Waggin an Baggin

(read with your thickest Billy Connolly voice)

In the centre of toun
A wannabe Scottish Bagpiper is huffin and puffin aweey so he is.
Disturbin the Sunday afternooon quiet.

A wee gaggle of deef, or deefened, onlookers are gormlessly lookin on.

The Uncles have got into the spirit of the thing tho.
Them likes abit of Scottish Cuntry dancin.
Och Aye! Oki Cokey!
(While Wattie is blissfully fillin his heed wi the rollin of stones)

All the wee wagtails are no impressed. Och No!
They canna hear themsells think faw all the bloodi din.

On an on an on drones they weezy bags o baggy pipes.
Ooot wails Donald Wears Yaw Troosers, followed by Scotland The Brave, followed by Amazin Grace.

SHUT YER YAPPER! Pleeeese!

Waggin wagtails are a much sweeter sound to Sunday afternoooon than the baggin o these bloodi bagpipes.

A 60th Burfday

It was a certain somebodys 60th burfday today.

As yoo can see, all these lovely luscious people were trying to convince the certain somebody

Of how cherished he was.

Just because yoo’ve reached the grand old age of 60

That doesn’t at all have to mean that you have turned into a
wrinkled, whizzled, grizzled, fizzled, out

OLD GIT.

Oh No.

There’s more life to cum in this 60 something old fella yet!.

Fun day out at the seaside

Bobs and Wattie have decided to go have day at seaside today.

Them got picnic of various baps, buns, and bites.
Them got beers (faw Uncles) and sparkly spunkle pop (faw Wattie)
Them got buckets and spades.

In a minute, Wattie will have a poke about on the rocks looking faw soft cockles and wet whelks.

Bobs will build a sandcastle. Or bury Wat in the sand up to his fat neck.

Look! – there they are splashin about in the sea, havin a wild paddle.
Bobs like dunkin Wat in getting him soakin wet
(Wat, as yoo can see, is reluctant to dip more than his toesies in; he gets rather disturbed wen submerged in swirly waters, feels dizzily lost and out of his depff)

Later this afternoon them all going to treat themselves to creemy drippy ice creems.
And maybe even a big bag of salty vinegary chips.

What a lovely day it will have turned out to be.

The Bobs and Wattie love messin and playin about on beach.

Them become like 3 little happy kids again.

Three Strange Burds

Strange burdies turned up in back garden this week.

Sat on willow tryin to peck at peenuts am 2 little Bobburds.
Tryin to fatten thems fat little selves up.
Sparras wuz not impressed. Flew at them wiv claws in spiky attack mode.
One Bobburds bum got nasty nip. Two Bobburds pipe was pinched aggressively frum beak (why do burds need pipes wee wunder. Aint there enuff smoke in air. Very odd)

The bigger burd yoo see there is the Spotty Watted Flyflasher. Curiously minus any spots. Has the burd been misidentified we wunder. Has he bin given a rather wrong name? By the look of him, a better name might be The Greater Pink Busted Knobheaded Shrike.
He a sumwat mysterious burd. Just sits there gawpin at yoo. As if in a state of terminal constipation. Occasionally lets out a plaintively painful shriek, resembling some inexplicable inner state of regurgitative anguish.

Needless to say, all the other birds at No 74 are not happy sharin back garden wiv this peculiar trio. The suspicion is that the Bobburds and the Watburd are not genuine fevvered friends at all, but pretend birds.

So Union of Park Road Back Garden Birds Association am thinkin of goin on strike. No more delightful singin in wisteria. No more funny flippy flutterin in willow. No more cheeky antics in winter jasmine. Them goin to go on a Go-Slow. Or even worse, instigate a No-Show.

Unless this comically tragic trio of Fake Burds is shooed off, shown the back (garden) gate.

Bobs Furnichures

Uncles am busy makin bits out of bobs today

Planks of wood going spare under shed. Wot cud them do?
Them know. Make Bobs Bundles Furnichures.

Faw 10 shillin you ged nice wudden table
Faw 5 shillin you ged nice wudden chair
Faw two and six yoo ged nice wudden stool.
Them even frow in a big box for 2 shillin to keep all yore preshuss knick knacks in.

As yoo can see Bobs am not exactly exactly wiv thems measurements.
Workin owt feet and inches into metrics geds them all confoosed.

And sumtimes One Bob not holdin it rite so Two Bob cant saw strate.

But them very persistent. Nuffin defeets the Uncles.
Minus a little wobble ere a little wonk there them geds job dun.

If yoo want to buy any of this wobbly wonky wonderful bespoke furnichures pleese arrive at allotmints next Toosday. Thads wen uncles runs thems Bobs Bittz stall.

