Is Stan Jewish or does he just like their cheesecakes?

A story for cat lovers :Emile goes for a bike ride
Stan  had just got back to his lovely  home after a ride on his  mountain bike. Emile had travelled in his special cat seat/basket just in front of Stan as he liked to see the road less traveled should it appear..and he liked purr to encourage Stan to ride further.When Stan got home to his luxuriously detached yet bijou dwelling he went to the wonderful disappointing cloakroom to wash his paws before putting the kettle on for some tea.
Ah,how peaceful it is here,he thought…,how nice Mary is still at work.
Suddenly, and alarmingly, the door bell rang.There,on the flower bedecked porch,stood a large, beautiful curly haired woman holding Emile in her pretty freckled arms
I believe this is your cat,she said boldly.So he tells me.Why, he even knows the address.
Well,if he’s anyone’s he’s mine,Stan admitted uneasily.
What has he done now?
Did you not notice he jumped out of his basket?she asked enquiringly.
Well,no,Stan answered furtively
I was getting a bit tired and keen to get home…I forgot my water,
Well,I hope you won’t let him do it again,he could end up absconding,
By the way,I’m called Yvette.
Are you Yvette Cooper,the MP,he enquired wildly.
No, she said,I’m Yvette Hooper,the swan lover.
Do come in for a cup of tea,he said caringly.
I don’t mind if I do,she said,then I can be sure your cat is alright.
Tell me,Stan said,Do you live with a swan?
No,she said,though I do have an old Swan saucepan.
A saucepan is not much company,Stan responded.
Well,at least it never shouts at me!Yvette said quickly.
Have you suffered verbal abuse? Stan said in a kind and supportive voice.
I have, yes.We had a mutual agreement that I could be handcuffed and verbally amused for 3 hours a week.you see we’d read this book,”Fifty shades of grey.”It’s all about human bondage
But my boyfriend thought it was verbal abuse I wanted..As I was upside down I couldn’t tell him of his error.After that things were never the same.
Why did you have the handcuffs?asked Stan calmly.
We were given them for Xmas,she whispered.
Also a whip and some rubber gloves.
Why the rubber gloves?
For washing up of course!
But after being whipped would you feel like washing up?
I don’t know.We split up before we even tried the whip… to be honest,I didn’t want to use it.
Alright, my dear.I understand it all.
Here you are.. drink a nice cup of tea and try these biscuits I made myself they are almond biscuits from my Penguin Jewish cookery book.
Mmmm,delicious,she cried.Are you Jewish,Stan?
No,but why should they have all the best recipes?
A good point… maybe because they had almost the first alphabet so began to write them down before anyone else could.
Not to mention they invented monogamy,a great religion,Freud,Wittgenstein,Einstein,rhinestone
.Give them an accolade. I mean,Jesus Christ!
What more do they have to do to be rewarded?
Ascend into heaven?
Make more cheesecakes?
I wonder,said Stan pondering slowly
  • The back door opened and in ran Anne,Stan’s mistress.
    She was dressed in soft teal with toning turquoise trainers and she wore a light beige foundation with bright coral lipstick making a subtle contrast… all by Lamcom of China.
  • Oh,Anne,have some tea.This is Yvette,she very kindly rescued Emile after he jumped off my bike.
    Don’t tell me he can ride a bike, Anne screamed,showing off a good set of teeth and a long red tongue.
    No,I was riding it.Stan told her sensibly.
    Hello Yvette,Anne said,where do you live?
    I live on the top road by the wood.Yvette answered politely, her auburn hair standing up in a mass off curls as she spoke,showing off to good effect her light orange lipstick and burnt sienna eye shadow…in fact it was color from her art materials..
    Have you been there long?Anne enquired politely and warmly.
    No,only a few weeks..we don’t know anyone..
    So you are married?
    Yes,my husband is in the Police Service… he cleans policemen for special occasions.
    I didn’t know anyone did that.Can’t they clean themselves?
    A self cleaning policeman…or how about putting coat of Teflon on them so they can be wiped with a wet cloth?
    It’s up to him,said Yvette.
  • I am a lecturer at Pond’s End Polytechnic.I teach philosophy..
    In a poly?
    Yes,I have a D.Phil from Oxgridge in the philosophy of science with particular reference to Dirac’s remarks on Wittgenstein.
