misterbuch-blog

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Well there I was with my wheelbarrow of enormous fish, and this mermaid lady just got all up in my face out of nowhere, and I was like, “aren’t you supposed to be seducing me or something, isn’t that what mermaids do,” and she was like, “nah, I just sit on this rock and talk shit all day.”  Then she waggled her finger and made a rude gesture and even though I’m just a regular joe with a wheelbarrow of enormous fish, I thought it was pretty out of line.

(See some of Paul Burke’s folk art here)

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I joined Daily Spitpaint in an attempt to get back to the habit of painting quick pieces every now and then.

Today’s topic (among others): The red tree

I had a somewhat creepier and more complex composition in mind, but there’s no way I could pull it off within only 30 minutes!

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I’m not of fan of cherubs. There’s something sinister about them, considering they’re meant to represent love and all that. I don’t get it. Babies with wings. And they haven’t got nappies on so that’s causing a right load of hassle, innit? Flying around shitting everywhere.

karl pilkington (via arrojenkins)

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My old fanfic and parody

Fan-fiction is a very geeky internet-based hobby that is frequently derided, and often with good reason. But it’s a wonderful thing, I promise. To me it was a great way to get started with writing, and some very skilled people I know have written their best stuff on fanfiction.net.

Here are a few my old ones.

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MOCK EFFECT (my surprisingly popular Mass Effect parody, 2008)

Mock Effect interview (told you it was popular)

New Friends (Mass Effect story, 2009)

Last Man on Earth (World War Z short, 2011)

The Twilight of Profundity (Twilght parody, 2009)

Swiping Dignity (Dora the Explorer parody, 2010)

A Thousand Generations (my beloved Star Wars story, 2010)

Of the Fall (Knights of the Old Republic short, 2011)

Vibroblades and Mirrors (Knights of the Old Republic 2 short, 2010)

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NO OTHER BLUE, poetry by Craig Charles (transcribed)

Here is Craig Charles' one and only published poetry book - and my favourite - No Other Blue from 1998, transcribed for the internet. No permission has been sought from the author or publisher but since it's been out of print for a while I thought no-one would bother. Poetry this good needs to be read. Check out 'Brewer's Droop' - it's the best. Click the arrows 'next' and 'back', or use the links on this page to navigate. Contents- 1- I Like Writing Poems 2- George McGee 3- I Want to Feel Your Bum 4- Shipwreck My Soul 5- Brewer's Droop 6- Halt 7- I Hate the Way... 8- Bully For You 9- He Lit a Cigarette 10- Yuppy 11- Hypothermia 12- Family Way 13- No Other Blue 14- In the City 15- Consultants 16- Interracial Sex 17- Blood on a White Flag 18- Flesym 19- It's Strange 20- Inverness 21- New Life 22- Spinner of Years 23- Porthcurno 24- Jump 25- Near-perfect Minutes --

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'I Like Writing Poems' by Craig Charles

From No Other Blue by Craig Charles I like writing poems But it's getting me down Because I can't put my pencil down. I like writing poems But it gets in the way Addicted to write A poem every day. Why do I always reach for the pen? To tell everyone I'm unhappy again. Why do I instinctively write down in verse The most mundane things, both tiresome and terse? I wish that my pencil knew all that I think And would write it down for me, while I have a drink.

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'George McGee' by Craig Charles

From No Other Blue by Craig Charles I knew this kid at school, By the name of George McGee He was always passing wind, and Blaming it on me. He'd hit me in he classroom And he'd hit me in P.E. Like he'd wait for me to get the ball When we were playing in the gym He'd either push me over Or he'd kick me in the shin He was that sort of kid. The sort of kid who cheats at conkers. It wasn't totally his fault though - His family were bonkers. His dad did his homework once, It made me a jealous sight - That is until he got his book back And found out it wasn't right He was that sort of kid. The sort of kid who washes hamsters in vim. The doctors took him away, and did some tests on him. I hadn't seen him from that day to this Until, despite my pleading, The little sneak - On Tuesday week - He pulled me up for speeding.

