Satan’s holiday part 2

Stan was very worried that the police had caught him.He didn’t realize that with the low sun the mirror in his pocket was flashing out coded messages to aircraft.He got out of the car and walked over to the police on the grassy verge of the road
I’m so sorry,it’s just my wife’s solif gold powder compact.See?
Have you got your marriage certificate with you?
Well,no.I didn’t know we in the UK needed to show them to the police. demurred Stan
It may belong to your wife but you are a man.Men don’t carry them.We never saw one before.
Certain men might of course..actors or politicians.I know Tony Blair wore make up.
That’s irrelevant.Give me that compact.
Stan pulled the golden compact out of his pocket,still open.
The police man stared into the mirror.His face turned pale.He handed the compact to Stan and ran back to his car asking the driver to take him to the nearest boiling Tea Shop.
Stan looked at Satan and grinned…
What did you do?
I just held up a photo I have of him in bed with a sheep….need I say more?
Did you enjoy seeing that?Stan asked naughtily
Not much.~I prefer your flame haired mistress with her perfume of Araby.
So you can smell then?
Oh,yes,said the devil.Sure I can.
So Stan started the car and off they went;all the lights were green and not a single police car was on duty.
Soon they reached Upper Sheringham.The people here are very long lived.
I know it’s the best place to live….
then they turned down the old High Street and parked by a gambolling shop.
Now what?
Will the sea cheer up a sad old devil?We must await the piece of the story with interest and patience.
Email me with ideas at
merrymaryminds@hot.com

Emile cries:Where can a cat carry his own hanky?

Source: Kathryn

Source: Kathryn

Source: Kathryn

Stan was sweeping the garden path.He had a stiff broom with a small head that was useful for cleaning the edges of the steps.Emile, his beautiful cat was sitting in the old apple tree gazing down on Stan.
“Is it time for coffee yet,”Stan asked himself.He had forgotten to put on his watch.
Suddenly he heard a shriek.He peered through a hole in the fence.His neighbour Annie was lying on her back in some mud.
“Hang on,I’ll come round!” he called.
There was a gate in the old fence which was rarely locked
since Annie loved to drop in on Stan.
“Oh,Annie,how are you feeling?” he asked her anxiously.
“Bloody annoyed.I’ve only just bought these,”Not your daughter’s jeans” and now I’ve torn them,” she replied politely.
“But you don’t have a daughter!” he informed her loudly.
“I know that.It’s just they are better cut for the mature figure.”
“Your figure is not mature.You are quite slender.my dear,” he murmured lovingly.
“Well,I never feel happy with it!” she said mutinously.
“Whereas I am very happy feeling it,” he responded romantically.
Tears came into her green eyes lined with purple eye shadow.Alas,it was not waterproof and purple rivulets ran down her cheeks across the peach blusher with which she had valiantly decorated herself earlier.
“Can you get up?” he asked tenderly.
“Yes, but it would be nice if you picked me up.”
He leaned over her and licked the purple streams of tears off her cheeks.
“I hope it’s not poisonous,” she murmured.
Then with the aid of Emile,he lifted her to her feet and helped her into her large trendy kitchen.
The kettle switched itself on as they entered and a robotic voice asked if they’d like coffee.
“God in heaven,what the hell is that?” he cried confusedly.
“It’s my new computerised hot drink maker.After that fall I think a double espresso would be good.”
Emile ran in and asked for coffee too.
“Emile,you usually have milk,”Stan reminded him softly.
“Well,coffee is a new taste for me but I like a little.”
the cat whispered sweetly.
“I’ll give you some of mine in a saucer,” Stan replied.
Emile began to sob.
“Why Emile,whatever is wrong?”
“I want a cup and saucer just like you” the cat howled.
But you have no hands,Emile,” Stan reminded him.
The poor cat was crying loudly now.So Stan rang 999.
“Can you please send the emergency ambulance round.the cat’s crying and all his hankies are in the wash.”#
Soon Dave,the transvestite paramedic appeared.
“I love your light teal kitchen,” he informed Annie,
“And your eyes look like two deep pools in a coal mine.”
She slapped his cheek naughtily.
“Have a look at Emile” she ordered him sweetly.
He turned to the cat who was sitting on the dark pine table.
“Here,Emile,I got you some Kleenex for Cats in Sainsburys.” he said gaily.
“I want a real hanky,”cried Emile.Dave took a clean hanky from his own pocket and dried the cats tears.
“What made you cry.Are you feeling bad.”
“Yes,I want to go to Cafe Nero,” Emile mioawed.
“Who told you about that?”
“Another cat down the road has been and he said it’s lovely for people watching.”
“The town is not safe for cats like you,Emile.”
Dave urbanely replied,
“But when summer come I’ll take you to the out of town
Marks and Spencers.They have a cat’s coffee corner upstairs.”
“Wow,isn’t it amazing,”Stan wondered out loud.
So Dave poured out the coffee and they all sat down and
discussed Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein.
Ray has discovered that Wittgenstein liked cats but as he moved around quite a bit,he never owned his own cat
though Elizabeth Anscombe let him play with her three cats now and then.
We may all be different but most of us value the love of a good cat.Even boiling their hankies and ironing them is very nice.We all have this problem though.
Where can a cat carry his own hanky?
Do cats need shoulder bags?
What would Wittgenstein say?

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..,”

“Dingle,dongle,dingle,dongle”…

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 bike..how cool is that?

Annie breaks into Stan’s sacred space (wordscat.wordpress.com)
Stan teaches a class a sense of proportion (wordscat.wordpress.com)

Annie’s new autumn outfit

Annie was getting ready to go out with Stan to a Wedding.She wore her newest Autumn/Winter clothes.On her lower half she wore a full,long snakeskin print skirt over a fifties style stiff petticoat whilst on her top half she wore a deep ochre boat necked jumper.Underneath her skirt a pair of chafe prevention shorts gave her extra warmth.She debated for a while about shoes and eventually decided her teal calf length boots from Hotters’ Sale with a pair of socks from Next would suffice,She looked in the mirror.Her freshly washed hair[ with a sulfate free shampoo ] sprang from her head not unlike one of the Gorgons’ distant relatives.

Picking up her full length leopard skin coat from Jacques Vert and her red handbag she ran to the door where Stan stood.He wore a machine washable suit from Marks and Spencer with a blue flowered shirt and striped multicoloured tie from TieRack .His short hair was covered by a woollen hat as they were going to a Jewish Wedding and he did not wish to offend anyone with his bald head.

How does my new makeup look asked Annie?

I can’t see it at all,Stan said shyly.Do I need my reading glasses?

It’s what they call the natural look,she replied.I have got on continuously creamy foundation in light beige over Clarins every day moisturiser and tjeir sunblock Factor 50.

It is so expensive that I can’t eat meat fo a month.

My goodness, Stan moaned.What shade is that lipstick?

It’s called Romantic Rose,she said .but it’s really more a light coral with a hint of red.

As for my eye makeup,it’s the usual purple mascara and teal eyeshadow.

Do you think coral and purple go together? said Stan querulously.

Never mind,she replied,I am more worried about my skirt.Is snakeskin a mistake at a Wedding ?

Oh,no,said Stan.It will remind people of Adam and Eve in Eden.And the snake is also a phallic symbol which seems good..I am just not sure about the leopardskin coat.

Don’t worry she replied I have got a plain dark brown coat in pure new wool here.Shall I wear that?

Stan sat down on a folding chair to wait for her to finish powdering her complexion with MaxFactor Creme powder and topping her lipstick with a thin coat of some preservative so that if she kissed anyone the lipstick would not bleed into the fine lines around her mouth.

Suddenly Stan’s chair folded up and threw him to the ground.

Is it broken ,he asked nervously from the doormat..

No, it’s ok.I don’t want to ring 999 now.Let’s see how it is when we get back.

Right,said Stan.Let’s go before any more chairs collapse or any paramedics arrive.

Modesty again

Stan and his sweet blonde girlfriend Anne were studying government data on inflation.He wanted to give a lecture for senior citizens.

Why are you wearing those smart wool trousers and black tights,darling? he enquired kindly.

Well,it’s the the fashion dear heart, and more modest than a mini skirt for if I bend over I’m protected.Her answer seemed ludicrous With her sweet bosom,hips and tight clothing it was hard for Anne to give any semblance of modesty.

Wouldn’t a maxi skirt be modest?I saw some in Marks last week.I bought one for Mary

Do you often buy her clothes? Annie asked with surprise.

She used to do it once …. but she stopped because she’s hopeless at dressing.She’go out in pyjamas left to herself

Well,silk jim jams are the summer fashion this year.

Can I have some,please? miaowed the cat,Emily.

You already have some silk nightgowns… four!

Do you really buy nightgowns for the cat?asked Anne incredulously

Well she sleeps with me now you know,as I like to hear someone breathing at night.Mary is downstairs studying algebra.She only needs three hours sleep.And she has no interest in loving me.It’s a puzzle how she bore our two daughters Lyra and Desiree.She says she found them under a gooseberry bush, but they look very like Bill Clinton.

Was Bill fond of gooseberry bushes too?They have big thorns.

He would not let a few thorns put him off…he’s a very tough man.

What about goats’ horns.. would they put him off? Or Matterhorns?

Let’s get back to statistics,my beloved,Stan murmured foolishly

I’ll just boil the kettle,my lambkin

I prefer boiling water for coffee.

Stan was famed for his wacky sense of humor………….amongst the friends of theirs who all taught maths or played cricket for England.Annie walked away looking charming in her black wool city shorts with shiny patent leather boots.Her chest distracted him as she wore only a yellow vest.

Have you not got a cardigan ,darling,he whispered shyly.

No,the moths ate it but I’m going shopping later she muttered

.I hope you’ll wear a coat.You might catch a chill,he said anxiously

Fret not,,I’ll drive down.Annie screamed
.You are 55 now you know…you are not a girl.Modesty is a wise trait for mature ladies. Modesty………I gave that up years ago.I dress how I feel.

Well,you make me want a feel.Suddenly the leg fell of his chair and it collapsed tossing him onto the floor,As he lay there he muttered sarcastically,

I blame those trousers of yours! Call 999.

She tore off her trousers to reveal some black silky lace flowered underwear

Is that better? she enquired chastely .

I suggest you get tested forAsperger’s syndrome,he shouted.

I have enough trouble with Tourette’s she whispered tenderly.It makes me say bad words…………..

I’ve never heard you.What sort of words?

Like, “Be off,you silly twit.”

That sounds funny to me.he responded sweetly.

Can you tell me some more bad words?

No I can’t,you dolt!

Why not,my angel?

Well,isn’t this a family friendly web site?

Nowadays,what does family mean?Two ladies who love one another and their child fathered by the cat.

I never knew it was the cat.I’ve often wondered about that.Emily purred happily as she was hoping to have kittens soon with her boyfriend Emile who was in the garden.

Look it’s tea time.I hear Mary ‘s bike.Get up off the floor and get a hammer I can mend that chair.

Wow,you are so clever……we men are unneeded now! Stan informed her ironically.

Don’t be silly.I love you,the dearest.Thanks you so much…it’s good to hear those sweet words. meant I want the dearest maxi skirt as a reward,she said saucily.

Women,Stan thought wryly. Can’t live with them;can’t live without them.Go and put on your nightdress Emily.Warm up the bed.I’m having an early night.

Quick,get up.Mary is here.she’ll imagine the worst if she sees you on the floor.She’ll think you are ill!