    Do they study such remarks in a poly?
    All the students do Philosophy of Science…it’s compulsory.
    Stan said,I wish they all did Peace Studies too…
    I know,said Yvette kindly..If only we could bring peace but we are descended from the most aggressive primates…
  • why many of them were sado-masochists.Well some were sadists and the rest were masochists I gather.The ones who weren’t died out as they never mated..
    Well,I’m not a sadist,said Stan,or at least only to myself!
    Do you beat yourself up,the ladies asked.
    Just in my mind,he answered judiciously.
  • So do I thought Yvette.
    Let’s have some more tea,called Anne from the hall,I’ll make it.
    Anne is my mistress,Stan boasted humbly……
    There was little point trying to seduce Yvette now Anne had met her and vice versa.
    Yvette was intrigued.That is rare ,for such an old man to have a mistress.
    Is a wife not sufficient for you?
    A wife is necessary but not sufficient,Stan teased her.
    Well,my husband has no mistress, she said unknowingly,
    but I have several boyfriends.
    How do you get the time?
    I have a rota,she chuckled happily.
    You seem an intriguing lady.May I have your email address,mobile number and your landline?
    Your height and weight too..clothes size and shoes too.What colour is  your nightgown?
  • I beg your pardon.I have got rude with age!
    Be quiet ,you little sweetheart.
  • It’s
    yvette999@hotmail.com
    or diracisme@qmail.com
    My phone number is Oh,oh,6666666666666.7777777777777777………………..
    That’s irrational,he informed her knowingly.
    Have you got an i Pad,she then asked boldly.
    No,I’ve not even got a Kindle..do you recommend them.Maybe you could come to ComputersRus with me on Saturday.
    No, she said,I’m Jewish.
    Are Jews not permitted to visit Computer shops..Some religious edict,is it? he said inquisitively.
    It’s the Sabbath,you dimwit,she responded.We don’t shop on the Sabbath but don’t worry I’ll come on Monday with you..you are a charming man.I need as many as I can get.
    Why are you deficient in some way?Stan whispered.
    No,I’m very proficient and mildly conceited,she admitted modestly.
    And I like a good kisser.Are you a good kisser?Can you make out?That’s American for kissing.
    Well,maybe you could give me a test,he said manfully,
    and if need be you can give me some lessons followed by a total Examination to see if I satisfy you.
    Just then Anne came in with fresh tea..
    Emile mewed loudly.
    What is it.Emile ? Stan asked.
    I am jealous because we cats can’t kiss.
    Well kissing is neither necessary nor sufficient in the art of love.Rolling about together in some soil is also very nice..
    I hope you don’t expect your wife to roll about in soil,said Yvette
    questioningly..
    Well,I can ask her,Stan said,but her main interest is topology and knitting.She is often very cold in bed…
    Can’t you warm her into life;Or buy an electric blanket?
    No,she’s hopeless because of a type of Asperger’s syndrome but I love her anyway.
    Have you tried a new technique like whipping each other or tying yourself to the bedposts.You can buy handcuffs now in Boots,I hear.
    Why some doctors prescribe them on the NHS nowadays
    I thought Love was enough, Stan answered
    It seems in the UK people are into whips and handcuffs…
    Well,count me out,said Stan,I’m more into a careful yet tender study of the skin from the toes right up to to head,followed by gazing into her eyes for ten minutes.
    Why ten minutes?asked Yvette.
    I can’t wait any longer…
    Well,you’ll have to practise..she said coyly.
    I can practise with him,said Anne virtuously.
    Yes,the more the better…he’s getting older so he can’t wait.
    He needs satisfaction and love as soon as possible.
    The door bell rang,It was handsome Dave the paramedic.
    Hi,he said,I was worried as you’ve not called 999 today.I brought a leash and some whips.
    I’m Yvette,the woman said.
    I’m bisexual,he told her.
    That’s a strange name.
    Never mind that,give me your email address and phone nu,mber
    It’s ywoman@love4all.com,she said or 09964321.3333333333333333333…..
    If you’d like a non rational phone number email me at
    hotcats@hell.com.Read more freely in the Daily Slur tomorrow….on sale everywhere and making life hell as fast as they can

