DSF: My sweet girl. Do you really believe an elephant was transported from Africa to Fjordianlandia by Eagle Post?

S: It was one of those Super Eagles Mr Bilbo Baggins first discovered, and that respectably enterprising Mr Odo Banks introduced to Forumshire. Why? Did you think it came on one of the Lesser Eagles by which postcards and letters and small parcels are flown? You silly old fart - Sir! You will cause to have giggling fit if you continue so...

DSF: That is an awfully big eagle.

S: No - if you were paying attention, and not pulling at your beard hairs so petulantly, you would have heard me say my elephant is only the size of a large pig, grey but not black and white.

DSF: Yes, I do recall you saying that....

S: Good. Please go on.

DSF: [Pulling even more petulantly at his beard hairs] Don't you see that this elephant is merely a figment of your imagination?

S: It may be a figment of your imagination, old person smelling of pipeweed and something else unsavoury - Sir! - yes, I see it must be a figment of your imagination - for you have not seen it yet - but I ride it to school and therefore know it exists. What? Do I ride a tuft of breeze to school? Was my body, in its passage along the lanes of my village - held up by a mere tuft of breeze? Do you think me mad?

DSF: Your madness or non-madness is certainly one of the things I am examining.

S: How dare you! I detest the bending road along which your mind clearly plods! Oh you overweight grandaddy-sort - Sir! Tell me then: Do you ride a bicycle?

DSF: If I must humour you, I must... I do ride a bicycle.

S: Ha! I saw you yesterday in Gayanfruity Lane - peddling like the clackers toward Bankses Fiskbourbon Shoppe.... Or were you riding a tuft of breeze?

DFS: I indeed was riding a bicycle.

S: Ha! So who is the mad one here - you decrepid old fantasist - Sir?

DFS: But we both saw my bicycle, did we not?

S: Yes - one of those new bicycles from Needlehole. A Odobrand Norse Special, I believe.

DFS: A sturdy bicycle - at least according to the blurb, but actually shonkier and more expensive in the end than the blurb led me to believe...

S: But a REAL bicycle nonetheless?

DFS: Of course! Can it be denied?

S: I rest my case.

DFS: No. Not so easy, young lass. Your elephant does not exist. WE both have seen my bicycle. Only one of us has confirmed the existence of your elephant.

S: Have you ever seen me riding a tuft of breeze to school?

DSF: Indeed I HAVE not.

S: Then it MUST be an elephant.

DSF: Not necessarily...

S: What was I riding then?

DSF: Nothing, I'd hazard to guess.

S: Can a hobbit lass - no matter how intelligent and adaptable! - ride NOTHING to school? Please - fat smelly Doctor - Sir! - use a bit of logic. Clear thinking I think is worthy of thought here - and indubitably - considering the situation and context of my visit! Can a professional hobbit of the mind-trade not endeavour to be doing that?

DSF: I see we may need more than one visit.

S: Indeed! I think you need my help - and very badly, you old deluded fool of a hobbit - Sir! Good day - Sir!

DSF: Good day, young S'norc.... Oh my....



to be continued....

love. it. you genius!

Old Anon knows (or doesn't know ) a thing or two about Psychology, me dear!

THE TALE OF THE FJORDIANLANDIAN GIRL: BASED ON ANOTHER ENTRY IN SISSIMUN FJORD'S CASEBOOK: 1489 S.R. continued...

It came to pass that Hilda-S'norc's second appointment with Dr Sissimun Fjord occurred.

DSF: Why hello, young S'norc. I see that you have attended in my rooms again at the appointed time.

S: I have indeed, Doctor who smells suspiciously of laudanum. - Sir! And I come in good spirits. I shall gaily throw myself upon your couch. You may look but not touch.

DSF: Just so. It seems you are dressed in a potato sack with holes cut for arms and legs.

S: I have just come from my Avant Garde Fashion class. We are working in hessian. I saw no reason to change - especially as the time of my class ending and the time of this appointment starting were extremely close in time.

DSF: Just so. Let me compliment you on your fine legs and almost as fine arms.

S: Thank you. I am too cheery just now to comment negatively on your lascivious starings.

DSF: Lascivious? I but stare in an academic observational manner.

S: Whatever! It is all one and the same to a young lass stared at by an old hobbit with crumbs in his beard - Sir!

DSF: You must tell me the cause of your patent happiness today. The other day you were short, sharp and surly, but today you grin like the Town Idiot.

