The sun yawned, propped himself up on his elbows and blinked. Then, he sat up and stretched his candy striped pyjama sleeves across the sky. The birds twitched, flexed their beaks and started to sing. The daisies flung back their petals and turned around to look at the sun. And then God came by and took a nice, long, relaxing pish all over Glasgow. Again. The patter of rain against the window of my not-so-lonely tenement didnt wake me up. Its nine months since I moved to Scotland and Im far too used it these days. What did wake me up, though, was the sound of breaking glass. I near jumped out of my skin! My first reaction was to curl up into a little ball and hide under the duvet because, obviously, thats how to make nasty things go away and leave you alone. But go away it did not. It whatever it was came and sat on me. I could feel something sharp digging through the covers and into my hip. Could it be a phantom? An alien? Frank the bunny? No, there was something a bit odd about it all. The Thing was too light to be all that scary. I peeked out from under the duvet. The room looked like a bomb had hit it. Actually, it always looks like a bomb has hit it Im not the worlds tidiest young lady. However, I dont tend to leave shards of broken glass lying around. I presumed this was the result of something smashing through the window. Could it be a brick tossed by one of the local neds? No, surely not they are far too preoccupied with experiments involving emptying the gunpowder out of a load of fireworks into a heap under a car and seeing what happens when you drop a lighted match onto it. I could still feel The Thing sitting on my hip. I squinted through my bleary eyes in its direction and saw A parrot. About fucking time you were awake. What the fuck do you think youre doing yer wee radge cunt, hiding under the covers when Im so obviously in need of medical attention? The parrot was looking a trifle distressed, and also bloody. His feathers were sticking out in all directions and a greenish goo was running down one of his legs and onto my not-exactly-cheap John Lewis bed linen. I sighed. This little chaps reputation preceded him. In fact, I was wondering when he might pay me a visit. I believe I am in the presence of the Poetry Parrot. Damn right, you are. Run me a bath, beeyotch! Ill do no such thing if youre going to speak to me like that. Say please. The creature sniffed, which I thought was odd, as parrots dont have noses like what weve got. Pleeeeease. Thats better. I went into the bathroom, turned on the taps and swiped some of my flatmates Radox. While I was sponging the plumage of our little friend, I asked him where on earth hed been, and how on earth hed got into such a state. I got lost, he replied, in Missprint Towers. A long, long time ago, somebody sent me somewhere, but that person didnt realise Id been sent to them, so I tapped and tapped and tapped at their window and they never let me in. I was starving hungry, so I went to the local park in search of a granny with a bag of bread I can have a duck in a Square Go any day so I thought Id be in with a chance of a feed but as soon as I found a perch in a nice silver birch, a gang of bastard squirrels decided to kidnap me! Can you believe it? They took me back to their secret dray, sat me on a pile of stained headscarves and locked the door while they decided what to do with me. It didnt half stink in there. Well, I thought, Im not going to let these grey bastards keep me here. Theres only one thing I can do fight! Luckily I had some star shaped martial arts weapony things tucked under my wing, so the next time a squirrel came in to check on me, I flung one at him and chopped off his tail! Well done! I said. Thank you, my dear, he replied, very kind of you to say so. Dont forget the downy feathers under my wing, will you? I turned him upside down and gave him a good scrubbing. So, what happened next? Well, said the colourful one, Id heard that the way to get a squirrel is to get his tail and its true! He rolled around on the floor, squealing in agony. His little squirrelly pals came to find out what was going on, caught site of the hunk of fluff on the floor and scarpered. Before you could say fuckmeinthearse I was out and airborne, but I didnt know where to go. I thought and thought and I thought of you Aw, youre making me blush Dont flatter yourself darling, its just that, out of all Sinister, you live closest to Alexandra Park, which is where I was, and I needed help, quick. Well, I said, youre all clean now and I dont think youve got any broken bones, so Ill just get you some food. I havent got much in will pasta and pesto do? Spose. OK then, while Im cooking, you can tell me a poem Righto, this is a good'un so here goes A Beautiful Young Nymph Going to Bed. By Swift, Jonathan . Corinna, Pride of Drury-Lane, For whom no Shepherd sighs in vain; Never did Covent Garden boast So bright a batter'd, strolling Toast; No drunken Rake to pick her up, No Cellar where on Tick to sup; Returning at the Midnight Hour; Four Stories climbing to her Bow'r; Then, seated on a three-legg'd Chair, Takes off her artificial Hair: Now, picking out a Crystal Eye, She wipes it clean, and lays it by. Her Eye-Brows from a Mouse's Hide, Stuck on with Art on either Side, Pulls off with Care, and first displays 'em, Then in a Play-Book smoothly lays 'em. Now dextrously her Plumbers draws, That serve to fill her hollow Jaws. Untwists a Wire; and from her Gums A Set of Teeth completely comes. Pulls out the Rags contriv'd to prop Her flabby Dugs and down they drop. Proceeding on, the lovely Goddess Unlaces next her Steel-Rib'd Bodice; Which by the Operator's Skill, Press down the Lumps, the Hollows fill, Up hoes her Hand, and off she slips The Bolsters that supply her Hips. With gentlest Touch, she next explores Her Shankers, Issues, running Sores, Effects of many a sad Disaster; And then to each applies a Plaster. But must, before she goes to Bed, Rub off the Daubs of White and Red; And smooth the Furrows in her Front, With greasy Paper stuck upon't. She takes a Bolus e'er she sleeps; And then between two Blankets creeps. With pains of love tormented lies; Or if she chance to close her Eyes, Of Bridewell and the Compter dreams, And feels the Lash, and faintly screams; Or, by a faithless Bully drawn, At some Hedge-Tavern lies in Pawn; Or to Jamaica seems transported, Alone, and by no Planter courted; Or, near Fleet-Ditch's oozy Brinks, Surrounded with a Hundred Stinks, Belated, seems on watch to lie, And snap some Cull passing by; Or, struck with Fear, her Fancy runs On Watchmen, Constables and Duns,
From whom she meets with frequent Rubs; But, never from Religious Clubs; Whose Favour she is sure to find, Because she pays them all in Kind. CORINNA wakes. A dreadful Sight! Behold the Ruins of the Night! A wicked Rat her Plaster stole, Half eat, and dragged it to his Hole. The Crystal Eye, alas, was miss'd; And Puss had on her Plumpers piss'd. A Pigeon pick'd her Issue-Peas; And Shock her Tresses fill'd with Fleas. The Nymph, tho' in this mangled Plight, Must ev'ry Morn her Limbs unite. But how shall I describe her Arts To recollect the scatter'd Parts? Or show the Anguish, Toil, and Pain, Of gath'ring up herself again? The bashful Muse will never bear In such a Scene to interfere. Corinna in the Morning dizen'd, Who sees, will spew; who smells, be poison'd.
The Parrot scoffed down his pasta and then broke off a huge chunk of my Parmesan and ate that too blooming cheek! And then I sent him on his way, with instructions to visit *Mr Robin Stout* because Im reasonably sure that hell look after the Parrot and keep him alive WONT YOU? Cheerio Juicy Lucy ===== The one, the only Glasgow Indie List! http://www.groups.yahoo.com/group/glasgow-indie/ ************************************************** The Winchester Club http://www.geocities.com/the_winchester_club __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Everything you'll ever need on one web page from News and Sport to Email and Music Charts http://uk.my.yahoo.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+