No,I know what you do on that rug,you little minx! t was Mary who had crept in in her bare feet.Look at you,no shoes!How vulgar.You look like a fraction!

Better than looking like a decimal!

Now,said Stan,have a cup of tea and then we can have a sit down on the rug and study algebra and geometry.

What a nice man he is!Why is Annie so keen on decimals see my next instalment… when I pay it!

Baptism by love:Stan suffers in the Rehab Unit

Art by Katherine

After church on Sunday Mary decided to visit Stan , her elderly ,gentle and frail husband in the Rehabilitation Unit where he had been sent recently by a strange physiotherapist…He was unhappy as the diuretics made him pee even mo e often than he used to do and he got very worried about it because his bad heart made it extremely hard for him to walk.
When she went into the small four bed ward she saw Stan sitting on his chair without any pyjama trousers on even though it was visiting time from 3 to 8 pm.
Why has he no trousers on? Mary asked a nurse angrily, her blue eyes full of unshed glistening tears which almost washed off her turquoise mascara and made runnels in her honey beige foundation by Rimmel of London and Paris
He keeps wanting to go to the toilet so it’s easier for us all if he has no pants on,the nurse told her haughtily.He’s on diuretics,you see as he has water in his lungs and other inner organs and the water has to be removed from his body,Sheila ,the nurse announced ina cold voice
What about the lack of dignity in baring him to the world,Mary enquired softly yet piercingly her eyes dripping tears again.
Dignity,what’s that? the nurse said insolently.He is just a pest. And old men don’t deserve any attention.We are tired of them.They should all die now.Thats’s government policy it appears
Emile who had hidden in Mary’s old,but good olive green Radley leather handbag let out a sound like a banshee in Cork or a demon in a nightmare.
The nurse looked quite frightened
What’s that? she whispered to Mary behind her hand.
It’s probably Satan coming to say ” hello” to you as you seem very wicked to me.Mary informed her politely yet honestly in her Northern way.
Oh my,what shall I do? the nurse asked in a trembling voice.I am so upset now.
You could try reading the Ten Commandments,Mary riposted jocosely… if it’s not too late.
Or recalling the Golden Rule………
I’ve never heard of the golden rule,said the nurse.Is it a measuring instrument of some unusual type?
Yes,in a sense it is,Mary said.It measures us by our compassion towards others.And you seem to have none for Stan.Can you not imagine what it’s like being a man sitting half naked in a public room with no recourse?
What’s a recourse,Sheila, the nurse, asked her thoughtfully,Is it a garment like a dressing gown?
No,it’s a a source of help in a difficult situation.It’s a remedy or an option
I have a higher degree in nursing,Sheila boasted stupidly.
I don’t care if you have a doctorate in nursing and philosophy,Mary cried.It’s what you do and say to the patients that counts.And going to an evening class in English would do you no harm.Your vocabulary is limited,to say the least.And words are useful whatever job you do.Or even if you are unemployed it helps you deal with bureaucrats
Oh,dear,said the nurse,I am sorry for being so thoughtless.I am always thinking about sex,love and clothes instead of the patients.I see now I have fallen into evil ways and hope I can improve a little.
You have been cruel, said Mary.And seeing my aged husband like this is breaking my heart.
She went over to Stan and sat by him.He fell against her bosom hungrily.Alas it was not for erotic reasons.His blood sugar was only 2 and his BP was 60/40.He was dying there with no trousers on and with no-one but Mary to help him… and Emile, their small intelligent black cat ,of course.Unfortunately Emile’s trousers were too small for Stan

.Mary wrapped a bath towel around Stan and held him in her arms.
Stan tried to speak but Mary could not make out what he was saying.Tears ran down her beautiful lined and wrinkled face and dripped onto Stan’s head.I suppose one might say it was a kind of baptism by love.Now Stan will be entering a new dimension and will be given a new and better name by One who cannot be named here.But you catch my drift?

Judgement is mine says the Lord.

Mary gets yet another letter from the hospital

The postman was very late coming that morning.Stan was asleep in his armchair whilst Annie was analysing some data on the political alignments of the over fifties group in Knittingham.Mary was upstairs daydreaming.

Hi. Mary…Annie called.There’s a letter for you from the hospital.
Mary came down, her face a little pale with anxiety.She opened it slowly.Inside it had the following announcement

Your appointment on 5th October at 3 am with Dr Paramour has been cancelled..
We can offer you he following appointment:
5th October 2014 at 3 am in the usual clinic
This will be with Dr Paramour unless he goes on holiday again.He will remove your tumour and your humor as well.

Stan read the letter.
Why have they sent this? he asked bemusedly as he blinked with his nice blue eyes.
Mary phoned the hospital.She spoke to a charming young man.
What does it mean? she enquired.Why give such a silly letter out.
It means nothing,the man said,It’s the computer.
Computers follow programmes.We’ve had this type of stupid letter many times in the last 6 months….it’s using paper and postage apart from the worry.Why can’t someone alter the programme?
I don’t know,the pleasant man replied.I think nobody understands it.
Don’t they realise that keeping patients calm and trusting is part of the healing process?
No,they don’t he answered despondently.We have to answer the phone all day long.So we can hear how upset some people are.
Stan called out,it’s in the government too.They wasted millions on a new system which was scrapped before it was ever used…
Where are all the intelligent people?
That’s what I have been wondering,thought Emile as he hid behind Annie’s new green handbag hoping a field mouse might come by
I am sure if I planned the the computer programmes I could fix this,said Mary.But I will never be given a job now.I don’t think I’d want it now with my eyesight.
Well,Mary,you are still very beautiful,said Stan.I think I want to go to bed with you.
Stan, how can you say it in front of Annie?
Well,she can come as well if she likes,he replied tactfully.
And what about Emile?
Oh, alright then.We’ll all go to bed even he … we need a life changing experience.And I do not mean another daft letter from that blooming hospital,The Royal Wee.
We could paper the walls with them.
I would not enjoy seeing the walls like that,said Annie.
I am just making a point… that they waste so much money…. and time answering the phone to correct their errors………. it’s like Alice in Sunderland.
I never knew she was a Geordy, mioawed Emile…
I just like to think of her that way,answered Stan.
Anyway,upstairs and off with your clothes… we must make love before we die even if it kills us or we have to go to A and E with angina,migraine,a broken rib or other unmentionable discomforts.
And being obedient they all want upstairs,got undressed and fell asleep side by side in Stan’s large soft bed… except for Emile.
I thought they were going to have a love in,he thought.Perhaps when they waken up,who knows?
Maybe the NHS are trying to make people mad so they will pay for private treatment….
Mary was dreaming she was back at Oxford teaching analysis to a group of frightened first year students…what a pity they are so nervous,she thought.They’s do better working in a garden centre or a zoo…

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?”
“No.it’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!

From Stan to Ron:The letters

Dear Ron

I’m writing to you now as I had no time at Xmas with Mary wanting shopping and Emile having measles again.Since then life has calmed down a little.We had a party last week which went well,I believe though,don’t tell anyone,I had my mistress here doing the drinks!I know I’m 98 but I still love women.
Mary has been a good wife but she’s not glamorous enough for me.She wears a twinset and flowered skirt from Artigiano but she will have pen clipped to the front neck, her mobile in her 46H bra and a pair of pliers hanging from her belt and as well as that her nails are rough.
What puzzles me is, and again,keep this secret, when we married she was as flat as a pancake yet she’s now got a front like the prow of a ship.
I guess the ample cleavage is appealing to some men but I prefer skinny women…She blames me as she never ate until we married and she got the Jewish Cookery Book…God knows why as she was a Catholic then [but they have no cookbook].This book has everything,cheesecakes,sponge cakes,puddings,meat loaves and we have eaten all of it.
I wonder why I am still thin and she is so fat when she rides a bike to work and I drive the car….scientists don’t seem to know.
Still,I have my mistress who is quite slender and Mary seems to be elsewhere mentally…She reads Philosophy in bed.Is it my fault?I am so old I can’t change… but can she?I don’t mind her doing maths but I wish she wore a pearl satin nightie with lace all over it and some perfume… she smells of bike oil and Algipan heat rub.No wonder we never have any sex life now
.Do you think maybe I should wear a nightie like that and see how she reacts?Have you ever done anything like that?We could have a chat on the phone.It’s not so much the sex,it’s the cuddling I like and whispering in her ears.Too late as she probably is reading a manual for her camera and checking the screwdrivers and the files.
She has even stolen my camera…nary a word.
Still,there we go…life is hard.Emile had a very bad bout of measles and I kept him in for 3 weeks resting in a box.I wonder if he will catch chickenpox,I find him a worry though he is funny too and can swim!He is very rare.
I fear owing to the cat etc I have no real news.But I’d love to hear yours and remember,don’t tell anybody what I have confided in you.I hope we can meet in the Spring time
Till then,keep well.
Adios amigo
Your friend
Stan

ps I must tell you about Satan next time,you won’t believe it
The reply

Dear Stan
I am answering your letter immediately as I am very irate about your behaviour.
Muriel ran away with an artist but it was all above board; we had none of this deception.Can’t you speak to Mary?She seems quite charming to me.And your fantasies of wearing silk nightdresses seem odd in a man of your age…By all means try it if it will help your marriage.Will Mary wear her tigerprint house dress?I loved it.In fact I’ve been in love with Mary for many years but backed off on moral grounds but if you are consorting with Satan and this female neighbour,I feel I ought to help poor Mary…if you divorce her.. let me know!
Why does she carry pliers in her belt?Is she afraid of being attacked?As for her size,she does have a severe thryroid problem and that can play havoc with the weight.
Most men would be delighted to be engulfed in her delightful bosom and to kiss her plump yet elegant neck and to embrace her with love and passion.
Apart from Xmas,the old dog Gip died and Sally has had twins so Muriel is up from St Ives.I miss her but no longer so painfully and we want to be there for Sally and Ben.He’s only two and Malcolm travels so Ben will be quite hard hit by the twins coming.
So I see myself being a helping grandad doing manly things with him.I’ll soon have him changing fuses and backing up his laptop.I may even show him how to make plum wine in the autumn.Sally is breastfeading Jill and Milly so she’ll get tired out.
Has your Lyra never got married?That would occupy you.Emile is sweet but he is in fact just a cat.
Can you not go to the pub like other men?Play darts or gamble,smoke cigars and discuss politics…
Leave that neighbour alone or I shall swoop down to protect Mary like a giant owl on LSD.I’ll kill you.
We had a roast goose for Xmas.It’s now recovered as it was only half cooked and I’ve dug a pond for it.I am mating it in the spring,I hope.. where do I buy a female goose?I am fond of goslings
Now,just heed my words or I shall be very irate
Your old friend and moral adviser
Ron.

Bionic therapy with Annie and Emile

Peter Fried,the Bionic psychoanalyst ,who had recently arrived in the fine midland town of Knittingham, had noticed that whilst he was practising “free floating attention” with his patients an image of a cat peering in the window behind the couch was troubling him.He hoped it was not some hallucination transferred from the Unconscious of one of his patients into his consciousness.