S: [Smiling] Ha! I have come here with my elephant. I have tethered him upon the hitching post outside your mansehole. I trust this will be my last visit here - my saneness proven!

DSF: So I may go out and see him?

S: Not now. When he is less shy you may go out to see him.

DSF: And when will he be less shy?

S: As to that, I have not yet the answer. It is a question of tact and detecting the mood of an elephant when the time is right.

DSF: Is he then 'shy' when you ride him to school, what with many eyes peering in surprise at him in the lanes of this village?

S: As to that, I don't believe so, for - fortunately I feel - the villagers ignore him when I pass - and he them. The villagers here are very polite and thoughtful - as is my elephant.

DSF: I could politely go and look at your elephant while pretending to NOT look at your elephant.

S: He would know, as he is sensitive to the lascivious eyes of prying Doctor's of Psychotherapy.

DSF: Is that so?

S: Indeed, it is, Doctor with Lascivious eyes - Sir!

DSF: I begin to wonder where this exchange is going.

S: As do I.

DSF: I suspect something of a sexual nature will come of this soon enough. Everything does get back to 'sex'.

S: Is this because you are at heart, like all doctors, a dirty old hobbit - Sir?

DSF: No, because I am Founder of a New Arcane Art - this very psychotherapy to which I am the Founder. I have discovered that everything gets back to sex, both in Forumshiere and the wider world.

S: Is that why your eyes even now study my young hobbit form so intently, you lascivious old hobbit - Sir?

DSF: My study is of an academic nature. In my position, one must be objective, removed and dispassionate.

S: Then you best do up the buttons of your fly, as an embarrassing situation may develop beyond which this encounter is already developing.

DSF: Oh my goodness. I never knew. I am old and forgetful at times.

S: You are also small and wizened, and frankly not the sort of Doctor my Mother would care to send me to if she knew.

DSF: I say, it is an accident of memory. You must trust me, S'norc. I am your Doctor.

S: As you will.

DSF: Now back to your elephant. I must ask you. How do you perceive your riding of it to school?

S: With my eyes.... um... and I hear it's trudging feet.... and I feel the weight of pressure beneath my buttocks and betwen my thighs.... In all the ways, in fact, that a hobbit riding an elephant perceives an elephant she is riding, I guess.

DSF: And does this riding give you pleasure?

S: Of course, you old dolt - Sir! I do not have to walk, you see!

DSF: Yes... good.... noted... just so....{{{'in denial'}}}.... hmm.... I shall now ask you questions of which there are four answers, A,B,C and D. You must nomintate the answer that best answers the question from your perspective.

S: Go ahead, Doctor who continues to appraise me in a surreptious manner - Sir!

DSF: Hmm... just so... .... ..... Now, Question 1. If an elephant were to ask you to mary him, would you (A) Refuse him outright? (B) Accept the proposal immediately? (C) Ask him to give you time to think it over, or (D) Send your elephant back to Africa on the next available flight?

S: I should answer (E) ---- I said to him; "Don't be ridiculous Rodney - I am a hobbit and you're an elephant, l don't care how fine yor trunk is."

DSF: You would answer that way? How peculiar!

S: You are not listening properly! It's clear that I did answer that way. This upon the instance of him asking yesterday. I, of course, softened the blow to his ego by saying I cared too much for him to allow our relationship to become sexual.

DSF: Just so... bear with me as I write things down, dear girl... ({{{"delusions of being sexually attractive to elephants"}}... .... Now second question. Your elephant is the size of a large grey pig, is this because (A) You are afraid of real elephants? (B) You like your elephants to seem like pigs? (C) You actually ride a pig but would prefer it to be an elephant? or (D) You don't know the difference between a pig and an elephant?

S: [Scornfully} It is (E) again, Doctor who is picking his nose but pretending to scratch it just now - Sir!

DSF: [Removing finger] And (E) is?

S: It is the size of a large pig, because it makes passage down the narrow lanes of this village far more expedient - and also thereby no hobbit is crushed to death in the meantime. Who formulates your silly questions by the way?

DSF: I do.

S: I thought as much. Have you any more questions?

DSF: Not just yet. I will make another appointment for you.

S: Will you not then come outside and see my elephant hitched at your post?

DSF: May I?

S: Not just now. Good day - Sir!

DSF: Good day, S'norc....



to be continued....

CASE STUDY: Bettina (Betty) Bomshawl.

Doctor Sissmun Fjord: Hello -- it's Bettina Bomshawl, is it?

