Stan and his ass




Stan was outside polishing both his balding his head and the brass doorstep.”My,these microfiber cloths are wonderful” he thought joyfully.Mary was out taking a large bag of unneeded clothes to the Oxfam Charity Shop.Thank God!,thought Stan…that wardrobe is going to burst one day and spray her clothes all over the room like …what? Not cannon balls,maybe like the ghosts of dead giant sized bats!

Suddenly he heard a loud cry and then he felt a pair of hands fondling the top of his bald head.

“Eeh,no rest for the wicked,even at 81,” he screamed.He staggered to his feet and rubbed his knees.

“Just give me a hand” ,he said,”I’ll have to stretch my hamstrings.They tighten up so.”

“I’ll stretch them for you!” Annie whispered roguishly.Stan leant forward to touch his toes and she could not resist the temptation to give his bottom a tender slap.

“For Pete‘s sake,Annie” he shouted turbulently.

“Someone might see that.”

“Don’t worry,there’s no-one around at this time of the day” she tittered.

“I can’t help it anyway.I just love your ass.That’s what women like.”

“Do you normally slap the things you love?” Stan enquired politely yet firmly….what next?

“And furthermore “ass” is an American expression.

“Well,I’ve always been fond of Americans,”she whispered naughtily.

Stan recalled that her son had borne a strong resemblance to Bill Clinton but refrained from mentioning this.Anway Annie had never been to Oxford,as far as he knew and Clinton was only there for a year…though a man could father many children in a year as the terms at Oxford were only eight weeks long… leaving 28 weeks vacation.

“What do you think of my ass?” she murmered humorously.

“I’d rather have a donkey.” he said childishly.

“I could ride on it into the town.”

“You are so horrible,Stan.You never pass any  jocular yet charming remarks about my body.”

“I never knew you lacked confidence in that department,” he said peevishly.

“Besides,you know I prefer to show my feelings non verbally!

With that he pretended to kick Annie on the butt with his Hotter laced up shoes.

“Now then,what’s going on here.You seem like a couple of teenagers!”

It was Dave,the paramedic.

He had been lying behind the wheelie bins,all three bins standing plaintively in the tiny front garden, where once fragrant red roses had bloomed in summer and scratched people with their thorns all the rest of the year.

“I’m an MI5 spy,and I’ve been reading your blog,Mr Brown.”

“I’m not called Brown”,said Stan proudly.

“Refuses to accept reality,”Dave wrote in his little notepad with some blood he had taken from himself earlier,

“Jesus Christ!”,said Stan.

“Now,now” said Dave,”that’s not your name,

“No my name is Tan,not Brown,you’ve been reading the wrong blog!”

“Stan Tan!”

Dave appeared crestfallen,

“Any chairs need mending today?”

“My what beautiful ears you have,sweetheart,”he said to Annie,

“They look like sea shells,”

“Your eyes are like shallow pools in Lake Windermere during a thunderstorm.”Annie replied womanfully.

“Are you still a transvestite?” she followed on incoherently.

“And how about my ass?”

“I never knew you had an ass.Is it in the back garden?

I had a mystical experience and now I’m a Zen Bhuddist”

“How did that happen?” demanded Stan querulously.

“Well,I was knitting myself a Shetland lace sweater in pale blue mohair,and I suddenly had the feeling that everything was interwoven.

Going forward or backwards,sideways or straight ahead,it is all part of the warp and weft of life.”

“Mistakes don’t matter” he continued wildly his eyes gleaming like the preacher’s at Hyde Park Corner

“Oh,yes,they do,”Annie said pouting her full lips,cherry pink by courtesy of L’Oreal of Paris and New York

“As I was saying..,”


Emile the cat ran out expectantly,knowing the sound of a human imitating a bicycle bell.He was already salivating expectantly.

Dave dived back behind the wheelie bins.

Stan polished the brass step and Annie disappeared in a puff of smoke.

It was Mary’s famous imitation of a bicycle bell that had alerted them all to her imminent return from the Oxfam shop,fortunately.

In fact Mary knew everything but didn’t want them to know she knew,for if she knew and they knew she knew,she knew it would make life too complex.she just knew it,for sure.I know she knew,though she doesn’t know that I knew.


“Don’t they make bike bells any more?” Dave boringly wondered as he carried on reading the new life of the poet Emily Dickinson named

“A loaded gun.”

He had thought it was an army training manual,but,hey,mistakes don’t matter!

Or do they?