Still,having a black cat looking in the window was by no means the most unpleasant optical illusion he had ever suffered.In a way,it was quite sweet.
He was back in his “home” flat boiling some eggs for his supper when the doorbell rang.He opened it cautiously with a sort of excitement. mixed in.There stood a strikingly attractive woman wearing a purple coat and a red hat with matching red ballet flats and a bright green designer handbag from TKMaxx.[£29.99 and well worth it]
Hello,I thought I’d introduce myself,I live across the street next door to Stan and Mary..my name is Anne..How are you settling in?
She walked confidently through his flat and into the new dark teak kitchen with its gleaming work surfaces and marble pastry rolling strip…. though Peter never made pastry himself.
Eggs!Are you a curry lover?By pure chance and serendipity I have a tin of vindaloo sauce here.I could pour it over these eggs.

Should we not remove the shells first?Peter asked with a just hint of humour.
Definitely,leave it to me.I’ve brought some naan bread and some brown rice too
How did you know I was boiling six eggs?Why Emile told me,of course!

Emile….is he black?
Some people call him black,others say he’s mixed race.
Let’s not argue about semantics or political correctness,he replied discourteously.
I don’t even know what semantics, are she screeched softly into his left ear.
Well,that is no barrier to arguing about them,he replied diplomatically.
Well,it’s senseless, she answered kindly.”I am not a person who enjoys an argument.Go and sit down,read the paper and I’ll finish preparing the curry dinner.

Is it common around here to have an unknown woman come in to cook your dinner?Peter asked Anne.
No,it’s the height of sophistication,she said judiciously.It’s just with you being new I wanted to meet you to see if you need any assistance in your work.I don’t need money,I like to serve the community in some way.Of course I am Stan’s mistress but as he’s in a bad temper today I’ve not seen him.I suspect he is growing tired of me.

Are you married,Peter asked her.
No,but I was once.My husband ran off with his brother’s wife,so we decided to pretend they were both dead.
That’s intriguing,said Peter,I am married but my wife developed an allergy to my skin.She could not bear to touch it so it became awkward… very awkward.
Fancy, and you a therapist too,she murmured softly,So where is she now?
Oh, she lives on the Isle of Man,near Peel.I do go to see her now and then… and there are lovely sunsets over there… you can see the Mountains of Mourne.
Are you lonely, she asked him very emotionally.

No,I see seven patients a day..
But that’s not the same as having a wife or a friend.
Since my wife’s allergy,I am afraid to touch another woman.
How sad,cried Anne…I have very thick skin.Would you like to touch me? she said seductively

Perhaps another time,Peter said in a kindly way,But thanks for being so generous.I am touched by your amiability and femininity and your kindness in introducing yourself.
Let’s eat the curry before we die of hunger.
They sat down at the kitchen table to eat the egg curry when they saw some amber eyes gleaming at the window.

Oh, dear,There’s Emile again.
Will he tell Stan?
Probably,but actually Stan no longer wants me.Yet Emile adores me.He will be jealous… he’s a cat,but he has the feeling of a man.
And indeed Emile’s eyes were gleaming like those of a tiger… he began to speak through the window glass.
Would you mind if I had some curry? Stan never makes it… I love spices
Why not? said Peter.
Emil’s plan was to get near Anne but first he had to eat the vindaloo egg curry.He took a mouthful..my,it was hot.His eyes began to water and his nose ran…. all round the room.He mioawed piteously
I need a hanky.
We shall have to ring 999,muttered Anne.
What! Do they tend to cats?
They usually have some hankies for cats….
So without any further ado,she took out her Samsung mobile phone and rang.
I don’t know how I shall get on living here,thought Peter.
He ran across the room and jumped into the washing machine with the tea towels and kitchen cloths.
Will he escape?
Buy the next chapter…only three shilling and sixpence or free with the Daily Wail tomorrow…order now for next life delivery!

Stan meets the new curate

Stan was reading the paper at 9 pm when,to his surprise,the front door bell rang.Emile,his delightful tomcat who was asleep,nearly jumped out of his warm furry skin.Stan opened the front door cautiously.
“Goodnight,sir.” remarked the handsome man standing there.
“Goodnight?”Said Stan confusedly,”Bur I’ve never seen you before.Are you the sandman who comes to put children to sleep?”
“Good evening,sir.” the man continued,”I’m so sorry my English is so poor.I am , still studying David McChrystal’s Cambridge Encyclopedia of the English Language and I’m still a trifle mystified.”
“What do you want?”Stan asked him.”What do I want?I want to study philosophy,write a novel and meet a stunningly attractive young lady with brown eyes and dark hair.”
“No,no.” said Stan”I mean,why are you here?”
“A good question,why are we here?Do we have a mission in life or are we here as a result of mere chance and happenstance or even serendipity?”
“I mean,why are you here ringing my doorbell at this time of the night?”
“Shouldn’t that be evening,sir?” The stranger enquired sardonically yet politely.
“Look.are you after something?”
“Well,I’m after a young lady at college though so far I’ve not managed to meet her one to one.”
“Well,faint heart never won fair lady!”Stan advised him.
“What’s happening,”called Mary from her study where she was reading a critique of Principia Mathematica for the seventh time.
“God only knows!” said Stan.
Mary came to the front door.She wore a green silk blouse with a jade necklace, a pair of smart jeans from Per Una and some pink trainers with yellow laces.On her face she wore Lancome of Paris light beige foundation,strawberry pink lipstick and purple mascara from Clinique.Her perfume was by Beyonce.Buy all this with one click on the link below.
“Goodnight,madam” said the stranger.
“I think that’s so rude,” said Mary.”If you’ve never met someone before it’s inappropriate to say goodnight.”
“Well,you aren’t in bed,” he replied laboriously.
“What the hell has that got to do with it?”
“Inappropriate is often used to refer to sexual behaviour.”
“Well,for crying out loud,who are you?” she whispered politely.
“I’m the new curate!”
“I’m Polish.”
“Well,I’m sorry I don’t know a single word of it.would you like to speak in Latin?”
“Ite,missa est!”The curate exclaimed.”Uno reductio ad absurdum”Stan muttered.
“That’s Italian,UNO” cried Mary.
“Well,it’s pretty similar.”
“Well,I must go,”said the curate amxiously.
“You’ve not been yet so how can you go?”
“I don’t know,sir.Good evening,good afternoon,good morning.”the red face man screamed as he ran hurriedly down the garden path.
“Are we Catholics now?”Mary asked Stan.
“Oh,I can’t remember,” he said.”Do we go to church?”
“Well,we may be non-practising,I suppose.”
“Perhaps we’d better start practising,” he murmured affectionately.
“Oh,if you insist,” she replied in an unwifely roguish tone.
“That’s right,blame it all on the man.In my experience it’s you who is keener than me.”
“What are you talking about?”she enquired seductively.
Suddenly the door bell rang.It was the curate.”Goodnight” he called.”goodnight”
“Goodnight,” they responded in their reserved English fashion.
“Mioaw” cried Emile,”Mioaw,miaow,miaow.

Stan has a perplexing day

[Image by my sister]

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 as she loved an argument
“No,I have just read Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein eight times,” he quipped merrily.
“Wow,is it not boring?” they murmured softly like two doves in spring time
“No.it’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. unconscious.
.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 as she felt very lonely at times
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. at Dave.
“Oh, lovely,I feel much better for that nap” he said brightly as he was such a positive person..
“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 delightedly.
“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!

Stan wants to go to a class

Stan was thinking of going to an Evening Class.He had got a brochure from the public library on Saturday but there was not much in it.As he was sitting in his conservatory brooding restlessly over this he saw a looming shape pass by.It was Annie his neighbour wearing a big rucksack.
“Annie,you are usually dressed in a fashionable and stylish even modish manner.Whence the rucksack?”
“Oh,well,you’re out of touch.Rucksacks are the new handbags according to Prada.”
“Is Prada that young lady who has just taken the flat over the florist’s?”
“No,you nincompoop,Prada is an Italian Fashion Company”.
“I think Prada would make a good name for a cat or Prado if he was a male cat.What do you think,Emile?Would you like to be called Prado?”
“Definitely not.” miaowed Emile loudly.”Prado is too full of consonants for me.I don’t like saying “P.”
“He sayeth not P but doeth it,just as the Prophet foretold” Stan murmured merrily to Annie.
“What are you doing?” she asked him pointedly.
“I’m choosing an Evening Class but there are not many on offer.I wanted to learn Pilates but maybe I’m too old and stiff!”
“We could go to a private class in the Conservative Club.”
“I can’t go in there,not even to learn Pilates.”
The doorbell rang.It was their local M.P. Andy Pandy.What a shock.
“Good evening,Sir.”
“It’s only 10 am,”Stan said rudely.”Wait I want to record your words.”
“Why is that?”
“I may be able to sell them on-line.”
“Oh,no.That’s unlikely.I’m only a glove puppet!”
“That wasn’t what you said before the Election” Stan whispered to him.
“Well,I didn’t realise then.I thought I was a human being.”
“Like David Cameron?”
“Yes,only I don’t speak as poshly as he.”
“But do you think he is a glove puppet too?”
“Yes,definitely.I’ve seen the Hand that manipulates him.”
“Why don’t you leave?”
“I have thirty children to support.”
“How come you have so many?”
“Oh,it’s quite easy if you have plenty of lovely lady friends and …”
“I’m talking about responsibility.You are a member of the Establishment.”
“Well,once I was a rebel.But a Famous Rebel will eventually be knighted.”
“So I’ve noticed.” {He’s thinking of Sir Michael Jagger who is 68 plus]
“Why was Lucian Freud not knighted?Surely he was a deserving artist.”
“He was more of an Observing Artist.He Observed what he shouldn’t!”
“What was that?”That very large people are beautiful like rocks in canyons and caves.and the Queen looks like an old East Ender.”
“Do you think she’s partly Jewish?”
“Well,everyone in the world has a little Jewish blood!”
“So the Queen does.Does she know?”
“Well it doesn’t matter whether she knows.I’m just interested.After all she’s the Head of the Anglican Church, a branch of Christianity,so as Jesus was 100% Jewish it would be an advantage to her.She might be a distant relation to him.”
“I never knew Jesus was Jewish!” “Oh,yes I remember now.And the shepherds with their flocks….was that not here in England?”
” No and King Herod wasn’t English.Herod’s never been a very popular name anywhere really.But you know everybody in the world is probably slightly English.Just listen to them talk!They all speak the lingo.”
“But what about that song “Jerusalem” by Blake?”

“Was not Jerusalem builded here,in England’s green and pleasant land?”

“He was speaking in symbols or metaphors.”

“Why didn’t he learn English? Cymbals are just for banging.”
“Well, he was English!”
“He was crazy.That’s typical English trait.”
“Yes,we love eccentrics.”
“Do you know any?”
“Not as such,no. But I’d love one if they lived next door”
“Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard that.”
“Well,Annie is a bit eccentric.Stan thought.”She’s murdered her husband and seduced me in front of the wife.No,she’s just got borderline personality disorder.I wonder who invents all these new mental disorders.Maybe I could invent some.”
“Well,the mind doctors need to earn money.”
“True…. send them to Afghanistan.Then we’ll see who has PTSD!”
“Now,there’s a thought!”How about David Cameron for starters?”

