Sinister: squawk

[Ian Anscombe]

i wasn't sure i'd heard right..

'you want to go WHERE?'

but, i believe in freedom.  when it suits me.  so i threw the poetry parrot
into the air, and watched it crash into nextdoor's conservatory.

i fetched it back again, removed the 'singing nun' costume, and allowed it
to leave, unsure of the wisdom of my actions.

---------------------------------------------------
an explanation...

it all started with the christmas card.
looked innocent enough.  quite tasteful, even.. pvc envelope, wipe-clean
contents..
it was the message inside that did it..

'celebrating another year of superiority over you
xx
a.p. enterprises'

it took me a while to work out what 'a.p. enterprises' might be.  i assumed,
quite sensibly, that it stood for 'anal pleasure'.  until i saw the
postmark.
brighton.

the get


the get


the get
the scurrilous southern get....

i hadn't heard from ms playforth since i sent her a letterbomb disguised as
a 'hello kitty' meat cleaver and chainsaw set.  i thought that had put an
end to things.

seemingly not.  i immediately phoned up all of my HARDEST friends (no, not
in that sense) and took the train to brighton.
unfortunately, the little old lady from across the road couldn't make it, so
i was stuck with a man i found glue-sniffing at the bus stop, and err..
nobody else.

i didn't know what my plan was.  perhaps i'd get him to glue
her to something... something inconvenient.  like a volkswagen.  THAT'd
teach her.  i contemplated this, as he told me about the army of elephants
that he'd used to fight his wars in the past.  he said his name was
hannibal.
i stared out of the window, and reflecte that this was what came of taking
drugs AND watching trash american tv..
 at least it wasn't b.a. baracus.

i imagined Old Scurrilous staggering round brighton town, trying to look
cool and hep and swinging and fabbo, all the time with a small family
hatchback attached to her ear.


superiority.
'hello, i'm archel playforth, scurrilous southern get...
oh...this thing?  its a stylish new form of ear ornamentation'

i could hear Them Laughing.  and not, for once, at me..
----------------------------------------

best not to reflect on the past.
yesterday.
i found the parrot waiting on my steps yesterday night.  poor thing.. it
looked thin, cold and wet.  its feathers stuck out in all directions.. it
flashed those beady birdy eyes at me and croaked

'please....feed me.'

so, i took it in, and i fed it my finest Linda McCartney Sausage Rolls, and
gave it a nice cup of green tea.
half an hour later, it still looked rather ropey.  it hadn't touched its
green tea.  i decided it probably needed to be cheered up, perhaps with a
nice, rousing, sing-song:

'toast is burned
and you're coffee's co-old
and you leave
all the post
cos there's noth
ing but bills
again
home from work
put the tee-vee o-on
get your kicks watching'

'FOR GOD'S SAKE SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP, I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE!'
the parrot rocked from side to side as it squawked.  clearly, all that time
waiting for the pickle prince had affected its thought processes a little.
i felt so sad for the little thing.  if a fine, note-perfect rendition of a
Cracknell Classic couldn't cheer it up, i began to despair that anything
ever could.
i felt so helpless...

-----------------------------------------
helpless..
that day in brighton..
30th december, 2002..

i probably shouldn't have left the glue-sniffer on his own for so long.  he
said he had to be near the sea, to connect with something primal, to summon
his Powers.  he stood on the end of the deserted pier, looking out to sea
and making wave motions with his hands.
it got very tedious.  i went to 'saucy sue's sexy secret shop' and amused
myself with interestingly-shaped inflatable objects.  i swear i thought
everything would be okay.

a nutter, on a pier... he'd be fine.  nobody would bother him.  they would
be too busy looking in the other direction and saying 'oh, don't say
anything miranda darling, that sort of northern scum is only encouraged by a
reaction from a sophisticated southern type.' or words to that effect.  (the
same sort of thing they say about me, in sophisticated southern towns.
london, solihull, coventry, and the like..)

---
i heard them calling, far far away.  i got to the pier in time to seem him
plunge into the water.
i don't know if elephants can swim.  i couldn't bring myself to look.
evidently there had been too many of them.  the old structure gave way.  i
could hear them trumpeting, many miles out, floating away behind their
Master.
i still hear those calls, on the long nights, before i fall asleep.

i decided nobody would miss an old pier like that.  it wasn't as if anyone
was using it.  heading north, on the train, i reflected that it would
clearly take much more than an immortal eastern general and a horde of
elephants to defeat the power of...

The Southerner..
----------------

god, ian, get over it.  she won one. she has to win sometimes.
unfortunately, so far, it has been every time, but your day will come.  oh
yes.  your day will come.

the poetry parrot..
the poor little thing.  i didn't know what to do.  i put on 'the sound of
music'.  that always cheers me up

HOW do you SOLVE a PROBlem like marIA?
HOW do you hold a MOONbeam in your HAND?

this clearly moved my favourite freshly-found feathered friend.  it laughed
and laughed and laughed SO LOUD.  it didn't stop for HOURS.  then it started
screaming again.  i considered putting the film back on, or singing again,
but every time i suggested this the parrot just squawked, and frantically
tried to flap its wings underneath the minature habit-and-halo set i had
generously allowed it to borrow.

good god, what had HAPPENED to the poor thing?
i stroked the scarlet plumage, i coo-ed softly in its ear.. i told it not to
be so negative.  there's plenty of happiness in life.  its a question of
knowing how, and where to look.  and, mostly importantly, of remembering to
look at all.
there are many paths to happiness, they lie in -

and it screeched again:
'OKAY.  NO MORE.  the best way for you to cheer me up is to say nothing:

Philip Larkin - First Sight

Lambs that learn to walk in snow
When their bleating clouds the air
Meet a vast unwelcome, know
Nothing but a sunless glare.
Newly stumbling to and fro
All they find, outside the fold,
Is a wretched width of cold.

As they wait beside the ewe,
Her fleeces wetly caked, there lies
Hidden round them, waiting too,
Earth's immeasureable surprise.
They could not grasp it if they knew,
What so soon will wake and grow
Utterly unlike the snow.'


'the best way for you to cheer me up is to say nothing'.... i sat, and
pondered the words.  clearly, my company is so marvellous that i don't even
need to speak to lift others to hitherto unknown levels of joy.

the parrot was so edified by our encounter that it decided it would spread
joy to the most unfortunate person it could think of.  that must have been
the reason.  that must have been why it headed south to brighton.
rachel playforth.. sender of superior messages, destroyer of sea-based
structures (indirectly, at least), purveyor of.......things that are
purveyed.
of course i could share some of my enlightenment with her.

i wasn't entirely sure,  but i watched the little red blob as it faded into
the blueness above me.  i only hoped that it could bring her something
edifying, something improving.

-------
earth's immeasurable surprise..

the world is coming back to life.
time to come back, with it.  let go of the past.  let the elephants float
away.

be happy, my little rays of
err..
rayishness.
flap around the world, squawking your poems, as only a sinister type can.

xx
ian




+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
        +---+  Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list  +---+
     To send to the list mail sinister at missprint.org. To unsubscribe
     send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to
     majordomo at 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!                +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+