Bettina Bomshawl: It is, Doctor. On the couch, is it?

DSF: It is my consulting room, isn't it?

BB: It is Doctor! It is!

DSF: Oh my goodness what splendid yellow hair you have. Rinsed?

BB: No, natural.

DSF: And your breasts -- splendid!

BB: Why thank you, Doctor.

DSF: And what brings you here today? And, please don't say, 'your legs'. Ho-ho.

BB: What?

DSF: Hmm... yes... {{{tick box - sterotypical-big-boobed-blond...just so...}}} ... Where was I? Let me see... Let me see...

BB: Yes, Doctor.

DSF: My goodness! What are you doing?

BB: Letting you see...

DSF: Put them away. I didn't mean that at all.

BB: [putting them away] I guess there is always a first time...

DSF: Now this is a serious business, Betty, you coming here... You don't mind me calling you 'Betty', I hope?

BB: Not at all.

DSF: Excellent. It's important we create a rapport between us.

BB: That's fine, so long as it's only for medicinal purposes and you wear a condom.

DSF: Yes - er -- well and good ... {{{tick box - inane-sexual-innuendo-when-Author-can't-think-of-anything-actually-funny-to-write... just so...}}} Now, please tell me why you are here?

BB: Well, Doctor, I was sitting in my two pony shopping cart the other day when I heard a sudden loud explosion.

DSF: Which startled the ponies?

BB: Indeed, though they were hitched securely.

DSF: Excellent.

BB: Well, I thought someone had set off a blunderbuss...

DSF: How distressing!

BB: My mind went almost totally blank with shock, Doctor. I felt a squidgy buffet to the back of my head...

DSF: A 'squidgy buffet', you say?

BB: The squidgyist!

DSF: My God! How perfectly traumatical! ... Please proceed.

BB: Well, I thought I had been hit to the back of my head and my brains were falling out.

DSF: As you would in the circumstances. Did you have the sense of there being a pulpy mass on the back of your head?

BB: Well, the first thing I did was put my hands behind my head and - yes - there was a pulpy mass.

DSF: Aha! So you thought your brain was coming out.

BB: I did! How did you guess?

DSF: I have had many hobbits in here who fought in the Gummy Bear - Ozhobbit War... Common condition experienced in Wartime... Go on.

BB: Well, I guess my mind went blank... Oh my dear..

DSF: Here, take a handkerchief to mop your eyes... It's okay to be upset... I sure as hell know Mr Odo Banks was when it happened to him...

BB: Did he get shot in the back of the head with a blunderbuss?

DSF: Yes - in the War. He said he was running away from the enemy to create a diversion... we patched him up all right without too much brain loss... but anyway... proceed, girl.

BB: Well, I went into total shock... I mean - it was all so unexpected... I guess my brain closed down and my only thought was: 'Hold your brain in, Betty. Hold in your brain.' And that's what I did. I then just waited for help to come.

DSF: For how long?

BB: Fourty minutes or more!

DSF: Oh my goodnes. I can't imagine what you went through for in that fourty or more minutes. Severe shock can do that... ... But I see you have no bandage on your head...

BB: No, and that's the troubling part. What had happened was just a 'prank'!

DSF: A prank?

BB: Well, one of the little naughty hobbits in the street had let off a firecracker... and at the same time, another little naughty hobbit had thrown a rotten tomato at the back of my head...

DSF: And you naturally thought a blunderbuss had blown out your brains. Makes perfect sense.

BB: It did make perfect sense at that moment... But I feel so stupid now! Excuse me while I mop my heart broken eyes...

DSF: Of course, mop all you like. Here's another hanky... Mmmm.. Was it Shady and Sandy Banks by chance? Were they the dirty little pranksters? You know, Mr Odo's disgustingly disobedient and anti-social children?

BB: It was.

DSF: How typical! Stereotypical, in fact! ... Anyway, now you feel terribly stupid, dumb and devastated?

BB: I do Doctor... and all the peurile laughing at my expense only makes it worse.