Satan arrives at the seaside and is sold on

After Stan left the police behind, he drove Satan to Sheringham,There they rented a cottage and enjoyed walking to Weybourn along the cliffs.Satan seemed surprised by the cheery residents.He usually dwelt in cities and dens of iniquity.Stan’s pocket bulged with the golden powder compact standing up.He liked Sheringham but usually had Mary with him for company rather than Satan.
One afternoon on the beach a man of riper years stopped and spoke to him
I see you always carry face powder in a compact with you.Are you a transvestite by ny chance?
I am sorry to say,I am not.Is that bad news?Stan asked him
Well,not really.I never expected to meet one down here.But my wife has lost her powder compact and it’s hard to get gold ones now.I’ll give you at least £500 for that.It’s lovely.
Stan pondered.He had got fond of Satan but was unsure what to do with him next and he could not remain on holiday for ever as Emile his cat didn”t like it
He thought perhaps leaving him here in Sheringham might benefit humanity in the long run.
OK then.he cried and in a flash he had handed over the gold compact to the gentleman who seemed thrilled.He produced £500 pounds in notes and the deal was done.
Stan went back and informed Emile the holiday was over.We can go home now,Emile.I have got rid of Satan,at least for now.

Thank God,miaowed Emile.I miss Annie and her perfume..
That makes two of us,thought Stan as he drove towards King’s Lynne and the Ouse crossing…
But how will poor Satan feel? Will he be converted to life in a seaside home a or will he soon be heading back to Knittingham?Time will tell.Sheringham may be too small for him and probably has very few dens of iniquity.And even Cromer is probably not wicked enough for this old devil….

Stan takes Satan on holiday Part 1

Stan met Satan in his mirror many times.And it was obvious the poor devil was terribly depressed.He said he was no longer needed as humans were more wicked than he ever was.Stan wondered how to help without doing anything wicked.
He went into the bedroom and looked into the mirror.At first he thought it was empty but the he saw Satan asleep in a ball.
Hi there,he called.Satan woke up.
Hi Stan.
Stan said
I’ve got an idea.How would you like a drive to Sheringham?
I dunno,I feel too depressed.
I think you need a change said Stan.He picked up Mary’s solid gold powder compact and opened it.What a lovely scent,he murmured,closing his eyes and remembering all the times Mary had taken it out to put on more lipstick or powder her nose when they were out dancing.
Now,see here.I have mirror here.If you can get behind this,I’ll put you in my pocket and Emile will sit by me in the car.
Without a pause Satan leaped into the gold compact and Stan could see him in the mirror.He popped it into his front pocket until he realised the devil could not see out.
He opened it and placed it in his pocket but with the mirror sticking out.
They drove off in Stan’s old Triumph Herald which was still functioning well.
Sat Nav,said Satan… is that how to find me…
No.it’s satellite navigation.It gives me a route to the seaside.Wherever I want to go
Bloody waste of money…what is wrong with a road Atla.?
It’s all progress.Stan told him.We must keep up or we will be thought lacking
By whom? answered the old devil
All of a sudden a police car came by and asked Stan to stop.
Why are you sending signals with that mirror?the police officer enquired..
To be continued

Stan meets Satan in the mirror

Stan was standing on the patio behind his bijou home when a sudden heavy downpour of water drenched him all over.
This is like a monsoon,he murmured to Emile who was also wet and drowned looking
A head and neck appeared over the dark wooden fence.
I’m awfully sorry,old boy.A pipe has burst in Annie’s loft.I tried to fix it myself.
I don’t believe it.You are Stan Brown.It must be 50 years since I saw you.
Stan was hiding his surprise at seeing Rudolf Hairnet,his former logic tutor at an ancient foundation, in the garden of Annie,Stan’s beloved colourful mistress.
Why not pop in Rudolf,he said.I’ll leave the door open and go upstairs to change my clothes.Be with you in a moment.
Stan went upstairs and removed his clothes.His body was now as thin as when he reached his full height of 6 ft 6 inches but alas it had less muscle and more fat. nowadays.He gazed into his wife’s full length mirror.
To his surprise, he saw Satan looking out.Although he knew this was possible for Catholics he had never met Satan before.Not that he was keen to,exciting as it might be.
How do you get behind the mirror,he asked Satan gently.
God only knows,said Satan morosely.
Why not ask him?
I’m too proud,the poor devil replied in a bleak voice.
Well,we all have our pride,Stan told him,though no doubt yours is the biggest in the universe.
Yes,indeed,Satan answered.It’s bigger than Everest
Are you here for any purpose,Stan enquired.
Yes,your home seems more intriguing than most and I like to watch you in bed with that flame haired woman… is she your paramour?
I see,said Stan,You are a voyeur par excellence
That’s one way of describing me,Satan said,No woman will come to bed with me so I am trapped here behind every mirror in the world.I can see it all but never take part.
You must be very lonely,said Stan
Yes,the dark spirit muttered painfully
Are there no she-devils about who might oblige you?Stan asked him thoughtfully.
I don’t seem to fancy them so much.They are all as bad a me,I want kindness and tenderness not just lust.After all,one might satisfy that with a vibrator… we have them in hell you know!We have many things but love and humility are not there.
Why,you are beginning to sound almost human,Stan told him.We want love too.If only you would apologise to God I am sure he would forgive you and let you come into the real world of others instead of being trapped in there
Stan heard a noise.He turned round displaying his bony frame and his drooping organs to Rudolf.
Are you ok? I was worried that the drenching had knocked you off balance.I have out your kettle on the fire to make you a hot drink and phoned 999 for aid.
But we don’t have a fire,Stan responded.
Well,you do now said Rudolf,so let’s enjoy the flames while we can.To whom were you talking in there? he enquired grammatically.
I was on my mobile,said Stan defensively.
But where is it?You had nothing on ? On second thoughts,please don’t tell me .I’ve heard some strange stories but arsing about with a y phone is not one I wish to dwell on.
That’s logicians for you.No interest in the wilder shores of life.Stan told himself as he went downstairs and joined Rudolf for a good cup of tea.
And that is what I need to recover from writing down this very odd tale…
And so does Dave the poor innocent young paramedic from heaven who is just arriving as we leave these two dear old men sitting by the mysterious burning shrub….

Mary wants a woollen vest

Winter had almost come to Knittingham,yet owing to the late summer and wet autumn,many trees still had their leaves,,,,,,,,,,,some were even green.Stan and Mary were sitting in their mock Tudor cottage style kitchen eating muffins and honey.

Wow,it’s so cold,Mary remarked.Now,Mary I have told you before that Wow is not a word I expect to hear from such a highly educated person.Stan said wistfully

Bollocks,Mary answered in a tone not unlike the late Rose Nordloch,philosopher extraordinaire who was famed for her obscene talk.I am thinking of buying some woollen vests,she continued nastily.Good grief!

What is it, my darling Stan said nosily.Mary was looking at a catalogue of ladies clothing.

They are £39 each,she said wonderingly.If I get three it will be nearly £120 plus postage.

Can’t you just buy one and wear it all winter like the Tudors did,Stan demanded charmingly

I think it would get smelly,Mary answered benignly.We should get wool vests from the Government to save us from going to A and E with double pneumonia,she continued softly…Shall we mention it at the Labor Party meeting?

No,no,Stan cried,I want your lingerie to be a secret…
A woollen vest is hardly lingerie,she retorted…
Everything a lady wears under her dress is lingerie….bras,knickers,pantaloons,petticoats,vests,corsets,suspender belts…………………..But some lingerie is more sensual…Stan said wistfully,recalling the brown silk underwear Mary used to wear before feminism made most lingerie a No,No!
Anyway,Mary said,we are too old for sex….

but not too old to have a few fantasies,Stan thought… and woollen vests did not feature in his… he preferred lace and silk with a hint of perfume..

Emile came in and he too asked for a vest and some underpants… .. but suppose I wet them? he fretted as cats do

Well,you can’t have a nappy,Emile.Stan informed him courteously
I have no desire for such things,Emile mioawed angrily…where is my food?

Oh, yes… it’s in the fridge,said Stan.He took a large goldfish out of the fridge

Where did you get that from? Mary asked fearfully….Oh,that tom cat down the road knocked a fish tank over and he gave Emile one.

But they are pets!She shrieked…. ring 999.

Dave the bisexual paramedic strode in.

It’s Frank,the gold fish,said Mary.Is he dead?

He is not quite dead,Dave answered…get a bowl of rain water.He put Frank into the bowl and Frank began to swim…

Well, that’s a bloody miracle,Mary screamed…

Just call him Lazy Lazarus.Dave quipped…he was in suspended animation.. fish are very clever.Would you like me to clean out the kitchen or fetch in some coal for the scuttle?

Thanks but not today,Dave.We were just discussing vests.Do you wear one?

Oh,yes.he said, and I wear a short petticoat too.

Very wise,Mary informed him.Underwear keeps me warm.

And it makes me hot,thought Dave…. but he said nothing.He kept his sex life almost a secret.

Vests,thought Mary.

To buy or not to buy

That is my question

Stan has a fishy breakfast as he waits for his hospital appointment

Annie called in on her beloved neighbours Stan and Mary on Sunday night.
Now then,she said,as your appointment is in the afternoon tomorrow,I have decided that you should have a lie in.. and I shall bring you breakfast in bed while you read the Guardian.
That is kind,said Mary,Stan is very tired.
The next morning as whey awoke to the bright sun coming through the rips in the old curtains,they heard the sound of Annie whistling The Merry Widow in the kitchen.She soon arrived with some mugs of China tea and informed them she already had breakfast on the go..
Stan and Mary sipped their tea while gazing at images of Gaza on a Kindle Fire.
This certainly puts our problems in perspective,said Stan.
Why do the Israelis think this will solve their problems?Mary asked.
Well,said Stan,I am sure you have often felt like retaliating when somebody hurts you…
Indeed I have but it’s usually a mistake….so I believe now.
And moreover,since the Jews were criticized for not resisting more forcefully when the Nazis arrested then and being too passive in accepting their fate perhaps they want to show they can fight back and be just as tough as we British folk are.Recall the Black Hole of Calcutta, the conquest of many countries all over the world etc
Yes, it’s a complex situation… but the last War in November 2012 didn’t seem to improve matters..
No war ever brings Utopia on earth,my dear.Sometimes they are a necessary evil sometimes just evil…sometimes for political motives.. elections coming up and so on.
Fortunately ,just then, Emile jumped onto the bed and informed them that their breakfast was ready
Soon Annie appeared dressed as a chef in a high white hat carrying a big tray.On it were two trout covered in blueberry sauce and some wholemeal bread.
Sensibly, she had removed the trouts’ heads.
What an unusual breakfast,Stan cried. cheerily
Well,you need the protein,Annie replied,her coral lips glowing brightly n the morning sun and her figure showed off at its bestin tight jeans and a red lycra top
Stan picked up his trout in his bare hands and bit a lump out of it.
Good grief,said Mary.Are you a man or a beast?
A beast in bed,thought Annie humorously,though she remained silent watching the old couple devour their food..
More tea? she asked gently.
Yes,please,said Mary…
Well this is a treat,she remarked to Stan..I am glad the trout had no head as you would have bitten it off,she continued.Usually that’s a metaphor… but in this case it would have been reality…
How much cleverer people used to be.. they didn’t read the cheap newspapers , buy lottery tickets,go bowling and get drunk every weekend;no,they invented alphabets,metaphors,numbers,geometry….
Yes,I suppose they had nothing better to do then such as going online to shop or to snoop,watching trash on TV,buying new mobile phones and so on.Yes, it was so hard that they invented geometry just to pass the time, and logic so they could refute arguments which they had to while away the long hours in winter time..
Imagine that!What would we do if we had none of these consumer goods?
Well,there’s one thing I can think of….