Read the next instalment yesterday at your local newsagent,free at the point of service just like the NHS and watch your ass as you never know who else is watching it.Though as you will never know,this fact will never impinge on you.Though you may feel a kind of tingling sometimes…

You know it makes sense!Sometimes,at least.


I have had to imitate a bicycle bell all my life till now….I have real bell on my cool is that?

Annie breaks into Stan’s sacred space

Some old Greek writing
Some old Greek writing (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Stan was polishing the windows again with his  big microfibre cloth.The computer was on.As soon as he finished the sitting room windows he planned to look at a google document he was co-writing with hislfriend Annie, on the failings of the British Empire..She only lived next door but they both liked sharing new techniques of various kinds.
He sat down in front of his computer and looked at his email.
There was one from Annie.

“Hi Stan
I didn’t really want to keep some of those remarks you  wrote at the bottom of our document when we were both online,so I have deleted them.  We should have gone into chat mode.They were not related to the topic we were discussing so I know you won’t be mind.And if you ask again we can chat either online or in person about sex and people’s lives
With  my  love,dearest one ,Annie


Stan felt  furiously angry and cross.  How could she know if he minded or not?
He went dark red as if his head was bursting.What was so dreadful about his remarks?He had only asked Annie if her dead husband George might have been bisexual.Stan had once seen him kissing another man  in the bushes in the park.Annie didn’t seem bothered last night.She never gave the impression to  me she didn’t like it.Maybe she’s not quick enough to react
Anyway she should not have deleted it completely without asking me first.
He sat down on his old Habitat chair [recently mended free on the NHS by Dave the paramedic,] and he  sent her an email saying he was furious with her for attacking his freedom of speech.It was unethical.It .He must assert himself.He would show her!
So he was not going to work with her on any more documents ever again nor chat on IM or Google Chat. Of course he still loved her but his anger was too strong for him to ignore.

Cat alone
When Annie got the email she was completely stunned like a cow   ready to be e.She apologized to Stan immediately but he refused to accept it  ever  even though she begged piteously for forgiveness.
Why did he want to know if George was bisexual, she wondered.Was he saying it to try to turn himself on or me? Or is he just interested in  all  different kinds of sex   and human behavior generally ,like most people are ?But it was not concerned with the document which was about ill treatment of prisoners in India under the British Empire and relating it to other acts  of outrage by the British   Government elsewhere.
I wanted to talk about us,not poor dead George.Whatever George’s sex life,he’s dead now.So l we should leave him in peace.
Meantime.Stan was thinking about how women were always interfering in his life,correcting him and improving his grammar.Making him cups of tea when he wanted brandy and some HP sauce  with his lamb chops not salad
He liked talking about bisexuality.It made him feel a sense of wonder at the differing habits and desires of humans.Why couldn’t she just go along with it or at least say something then rather than deleting his words secretly when he was off-line?Though maybe mentioning George was insensitive even though George was dead.
He was a man .He was not going to let a woman ride over him like a steam roller. Annie must learn her place in the scheme of things.

Where is that,asked his beautiful tom cat Emile.
I’m not sure but it’s not above me.It’s either the same or lower.
Can’t you forgive her.She may be in another dimension,another space altogether,another universe of discourse?[He’d been reading  his Wittgenstein again]
Certainly not .No way.Stan answered,
But you love her,you said many times in here.I heard you
All the more reason to maintain some boundaries. Love is not the be all and end all of life for a man!
Next she’ll be cutting bits off me with her dressmaking shears,he cried in outrage and horror!
She’ll castrate me.She’ll turn me into a woman.

6819924_f1126074c2_m altered
She won’t,she’s just a daft  postmenopausal woman,said Emile.She wouldn’t ever harm you.she’s very know that,don’t you?
She has invaded me,she has crossed my boundary.
Some people would be glad,mewed the cat.He was always hoping a lady cat would come by. and cross his boundaries or more correctly.he would  be allowed cross hers.
Meanwhile Annie was sitting sobbing  feverishly in her bedroom.She really enjoyed co-writing documents and news sheets with Stan.Now he won’t do it any more, she whispered . He was really mad with her.He must be feeling upset and aggravated beyond  all human endurance.She had assumed too much and now she was paying the price as she lay  on her purple duvet cover with two boxes of Kleenex for men.Even  finding  the Kleenex required for all her sobbing was too much for her.