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'I Want to Feel Your Bum' by Craig Charles

From No Other Blue by Craig Charles I want to feel your bum, But I know you'll slap my hand. And every time I see your smile It makes my alter-ego stand. I want to kiss your lips, But I'm scared about my breath. I want to hold your hand, But I'm half frightened to death. I want to drop formalities And let my fingers roam, But my mum's banging on the ceiling Telling me to take you home. I want to take you to the pictures But your study's in the way And leaving can be grieving When you always want to stay. I want to marry you this instant And let my feelings delve. But my dad says I'll have to wait Because I'm only twelve.

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'Shipwreck My Soul' by Craig Charles

From No Other Blue by Craig Charles I want a cold pebble beach, I want sea in your hair, I want salt and sand on your skin. I want to bathe my hands in the waves of your hair, And bathe your body all tight and trim And shipwreck my soul in your eyes. I want to see you dressed real minimalist, In lycra and in lace The coo damp cotton towel Can wipe mascara fro your face And I will shipwreck my soul in your eyes. 'Cause you're pretty in lace and satin and silk You're mine. That's not to say I own you, Just a time share holding. She's pretty, she's pale, she's soft, she's warm, she's clean, She's the computer rash in my machine Affecting mind and motion, thought and deed, And wherewithal My love. Where, with all my love.

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'Brewer's Droop' by Craig Charles

from No Other Blue by Craig Charles I can't feel that feeling any more. The tingle doesn't tingle Underneath my overalls. Embarrassment and panic Shame when you think it's Getting hard again, it doesn't It just limps a bit and falls. You just don't know The place to look When you find that you can't get it up And the feelings just don't feel the same When the fingers stroke again, Again And I can't make My burner flame From tip to top to core. The tension tends to aggravate When you find that you can't copulate And your tingle Cannot mingle Any more. And your ego can't kick start and go If you can't make those juices flow. And you know, I know, we all know A man - is not a man Without a spanner in his hand. And you feel, I feel We all feel This need to overpower To turn on And deflower But it's hard Without the power In your loins. Or it isn't hard Without the power In your loins. And it might just get to irritate When you find that you can't fornicate When your arrow is bowed instead of straight And you just can't get that friction in your groin. And it's easy for you to say: 'Where there's a willy Then there's usually a way.' But that statement is easily said When the thing's all wrinkly and dead, And it's not that firm, upright and bold And my balls are crinkly and cold. But I suppose it's pretty funny That in this land of milk and money It's too much to touch to burning crutch Of your true intended honeybunch. And she says she loves me. She knows I'm competent Love is a many-splendoured thing, - It sometimes makes you impotent. And she holds me close And she bathes my wounds And she kisses me, and then - The lantern lights Light up her eyes And I'm sure It's getting hard again.

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'Halt' by Craig Charles

from No Other Blue by Craig Charles

Halt! Who goes there? Asked the policeman. Don't you know it's getting late? Have you been running, nigger? You do look in a state. Where've you been to, nignog - Where're you going - - What's your name? Answer me, you little animal, I'm not playing a game! He hit me on the head and I started to cry Operation eagle eye. Empty out your pockets - Let's have a look inside. We can do it at the station, if you really want a ride. Have you been in trouble with the police before? Have you broken any ancient law? In the riots I was hit by a nignog I think it's time to even the score. Get into the car! he said, Before I tan your tan, And he grabbed my by the shoulder, And he pushed me clear inside, He said -

Show me some identity To prove you're you Instead of me. I looked into the wing-mirror, I said, that's me. He said, that's pretty funny, Sonny, Laugh, it's a bust! Then he said, You've been sussed. You've been thieving, Haven't you? Come on, where've you stashed the cash? Don't be a smartarse, Answer when you're asked! A couple of streets away an old lady's been attacked Open those rubber lips, my son, Or you might just take the rap. All of a sudden, the radio came through. I don't know what was said. Those things are hard to understand. But he pushed me out the car with the back of his hand, and said: I'll see you later. And zoomed off up the street. So I shrugged my shoulders And took to my feet. Walking along the pavement All in one piece - After another confrontation with community police.