I love your singular blue eyes

and on your bosom I long now to lie.
I see,said Mary.I knew it would be that….go on then but hurry
Yes,said Stan,I am going to write a poem about you.
Gosh,thought Emile, as he waited for the trout remainsWhat a man… he can still write poetry even at his age!

Stan’s bike

Although Stan was 82 he still rode his bike in the summertime.He was out in the gardenpumping up the tires prior to going off to the Library.suddenly his neighbourAnnie appeared at the gate.Bedecked as usual in finest Scottish tweed with a long pendant on a solid 22 carat gold chain swingingnonchalantly from her neck,with a matching ring attached mysteriously to her upper lip.”Who’re you,the Lady Mayoress” he joked.Where’sMary?” she pointedly whispered.”She’s up with herwidowed sister Joan inScotland ” Stan admitted nervously.”Joan,that’s not a very Scottish name!” Annie joked.”anyway how about we sit down here on this bench for a moment”.She pulled him vigorously towards her.Stan responded regretfully “I’m afraid I can’t stop.I have all these books overdue and the library shuts in 15 minutes.”Don’t worry,sweet heart”, she cried contemptuously.”I’ll pay all your fines.I’ve just come into loads of money.”
“Oh,how’s that.my angel” Stan murmured. “I just shot Bert.If you help me to get rid of the evidence,I’ll share the loot with you.”
At the funeral,Annie was dressed in a beautiful dark brown suit from Jaeger.She went around the room making sure everyone had enough food and drink..As she leaned over towards Stan her heavygold locket,inside which was hidden the bullet that killed Bert,swung over and hit Stan a glancing blow on the temple.
Stan fell to the ground.”Do you think we should ring 999?” someone asked sarcastically.Within minutes paramedics arrived.
“So,is it that chair again?” they clamoured.”Yes,this foolish old man fell over and the leg came off my new antique chair.I’ve only had it a few days and it’s not insured.””Did anyone ever tell you,your eyesare like deep pools in the Saragossa Sea?” The paramedic whispered into her right ear.
“Have you still not finished that Creative Writing Course?” Annie shouted.””I’m getting tired of you admiring my eyes.What about my nose?””Has anyone ever told you,your nose is the shortest they’ve ever seen?””That’s a bit boring” Annie retorted.”Yeah,maybe i should change to Art,” he ruefully moaned.”I love the way your deep blue and turquoise eye shadow is melting round your eyes andrunning down the sides of your nose.”
“Hurry up and fix my chair,and while you’re about it,you may as well take Stan down to A and E for a head X-ray.”
Glancing furtively at Annie in her Jaeger suit with carefully contrasting deep coral blouse and opaque teal blue 80 denier tights with 6 inch stiletto heels to complete the outfit, not to mention herraspberry coloured bra which clashed violently with the coral blouse which alas was more transparent than she realised, he picked up a hammer and began,excitedly,to mend the broken chair.”This is whatlife is all about,my boy” he though

What a surprise

Dr Range-Rover asked Mary for all Stan’s details to facilitate his upcoming surgery.By now Mary was feeling worn out as she#d been shopping in the morning for Stan’s birthday present and some groceries.She really preferred morning appointments but with hospitals you get little choice.
Stan emerged with the nurse looking pale and wan.All she had done was to test him for MRSA..Mary picked up her bag.Suddenly and dilently Range-Rover crossed the room.
What’s that on YOUR nose? she barked at Mary.
Oh, yes, my glasses have been rubbing.It’s painful…Range-Rover picked up a dermatoscope which has a very bright light on it and placed it on Mary who was too surprised to move.The consultant thn invited the trainee doctor to come and take a look and they discussed the details of what they saw in front of Stan and Mary like two scientists who have just had a breakthrough.
You’ve got cancer,she informed Mary.Go to your GP soom,well you can wait till after Easter I suppose.You need a referral before I can have a go at you.
Stan turned even paler and looked angry…
Mary stood up and then collapsed by the door of the small room.Dr RangeRover picked her up and pulled a chair forward.
Sit down,she cried.She looked extremely worried.
How will you get home? she asked nervously.
In a cab,Mary told her…
Range-Rover looked even more worried as she was realising that she had crossed into Mary’s Sacred Space and broken her boundaries without asking her,at a time when Mary was possiblt anxious about her husband and feeling weary
..It may be common assault.She meant it for the best,we guess but surely a consultant should have some perception.Was she perhaps unnerved by supervising a trainee dermatologist?Alas,she refuses to comment…
As they walked out Stan said he wanted to go on the bus.Mary was too tired to argue so they sat at the bus stop in the sun waiting for their bus to come.
Or perhaps a ship would come in…and take them far away

Stan and Mary go shopping

Stan and Mary went in town
To buy Stan a new dressing gown.
But he wanted a woollen one
In march that is not on.

The shops are full of summer clothes
But Stan’s not warm enough for those.
Mary likes to look around
But see how old Stan frowns.

So Mary says,I’ll go online
I’m sure I’ll find some fully lined
Made of wool and acrylic…
Them you can make your pick.

Thank you,Mary,you are kind
despite that brilliant,anxious mind.
I am the best dressed man intown
And soon I’ll have my gown.

Would you like cafe au lait?
I have my pension,I shall pay.
Very nice,dear Mary said…
I’d like a piece of bread.

Won’t you have a slice of cake?
I know it’s not quite what I make.
No,just plain bread,sweet Mary said
She then turned very red.

Mary,you look very hot
Is it healthy in this spot.
The central heating is too high…
She gave a weary sigh.

They drank their coffee and made jokes
About old folk who never spoke…
They bought some fresh fish for Emile..
They alway shop with zeal.
..
When they got home.Stan dialled Dave
Who told him he was very brave
and not to stand near a bus door…
Or he’d fall on the floor.
.
Oh,how i’d like to lie down there
With my mistress Annie fair.
but Mary is at home today
So i’ll just have to pray.

If you’re in pain and can’t have sex,
They say that prayer is second best
Morphine is so hard to get…
and it makes me feel sick.

So tomorrow Mary works
Stan and Annie have their perks
Dave calls round to bath the cat…
How obscene is that?

If you would like your cat washed
Or if your shopping has got squashed
Just dial 99999
The service is divine.

Stan has therapy

Passion flowers

Stan is feeling low and sad

His good wife Mary has gone mad.

Stan is feeling Guilt and Fear

He knows now that it’s wrong to leer.

Stan has been a naughty boy.

He let a mistress with him toy.

But Mary found his mobile phone

When she was at home all alone.

His mistress lived next door to him

Which made it simpler for to sin.

While Mary worked hard teaching maths

The lovers lingered in the bath.

He was meant to do the chores.

Chopping wood and painting doors.

He had to bake the cakes and bread.

So that the household would be fed.

But Stan into temptation fell,

As did his neighbour Anne as well.

They enjoyed so many hugs,

And lying down in woolly rugs.

So, Mary, she was most appalled.

She screamed and yelled and cried and bawled.

So Stan has gone for therapy.

What sort of changes will he see?

He lies down on a long brown couch.

Behind which the therapist crouches.

He says to Stan,”now let it rip.

I want your mouth to be unzipped.”

Was your mother kind to you?

Did she train you on the loo?

Did she wash yopur mouth with soap?

Was she prone to sulk and mope?

Stan thought this man verbose.

So he kept his own lips close.

When he got the bill to pay.

He told the therapist,”No way”

“You have been the one to talk.”

He glared like a crusading hawk.

“You should pay me,not I pay you!”

What was his therapist going to do!

“I’m glad you’ve managed to speak out.

Your sanity is not in doubt.

I’ll tear the bill up for this week.

And next time I want you to speak.”

So Stan unleashed his every thought

Just as the Freudians once had taught.

I don’t know how he feels inside.

But language is a useful guide.

And as he sees his therapist,

His mistress is not greatly missed.

He wanted more attention,

So now his bad ways are all gone!

He got a part time job as well.

So he could pay his therapy bill.

Mary is still teaching maths.

And now it’s she with whom he baths!

God is a cat and Emile curses and swears:modern life

Mary was on a step ladder in the bathroom spying on her husband Stan,through a hole in the wall…which he had drilled for spying on women sunbathing nude in their back gardens.

He was climbing over the fence with Emile their cat on his shoulder.
I think it’s so ridiculous, she muttered .
Surely Emile, a cat, can jump over the fence by himself.But Emile was very limp,she then saw
He can’t be dead,she whispered to herself fearfully.She jumped down off the and hit her head on a tap… a dangerous event for a human with weak retinae or retinas or even deaf ears.
Oh,my!That hurt…I’d better be careful.She flew down stairs and imet Stan in to the kitchen
Emile has got concussion, Stan said happily
Is he not dead,she wondered anxiously.
No, he only fell off Annie’s roof.I am sure he’ll come to.
Good Lord.What made him go up there and more important,how

did he manage it manage to climb up?
You’d better ring 999,he informed her graciously yet boldly

If you say so ,my dear.I’d do anything you ask..
Don’t put on that act! he said nastily
I mean it.
A bit late now.
What do you mean?
After 40 years with your mind on Wittgenstein,Dirac,Pascal and Kierkegaard,do you think I don’t know you made a mistake marrying me
But whoever I married,I’d have read those same writers…
Umphh,said Stan dolefully.
Just then Dave,the bisexual transvestite paramedic ran in.
Poor Emile,what have you done?
He fell off Annie’s roof, but we have no theory as to how he got there,said Stan.
Well, there’s no need to think of that… deal with reality.That’s my modus operandi!
He gave Emile the kiss of life.

Emile came to…but was not pleased
Why did you waken me up?I was having a lovely dream of walking down a silver path where I saw a big cat with shining fur and tender eyes looking at me.He just began to miaow when some fucking idiot woke me up… was he God?
I can’t say,Emile,dear.But please do not swear.
I’ll do whatever I fucking well feel like,he said.
Good heavens, what has happened.Has he been reading dirty books?
No, he was watching East Enders on TV… they all use the f word constantly.
Well,Emile.God will have to wait… he’ll be glad if you do some kind work here on earth.
Up yours,said Emile.I am sick of living here.I’ve been hoping for years Stan would mate with Annie but he has only managed a deep kiss.
Perhaps it was the kiss of life,said Mary hopefully as it pained her to think Stanno longer desired her.
Well, in a sense,you might have hit the snail on the bed said Stan thoughtfully.I know any further mention of philosophy will drive me mad!
Now,Dave said,shall I make you some tea?
Thank you Stan responded.I am half crazed already.Tea may save my sanity.But for what?
Annie came in
Did you know Emile was in a hot air balloon,she said in tones of wonder.How has he got down so fast?
I fucking well fell out,the cat yawned proudly.Then I had a near death experience until this loon here brought me round.
Emile,I’ve never heard you swear before! she whispered in a strange manner reminiscent of almost silent films starring unnames and forgotten beauties of long ago.
Do you like it,baby? Emile asked.
No I don’t. I’ve never said Fuck in all my life.
Well you have now,the cat informed her with a naughty smile.
I think he’s possessed by demons.We’ll have to have him exorcised.
But I like demons,Emile bawled .I’ve been good all my life and I am bored and depressed.
So you believe swearing will help more than therapy?
Emile got up and lit a cigarette nonchalantly with a certain ,je ne sais pas.
Good grief,he’ll be having sex on the sofa next said Stan.
What a good idea,said Emile, but I want my own room and an en suite..I mean to impress the next girl friend I have.
Dave drank some tea and watched these old folk ponder.
I am wondering where we went wrong,said Mary.All these years we’ve educate you privately and even had you baptised.
Well.I am going to be a Jew,said Emile.
I don’t think a cat can be a Jew… and you never ever had any interest in the spiritual before,why this?
Well,when I was unconscious I realised that God exists….
But why a Jew?
Well,they were the first to see God in a Burning Bush..
And the last too, thought Annie nervously.
Well,said Stan.You want to smoke,swear ,make love and possibly enjoy wine and song.Is that not enough?
Does God smoke and swear?
There was a long silence and Emile answered
Well,you see,Yes he does.
I’m off said Dave.I have to ring the Pope.
Why? asked Emile.I’m not going be a Catholic….
Well,said Dave,he ought to know that God is a cat.