Cracks in the pavement
She cried and sobbed loudly for a while.Her eyes were bright red and bloodshot. She was so  very sad she had unwittingly distressed dear  Stan.Life is so tough she thought reluctantly.I wish I were somewhere else……maybe in Heaven with George and his bisexual lovers  beside all playing harps or mouth organs  and whatever else the could find up there.
Still,there were those new neighbours who had just moved in across the road.Two brothers,both very handsome.I wonder if they like writing on the computer,she thought.That cheered her up a bit,though she was very fond of Stan.In fact she loved him greatly and had kissed him  many times though she had never actually gone to bed with him ;never known him in the biblical sense.Was that the problem?Too late now either way,she muttered quietly to her goldfish Wayne who agreed with her analysis of the situation .
So in her mind she was moving from loving and adoring Stan to being  loving  towards yet puzzled by him.Was he afraid of being dominated by a woman?What would he be like as a lover?

But why try to talk about bisexuality?Could he not have thought of something else?Like female  orgasms or kissing better?
There was a new book by Betty Dodson teaching  frozen women how to have orgasms.Would he have enjoyed discussing female anatomy and pleasuring her naked female body and all the rest.
Well,she would never know now.That was certain.Thank God I’ve found out what he’s like before things went any further.He might be a little too dominating.Though a certain amount is necessary for the  consummation of love.She was so upset her thoughts began to turn towards women.
Would it be better all round to love a woman instead?Especially as I could show her how to have an orgasm having being studying this book for some weeks?Though she may already know,I guess.Still,a change is as good as a rest, so  the proverb says.
How do I find a woman who’s into other woman, as it were, she thought.Can I find one on the internet?Will there be a club we can go to? How exciting!
So Annie grew more optimistic.A woman wouldn’t mind a few words deleted from a chat either.So a feeling of mild joy came over her and her sobbing died down.

Stan was sitting in his kitchen feeling superior and dominant.Except Annie had not come for coffee so it was hard being dominant all by himself.He began to feel depressed and morose.Should he change his mind?Would he lose his window of opportunity?
Why is life so trying.Why are women so manipulative, why do they all turn out fakes and bitches,he asked Emile.Why won’t they love me as I am?
It’s partly one’s own character,Emile replied.
Hearing this Stan lost his temper and threw  the kettle of boiling water at Emile.Luckily it missed but Emile stalked out and went off to the shed leaving Stan more alone than ever.
How hard life is Stan shouted. I feel like topping myself. I”ll jump off the roof. of the civic center.I’m going to ring the f*****g Samaritans.
Just then his wife Mary walked in.What’s up Stan?
Nothing dear.I just dropped a brick on my toe
Why have you got a brick in here,in the lounge?
I was playing with it.
With a brick?
Well,it has a certain cold masculinity,he replied assertively
Cold masculinity?. Shall I make some drinks? Mary asked tenderly
Yes,please,dear,very kind
Oh,look there’s Annie walking past arm in arm with a woman.
I knew George was bisexual but now I see she is also or maybe she’s turned quite gay!Were they both gay?
Well,it’s not our business,said Mary quietly.
Aha,thought Stan.That’s what you think.If only you could see inside my mind!Inside his mind though ,he was wondering if Annie would ever see him again.But I will not forgive her,I won’t.I won’t!
What he might have said more truthfully was “Can’t”
For indeed,it is hard to forgive people for trampling into one’s sacred space even if it is an accident or misjudgment not a deliberate attempt to dominate.but …….
Life is sweet and yet very hard too for all of us but forgiveness helps

Kleenex logo
Kleenex logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Stan’s mind starts to wander

