Ye Olde Linoleum Shoppe

Monday, 27 June 2011

MEETING HOUSE SQUARE EXCAVATIONS . . . . . . THE END!!!

This is it chums! We're nearly there. Let's hold hands and perhaps we might see our way through this oddity without too many mental scars. No tears now, let's be big brave boys and girls.

Aboard the pirate ship Pecorino the captain stood atop the forecastle, a spyglass pressed to his eyepatch. 'I think I can see him Mister Mate,' he said.
'Can you captain, where?' Said the Mate.
'Just there beyond the caption competition,' said the captain handing over the spyglass.
'Blow me down yer right captain!' Said the Mate. 'Ho hoo! get a load of that caption competition though, I've seen some sick images in my time but by gum that takes the biscuit!'
'Yes, there is a biscuit in it! And a polar bear and Herr Uberrooter, but never mind that Mister mate, let's just get down there fast and catch that blogger and teach him a lesson.'
'Aye, aye captain.'
Behold the phenomenon of JATTIGRAPHY. Free form JAzz straTIGRAPHY (if you will Daddy-O.) Herr Uberrooter has pioneered this method of beatnik stratigraphic matrix for many years now. That's the site matrix above - man that cat knows how to razz my berries! He plays fast and loose with the epistles laid down by that real gone radioactive dude Dr. Ed Harris. The jattigraph is usually accompanied by a Ginsberg style poem to clarify things . . .
Herr Uberrooter had this jattigraph assembled before they even lifted the capstones off Meeting House Square. SQUARE MY ASS! DAMN that man is GOOD! Someone pass the Kerouac.
And so the final three days of site kicked in. . . 




Mr. Barrett can be seen here with his gauzy tresses swishing hither and thither as he expounds about his love of gingham fabric. Not visible on the far left is The Chairman setting forth his positive ideas on the same point. It was all bonhomie and 'Yes, you're sooo right!' but five minutes later they were pulling each others hair (with many a cry of 'Cissy' heard) after the agreeable conversation had veered onto the subject of shoes with buckles (always a contentious theme on site.)
It was always the way with Broken Nose and The Chairman, love and harmony one minute, bile and venom the next. It was such an interesting relationship I felt I just had to prepare a jattigraph of it . . .




And there it is! I think it goes a long way towrds explaining the orgiastic bond they had. And don't they both look dreamy in their costumes? I have as yet to write the Ginsberg style poem to go with this one but it will probably be short and go something like:
I love you too,
You wingnut . . .




There were salacious peepholes cut in the site hoarding so deviant archaeology buffs could get their redfaced jollies watching us grit bedaubed mud jockeys do our thing. Periodically we would be asked by these depraved sickos: 'Did ye find any gold!' This, of course, never failed to raise a hearty chuckle from among our number and after wiping the tears of mirth from our eyes we always returned with our well honed four letter riposte.
The Bishop of Nobber often approached these lost souls and (after performing a pole dance with a ranging rod) offered confession to ease their heated brains. Males were uniformly given two Our Fathers and three Hail Marys, females were offered a liason in a five-star Nobber hay barn. The Bishop enjoyed a high success rate among the females and currently has three paternity cases to prove it. 


CAPTION COMPETITION!!

It's not often I illustrate the curious ideas swirling between my earlobes and then find myself at a loss to add words, but on this occasion I admit I'm stumped. Quotes like 'Someone rinse that poor animal off with bleach,' or 'Dejeuner Sur La Bear,' do spring to mind but I'm leaving it to all you superb ladies and gentlemen to find the appropriate caption. Post them in the comments below, I'll pick a winner and (this is for real!) the winner will receive a copy of my world famous 'Tinned Clergy,' linoblock print. (What do you mean you've never heard of my 'Tinned Clergy' print? Philistines!))
Now excuse me while I sign on the dole . . .
'Not so fast,' cried the pirate captain.
'Oh dear,' said I. 'What's this about? Go easy with that cutlass.'
'No chance, now get on the ship,' said the First Mate.
'Oh heavens to betsy!' Said I.


And so the last day came, here's Mr. Barrett, Brian and Cathy staring forlornly at the bare cheese. Every last trinket rent from the soil. Every last speck of silt bagged and numbered ready to be tenderly ministered by those fine chaps and chaplettes over at the museum. 
At times like these a gentleman's heart can run away with itself and Brian (Herr Unterrooter) was no exception. In a haze of post-excavational emotion he turned to Cathy. 'Will you marry me?' He spluttered.
'I'm sorry baldy,' she replied, 'I can't.'
Brian clutched at his heart, 'Why ever not?'
'I'm a nun,' she said.
'A nun!' Said Brian. 'Which order?'
'We're an enclosed order who are televised twenty four hours a day on channel four, 'The Little Sisters of Big Brother.'
'Okay forget marriage,' said Brian, 'how about some old fashioned indiscretion then?'
'You stand a better chance with Mr. Barrett,' said Cathy.
Brian turned to look at Mr. Barrett who flashed him a rotten toothed smile. 'Hello sailor,' he said.
'Speaking of sailors,' said Cathy can you see that pirate ship floating out on the Liffey?'
'Yes,' said Brian, 'Is that Conor standing on that plank sticking out of the side of the vessel?'
'It is!' Said Mr. Barrett. 'Why are those pirates sticking swords in his backside?'
***
Aboard the Pecorino my time as a blogger was rapidly coming to an end.
'Gwan jump!' Roared the captain, 'Let the sharks have ye!'
'I'll have you know my solicitor is a member of the Fine Gael party,' said I. 'And my brother runs an influential grocery store in Kilfenora. They could make things very sticky for you if you choose to continue with this abominable action.'
'I think I'll take that risk,' said the captain hurling a chunk of caerphilly at my head. It caught me on the cheek and the force of the blow caused me to topple Liffeywards.
SPLASH!
blub  blub



THE END
With profound apologies to all my bestest friends and work mates.





6 comments:

  1. You can't abandon us now Conor. Your blog is methadone for those of us confined to offices and denied access to the real world.

    My caption suggestions:-
    The bear essentials
    Bear faced cheek
    Oh this, this is my biscuit...

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'll probably just slow the output down as oppose to ditching it all together. PS - If you get the jitters just take real methadone.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Captions:

    Brokeback break time

    Each of us bears his own hell (Virgil)

    ReplyDelete
  4. "In later years, the Foxes Glacier Mints' polar bear's career went into decline, reaching its nadir when he spent a summer working as a comfy sofa for the Irish Archaeologists Naturists Club. He would growl nastily if ever asked about it..."

    ReplyDelete
  5. sometimes Herr Uberrooter went to extremes to stop people touching his biscuits

    ReplyDelete
  6. Will someone please get this hairy animal off my back!!

    ReplyDelete

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I am a descended from a long line of conga dancers. I occasionally wear shoes. I gave up going to the toilet twenty years ago - it's a filthy habit. I have a pet bunny called Mucky - he's a filthy rabbit.

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