Stan’s love life :not dead yet!

English garden

Source: K.

English poppies

Stan’s birthday
Stan Brown was in the new conservatory admiring the windows he had just polished with his microfibre cloth.His 82nd birthday was coming up and Mary,his stunningly attractive yet irritable and over educated wife had insisted on celebrating a party and had already baked a hugewhole orange cake[see internet for recipe]He heard a sharp tapping on the door.There lay Annie their next door neighbour spying through the key hole.

“Are you on your own?” she queried tersely.

“No, but I’m suffering from existential anxiety” Stan lied politely.

“Well,I just saw Mary on her second hand but excellent Raleigh shopper bike going to the market or the Charity Shop.”

“Well,I have the cat here”,he spontaneously whispered loudly as if he were free associating for Freud himself

“Let me in,and make me a coffee” “She’s a queer one” the cat Emile thought inconsolably.”where’s my Carnation cat milk?”

“Real or phantasy?” he answered suavely yet civilly.”Won’t it wash off your brand new coral lipstick from Chanel of Paris?” “no to mention your factor 60 sunblock.”

“Bleedin’ hell!” she murmured romantically. to herself,”How does he know it’s Chanel?Is he a spy or what?Is he in M.I.7?”

Stan got some instant coffee and debated whether to add a little LSD to add some mysticism and magic to their morning!No,a breathing exercise would be cheaper he concluded after 39 minutes of obsessiveanxiety

He sat down in his favourite old wooden Habitat chair.

“Did you know Habitat is going b..b bankrupt?” she brightly yet surreptitiously stuttered turning pink with happiness and the menopause.

Suddenly Annie sat down on Stan’slap and began to kiss his right eyelids.

“Careful,my angel!” he muttered.

He was savouring the annoyingly uncommon pleasure when the chair fell to pieces as it frequently did at such times. throwing the elderly but versatile couple down onto the new Mary Quant patterned pure NewZealand lambs wool carpet.Suddenly they heard the peal of Mary’s bicycle bell.Shortly she walked into the room.carrying 78 bags of groceries for the bithday party.

“What is going on now ?”she murmured seductively.

“I’m so sorry,Anne,please accept my apologies,he has this thing about chairs.It’s a fetish,I believe,according to Sinaldo Floyd.””

“Have you got your mobile?” shrieked Stan agonisingly,”I can’t get up.”

“What cannot stand up must forever remain lying down” As my old philosophy tutor at Cambridge used to say,muttered Mary.

“Why,that’s bit extreme,” said Anne uneasily.”MY tutor said “Who cannot speak must forever remain silent.”

“Oh,who was your tutor?” “Elizabeth Ansconbe!” Anne admitted furtively.”Mine was Iris Murdoch!” called out Stan!

Later than soon,slightly, they heard a silent siren.It was the emergencyambulance.

Dave,the paramedic bounded into the room.

“It’s this chair” said Mary urbanely.”Can you mend it for me?My husband can’t manage without it!”

“Anything else,madam?” Dave queried anxiously.

“Any coal to fetch in,tins to open,blocked toilets?”

“Later maybe.”

Dave looked at Anne.”Your eyes look like two deep pools in the Caspian sea.”

he whispered.”Are you on another creative writing course?”she quipped urbanely.

“Yes, we’re on eyes at the moment,what is that eyeshadow you have on.” “This is called winter teal” She admitted uneasily.

“Did you know I’m a transvestite?” he admitted happily her.”Yes”,she replied dishonestly.Anne like to give an impression of omniscience owing to her ontological insecurity and her quizzically lacking theology.

Unfortunately that very frequently gave men the wrong impression.

Mary cried out to Dave,”Get on with it,my sweetie!” So he took out a big tube of glue from his jeans’ pocket and set to work on the chair.

“Oh,dear,Stan looks a bit odder” “!No,he looks prime to me.” “Is he an integer?!” “No, he’s a transcendental real number” “He’s a number all right.”

“Never mind,we’ve just got new wheelie bins so I’ll put him out with the rubbish,”

Mary joked on hearing Anne’s remarks to Dave.

But Stan was not yet dead.He merely had fallen asleep.

He dreamed of his days at Oxgridge University studying illogic and unreason with Rudolphina Catnap,the famous philosopher.Oh,happy days!

Dave made the ladies some Ceylon tea in the fabulous oak kitchen with its pure linen curtains in raspberry beige. and its black enamel sink with matching double oven and microwave.”Why no halogen?”Iris Murdoch might have asked.

“What is a human life,”he pondered.He was studying logic aas well aswriting.

He began to tremble like a leaf inthe wind to use a fresh new cliche.

“Help” he called,”I’m having a panic attack.Hurry I’m dying“

“You can’t have a panic attack,” shouted Mary.

“Paramedics heal themselves.”

“Does God heal those who heal themselves he wondered as he lay under a pile of broken china?”

“Where’s the blooming tea ? called the women politely.

Even Stan’s cat weeps

Stan was sweeping the garden path.He had a stiff broom with a small head that was useful for cleaning the edges of the steps.Emile, his beautiful cat was sitting in the old apple tree gazing down on Stan.
“Is it time for coffee yet,”Stan asked himself.He had forgotten to put on his watch.
Suddenly he heard a shriek.He peered through a hole in the fence.His neighbor Anne was lying on her back in some mud.
“Hang on,I’ll come round!” he called.
There was a gate in the old fence which was rarely locked
since she loved to drop in on Stan.
“Oh,,how are you feeling?” he asked her anxiously.
“Bloody annoyed.I’ve only just bought these,”Not your daughter’s jeans” and now I’ve torn them,” she replied politely.
“But you don’t have a daughter!” he informed her loudly.
“I know that.It’s just they are better cut for the mature figure.”
“Your figure is not mature.You are quite slender.my dear,” he murmured lovingly.
“Well,I never feel happy with it!” she said mutinously.
“Whereas I am very happy feeling it,” he responded romantically.
Tears came into her green eyes lined with purple eye shadow.Alas,it was not waterproof and purple rivulets ran down her cheeks across the peach blusher with which she had valiantly decorated herself earlier.
“Can you get up?” he asked tenderly.
“Yes, but it would be nice if you picked me up.”
He leaned over her and licked the purple streams of tears off her cheeks.
“I hope it’s not poisonous,” she murmured.
Then with the aid of Emile,he lifted her to her feet and helped her into her large trendy kitchen.
The kettle switched itself on as they entered and a robotic voice asked if they’d like coffee.
“God in heaven,what the hell is that?” he cried confusedly.
“It’s my new computerized hot drink maker.After that fall I think a double espresso would be good.”
Emile ran in and asked for coffee too.
“Emile,you usually have milk,”Stan reminded him softly.
“Well,coffee is a new taste for me but I like a little.”
the cat whispered sweetly.
“I’ll give you some of mine in a saucer,” Stan replied.
Emile began to sob.
“Why Emile,whatever is wrong?”
“I want a cup and saucer just like you” the cat howled.
But you have no hands,Emile,” Stan reminded him.
The poor cat was crying loudly now.So Stan rang 999.
“Can you please send the emergency ambulance round.the cat’s crying and all his hankies are in the wash.”#
Soon Dave,the transvestite paramedic appeared.
“I love your light teal kitchen,” he informed Annie,
“And your eyes look like two deep pools in a coal mine.”
She slapped his cheek naughtily.
“Have a look at Emile” she ordered him sweetly.
He turned to the cat who was sitting on the dark pine table.
“Here,Emile,I got you some Kleenex for Cats in Sainsbury’s.” he said gaily.
“I want a real hanky,”cried Emile.Dave took a clean hanky from his own pocket and dried the cats tears.
“What made you cry.Are you feeling bad.”
“Yes,I want to go to Cafe Nero,” Emile mioawed.
“Who told you about that?”
“Another cat down the road has been and he said it’s lovely for people watching.”
“The town is not safe for cats like you,Emile.”
Dave urbanely replied,
“But when summer come I’ll take you to the out of town
Marks and Spencer’s.They have a cat’s coffee corner upstairs.”
“Wow,isn’t it amazing,”Stan wondered out loud.
So Dave poured out the coffee and they all sat down and
discussed Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein.
Ray has discovered that Wittgenstein liked cats but as he moved around quite a bit,he never owned his own cat
though Elizabeth Anscombe let him play with her three cats now and then.
We may all be different but most of us value the love of a good cat.Even boiling their hankies and ironing them is very nice.We all have this problem though.
Where can a cat carry his own hanky?
Do cats need shoulder bags?
What would Wittgenstein say?
Nothing is my guess.
Whereof one cannot speak…..
T

A therapist eats curry with a cat…more adventures with Emile

Into the washing machine… therapy’s disasters

Peter Fried,the psychoanalyst newly arrived in Knittingham, had noticed that whilst he was practising “free floating attention”
with his patients an image of a cat peering in the window behind the couch was troubling him.He hoped it was not some hallucination transferred from the Unconscious of one of his patients into his consciousness.
Still,having a black cat looking in the window was by no means the most unpleasant optical illusion he had ever suffered.In a way,it was quite sweet.
He was back in his “home” flat boiling some eggs for his supper when the doorbell rang.He opened it cautiously with a sort of furtive excitement.There stood a strikingly attractive woman wearing a purple coat and a red hat with matching red ballet flats and a bright green designer handbag from TKMaxx.[£29.99 and well worth it]
Hello,I thought I’d introduce myself,I live across the street next door to Stan and Mary..my name is Anne..How are you settling in?
She walked confidently through his flat and into the new teak kitchen with its gleaming work surfaces and marble pastry rolling strip…. though Peter never made pastry himself.
Eggs!Are you a curry lover?By pure chance and serendipity I have a tin of vindaloo sauce here.I could pour it over these eggs.

Should we not remove the shells first?Peter asked with a just hint of humour.
Definitely,leave it to me.I’ve brought some naan bread and some brown rice too
How did you know I was boiling six eggs?

Why Emile told me,of course!
Emile….is he black?
Some people call him black,others say he’s mixed race.
Let’s not argue about semantics,he replied discourteously.
I don’t even know what semantics, are she screeched into his left ear.
Well,that is no barrier to arguing about them,he replied diplomatically.
Well,it’s senseless, she answered kindly.”I am not a person who enjoys an argument.Go and sit down,read the paper and I’ll finish preparing the curry dinner.

Is it common around here to have an unknown woman come in to cook your dinner?Peter asked Anne.
No,it’s the height of sophistication,she said judiciously.
It’s just with you being new I wanted to meet you to see if you need any assistance in your work.I don’t need money,I like to serve the community in some way.Of course I am Stan’s mistress but as he’s in a bad temper today I’ve not seen him.I suspect he is growing tired of me.