DSF: Well, cast out those thoughts. The average Forumshiran is an utterly unfeeling, stupid and brain-dead creature who cannot see beyond his or her own nose and sexual inhibitions. I mean it kindly, of course! So you must not let them make you feel sad or Anorexic... What you experienced was perfectly normal. You know, your condition is quite common, and the subject of much research by Post-traumatic Stress Studiers. The trouble is, these Forumshiran buffoons who laugh at you are armchair experts, think they know everything about everything and make fun of things (and people) they don't understand. Thick sorts. Typical small village mentalities! Now, you must leave this office feeling good about yourself. Your feelings are quite normal. You seem an intelligent girl, even if you have splendid yellow hair and just as splendid, if not more splendid, boobs. I can tell you, I am thinking of writing a learned artical to publish in a reputable Psychology Journal about your very condition and social situation. I have already given it a name, and the name is Blunderbuss Brain Syndrome. Very common it is, extremely common, but poorly understood by the ignorant and uncaring. Go now. Beat yourself up no more!

BB: Oh thank you Doctor. How can I ever I thank you enough for your loving pity?

DSF: 'Empathy' is the word, my dear. 'Empathy.' I refuse to look down my nose at you - I'm not the Lowest Common Forumshiran Denominator type, you see.

BB: Before I go, may I ask... Did Mr Banks really fight in the Gummy Bear-Ozzhobbit War?

DSF: So he says. A great hero he was - a Great Hero, in fact - so he tells me.

BB: Good day, Doctor.

DSF: Good day, Betty.

THE TALE OF THE TWO CURIOUS GIRLS

Once upon a time, about 100 years ago, there were two young ladies (if 'ladies' is the right term), who met on holiday one day in Whales. It was at the house of young Jelly, a Whelsh girl. The other girl was Porklet, a Fjordianlandian girl. They had met by Forumshire Palantir, and had formed a fast friendship.

One fine morning, when the grass was greener than it is nowadays, they were sitting on two portable tuffets outside Jelly's cottage in the hills. And the subject of vaginas came up. As I'm lead to believe occurs quite often in girlish conversation. Not the 'vaginas' your thinking of, of course, I mean the Whelsh vagina, a kind of haggis, but the four-legged Whelsh variety. Some call it a Whelshcat, and a 'Whelshpussy' by the vulgar classes. As this is a Wholesome Tale, and to save confusion, I will call the creature a Welshaggis.

"Have you ever even seen a Whelshaggis?" Porklet asked. "I should ever so much loooove to catch one. Their fur is soft, I'm told, not like Scothaggis, who are quite bristly by all accounts."

Jelly mused a moment and then said, "One night I dreamed a Whelshaggis crept into my bed and when I stroked it, I woke up to find it wasn't a Whelshaggis at all."

"What was it?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Did it bite you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well it could have been a mouse."

"It could have been, but it wasn't."

"A mole?"

"A mole in my bed? Hardly! As if I'd allow a mole to get in bed with me!"

Porklet giggled.

"What?"

"I'd rather not say... But I do wish you'd tell me what it was."

"Okay. But I'll whisper it... [psst] [psst] [psst]."

Porklet giggled. (She was from Fjordianlandia, remember).

Jelly blushed. "Of course, when I realized my mistake, I was as diappointed as relieved. I mean, the thought of having a Whelshaggis in your bed is both exciting and daunting."

"Why is that?"

"Well, you did mention teeth. Who is to say they don't have any."

"It's only a rumour. Some say they don't have teeth, but gums which they use to suck willow sticks until they go soft and disgestible."

"I've heard that too - though in Fjodianlandia I heard it was hickory."

"Yes, that might be right. That's the trouble with Whelshaggises, not a lot is known about them."

"No. I did hear they can be enticed and excited and lured out by the right approach. I heard a boy in Cornwall wooed one by tickling the tussocky edge of it's burrow..."

"Cornwall, of course, isn't in Whales."

"That's true."

"Oh Jelly, do you think we might go out into the hills and try to catch one?"

"Oh what a fine idea. Then we might bring it home and stroke it whenever we wished."

"Hurrah!"

And so, hand in hand, the two young ladies went off up into the hills to look. And that's all I know of the subject.

Anon Author

I think thats more than I wanted to know on the subject. {{{ }}}
Its also a lot easier with the Scottish variety- you can lure them out with a bottle of buckie and a bag of chips if its a weekend.

That's the kind of Ally I dream to be

I'm now wondering if they have Whelshaggises in zoos? I should ever like to see one, one day. Fascinating creature by all accounts.

What Orwell?! Not the Scots variety - I had no idea the Aussies were so nampy pampy- I thought a man of your age too would have gone for a bit of bristle.

I must be very naive - as I have absolutely no idea what you're alluding to, Petty....

There like sandpaper when they shed you know. Happens every summer.

My instinct is to avoid Scosthobbitland in summertime...