Make sure to ged there early to avoid disappintment.

Chinky Free faw Afternoon Tee (Hee)

“Herrow evilbladdy” say Pong Pong Poo
“Herrow evilibladdy” say Yum Yum Yoo
“Hey! I jus say tha” say Pong Pong Poo
“Herrow evilibladdy” say Ching Chong Chok
“Hey! I jus say tha” say Yum Yum Yoo
“Doan be a plare o clopiclat!” say Pong Pong Poo

“Yoo stink”! say Yum Yum Yoo to Pong Pong Poo
“I stink good” say Pong Pong Poo, “Iddo mi flavlit pler fume”
“Waddo id call?” axe Ching Chong Chok
“Iddo call “Cato-Armpippnipp”” say Pong Pong Poo, “Iddo maken slexy laddee velli ill- ee- zist- a- bul!”
“Yaah – geddo evilee Tomcat Dick miaow miaooowin!” snigga Ching Chong Chok
“Iddo giv evilee purri pussy X flactor slex smell” say Pong Pong Poo
“Waddo evilee nice ladee reely rike is a biggo slice o thi fulfat Chok Clake I make!” say Ching Chong Chok
“Wi nice hot plot o Stinky Chinky tee!” say Yum Yum Yoo
“Hee! Hee! Tee! Hee! Tee! Hee!” laff Pong Pong Poo
“Hee! Hee! Tee! Hee! Tee! Hee!” laff Yum Yum Yoo
“Hey! I jus laff like tha” say Pong Pong Poo
“Hee! Hee! Tee! Hee! Tee! Hee!” laff Ching Chong Chok
“Hey! I jus laff like tha” say Yum Yum Yoo
“Doan be a plare o clopiclat!” say Pong Pong Poo

Repee an cloppy
Repee an cloppy
For nextoe free hour

(Or until tee fini) (fink Yum Yum Yoo)
(Or chok clake fini) (fink Ching Chong Chok)
(Or mi armpip stardo tu expire) (fink Pong Pong Poo)

One Bob up a chimlee pot

Wat on earth be happen ere?
One Bob am undred foot up air sat on chimlee pot.
In jackdaw nest. Struff!
Wat a palaver.

How him got there?
Mississ Jackdaw peckt him off ground an ploppt him in.

Why him got there?
He was rolled up like ball.
Bamboozlin unda bramblebush.
Hims head a muddl of mishmash.
Lookin faw pipe that gone missin.

Mississ Jackdaw fort it best to pick him up befaw Peregrin Falcon or sumsuch nasty burd cum along an peckt hims eyes owt, gobbled Uncle up.

At least One Bob be safe now for nite.
Altho him dunt like wat on supper menu much.
Missis Jackdaw jus shoved slithery slimy fat grub down hims frote (Uuuugh! Disgustin!)

And dunt fink Uncle wlll get much shuteye tonite eivva.
Them jackdaw chicks be noisy pecky littl fidgets. (“Gedoff! Bleddy squawking in me earole!” exclaims Uncle eggzasperatid)

It bin a most pecoolier day.

One Bob never felt so daft.
Or so on hims ownsum.

Him lost wivout Two Bob.

(Two Bob bin cryin hims weepy eyes owt all day)

A Pair of Burd Nurds

Meet Keving. Bruv of Keef. (Both of them a pair of Pratts)
He got a ‘Spot Your Bird’ Guide in his left pocket look.
He a proper ‘Burder’. He like every aspect, every fing an fevva, of ‘Burd’.
He likes thems plumage. He’s likes thems beaks. He likes thems tweety little singsongs. He likes thems light aerated energy.
He likes lookin faw thems funny little looks.
He likes when a burd nearly falls off a branch it bin clung on to with its clingy claws.
He likes when another burd tries to nick this burds crusts.
He likes it when that burd on feeder gets flighty and feisty.
He likes it when a burd hops about like a demented tit.

Keving is keen to spot Burd No 41 on his To Do Burd Hit List:
That be a pair of Pink Titty Warblers. Rarely ever seen. Hardly ever seen apart. Odd glimpses of such am often confined to solitary flights of fancy.
Keving is also eagerly awaiting Burds No’s 77 & 78 & 79 on his To Do Burd Hit List:
The “Crusted Bustard” (No 77) The “Busty Custard” (No 78) and The “Cushty Bustard” (No 79) all frequently seen hung upside down on clothes lines, or during wobbling murmurations across dusky sunsets.