Perhaps another time,Peter said in a kindly way,But thanks for being so generous.I am touched by your amiability and femininity and your
kindness in introducing yourself.
.
Let’s eat the curry before we die of hunger.
They sat down at the kitchen table to eat the egg curry when they saw some amber eyes gleaming at the window.

Oh, dear,There’s Emile again.
Will he tell Stan?
Probably,but actually Stan no longer wants me.Yet Emile adores me.He will be jealous… he’s a cat,but he has the feeling of a man.
And indeed Emile’s eyes were gleaming like those of a tiger… he began to speak through the window glass.
Would you mind if I had some curry?Stan never makes it… I love spices
Why not? said Peter.
Emil’s plan was to get near Anne but first he had to eat the vindaloo egg curry.He took a mouthful..my,it was hot.His eyes began to water and his nose ran…. all round the room.He mioawed piteously
I need a hanky.
We shall have to ring 999,muttered Anne.
What! Do they tend to cats?
They usually have some hankies for cats….
So without any further ado,she took out her Samsung mobile phone and rang.
I don’t know how I shall get on living here,thought Peter.
He ran across the room and jumped into the washing machine with the tea towels and kitchen cloths.
Will he escape?
Buy the next chapter…only three shilling and sixpence or free with the Daily Wail tomorrow…order now for next life delivery!

Curry Potato Hash and Fried Eggs (wellpreserved.ca)
Thai Avocado Curry (omgirlsguide.com)
Mary wants a woollen vest (wordscat.wordpress.com)
The disaster with Mary’s pinking shears: Stan errs again (wordscat.wordpress.com)
I owe it to myself to keep my life secret (wordscat.wordpress.com)

The disaster with Mary’s pinking shears: Stan errs again

« Catching some words..first draft Wildfowers »

Stan was in the new black and cream kitchen cooking the Sunday dinner.As usual in the North it was roast beef and Yorkshire puddings.Stan was very good with Yorkshire puddings.They ate them with gravy before the main course just to maintain tradition.Even Emile,their talking cat, loved a pudding soaked in thick meaty gravy..
Suddenly the kitchen door burst open and in rushed their neighbor Annie… covered in blue paint.
What’s happened to you,Stan enquired cautiously.Surely you are not house painting on Sunday?
No,I never paint myself,she responded.I was in the old shed and a stray cat was up on the top shelf.It leaped off knocking over this tin of paint.I’m wondering how to get ot out of my hair?
What type of paint is it?
It’s emulsion paint.
Well,I’m afraid you can’t get it out!
I can’t go around town with blue hair,she cried loudly,even a touch hysterically.
Well,all I can think is that I could cut off a little of your hair.
OK, if that’s the only way to get rid of that damned paint.Can I stay and eat with you,babe?
Of course,sweetheart.Now here are some pinking shears.
Have you no ordinary scissors? she cried fractiously.Oh,bleedin’ ‘ell!!
No,we lost them.But pinking shears will give a layered effect.
Stan began cutting the lefthand side of Annie’s hair.Then he went around to the right….his left or her right?
She looked in the mirror,The left is a bit longer,she murmured vampishly.She falt like cussing and swearing but she didn’t know enough bad words so far in her life.
OK I’ll cut off a bit more.Stan whispered into her neck.
Oh,my God.The shears slipped,it’s gone really short,he shouted.
All Stan could do was cut the remainder of Annie’s lovely hair so it was only 2 cm long all over.
Suddenly Mary came in,
I didn’t know you were a hair dresser, she said sardonically to her errant husband.
Well,Annie got paint in her hair so I’ve trimmed it off.
Trimmed it..it looks like she won’t need a cut for about two years.
Annie began to sob noisily ,terrifying Emile who was hiding behind the flour bin watching some ants.
Well,Stan answered, it will be easier to wash and dry and she’ll have no need for rollers etc.Why,I could do it for a living.
I think it looks charming.
Why pinking shears?Mary whispered.You could have used my dressmaking ones.
Well,too late now mioawed Emile sarcastically from the bookcase filled with the entire Penguin cookery book collection over thirty years.What a pity it took up so much space in the tiny kitchen.
I think her hair looks sweet,said Stan bravely.
Meantime,you have burned the puddings again.Just like King Alfred and the cakes.Men are only good at savory and meat dishes.
It takes a woman to cook puddings and cakes.But Yorkshire puddings are savories.
I wonder how Wittgenstein would have classified them ? cried Mary enthusiastically.
Not Wittgenstein again,moaned Stan in mental torment,can’t you move onto some other philosopher?
Whom do you suggest? she said grammatically.
Try Carnap or take up gardening.
Oh,Carnap’s more of a logician,Mary said defiantly,
You see I love Wittgenstein as a human being.
Are you committing adultery with him ?Stan demanded thoughtfully his eyes bright like lasers.
That’s a wild exaggeration,He’s dead,Mary muttered.And he was,er,gay!
How do you know? That’s what they all say,shouted Stan angrily.
But what about you and Annie? Mary said venomously.
Well,I get lonely with you lecturing all day and studying Wittgenstein and mathematics all night
Surely you could wait till I come home? Mary said sharply
I suppose so,though a harem has always been my dream!
I think you are a bit past it now at 99,said Mary.
That’s not what I think, said Emile quietly.Cats and men…how do they do it?
Meanwhile Annie had washed her hair an it dried in tiny uneven curls all over her head.
It looks quite fetching,they decided as they sat down to eat the charred Yorkshire puddings.
What an exciting Sunday especially for Stan who enjoyed touching and playing with women’s hair.
I wonder if it’s a mental illness?I’ll have to look on the internet.Still, better than panic attacks, he thought
consolingly as he carried the roast beef onto the dining room where the women were discussing religious topics including a curiosity about why Christians were so anti Semitic despite Jesus’ wish for people to love each other.and besides being God,He was also a Jewish person too.
That’s interesting,Stan thought,here people think he’s English!What a weird world it is,to be sure.God was not a white Eton educated man.He may have been brown with a long black beard and a moustache.Did he smoke?
Only when he thought nobody was looking!Then he had flames coming out of his ears,Well,it made him laugh,you see.It’s Sunday soon so get ready.The Lord is nigh and he has a new hat on too

I owe it to myself to keep my life secret (wordscat.wordpress.com)
Stan and his ass (wordscat.wordpress.com)
Annie breaks into Stan’s sacred space (wordscat.wordpress.com)
YORKSHIRE PUDDING – not just for roast beef (debbievfood.com)
27 Reasons Yorkshire Is God’s Own County (buzzfeed.com)

I owe it to myself to keep my life secret

A few weeks after Annie moved into the house next door to Stan,he met her when he was seeing his wife off to work.
Why does your wife not have a car? she enquired suspiciously.
She is trying to keep slim,Stan told her.
Well,she’s not been very successful,Annie said scientifically.
She might be much fatter than she is now if she drove a car,he stated ponderously
That’s true,muttered Annie meditatively
I am your new next door neighbor.she continued
Yes my dear, said Stan,I have seen you sunbathing in the garden in your bikinis.
How come? she asked scientifically.
There’s a big hole in the fence.
Is it legal to look at women through a hole in the fence?
asked Annie.
I know it’s illegal to look into their bedroom windows.
Is it really,asked Stan nervously,I had no idea.
How about women looking at men through a round hole?
Oh,they are not bothered to do that,she told him charmingly.
Well,said Stan,clearing his throat,I think I owe it to myself to tell you that I love you.
Wow,you’re quick off the mark,the lady said saucily.
What do you mean,you owe it to yourself?
Nothing,said Stan,I could not think how to word it.I mean I wish to unselfishly love you and admire your ripe body and your cute sense of color.I love your teal trouser suit.And you sing sos well in the bath.
You didn’t mean you owe it to yourself to take advantage of me?
Not unless you want me to take advantage of you,the gallant old man informed her.
And you can take advantage of me.I make cakes and biscuits,wholemeal bread and I am training my cat Emile to do statistics on an i pad.
How extraordinary,Annie whispered.I didn’t know cats had an “I.” let alone pads.
Well,they have pads on their paws,he informed her intelligently.
True,she said,but where are their I’s?
Where are our I’s ?he responded in a manner to rejoice the heart of Mary Midgley or Susanne Langer two of Stan’s favourite writers on philosophy,logic,symbols and ethics.
Not that he practiced the Ethics but he liked to know what he was doing wrong.It’s more fun that way.If you sin,sin big!
A man who seduces women merrily one after the other may have no idea it might be wrong.Neither might the women.Why is it wrong?Surely it’s better than killing people or leaving the lid off the jam all night so the wasps get into the jar?
Still,not many men get the chances that Stan got.No-one suspected this kindly,handsome practicing Catholic was a womanizer despite his blue beard,green eyes,white skin and red hair.And his slim yet strong figure clad in navy trousers and white shirts all the year round.Maybe his wife did but she preferred to read Aristotle in bed and dream about mercury… those little silver balls,so cute!
Well,as we know,Stan is about to make Annie his mistress but in such a cold wet summer,where can he take her to do the deed?
The shed?The public library? Cafe Nero?
I owe it to you not to tell you yet.That will give you time to think of a solution for this sweet old man and his naughty but nice neighbor.
Like,how about the confessional in the local Church?
Whatever next?I owe it to myself to keep it secret as you may come along and spoil the fun.
Stan went indoors and washed up in the boiling hot water he kept by him constantly as he owed it to himself to be ready to make a hot drink at any moment he fancied and by gum,he did fancy like no man has ever fancied before.So his daemon tells me.

Next time:Why did God create Stan and why does it matter?

Stan teaches a class a sense of proportion (wordscat.wordpress.com)
Annie breaks into Stan’s sacred space (wordscat.wordpress.com)
Stan is hurt in the battle between the sexes (wordscat.wordpress.com)
All Hallows Eve (wordscat.wordpress.com)
5 Weird Search Terms You Used, You Wackadoo (mancave.cbslocal.com)
The Son: First Draft (synyxfiction.wordpress.com)
Nostalgia and acceptance (mrkflores.wordpress.com)
Dread and Sympathy (kimberlin.wordpress.com)
Mary wants a woollen vest (wordscat.wordpress.com)
Cat in the sun (groweatwrite.wordpress.com)

Mary writes a letter

The Pilchards.

23,Sweetnames Avenue

Knittingham

Near Nottingham.

England

Dear Jane

Hope you are keeping well in this unusually cold spring weather.Stan has had flu.It made him so bad tempered and waspish that I took up the Duraglit polish and got him to polish all the brass,except the front door knob, as that doesn’t come off.Mind you,it made the bedroom smell odd… a mistake,perhaps…so I sprinkled lavender oil around.

He seems to get thinner and I seem to get fatter.So our average w eight remains constant.What a relief.I’d like to be weighed as a married woman.Can you believe this..I’ve got chilblains! It’s those dratted blood vessels of mine.Still,I polished some old plum colored leather boots and wear them in the house.We seem to be doing polishing frequently here.. boots,furniture,apples.

How is your new book “Nonsense:A.N.Whitehead and Lewis Carroll” coming on?Hope it’s progressing….to a nonsensical ending.I’ve got a new book of poetry coming out in April [from Polar bears publishers] It’s called,”An unpolished performance.”My fourth book on Wittgenstein’s cats is almost finished.And the publishers can’t wait for the photographs…I’ll get a friend to do those for me!!It gives me a change from all that polishing.I’ve begun to talk to myself out loud…. in the street.Just seeing if I can still do my old Lancashire accent.I suppose it might worry people but no one has said anything as yet.They may be afraid.