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'I Hate the Way...' by Craig Charles

from No Other Blue by Craig Charles

I hate the way you sleep. The clucking and the bucking and the grinding of your teeth. And by the way, I hate the way you breathe. I hate the way you eat, The slopping and the popping and the sucking of your teeth. And can I say, I hate the way you speak. I hate the way you wash, the way you hold the flannel, the bucket and the mop. Being with you never - ever - ever seems to stop, it just goes on - and on - and on - and on - I'm driven to despair. And by the way, I hate the way You're always - Bloody - There. You're getting in my way, you're on my nerves, I've got a notion - Solitary confinement could be seen as a promotion.

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'Bully for You' by Craig Charles

from No Other Blue by Craig Charles I only had a tin of tuna and a bottle of Quosh, When a peabrain with a keychain And a little wooden cosh Comes into my cell, And goes, bosh We got couriers in cannabis, Smuggling in pot, Someone's put it on you, man, It's coming on top, You've got yourself into a spot. He dug through my Detritus then, His wrists were in my slop. Trying to intimidate, To make me have a pop So he could finish me off Down the block. A PP9 battery in a plain brown sock. The doc don't come when you knock When they finish you off down the block. The man was bad, mean; but dead keen And lived behind a smoke screen Life a series of doors that he's gotta keep locked. Nasty, Snidey, Uneasy And untidy A petty little bigot who never gets shocked. Accustomed to the violence, The conspiracy of silence, The poxy little victories, and shoddy little knocks. They're gonna finish me off down the block.

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'He Lit a Cigarette' by Craig Charles

from No Other Blue by Craig Charles He lit a cigarette with a lighter from Spain, Two weeks in Malaga - eight days of rain. He had a gold-capped tooth and a rolled-gold chain. She knew things would never be the same. She wore stiletto heels All scuffed with dirt, And ankle bracelet And a miniskirt. Although she wore a watch, she asked him for the time, As she secretly undressed him in her mind. All the time secretly wishing she had no inhibitions. Nine AM on a twosday, tired and grey, She couldn't think of anything to say. The bus was crowded so they had to stand, When he accidentally Touched her With his hand. She felt a shiver shimmy down her spine, Took a deep breath, and took her time. She said, it's nothing. He said, you're far too kind. As he secretly undressed her in his mind. All the time secretly wishing He had no inhibitions. Around nine thirty-five They rolled into reception. There was tension and desire As they signalled their intention They were touching on the newness Of a tentative connection. They touched the power In a room so often rented by the hour.

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'Yuppy' by Craig Charles

from No Other Blue by Craig Charles He's got a Rolex watch And a filofax So that he can correlate his facts. He gets anxiety attacks. He's doing well, but he can't relax 'Cos he's a yuppy. He's got a GTI, His girlfriend looks like Lady Di, With a briefcase That contains the face, Time out, and bloody 'Ell French elle And English elle as well, 'Cos he's a yuppy. He likes caviare on French bread, And likes French cheese and pickles, He's got inexhaustible supplies of pink and white shirts That he bought from Harvey Nichols. He's a yuppy, He's a guy you'll like, He works off excess energy On an excess energy exercise bike, The excessive executive, Exclusive and extreme. He doesn't want to be a never-was, He doesn't want to be a has-been. But he has been seen, Reading Harpers & Queen In an Italian pizzeria In the Covent Garden area 'Cos he's a yuppy. He's Gucci, Pucci, Fiorucci, His girlfriend shops at Nina Ricci. His favourite food was fettucinie, But now he's gone all Japanesey - he does karate, He eats sushi And drinks sake, 'Cos he's a yuppy. He lives in a world of Porches, Fuel-injection turbos and gasoline. He lives in a world of finance, Corporate business pressure and amphetamine. And when he goes home, He talks a bit of business He comes before she's finished, And he doesn't understand Why she always moans when he comes home. Life to him is an empty glass, And an ashtray overfull. He's never been exciting So he's never ever dull When he gets home. She lives in a world of lotions, Waging war against he wrinkles with beauty cream Well-assorted potions rubbed in to her body She's so soft and clean. And when she's not home She shops in all the boutiques Never keeps her receipts And she doesn't understand Why he always moans When he comes home. Life to her is a bubble bath And private bank accounts She pays for wealth with happiness And that's a serious amount When they are home.