  • Stan put on his hat and went down the spring green garden where a blackbird trilled.The sunlight was very strong,almost glaring in intensity.That’s an interesting word,more commonly used to describe the angry expression on the face of an adult who believed he is a position of power,he thought.
    It pains most people to be glared at, he reminded himself.
    Stan’s wife Mary had a habit of humming or even singing as she went about her day at work or home.Usually sshe didn’t realise!
    He recalled the day she came home from her Art Class to amuse him with a tale of a very wealthy and dominating lady who had suddenly glared at Maru and shrieked,
    Is there something wrong with you?
    Mary said,
    Yes, there is actually. but I don’t usually talk about it except with the doctors.
    Why not ? shrieked the woman nastily in her dominatrix style
    Well,I thought it might upset folk to hear I am terminally ill but in your case I’ll make an exception.
    Well,I don’t give a f*ck, you are annoying, me was the reply that she received.
    Even if you are dying right now that is no excuse for humming in the class.
    Well,said the teacher,I always thought you were a very superior person,Nancy,but now I hear you insulting my newest pupil in public I believe I was mistaken.
    Oh,Mary had told Stan, it seems that humming” Neasden” in the class, albeit unconsciously. is far worse than to be seriously ill.
    There is no sense of proportion now…surely anyone can see there is no comparison though I prefer hearing the Trout Quintet,myself,he had told her
    Fortunately Mary’s illness had been completely cured by a new drug and she was able to continue her Art and riding her bicycle.Nancy was too proud to apologise but after hearing Mary was going to recover completely she had offered her  a quarter of a broken chocolate biscuit at coffee time.
    You are too thin, she admonished Mary,but I have come to like your humming and am even thinking of trying it myself.How do you do it?
    I can’t say,Mary answered,it just happens.
    I see,said Nancy.Perhaps I’ll go to a singing teacher.
    I hope she does instead of coming here,Mary thought as she still glares at me wherever I sit.She’s a bit like those pictures of Saints whose eyes seem to be on you and follow you wherever you sit in the room  in a judgmental way.
    Stan’s mind was wandering as he gazed over his fence.He remembered when he first met Mary when her bicycle had been stolen from outside a Public Library and he had helped her to look for it.In fact it was he who had stolen it in order to have an excuse to speak to her.How singularly blue her eyes were when she smiled graciously at any man nearby.As her conscious mind was on a branch of mathematics it left her unconscious free to seek what it desired free of all constraints thus causing mayhem until June when term ended and only the ancient postgraduates were left in the deserted city free to play with non-linear diffferential equations all day blong

At random

A friend told me that about 3 weeks after my husband died I would get men coming to the door asking if I wanted to sleep with them.So far I’ve only had

1.A pizza deliverer who rang the wrong bell

2.A Thames water engineer to give me a new head for the shower and to quizz me on my use of water.

3.An Amazon delivery of a Japanese maple tree.

4 A letter telling me that my husband owes them one week of his pension  since he died at 2.30 pm on the day it was paid.Well,they can go to Hell… maybe they’ll get it there!

5.A woman trying to convert me to be a Mormon.I said I was already a Catholic but they don’t mind.So then I said I am an agnostic so she asked me how to spell it.Then I passed out and when I came round a man was staring at me.He was a paramedic from down the road.

6.A man collecting money for lepers… not very convincing.

Anyway,why would  I want to make love with a complete stranger when I can do it with someone I adore.,… namely,myself!It’s less dangerous too   and less immoral as you are not leadinf a man into sin are you? Or a woman either.Can you lead yourself into sin,I wonder,Ask a Jesuit.. they usually know all the answers.I know men can’t spill their seeds according to the Bible  but can we women lay our eggs at random?

Did he like his dinner?

I asked my husband if he liked his dinner and he went
Call that a dinner?
So I said,What do you mean?
He said,where’s the bloody mustard?
I said I don’t know but the Colman’s is on the table.You’ll have to wait till next week if you want the bloody type.
Unless I cut my finger and let some drip onto your meat.
He said,you know I like it rare.
So I said,I don’t know if mine’s rare but it’s all my own.
Then a loud voice said,No it’s not!
O.M.G I cried.
So he said, what?
I said,send me some salt and vinegar crisps.Then thousands fell from the sky and I’ve never prayed since.I’ve been too busy eating them all to replace the salt I loose in sweating heavily in night clubs and dens of iniquity.I know I shouldn.t go but Satan is so tempting I can’t say No in case he attacks me with his fork or is that Neptune?
It’s a queer world

The pirhana monologues

Hello,can you put me through to the vulva clinic?
We have no vulgar clinics here.
I said vulva
Oh, the valve clinic?
Not heart valves…
What tyre valves?
Surely you don’t treat bikes?
I run a little business on the side.
I have a little vulva right in the middle and I want to speak to the clinic.
Vulva is a very rude word.
Worse than shit?
Well. it depends on what scale of measurement you use
Like nominal,ordinal,interval or ratio?
I suppose it must be nominal.Like some privileges
We need to weigh our words then we can use a ratio scale like the scale of measurement for height…
But nobody is of zero height!
You don’t know.They could be here but we can’t see them except as marks on the floor…
So vacuuming is cruel as these folk of zero height would get sucked up.
There’s no way of falsifying it.
There’s no way of verifying it…
So it’s not rocket science.
It’s not rude.
Anyway there’s a play called the Vagina Monologues.
If they called it the Vulva Monologues it could sound like vulgar.
How about the Diviner Monologues?
Sounds good to me…
Regina,diviner,vagina,pirhana.,… where are ye?
Some men there are teeth in there that will bite off their penis…
You have to laugh or else you’d cry.
BTW what is that vulva number?
It’s in the maternity unit,as was.
Well put me through
OK no need to get aeriated.Live and let live…
It’s all nominal on the end