A trillion thought trains

How many posts can any blogger write
Before they go raving mad?
How many posts can a blogger invent
Before they get far too sad?
The answer my friends
We’re all round the bend.
The answer’s we’re all round the bend

How many rhymes can a poet invent
Before they progress to free verse?’
How many rhymes can a poet invent
When the rhymes are getting worse and worse?
The answer is plain,
It’s a million quatrains
The answer’s a trillion thought trains

I’m missing him

I ‘m missing him like we miss that lost tooth till the gum heals.

I ‘ve been in the dentist’s chair

Had the anaesthetic but still felt the tug and force.

And the dentist yelled,look at this, I got it all out in one

You see,the root was very twisted and tangled

I told him,take it away.

I’m missing my other because his absence makes a hole

like that bloody hollow in your jaw but in the soul.

Came home alone from the clinic

Felt that soul hole.

The first time when he was n’ t here.

God does n’ t do anaesthesia, just burns the bush

I’m missing him because he needed me so much

Now nobody needs me nor notices if I am here except Alfred

Or if I fall over in the garden,will I die and rot down to the earth

before my neighbour recalls he’s not seen me for three weeks.

Or maybe five.

I miss J the way you’d miss your flesh if someone shot you with a rifle and made a tunnel through your body;

took out a lump which would hurtle away and fall to earth.

I’m missing his honey smell. the knowledge,the feeling he had of me.

The hole in my space is almost tangible in this room.

I wake up and wonder what he’d like to eat today.

But the dead don’t eat at our tables do they?

I remember I am alone at the table and I can eat whatever I like.

Oh,love,why did you fail so fast,

When you were the one,solid I leaned on?

You were my man.

Irascible in verse

My father was very irascible…

His desires were often impossible.

So he kicked the poor cat

And tore  up its mat.

A  small feline scapegoat alas-ible.

Losing one’s patience is  commonplace

As the strong hit the weak  in their space.

And research now shows

That  giving a  hard  blows

Increases our rage and disgrace

Irascible has  Latin  roots

Dies irae   is  of the same  suit,

It seems apposite

With the shocking French sights,

Murder spreads to destroy   our doubts.

Irascibility  is less than enraged

Sometimes our patience is strained

But  our dearest ones know

We are not often so.

With a  good rest, our patience’s regained.

If rage has taken over our lives

Then virtue will never   thrive

Annihilation is our fear

And  we feel it is near.

We fear we may not long survive

Irascible as explained by the Collins English Dictionary

Irascible (ɪˈræsɪbəl )

Photo0009 (2) 

Definitions

adjective

  1. easily angered; irritable
  2. showing irritability   ⇒  ■ an irascible action

Derived Forms

iˌrasciˈbility, or iˈrascibleness  noun

iˈrascibly  adverb

Word Origin

C16: from Late Latin īrascibilis, from Latin īra anger

Synonyms

View thesaurus entry

= bad-tempered, cross, irritable, crabbed, touchy, cantankerous, peppery, tetchy, ratty (British)( & New Zealand) (informal), testy, chippy (informal), short-tempered, hot-tempered, quick-tempered, choleric, narky (British) (slang)

Example Sentences Including ‘irascible’

Tabor obviously had little sympathy for his irascible colleague.

Smith, Evelyn E MISS MELVILLE REGRETS

Rebecca never exited from the studio in tears as models sitting for more irascible photographers were seen doing.

Martin, Joy THE IMAGE OF LAURA

Not angry like cross or irascible or bitter — but maybe angry within.

Edward Docx THE CALLIGRAPHER (2003)

8198889_f520