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'Hypothermia' by Craig Charles

from No Other Blue by Craig Charles Youtube- Hear this poem performed on Saturday Live

It's got so cold I've caught the flu, I go without gloves, and my fingers turn blue, I go to the shops and I go to the shows, And snot keeps dripping out of everybody's nose. It's all anoraks and duffle-coats, woolen scarfs and mitts. It's been here for far too long and now it's getting on my nerves. I've got an affliction, I've got a disease - The snot won't stop, the sneeze won't ease. And it's easy for you to say, That's how it goes, But it doesn't, it stays, I've caught one of those. But I can handle it - I'm a big strong strapping lad. It's not the flu that's Making me mad - It's the press reports we've had. You see, it seems people die When the weather turns dull. It's like an annual seal cull. And it might be a grandma of yours that's freezing. Sitting there shivering in layers of old clothes. Worrying because the cost of heating's getting higher. Wishing she could feel her fingers or her toes. Now, you must remember granny, The one who struggled through the war. Now final reminders she's alive Come flooding through the door. While the ones who send the bills out Live in a centrally heated flat, The old are wrapped in blankets As they watch the thermostat. When I was a kid - which wasn't long ago, Winter meant skates, and snowball fights. If you got one in the face, it wasn't very nice, But you could handle it. You built snowmen, And gave them potato eyes, and A carrot for his nose was the usual trick. Kids these days use the carrot For his dick, and the potatoes - Well, who knows. My grandparents must have done that too When they were young and sprightly. I wonder if they realised That it would come to this, That they'd be hanging onto Life so tightly. I wonder if they realised That after all those years of work Their pensions would just about keep them fed. And heating allowances applied for long before Would start arriving Three days after they were dead. And it makes my blood boil When these cold hearted tricks Get given new identities And re-labelled: economics. You see, there must be Heat for homes in winter - No matter what the cost Or is the Conservative Party Chairman The Right Honourable Jack Frost?

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'Family Way' by Craig Charles

from No Other Blue by Craig Charles Mother sits alone and knits Bonny boots for auntie's newborn baby. Father sits alone and spits Right into the grate, And tells my mum To shift her bum - The dinner's getting late. And our Jimmy's coming home in spring - Did eighteen months for robbing things Like houses, cars and wedding rings, And all those things That are inbetween. And our Julie's in the club again, And when she's asked I'm sure she'll say She's had no luck with men. And when I'm asked I'm sure I'll say That I've been in The famly way. My dad took me aside and said: 'Don't dare go down the pier head - That ships have gone, the water's black, With dirty men, with long black macs Weaving dirty drunken tracks, And leaving dirty drunken paths.' But I guess my dad just can't relax Since he got sacked. For thirty years he broke his back Till work got slack. And now he goes And drinks his dole In public houses Battered by the times. And mum wakes up and cries at home And grandma calls her on the phone, And when she's asked, I'm sure she'll say That she's been in the family way. And when we're asked, I'm sure we'll say We've all been in the family way. Our Julie's only seventeen, She works in some launderette. She doesn't like it very much - It's all that she could get. She's getting married pretty soon, All dressed in virgin white. Mother said that's what she'd like - She wants her kids to do it right. So our Jimmy stole A wedding ring, So she could have The real thing. And he got caught And that's what bad luck brings. And when he's asked, I'm sure he'll say That he's been in The family way.