Stan gets visited by two lovely ladies

Stan was standing on a small step ladder washing his windows yet again with a clean blue microfibreand elastane cloth and some windolene he had bought in Tesco’s
I don’t know why I bother,he whispered to Emile, who as usual was watching from the back of the sofa,which he was “milking” gently with his paws.
With all the rain,the outside of the windows was besmirched by leaves and bits of mud.A  wiser man might have left it alone but Stan had O.C.D which made him very jumpy if he failed to carry out certain tasks… so he made use of it in house chores and baking perfect cakes and buns..and in taking  snaps of frogs,birds and flowers.Mental disorder can be useful sometimes.
All of a sudden he heard clattering footsteps…
Up the garden path walked two women dressed in the latest style of 3/4 length silk cargo trousers with matching blouses, all in a subtle shade of violet.Except for their faces,of course,which were both a light shade of beige and they had Revlon peach blusher on their cheeks and Chanel scarlet lipstick…on their lips.They also wore dark blue nail varnish from Rimmel
“Good morning,Stan!” called one of them.”We are Anne‘s cousins from Pittsburgh.She told us to call on you today.”
“Well,I never knew wearing expensive makeup ran in the genes… can there be any other explanation?”Stan cried.
“Anne told us we must wear it all the time in the UK.”
she responded,”even in bed.”
“You seem a bit fast,” he answered,
“I’m not sure I want to go to bed and as you seem like identical twins,which of you should I bed?”
They burst out laughing….oh,what a noise!
“I was just saying what she told us,not meaning that you need to go to bed with us.In fact, we sleep together at night.”
“As children that would be normal,but don’t you think you should separate now?People might think you are gay!”
“We never worry about stuff like that… and by the way,this is Ruby and I am Rosie.”
“I’ll put on the kettle and make you some coffee,” the dear man said in a kind tone of voice,before he went into the kitchen and swallowed a handful of red and green striped valium tablets.
“I wish the psychiatrist would give me some therapy.I don’t like taking valium but I seem to be having visions again… and I don’t want to get worse..I never heard Anne mention cousins in the USA. I wonder if CBT would help me?”he said to Emile.
“I see visions all the time,” the cat replied in a matter of fact and calm way.
“Do they not make you feel anxious?”Stan called.
“No,I just watch them drift by,” purred Emile.”I enjoy them.”
“I wish these two women would drift off.”responded the weary yet charming old man.Ruby and Rosie came inside and admired the kitchen where colanders in many colours hung from the wall into which someone had knocked a few dozen nails.
“”Why do you have sixteen colanders?”asked Rosie.
“Why do you think everything has a reason?”Stan replied.
“I can see you studied philosophy,” Ruby cried disconsolately.
“No,I have just read Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein eight times,” he quipped merrily.
“Wow,is it not boring?”
“’s so good it put me off reading lesser books.And I love to understand things,”
Just then Stan tripped on the rug and fell over unconsciously
.Emile picked up his mobile with its full Qwerty key pad and texted 999.
“Why are you texting?”asked Ruby.
“Well,it difficult to mioaw down a phone and now I have this Blackberry it’s so easy…. why even a mouse could do it.”
“Do you know many mice,Emile?” enquired Ruby wistfully
Rosie slowly made some instant coffee, walking around poor Stan ,unconscious on the floor…and she and her twin sat down on some white Swedish chairs at the old oak table and drank it,gazing shyly at the huge weigelia blooming outside in the shed.
The front door opened and in ran Dave,the bisexual paramedic.
“Is it you,Emile.Have you lost your hankie again.Are you sad?” he moaned nervously.
“No,it’s Stan… but at least he’s not broken the chair”
Stan came too and looked up…
“Oh, lovely,I feel much better for that nap” he said brightly.
“Don’t you have a bed to sleep in?” said Ruby querulously.”I like your mean expression,my dear man.”
“Now,look here said Stan,”I’m too old for any monkey business.
Besides,I don’t know if you are real.”
“We just wondered why you slept on the floor.”
“A man has to do what a man has to do,” came the mystifying response.
“Now that Dave is here,he can take one of you and I’ll take the other.”
“Where will you take us”the twins asked delightfully….
“Do you fancy the cinema… they are showing Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday”
“Don’t tell me he’s still on his summer holiday!” riposted Ruby
“Let’s go in the ambulance.I’ll lie on the stretcher” offered Rosie generously..
“I’ll lie by you,”said Dave.” and Emile can drive.Stan and Ruby can lie on the floor.”
Sometimes life seems so simple,it’s rather like a dream controlled..
Controlled by what,asked Emile,clutching his Blackberry.
But answer came there none…
And that was very odd because.. they’d vanished every one…
To read more,why not take out a subscription?At just £100 a day,it’s value for money…as money no longer has any value!

