Might have been the Matinee, come to think of it.
I’M HERE!
and I notice Mr Brave,wivviz big Norf ‘n’ Sarf flappin’ in the breeze,has ‘addit onniz toes,suddenly,soon as I make an appearance. HA! I bet his daisies are making ticktacks down the yet to meet,at right good flower seed,the w#nker! [that’s Cockney Rhyming Slang,that is…good,eh?]Did you know,dear reader,that when postal sperm donors were requested in Horse-Trailyer,that ol’ ‘super eager to be of assistance’ gumbud came in a Jiffy? HMM? Nah,‘COURSE snot…he keeps that WELL quiet…HUH…finga bart ol’ gumboil is,he believes being superstitious is unlucky! - SEE wot I mean? WOT a dork…#sigh#
Pugsy ignore all the nonsense. I was asking who went to Saturday Morning pictures.
Talking about big pictures.
Anyone ever ponder the big questions? Why are we here? Where does our mind go when we’re dead? Is there anybody out there remotely like ourselves?
With all the technology at hand today no one has even come close to getting answers to these, the most important questions of all.
Who gives a damn if someone knows all the works of Shakespeare by heart, can quote passages of epic Greek poems, or is a genius at maths, chemistry, physics, or surgery, it all adds up to bugger all in the big picture.
Get outa the way, I wanna see the big picture!
As kids and before going into the cinema, the brother and me would buy a loose Player (cigarette) each and a match, the little old lady in the shop would always give you two free matches with your penny fag. She and her sister ran this tiny shop next to the picture house, neither of them ever married and were left the shop by their father, nicer people you couldn’t meet, so nice in fact that the thugs in the area made sure they were never troubled or robbed, alas both sisters and shop are now long gone, lost to progress as they say.
Anyway we would light up during the little picture, take several slow drags, then nip the lighted tip off and keep the bigger portion of the smoke for the big picture, a truly enjoyable experience. 
Fourpence into the cinema, a penny for a smoke, two pence for a big bag of popcorn, and threepence for a bag of chips on the way home, a terrific day out for less than a shilling, and don’t forget there were 20 shillings in a pound, God be with the days, everything today is many money money, and grab all ya can, I pray for them, they have never known simple enjoyment in their lives. 
Yay Spitty you got it.
Ah yes ah very deep Jem.
Fourteen pounds in a stone I think.
I’m off to watch my little picture on my box.
This means nothing, Team Wise.
Re the big picture
Sammy David jnr was on the right track with this
Daddy started out in San Francisco
Tootin’ on his trumpet loud and mean
Suddenly a voice said, “Go forth, Daddy
Spread the picture on a wider screen”
And the voice said, “Brother, there’s a million pigeons
Ready to be hooked on new religions
Hit the road, Daddy, leave your common law wife
Spread the religion of the rhythm of life”
And the rhythm of life is a powerful beat
Puts a tingle in your fingers and a tingle in your feet
Rhythm in your bedroom, rhythm in the street
Yes, the rhythm of life is a powerful beat
To feel the rhythm of life
To feel the powerful beat
To feel the tingle in your fingers
To feel the tingle in your feet
Daddy spread the gospel in Milwaukee
Took his walkie talkie to Rocky Ridge
Blew his way to Canton then to Scranton
Till he landed under the Manhattan Bridge
Daddy was the new sensation
Got himself a congregation
Built up quite an operation down below
With the pie-eyed piper blowing
While the muscatel was flowing
All the cats were go, go, going down below
Daddy was the new sensation
Got himself a congregation
Built up quite an operation down below
With the pie-eyed piper blowing
While the muscatel was flowing
All the cats were go, go, going down below
Flip your wings and fly to Daddy
Flip your wings and fly to Daddy
Flip your wings and fly to Daddy
Fly, fly, fly to Daddy
Take a dive and swim to Daddy
Take a dive and swim to Daddy
Take a dive and swim to Daddy
Swim, swim, swim to Daddy
Hit the floor and crawl to Daddy
Hit the floor and crawl to Daddy
Hit the floor and crawl to Daddy
Crawl, crawl, crawl to Daddy
And the rhythm of life is a powerful beat
Puts a tingle in your fingers and a tingle in your feet
Rhythm in your bedroom, rhythm in the street
Yes, the rhythm of life is a powerful beat
To feel the rhythm of life
To feel the powerful beat
To feel the tingle in your fingers
To feel the tingle in your feet
To feel the rhythm of life
To feel the powerful beat
To feel the tingle in your fingers
To feel the tingle in your feet
Flip your wings and fly to Daddy
Take a dive and swim to Daddy
Hit the floor and crawl to Daddy
Daddy, we got the rhythm of life
Of life, of life, of life
Yeah, yeah, yeah man
"Ah yes ah very deep Jem.
Fourteen pounds in a stone I think.
I’m off to watch my little picture on my box.
[/QUOTE]
Very true Sweetie, the thing is this is a Chinese keyboard and honestly there is no pound sign on it, no euro sign either. Other than that it is a smashing little keyboard, charge the battery and it goes for weeks.
I love some of the dialogue from the old films, last night I watched an old Sherlock Holmes mystery, as everyone knows Watson collects all Holmes adventures and writes them up for publication in “The Strand” magazine.
Holmes was not amused when he read one particular story and says so to Watson “My dear Watson, you have made me out to be a complete imbecile in your latest effort at journalism, I do wish you would stick to medicine, it says here that a lot of my time in Tibet was spent seeking advice from the head Llama, Lama has only one ‘L’, why people will think that I spent a lot of my time in Tibet seeking advice from a mountain goat”
I had to laugh at that.
I always loved Sammy singing that song RJ, thanks for bringing it back to me.
never mind ! leave your details with the receptionist as you leave - we’ll be in touch !
hmm well I’m glad ya got that off of ya chest - hope you feel better now - nostalgia has been classified in the DCM9 as a mental affliction ya know?
effin 'ell RJ you’ve either got religion or a reefer??
Oh my we are all excited today.
I like Sammy singing Mr Beaujangles or Mr Beaujolais or Beaupeep.
I like his bowjangles too? - I could never follow his left eye though?
Crikey that has got me laughing out loud!
Hubby is wondering.
I’m sorry they’ve all gone - they were so colorful individually and as the ratpack
I have seen some good tributes.
Good Night Possums.
this ones for Jem our esteemed leader!
The Authentic Death of Hendry Jones
by Charles Neider
2
McCabe
by Edmund Naughton
3
To Be a Man
by William Decker
4
Soledad, or Solitudes
by R. G. Vliet
5
Winds of Morning
by H L Davis
The fact that Five Books doesn’t consider “Western” a category of fiction already tells you one thing that ain’t right in the world. It used to be that a self-respecting bookstore always had a separate section for westerns. OK, so it was back in the days when one out of three Hollywood movies was a western. Those shelves were dominated by Louis L’Amour, Luke Short, and Zane Grey, it’s true, but with some mighty fine books nonetheless. Here are five good ones that the boys from the big publishing places tried to cut from the herd but are still well worth a read after a hard day in the saddle.
Jem just finished watching McCabe and Mrs Miller directed by the great deceased Robert Altman - a very sad and poignant film but great to watch - gunmen; whorehouses and gambling!! - just what we like heh! but Altman directed some of the best films of the last century and before
I am about to attempt to watch the authentic death of hendry jones - yes that’s hendry not henry! - toasted as the greatest western ever written - come with me Jem on a ride through the ranges!!
robert altman of course also directed the Mash films