Meet Lindy Lou. Sister of Candace Marie. (Both of them a pair of Tweetings)
Lindy Lou is desperate to feed Bird No 42 on her To Do Burd Feed List.
One of them tufty things. With the topknots. Looks like a Grebe.

She got pocketfuls of seeds (poppy & sunflower), nuts (wall & pea), balls (fat & fatter), bread (crumbs & crusts), baps (buttered & cheesy), lettuce (rocket & non rocket), green veg (sprouts & leafies), bacon (streaky, rinds, diced), buns (iced & cream), burgers (wurmed), quiches (caterpillared), cakes (beetled & battenburged)

Keving and Lindylou were besides them little selves last Sunday wen up on Labrador Bay.

A dozen Curly Buntings cum frontbunting an backbunting all over everywhere.
Circlin cirly swirls of lemonyellow delight full into thems burdbrained heads.

Keving and Lindylou couldn’t help feeling little flips of nurdfelt ecstasy.
Like burds they became. Ready to take off.
Lindylou on Kevings back.
In wingless flights of nurdishness.

Aunties am Goin….Goin …… Gone….

Yep, them am.
That Wattie prank wuz the last straw.

Not that Aunties knew.
“If it was meant to be a joke it NOT BLUMMING funny mi lad!” (grumbles Aunt Fatty Rumprum)
“It woz in very bad taste mi boy” (complains Aunt Hetty Boogers)
“Oh dear! Oh no! Oh lummy!” (cries Aunt Fanny Friggit)

Anyroad.
Them off.

Packt up and in and on a makeshift handcart (knockt up by Uncles early this mawnin while pretendin to be off to chapel)

Theres Wattie look – givin it good shove up.
There’s Uncles look – givin it good welly on.

Wen them gets carted Aunties up to the top of this steep hill……
well….. them ….. gunna….. accidental…. slip….. (Whoops!)
“Aaaaghhh!!” (shouts Aunt Rumprum)

….and have….to let go…… (Whoops again!….)
“Aaaaagh!!” (shouts Aunt Boogers)

Sendin….them grumblesum Aunties…. (Oh Dear!….)
“Aaaaaagh!” (screeches Percival The Parrot)

….Tearin…. an tumblin……. (Oh Gawd!….)
Clatter! Tinkle! Smash!! (goes all them spunkle jam jars)

….All the way down steep hill… (Oh Lord!….)
“Aaaaagh!!” (shrieks Aunt Fanny Friggit)

…..And on thems wayward old way… (Oh Crikey!)
“Aaaaaggghh!!!!” (screems Aunts in pandamonious unison)

….All the bumpy bak rodes to The Norfuck Broads… (Oh Flippin Heck!….)
Phew!!!! (Hee! snigger Hee! snigger Hee!)

“Till we not see yoo again!” finks waves One Bob
“Dunt Come bak soon!” finks cheers Two Bob
“Good riddance Bye!” waves shouts Wattie

A Stinkish Stake Out

In shed tonite am funny business afoot.
Aunties Rumprum, Boogers, and Friggit cum over all queer.
Them cant put them fingers on it.
But summat not feel right, the air has odd odours.

Aunt Fatty Rumprum says: ‘Wot that funny smell?’
Aunt Hefty Boogers says: ‘It cummin frum sink?’
Aunt Fanny Friggit says: ‘It makin me feel weak, unwell’
Aunt Fatty Rumprum says: ‘It a most terribull stink’
Aunt Hefty Boogers says: ‘Look it smokin everywear!’
Aunt Fanny Friggit says: ‘I can’t breeve, I feel all faint’
Aunt Fatty Rumprum says: ‘I sees wot it is – it over there!’
Aunt Hefty Boogers says: ‘This ain’t funny, this ain’t’
Aunt Fatty Rumprum says: ‘And there look! And over there!’
Aunt Hefty Boogers says: ‘Sum boogers bin lettin off stinkbombs!’
Aunt Fatty Rumprum says: ‘And wears that Watson, wears ower Bobs?!’
Aunt Hefty Boogers says: ‘I bet its Im, that cheeky imp!’
Aunt Fatty Rumprum says: ‘Our feeble Fannys gone all limp!’

Aunt Fanny Friggit am collapsed on a chair.
Percival Parrot and Dogger Dog flat knockt out.
No sign of Uncles anywear.

But look – there’s Wat behind the curtain
Lookin decidedly impish
He got summat to do wiv this malodorous malarkey
it be certain.

Such a smell am unbearable,
The stink gettin stronger.
Shed uninhabitable.

Aunts cant stay ere any longer.

And yes – whisper – ssshhh!
Wat set off this antiAuntish load of stinkish!