In my end is my beginning

We were  both staring at what was hurting  our shared boundary.

What we had in common was a pasting of grammar and  some full stops from the  old church organ..

not much help to a pair of  old fools.

especially when it was just a mouth organ from a bizarre barre ballet shop in Covent Garden

We were speechless  like  a pair of  cowardly  sheep up a mountain  in  Wales

.Not a baaa baaa between us.

Up till then nothing  had come between us except rhymes or reams of  blotting paper

Well,there is a saying:neither rhyme nor reason  and we certainly had no reason….

I’m only teasing.

We were as irrational as the square root of two.i.e.rational in the wrong  sort of way.

Unexpected, like almost everything in this life, but full of seasoning.

Rationality was  initially based on proportion then subsequently on distortion

and later contortion into  the field of the imaginary

.Everything is imaginary … that’s oblivious to me, anyway.

And everything  is abstract too.

Except lions in the zoo and me and you.

Shall we call it a day now?

I  am happy with my sentence of a week in the wilderness.

Call that a sentence?

No arguing, as you may be persecuted and scolded at an auction sale.

And that is  only the end of it all.. we lost the beginning in the womb of time.

Well,may be you can remember In my end is my beginning

For all ,Cat licked every tear…

Ray Queers cat’s in parquet.
They are waiting for our partitions.
Say but the word and my sole shall be heeled.
Guarded the angels from seven sodomites.
Hail glorious St Hat Trick.
Lord, it’s hearsay.
Lord, I’m worser
Forgive all dear trespassers.
Blessed is the foot of thy broom.
Pay for us now and the whore at our death.
I believe in none,God.
The communion of taints.
But Joseph had a bee.
Jesus wants me for his bathroom.
The Ten Demanding Torments are here.
Have you paid your wrecks yet?
For all the saints who laboured at their tests
For all the painted ghosts
Remember man thy tart is bust
Ash to ash,dust if you must
For give us an hour’s trespassing and we shall be in heaven already.
Please do as you would have fun by

Thank you too much for the fight

I say,dear,this bed is quite right.

Do you mean that itn dreams we fly kites?

You’re so clever you will soon be too bright.

Why,thank you so much,when’s your  flight?

Can’t  I stay here for our fight?

I have no clean pants to incite

I lust for your tender Goodnight.

Some folk can hide in plain sight.i

Don’t roll your eyes when they are bright.

Arthritis gives chastity frights

His heart failed but he functioned,well ,,quite.

Her  heart pains gave thrills  to their rites

They died but said heaven’s alright


In the bread basket with Moses


Moses was an Eruption, I hear.So he had to be kept warm in a bread basket.
Then Foureyes daughter let him gloat down on the River Nile…till a bull rushed him.
That turned him into a shrew and he found God.. or God found him.
But God would not let him find Galilee by himself so he found Emilee ,Loelee and Phoebilee instead.
He had many children such as Matthew,Hark,Look and Gone.They were all men and had more children with no wives.They didn’t have any women so who did Cain and Abel marry?Eve?
Is this what Freud never realized… men used to marry their mothers and later their daughters who were also their sisters,Crikey,what a blunder
Blimey what is this Hebrew Bible?Libel?
As we were taught in school, Daniel lived with a lion and a lamb.I’m unsure if they had children…. it might explain a lot if they did.
And finally Solomon was very wise.It was easier then when there was no judge or jury to stop him cutting a baby in two… well, he was just pretending,I think.
I say,the Shrews were very shrewd indeed and also very clever.Like, who told Adam and Eve what to do before Masters and Johnson wrote that book.. Human Textual despondency?
In any case Adam could not read.In fact they didn’t write either.And to think children here can write so young.Adam and Eve were a bit lacking but they have lots of family
Everybody on Earth… pity they are dead and can’t see us though God knows they’d be shocked if they saw our behaviour to our family.
I blame the apples,myself… what do you think?

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