Spike Milligan, Vivian Stanshall, Ivor Cutler, Monty Python, Edward Lear, Tristan Tzara, P. G. Wodehouse, Douglas Adams, Kurt Schwitters, Daniil Kharms, Lewis Carroll, Olchar Lindsann, etc.
David Beris Edwards was hatched, untimely, from a ketchup-tinted brass egg, He emerged unkempt, distressed, alarmingly apolitical and with trousers desperately in need of a good pressing. Alas, they merely got stained instead.
PS - Vim Vom etc etc BARR. (gasp).
We here at The Writers Mafia would like to wish you a happy birthday!
We wish you happiness, success, peace and inspiration and offer you 15% off all book services (on us!) at Blurbings. com. Just input coupon code "birth21" in the shopping cart. (Don't forget to click apply in the cart!)
I don't know why the madman spat, And I don't know if it hurt. I don't know where the toothpick is, Or who scarpered with its shirt
I know nothing of the six-beaked tern, And less about the glasblat; I'm not sure what the riknioch learned, And moreover I couldn't care less, I'm in the shower, go away, you're creeping me out, you geezer.
The next two Salt Margins at The Whitechapel Gallery are unmissable. Hope to see you there!
Thursday 2 August
Luke Kennard Laura Forman Adam Green The Ex-Men
At 26 Luke Kennard is the youngest ever nominee for the Forward Prize for Best Poetry Collection. He reads from The Harbour Beyond The Movie, his outstanding
second book. Lazy Gramophonite Adam Green reads from Satsuma Sun Mover, a surreal coming-of-age tale. Generation Txter Laura Forman performs poems about Bon
Jovi (yes!) and Battersea Power Station. Plus music and spoken word from Glasgow-based duo The Ex-Men. Doors 7pm, free entry. Produced in association with
Salt Publishing.
Thursday 20 September
Melanie Challenger Eleanor Rees Chris McCabe Songdog
Salt poets Eleanor Rees (Andraste's Hair) and Melanie Challenger (Galatea) have both been nominated for this year's Forward Prize for Best First Collection.
Which is reason enough to come and hear them read. Like Eleanor, Chris McCabe is a Salt poet and a Liverpudlian. His collection The Hutton Inquiry is a
powerful examination of language under pressure. Musical refreshment is provided by the excellent Songdog, led by playwright Lyndon Morgan.
i hope that was sufficient to feed your terrible alcoholism. badum chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin. i am an invertibrated monkey basher.
2. Then after waiting two weeks (so no one will suspect a thing, see?) you amble up, swinging an adjective around on your extra finger (the one that escaped the battle of Austerlitz), and shouting 'COCK- COCK- COCK- COCK- COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!' at the top of your lungs (so as not to attract attention, see?)
3. The earth hops about 4 inches over to the right.
4. While I distract everybody by turning myself into a vague notion of rotted cheese, you quickly race around from person to person, imagining you are a bumblebee but making no sign of this pretence to anyone else. That way they'll all think you're an elephant, see?
5. I'll try to feel nauseous.
6. Fried pork.
7. Sir Alan Sugar will wriggle around aimlessly until 18 minutes after nightfall.
8. All of our aims will have been accomplished.
This is the plan. It's flawless, see? Even Old Man Mortimer won't be able to stop us this time.
The Most Important Thing I have Ever Set Out to Say
Lark!
biddlebiddlebiddle Lark!
show-ham Lark!
Lark!
rather Lark!
I think it's Lark!
hamper-mittens Lark!
oh Lark!
fig Lark!
nine Lark!
pig Lark!
pine Lark!
gig Lark!
blind Lark!
and also a shiny foil wrapping with a handful of Lark!
oh Lark!
won't- Lark!
but- Lark!
bloody- Lark!
hell-Lark!
oh,
Lark!
i give Lark!
up.
Dodelighted to be acquainted with you. Thanks for the add! Do take the time to view my pics and, if you have the inclination, please visit my home and very own shop in cyberspace. It perches on the edge of the worldwide web at www.dodopad.com and it’s a cool place to visit. Touch whatever you like there but please try not to break anything. You can also spot me doing a bit of guitar playing and other stuff…
Regards, Lord Dodo of Doodle. Dodo Towers (now open after lengthy restoration), Much Havock in the Wold, England's green and pleasant land.
Rickett's at the picket again
shouting
DEATH TO THE QUAIL
QUAIL THEM TO DEATH
Aristotle's vomit sprays
beige carroty flump onto
flag-faced humans
and the HUMANS skid about
chomping
and pirouetting
cursing Audrey Baxter