“That which is unsaid can,nevertheless,still be heard.

Stan is still involved romantically with Anne, our next door neighbor.I can’t blame him as chilblains and Wittgenstein are not very romantic.When I think of how we used to be,it makes me smile and feel sadness too.I wonder if I can find someone new for a romance,myself… someone with Asperger’s syndrome possibly…as I’ve just been diagnosed.It’s quite common in mathematicians.It may be an advantage in concentrating a lot.I need a boyfriend with weak eyes as my clothes are all full of moth holes and I’m damned if I’m going to buy new ones.I can’t see well enough to darn but I’ve sewn the holes up neatly thus giving a strange pleated effect to my clothes.On my merino wool knitted trousers, one hole was right on the ass.It looks now as if I’ve been shot in the rear…but I can’t see it.So it does not exist.Sometimes in the past I would iron on those motifs like butterflies…but I think it would look odd having a butterfly just there…. or indeed anything else like wild rose.I could make a little sign saying

“Keep clear,from my rear.This is a hole where a moth scored a goal.”

Still,not many people are going to look there now I hope….I seem to have stopped knitting but am still drawing.Meantime I’ve just ironed some of my winter clothes as it’s still chilly..and am planning to iron all my pink and blue knickers now as I believe it kills any germs left when you wash at 30 deg.I got those colors in case I should change sex or is it gender?I wonder if I should iron the sheets?Could I do it while they are on the bed?I don’t wash them much as it wears them out and me too.I am going to take up baking again because Stan is getting so thin.I fancy a Russian cheesecake as it had a lot of protein in it.I have a genuine Russian cookbook and also am waiting for a delivery of a Jewish cookery book as I have lost mine..no it fell down onto my head last week.God only knows where that came from.but I believe there were good cheesecakes as Jewish cooking has much in common with Russian,perhaps because once many Jews lived in Russia.I just made friends with one here….he is charming and like me he hates golf.He used to have his own business…He has a lovely collection of hats too.

I have got almost all the Penguin cookery books ever printed but mislaid a few.In fact it’s quite hard to get into the kitchen with all these books on the shelves.And a little food.

I was comforted to read that the parent’s of John Burra,the artist,had books piled every where in their large house….and he was very untidy too.So all I need is talent and practice and I’ll be an artist.After all,anyone can be untidy but not everyone will practice their Art.I’d like to practice the arts of love.They say you should love your neighbor as yourself,but personally I prefer the neighbor or even the milkman to myself.Meanwhile I’m happy with Emile our cat and my 500 photos of Wittgenstein.I shall make Stan a lemon sponge pudding.That is the love he wants…Food.

“If music be the food of love I’ll cohabit with a pure white dove.
And while he coos and sings for me.
I’ll try not to :fall out of the tree,
Get stung by a bee,
Have psychotherapy
Make more enemies,
Let my thought free,
Hurt my knee.
Let moths frighten me.

Well,time for some tea.Now Jane, please write to me soon.I love to see your so strangely beautiful handwriting and to hear about Whitehead and Cambridge and all the weird dons. I hope it’s not too damp and cold there near that river.Keep warm and make a note of any intriguing happenings to relate to me.And anything beautiful you can see or hear.I hope Edward is writing regularly..where is he doing his research now… did you say Stanford.Maybe you should install Skype..then again,perhaps not as you would have towash your hair too much… and comb it too…perhaps we could wear wigs.

Do write soon,Love always,Mary

Annie breaks into Stan’s sacred space (wordscat.wordpress.com)
Stan is hurt in the battle between the sexes (wordscat.wordpress.com)
Book Review: “Brilliant Bread” by James Morton (persephonemagazine.com)
Knitting Pattern Cookery Book Haul! (silly9.wordpress.com)
Wittgenstein and Kierkegaard Against Hegel (deandettloff.wordpress.com)
Philosopher biographies for the holidays? (leiterreports.typepad.com)
Horwich vs. Lynch on Wittgenstein’s therapeutic conception of philosophy (3quarksdaily.com)
A Wittgenstein Paradox (maverickphilosopher.typepad.com)

Stan teaches a class a sense of proportion

Normal Distribution Cumulative Density Functio... — Normal Distribution Cumulative Density Functions (CDFs) with standard deviation = 1.0 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

]

Stan was teaching social statistics to a group of elderly neighbors.Since he was 109 it gave them all hope to see him demonstrating his prowess with various techniques.He was planning to do some logic and philosophy too.Annie was sitting by the door so she could answer the bell if any paramedics turned up for tea.
I’m not going to calculate ” the standard deviations” he murmured.”I just want you to grasp the general purpose.”
“Deviations,they’re not normal are they?” enquired his neighbor “Henry,an ex-English teacher.”So how can they be standard.It’s confusing..”
“Are you thinking of deviants?” Stan enquired calmly yet firmly.”Certainly not,at my age I’m a bit past that!””Still it adds a bit of excitement to the class.” he thought.
How do words in ordinary language relate to those in Statistics?”asked Henry kindly.
“They are just more precisely defined in statistics.To say someone is a deviant is a rather vague term.”
“No,it’s not!My neighbor is a deviant.He always dresses entirely in yellow.”
“Well,that must be hard to do.Certainly unusual.” Stan agreed boldly.
“But in another country that might be the norm.So it’s a matter of context.In statistics it’s more boring.There’s a formula.It’s totally independent of context.Have you ever wondered why so many mathematicians have more than a touch of Asperger’s syndrome?”

“No,it’s not something that wanders through my mind much”replied Henry
A shudder passed through the room at hearing the word “formula“,which perhaps they considered something of a deviant!Anything with letters and numbers mixed together is certainly not welcome in many people’s minds, along with their more unusual sexual tastes,desires and inclinations which were kept secret even from themselves in many cases.

“Time for tea.” called Annie,hoping to divert their attention.She carried in a platter of mouse sandwiches kindly donated by the local ambulance service and some iced Victoria sponge she and Stan had made
the day before.
“Just a quick word about next week.We’ll take a look at ratios and proportions and maybe see how that relates to the concept of rationality.”
“That sounds fun!” Annie called encouragingly.Henry decided to act on a deviant desire and fell onto her lap.”Oh,dear!” she gasped loudly as the chair collapsed under her.”Why can’t you be deviant at home?”
“My wife won’t let me!” He kindlily answered.
“And look,” Stan continued,”we’ll have to ring 999.This chair is in fragments.I thought for one day we’d be able to avoid calling them out!”
“Well,life is not controllable.” said a quiet but fierce looking lady with sharp green eyes.”That’s what makes it tolerable“
She then greedily consumed a large piece of iced cake .
“I can stand the thinking if the cake is good” she whispered to her shy friend Amy.
”That’s rather a feeble argument,”Amy retorted.”You can’t really compare cake and statistics.”
“I’ll compare anything I like!” the green-eyed woman snarled loudly.
“You do what you like but you must keep a sense of proportion!”
“Now then,have you rung 999?” Stan queried of Annie.”Yes,here they are,and they’ve got a stretcher for the chair!”
“Well,that’s certainly unusual,even deviant“,Stan thought anxiously to himself.”Where do they get their funding? Is there a fund for distributing money to help chairs which are not normal?

.To be continued..

Stan is hurt in the battle between the sexes (wordscat.wordpress.com)
Nostalgia and acceptance (mrkflores.wordpress.com)
David Hasselhoff Pretty Sure His Nick Fury Was Better Than Samuel L. Jackson’s (slashfilm.com)
The Real World: England (teachwellandtravelabroad.wordpress.com)
Funny stories with the the new companion (sistermurri.wordpress.com)
Malcolm Gladwell’s high school teacher inspired many other greats (metronews.ca)

Stan and the stranger

Source: Kathryn

Images made using Microsoft Paint Program

Source: Kathryn

Source: Kathryn

Source: Kathryn

Stan was reading the paper at 9 pm when. surprisingly, the front door bell rang.Emile,his delightful tomcat who was asleep,nearly jumped out of his furry skin.Stan opened the front door cautiously.
“Goodnight,sir.” remarked the handsome man standing there.
“Goodnight?”Said Stan confusedly,”Bur I’ve never seen you before.Are you the sandman who comes to put children to sleep?”
“Good evening,sir.” the man continued,”I’m so sorry my English is so poor.I am , still studying David McChrystal‘s Cambridge Encyclopedia of the English Language and I’m still a trifle mystified.”
“What do you want?”Stan asked him.”What do I want?I want to study philosophy,write a novel and meet a stunningly attractive young lady with brown eyes and dark hair.”
“No,no.” said Stan“I mean,why are you here?”
“A good question,why are we here?Do we have a mission in life or are we here as a result of mere chance and happenstance or even serendipity?”
“I mean,why are you here ringing my doorbell at this time of the night?”
“Shouldn’t that be evening,sir?” The stranger enquired sardonically yet politely.
“Look.are you after something?”
“Well,I’m after a young lady at college though so far I’ve not managed to meet her one to one.”
“Well,faint heart never won fair lady!”Stan advised him.
“What’s happening,”called Mary from her study where she was reading a critique of Principia Mathematica for the seventh time.
“God only knows!” said Stan.
Mary came to the front door.She wore a green silk blouse with a jade necklace, a pair of smart jeans from Per Una and some pink trainers with yellow laces.On her face she wore Lancome of Paris light beige foundation,strawberry pink lipstick and purple mascara from Clinique.Her perfume was by Beyonce.Buy all this with one click on the link below.
“Goodnight,madam” said the stranger.
“I think that’s so rude,” said Mary.”If you’ve never met someone before it’s inappropriate to say goodnight.”
“Well,you aren’t in bed,” he replied laboriously.
“What the hell has that got to do with it?”
“Inappropriate is often used to refer to sexual behaviour.”
“Well,for crying out loud,who are you?” she whispered politely.
“I’m the new curate!”
“I’m Polish.”
“Well,I’m sorry I don’t know a single word of it.would you like to speak in Latin?”
“Ite,missa est!”The curate exclaimed.”Uno reductio ad absurdum”Stan muttered.
“That’s Italian,UNO” cried Mary.
“Well,it’s pretty similar.”
“Well,I must go,”said the curate amxiously.
“You’ve not been yet so how can you go?”
“I don’t know,sir.Good evening,good afternoon,good morning.”the red face man screamed as he ran hurriedly down the garden path.
“Are we Catholics now?”Mary asked Stan.
“Oh,I can’t remember,” he said.”Do we go to church?”
“Well,we may be non-practising,I suppose.”
“Perhaps we’d better start practising,” he murmured affectionately.
“Oh,if you insist,” she replied in an unwifely roguish tone.
“That’s right,blame it all on the man.In my experience it’s you who is keener than me.”
“What are you talking about?”she enquired seductively.
Suddenly the door bell rang.It was the curate.”Goodnight” he called.”goodnight”
“Goodnight,” they responded in their reserved English fashion.
“Mioaw” cried Emile,”Mioaw,miaow,miaow.

Share this:

Share this:

Related articles

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

The reply

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Into the washing machine… therapy’s disasters

Related articles

Share this:

Related articles

Share this:

Related articles

Share this:

Related articles

Share this:

Related articles

Share this:

Share this: