THE KING Of SPAIN And DON CALDOTE

[Semi Nurainen]

WHICH TREATS OF THE CHARACTER AND PURSUITS OF THAT FAMOUS GENTLEMAN DON CALDOTE DE LA MANCHA DE GARSCUBA IN THE SERVICE OF THE KING OF SPAIN; KNIGHT OF THE SHINING DUGOUT AND CABALLERO OF THE WHITE ENVELOPE. AND HIS TRUSTY ESQUIRE, SANCHO KERRZO.

 

You must know, then, that the above-named gentleman, Señor Don Caldote (Garraldo De Calduello in Castilian), whenever he was at leisure (which was all the year round, especially at la Hacienda De Firhill) gave himself up to reading books of chivalry, and stunts of knight-errantry, and meejah speak and other estimable tomes with such ardour and avidity that he entirely neglected all practical matters even to such an execrable extent that he entirely neglected his own caballeros de fútbol.

 

And to such a pitch did his eagerness and infatuation go that he spent millions of ducats on books of meejah-speak and socceristic sophistry, and brought to the Hacienda as many of these as he could get. But of all these, there were none he liked so well as those with complicated vacuity and studied opacity where he often found passages like: "the reason of the unreason with which my reason is afflicted so weakens my reason that with reason I murmur at this vision of the SPL”; or again, “the first partido of the first partido shall hereinafter be called the first partido of the first partido, and anyway the league position is irrelevant”, and  “tuck in and mind yer ‘ouse Ando”; then once it was  "get it down quick Dulanito, and knock it long up to the big lad early doors”. Such that he entirely forgot that he possessed no ‘big lad’ only the midgets Cristobal De Dulanito and Scipio Antipodeo, and that he had, in his wandering, omitted to notice that he had left the 'big lads' astride el bencho.

 

Finally, his brain became frazzled over obscure distinctions between league positions and play-offs, and goal differences that, over such inane conceits of this sort the poor gentleman, Don Caldote lost outright all his wits, and used to lie awake at night striving to understand them and worm the meaning out of them; such were these conundrums of meejah speak that Aristotle himself could not have made meaning of or extracted any purpose from, had our good Lord allowed him to come to life again for that special purpose. And thus, it was that Don Caldote awoke one morning and eventually resolved to live a simple, but valorous and worthy, life dedicated to chivalry, and making tortuous meejah bytes, and stunts and tricks of inestimable foolishness.

 

These preliminaries settled, he did not care to put off any longer the execution of his grand design, and resolved to set out with his trusty esquire Sancho Kerrzo, at his side. So, without giving notice of his intention to anyone, and without anybody seeing him, without even taking leave of his patron the King of Spain or his patroness the most magnificent Gran Señora Doña Baja (Jacquelina De Baja, Falangista, and lowest of the Low, as the Castilians say), one evening after sundown (which was one of the coldest of the month of the year) he donned his suit of armour which he believed made him invincible, bestrode his trusty mount Rocinante with his patched-up helmet and shin guards on, and sallied forth from the Mancha De Garscuba in the highest contentment and satisfaction at seeing with what complete ease he had made a beginning to his most grand purpose.

 

Now it must be known that there are writers who say that Don Caldote‘s greatest and most valorous moment was in achieving the Caballero of the Month Award in Wigano Bajo; other say it was the laying waste to the gauchos of Mortonia or the defeat of the paesano sharecroppers of Alloja, or the final battle against the bloated purple Hunnistas De Jambo. But what I (Don Jaimé De Possilonia) have ascertained on this point, and what I have found written in the Annals of Firhillo Y Runtollo Viejo (or ‘Auld Firhill and the Roon Toll’ as the Castilians say) is that Don Caldote believed that his greatest triumph was the miraculous and valorous capture of the dugouts in the Parque De Colina de Abeto (or Firhill in the vernacular).

 

On this occasion he left La Tierra de Possilonia, crossed La Mancha De Garscuba, and was on the road all day, all night and all of the next day until he found himself with his trusty, and by now very weary, Sancho Kerrzo at his side. At this point, they had by now arrived at Colina de Abeto, and they came in sight of what appeared to Don Caldote to be a magnificent, indeed, wondrous, castle.

 

As soon as Don Caldote spied this he said to his esquire: "Fortune is arranging matters for us better than we could have shaped our own destiny; for look over there, friend Sancho Kerrzo, at these cowardly knaves all of whom I mean to engage in battle and slay; for this is righteous warfare, and it is God's good service to sweep so evil a breed from off the face of the earth. Look at their magnificent castle they have."

 

"What knaves, my lord, and what castle?" said Sancho stroking his visage in amazement.

 

"Those castles thou seest there," answered his master, "with bright red seats in a white citadel on the plain. They have clearly been sacked by some cowardly, knavish, perhaps Moorish crew.”

“Look, your worship," said Sancho, paling quickly at his master’s words, I fear by Our Lady and the Holy Saints, what we see there is not a castle, my Lord, that is but dugouts which have been in the same place since the stadium was built.”

 

"It is easy to see," replied Don Caldote haughtily, "that thou art not used to this business of chivalry and, and thou hast no appetite for knight errantry, wild adventure and goalscoring. Thou art an undeserving esquire methinks and, to boot, a poor companion for a knight of my nobility and bravery. Look again, Sancho,” Don Caldote continued, “seest thou not these bodies strewn across the site of this great battle; are they not the corpses of those wasted in the siege of this great castle? And are these wailing cries we hear not the sounds of the maimed souls upon whose knavish assailants I shall bring bloody and swift revenge.”

 

“No, no, my lord,” pleaded Sancho turning even paler yet, “I fear by Our Saviour and the good Saint John that you have misunderstood. This is not a great castle, it is merely a dugout; the corpses upon the ground and the wailing is but the caballeros de fútbol undergoing their daily training exercises at the behest of their trainer.”

 

“Thou timid poltroon Sancho,” answered Don Caldote his wrath rising, “Canst thou not see here this dented broadsword, and there a bent and blunted spear, and yonder is surely a shattered lance – are they not the weapons of the siege party discarded or lost in the heat of this great battle? They may fly, these cowards and vile beings, but there is but one single avenging knight, Don Caldote of the Cold Well, who shall pursue and vanquish them utterly.”

 

"Please, my lord and master,” cried Sancho, "by God and all His angels, I beg you to understand what we see there are not a dented sword, a blunted spear and a shattered lance, but three rusty and broken syringes discarded irresponsibly by the junkie Hibees on their last visit to the Colina De Abeto.”

 

His master scoffed at this admonition: “When I am done, Sancho, thou wilt have cause to rejoice that thy master has single-handedly conquered the SPL through his deeds of chivalry and captured the Copa D’Escocia. Yes, even one so lowly as thee wilt share in my fame.”

 

And so saying, he fixed up his breastplate, backpiece, and gordet which he had fastened together  with vermilion and primrose ribbons; now commending himself with all his heart to his lady Gran Señora Doña Baja and to the Blessed Virgin, imploring them to support him in such a peril, Don Caldote charged off madly on his Rocinante, weaving and swaying, with arms flailing as though borracho (or as the Castilians say ‘pished oot ‘is hied’) to capture the dugout for the King of Spain.

 

On his return from his first embarrassing calamity, the Siege of the Empty Dugouts, Don Caldote called upon his trusty esquire, Sancho Kerrzo and spake thus: “Know you, my aged and trusty friend, that I have received a parcel of white envelopes. I had ordered my young caballeros de fútbol to inscribe upon a piece of parchment one single fruitful word or phrase concerning our battle formation against the azure-coated knaves of the Queen Del Sud in the Campo De Palmeras.”

 

“Please, I beg of thee, by the Holy Saints and the Angels and Archangels, my Lord not to do this,” replied Sancho Kerrzo, his eyes blinded by tears of humiliation and mortification. “God knows I would rather your worship would desist for we shall be but the laughing stock of Torta Y Bovrillo; even the wandering unwashed Gypsies of the Broad Wood will not be able to keep themselves from wetting their codpieces with laughter when they hear this.”

 

“Such an esquire as thyself, long schooled in, and witness to, my great deeds of endeavour and chivalry must know, friend Kerrzo, that it is but Heaven's will that I was born in this our iron age to revive it into a golden one. Now take each envelope, open it, and read out to me the contents thereof.”

 

Sancho opened the first envelope with much dread and read out the missive:

“Rancid!” he said.

“Ah, this must be from some admiring English knight, across the main who hath mis-translated his praise of my valiant steed Rocinante. Pray proceed.”

“G I R U Y,” Sancho read out. His master stared in astonishment at the esquire.

“It means ‘Get It Right Up Ye’ ” said Sancho, helpfully, blinking. Don Quixote could not help laughing at his squire's simplicity, and he assured him he had misinterpreted the intentions of the letter. “It is obviously a misprint, the writer meaning to have written ‘G I REY’, which I take to mean Gran Intelligente Rey, which means, of course, great intelligent king.”

 

So uncommon and unexampled is this, thought Sancho, that were one to attempt to invent and concoct it in fiction, I doubt if there be any wit keen enough to imagine it. “Open the next envelope,” commanded Don Caldote.

 

“Piss flaps,” said Sancho, reading faithfully. Don Quixote's heart beat quick and Sancho's quailed with apprehension.

“And the next,” commanded Don Caldote, persisting.

“Knob cheese,” read Sancho.

“God’s wounds on the Cross!" said his master, "what does this mean?”

“I fear your young caballeros have turned a vicious ribald satire upon you, your worship.”

 

“There must be some hidden meaning known only to those who have studied the codes and signal of chivalry and knight-errantry – Aha! I have it now,” said Caldote, “it is indeed a secret code; if you add up the numbers of the letters it reveals nine different tactical formations. Clearly, this is a portent that I am meant to change the formation every ten minutes. This will entirely confuse the opposition.”

“I implore you, senor, by the Archangels Michael and Gabriel, and by the Holy Saints Peter and Paul, to try to see sense, for not only will this confuse the opposition it will confuse our own caballeros.”

 

But Sancho spake only to his master’s departing back, for Don Caldote was already heading to the stable and heard nor heeded not his esquire.

“Whither goest thou now my Lord?” entreated Sancho.

“For more envelopes,” replied Don Caldote, “more envelopes means more formations! I laugh to scorn the azure-coated knaves of the Reina Del Sud, for they are as thick as a bull’s pizzle and as slow as a week in the Inquisitor’s chamber. We can waltz round them. I have been vouchsafed from Heaven a vision of how we shall breach the phalanx of their Defensoros and poke one right into el bolso de cebollas (or, as the Castilians say ‘the onion bag’) to the wild cheering and praises of the good decent God-fearing Firhillistas and Runtolleños. I see it now, Sancho, together, we shall conquer the Championship,” he roared madly.

 

“I doubt it”, murmured Sancho Kerrzo, as soon as his master was out of earshot.

[Rid Skwerr]

Another gem, Semi.  :-)

I liked Jackie Baja in particular.

[dl1971]

Excellent. Humour definitely the answer in these trying times

[Semi Nurainen]

Cheers.  Pure displacement activity, until Saturday comes.

[partickthedog]

1 hour ago, Semi Nurainen said:

Cheers.  Pure displacement activity, until Saturday comes.

Fantastic stuff. How fast can you write it? That would take me at least a week.

[AndyMac]

Excellent, hope you write some more

[cyprusjag]

Clever.clever stuff.

[Guest]

Keep it coming semi. Legendary stuff. Most esteemed writers write their best stuff when their heart is breaking/broken............or high on magic mushrooms like Paul when he wrote revelations..............

 

Great stuff

[partickthedog]

17 minutes ago, Thistleberight said:

Keep it coming semi. Legendary stuff. Most esteemed writers write their best stuff when their heart is breaking/broken............or high on magic mushrooms like Paul when he wrote revelations..............

 

Great stuff

I think you will find that was John. Having said that John and Paul had a lot of disputes about authorship.

[Semi Nurainen]

13 hours ago, partickthedog said:

Fantastic stuff. How fast can you write it? That would take me at least a week.

Nah, twenty minutes. Go to Gutenberg, search Cervantes, copy & paste; global change Caldote for Quixote, changes place names throw in a few topical one liners (dugouts, Torta  Y Bovrillo)  etc), job done.

I was intending to ask forum users to send me a list their favourite authors for parody in a white envelope, but that stunt's already been pulled!

[Guest]

10 hours ago, partickthedog said:

I think you will find that was John. Having said that John and Paul had a lot of disputes about authorship.

Yurp, my mistook. Bit of petty jealously there d'you think? Did that Paul arrange to have that John shot though?

[Semi Nurainen]

10 hours ago, partickthedog said:

I think you will find that was John. Having said that John and Paul had a lot of disputes about authorship.

That reminds me that we have 'the Four Defenders of the Apocalypse'!

[sandy]

Semi, you genre crosser you!

Keep then coming, more power to your pen Sir.

Edited May 2, 2019 by sandy

[Semi Nurainen]

Thanks, but it's actually getting easier by the day - thanks to Caldo's antics I don't have to make it up!!

 

[Blackpool Jags]

Absolute genius. Totally love reading this modal parody. Enormous respect to you sir. Thistle bunnet duly doffed. 

[partickthedog]

15 hours ago, Semi Nurainen said:

Nah, twenty minutes. Go to Gutenberg, search Cervantes, copy & paste; global change Caldote for Quixote, changes place names throw in a few topical one liners (dugouts, Torta  Y Bovrillo)  etc), job done.

I was intending to ask forum users to send me a list their favourite authors for parody in a white envelope, but that stunt's already been pulled!

I put JRR Tolkien and the Lord of the Rings in my envelope. 

The Fellowship of the Ring hand picked by Caldwellrond and led by Frodo Bannigans.  Boromir is the loan signing. Willie Gollum has to be the referee, and Legless the Elf is a well-oiled supporter.

[joekea]

On 5/1/2019 at 4:22 PM, Semi Nurainen said:

WHICH TREATS OF THE CHARACTER AND PURSUITS OF THAT FAMOUS GENTLEMAN DON CALDOTE DE LA MANCHA DE GARSCUBA IN THE SERVICE OF THE KING OF SPAIN; KNIGHT OF THE SHINING DUGOUT AND CABALLERO OF THE WHITE ENVELOPE. AND HIS TRUSTY ESQUIRE, SANCHO KERRZO.

 

You must know, then, that the above-named gentleman, Señor Don Caldote (Garraldo De Calduello in Castilian), whenever he was at leisure (which was all the year round, especially at la Hacienda De Firhill) gave himself up to reading books of chivalry, and stunts of knight-errantry, and meejah speak and other estimable tomes with such ardour and avidity that he entirely neglected all practical matters even to such an execrable extent that he entirely neglected his own caballeros de fútbol.

 

And to such a pitch did his eagerness and infatuation go that he spent millions of ducats on books of meejah-speak and socceristic sophistry, and brought to the Hacienda as many of these as he could get. But of all these, there were none he liked so well as those with complicated vacuity and studied opacity where he often found passages like: "the reason of the unreason with which my reason is afflicted so weakens my reason that with reason I murmur at this vision of the SPL”; or again, “the first partido of the first partido shall hereinafter be called the first partido of the first partido, and anyway the league position is irrelevant”, and  “tuck in and mind yer ‘ouse Ando”; then once it was  "get it down quick Dulanito, and knock it long up to the big lad early doors”. Such that he entirely forgot that he possessed no ‘big lad’ only the midgets Cristobal De Dulanito and Scipio Antipodeo, and that he had, in his wandering, omitted to notice that he had left the 'big lads' astride el bencho.

 

Finally, his brain became frazzled over obscure distinctions between league positions and play-offs, and goal differences that, over such inane conceits of this sort the poor gentleman, Don Caldote lost outright all his wits, and used to lie awake at night striving to understand them and worm the meaning out of them; such were these conundrums of meejah speak that Aristotle himself could not have made meaning of or extracted any purpose from, had our good Lord allowed him to come to life again for that special purpose. And thus, it was that Don Caldote awoke one morning and eventually resolved to live a simple, but valorous and worthy, life dedicated to chivalry, and making tortuous meejah bytes, and stunts and tricks of inestimable foolishness.

 

These preliminaries settled, he did not care to put off any longer the execution of his grand design, and resolved to set out with his trusty esquire Sancho Kerrzo, at his side. So, without giving notice of his intention to anyone, and without anybody seeing him, without even taking leave of his patron the King of Spain or his patroness the most magnificent Gran Señora Doña Baja (Jacquelina De Baja, Falangista, and lowest of the Low, as the Castilians say), one evening after sundown (which was one of the coldest of the month of the year) he donned his suit of armour which he believed made him invincible, bestrode his trusty mount Rocinante with his patched-up helmet and shin guards on, and sallied forth from the Mancha De Garscuba in the highest contentment and satisfaction at seeing with what complete ease he had made a beginning to his most grand purpose.

 

Now it must be known that there are writers who say that Don Caldote‘s greatest and most valorous moment was in achieving the Caballero of the Month Award in Wigano Bajo; other say it was the laying waste to the gauchos of Mortonia or the defeat of the paesano sharecroppers of Alloja, or the final battle against the bloated purple Hunnistas De Jambo. But what I (Don Jaimé De Possilonia) have ascertained on this point, and what I have found written in the Annals of Firhillo Y Runtollo Viejo (or ‘Auld Firhill and the Roon Toll’ as the Castilians say) is that Don Caldote believed that his greatest triumph was the miraculous and valorous capture of the dugouts in the Parque De Colina de Abeto (or Firhill in the vernacular).

 

On this occasion he left La Tierra de Possilonia, crossed La Mancha De Garscuba, and was on the road all day, all night and all of the next day until he found himself with his trusty, and by now very weary, Sancho Kerrzo at his side. At this point, they had by now arrived at Colina de Abeto, and they came in sight of what appeared to Don Caldote to be a magnificent, indeed, wondrous, castle.

 

As soon as Don Caldote spied this he said to his esquire: "Fortune is arranging matters for us better than we could have shaped our own destiny; for look over there, friend Sancho Kerrzo, at these cowardly knaves all of whom I mean to engage in battle and slay; for this is righteous warfare, and it is God's good service to sweep so evil a breed from off the face of the earth. Look at their magnificent castle they have."

 

"What knaves, my lord, and what castle?" said Sancho stroking his visage in amazement.

 

"Those castles thou seest there," answered his master, "with bright red seats in a white citadel on the plain. They have clearly been sacked by some cowardly, knavish, perhaps Moorish crew.”

“Look, your worship," said Sancho, paling quickly at his master’s words, I fear by Our Lady and the Holy Saints, what we see there is not a castle, my Lord, that is but dugouts which have been in the same place since the stadium was built.”

 

"It is easy to see," replied Don Caldote haughtily, "that thou art not used to this business of chivalry and, and thou hast no appetite for knight errantry, wild adventure and goalscoring. Thou art an undeserving esquire methinks and, to boot, a poor companion for a knight of my nobility and bravery. Look again, Sancho,” Don Caldote continued, “seest thou not these bodies strewn across the site of this great battle; are they not the corpses of those wasted in the siege of this great castle? And are these wailing cries we hear not the sounds of the maimed souls upon whose knavish assailants I shall bring bloody and swift revenge.”

 

“No, no, my lord,” pleaded Sancho turning even paler yet, “I fear by Our Saviour and the good Saint John that you have misunderstood. This is not a great castle, it is merely a dugout; the corpses upon the ground and the wailing is but the caballeros de fútbol undergoing their daily training exercises at the behest of their trainer.”

 

“Thou timid poltroon Sancho,” answered Don Caldote his wrath rising, “Canst thou not see here this dented broadsword, and there a bent and blunted spear, and yonder is surely a shattered lance – are they not the weapons of the siege party discarded or lost in the heat of this great battle? They may fly, these cowards and vile beings, but there is but one single avenging knight, Don Caldote of the Cold Well, who shall pursue and vanquish them utterly.”

 

"Please, my lord and master,” cried Sancho, "by God and all His angels, I beg you to understand what we see there are not a dented sword, a blunted spear and a shattered lance, but three rusty and broken syringes discarded irresponsibly by the junkie Hibees on their last visit to the Colina De Abeto.”

 

His master scoffed at this admonition: “When I am done, Sancho, thou wilt have cause to rejoice that thy master has single-handedly conquered the SPL through his deeds of chivalry and captured the Copa D’Escocia. Yes, even one so lowly as thee wilt share in my fame.”

 

And so saying, he fixed up his breastplate, backpiece, and gordet which he had fastened together  with vermilion and primrose ribbons; now commending himself with all his heart to his lady Gran Señora Doña Baja and to the Blessed Virgin, imploring them to support him in such a peril, Don Caldote charged off madly on his Rocinante, weaving and swaying, with arms flailing as though borracho (or as the Castilians say ‘pished oot ‘is hied’) to capture the dugout for the King of Spain.

 

On his return from his first embarrassing calamity, the Siege of the Empty Dugouts, Don Caldote called upon his trusty esquire, Sancho Kerrzo and spake thus: “Know you, my aged and trusty friend, that I have received a parcel of white envelopes. I had ordered my young caballeros de fútbol to inscribe upon a piece of parchment one single fruitful word or phrase concerning our battle formation against the azure-coated knaves of the Queen Del Sud in the Campo De Palmeras.”

 

“Please, I beg of thee, by the Holy Saints and the Angels and Archangels, my Lord not to do this,” replied Sancho Kerrzo, his eyes blinded by tears of humiliation and mortification. “God knows I would rather your worship would desist for we shall be but the laughing stock of Torta Y Bovrillo; even the wandering unwashed Gypsies of the Broad Wood will not be able to keep themselves from wetting their codpieces with laughter when they hear this.”

 

“Such an esquire as thyself, long schooled in, and witness to, my great deeds of endeavour and chivalry must know, friend Kerrzo, that it is but Heaven's will that I was born in this our iron age to revive it into a golden one. Now take each envelope, open it, and read out to me the contents thereof.”

 

Sancho opened the first envelope with much dread and read out the missive:

“Rancid!” he said.

“Ah, this must be from some admiring English knight, across the main who hath mis-translated his praise of my valiant steed Rocinante. Pray proceed.”

“G I R U Y,” Sancho read out. His master stared in astonishment at the esquire.

“It means ‘Get It Right Up Ye’ ” said Sancho, helpfully, blinking. Don Quixote could not help laughing at his squire's simplicity, and he assured him he had misinterpreted the intentions of the letter. “It is obviously a misprint, the writer meaning to have written ‘G I REY’, which I take to mean Gran Intelligente Rey, which means, of course, great intelligent king.”

 

So uncommon and unexampled is this, thought Sancho, that were one to attempt to invent and concoct it in fiction, I doubt if there be any wit keen enough to imagine it. “Open the next envelope,” commanded Don Caldote.

 

“Piss flaps,” said Sancho, reading faithfully. Don Quixote's heart beat quick and Sancho's quailed with apprehension.

“And the next,” commanded Don Caldote, persisting.

“Knob cheese,” read Sancho.

“God’s wounds on the Cross!" said his master, "what does this mean?”

“I fear your young caballeros have turned a vicious ribald satire upon you, your worship.”

 

“There must be some hidden meaning known only to those who have studied the codes and signal of chivalry and knight-errantry – Aha! I have it now,” said Caldote, “it is indeed a secret code; if you add up the numbers of the letters it reveals nine different tactical formations. Clearly, this is a portent that I am meant to change the formation every ten minutes. This will entirely confuse the opposition.”

“I implore you, senor, by the Archangels Michael and Gabriel, and by the Holy Saints Peter and Paul, to try to see sense, for not only will this confuse the opposition it will confuse our own caballeros.”

 

But Sancho spake only to his master’s departing back, for Don Caldote was already heading to the stable and heard nor heeded not his esquire.

“Whither goest thou now my Lord?” entreated Sancho.

“For more envelopes,” replied Don Caldote, “more envelopes means more formations! I laugh to scorn the azure-coated knaves of the Reina Del Sud, for they are as thick as a bull’s pizzle and as slow as a week in the Inquisitor’s chamber. We can waltz round them. I have been vouchsafed from Heaven a vision of how we shall breach the phalanx of their Defensoros and poke one right into el bolso de cebollas (or, as the Castilians say ‘the onion bag’) to the wild cheering and praises of the good decent God-fearing Firhillistas and Runtolleños. I see it now, Sancho, together, we shall conquer the Championship,” he roared madly.

 

“I doubt it”, murmured Sancho Kerrzo, as soon as his master was out of earshot.

A great read. I feel better already!

[Semi Nurainen]

Brilliant!

Make that 'Fellowship of the Ringpiece'!!

[sandy]

Oh yes!

[lady-isobel-barnett]

11 hours ago, partickthedog said:

I put JRR Tolkien and the Lord of the Rings in my envelope. 

The Fellowship of the Ring hand picked by Caldwellrond and led by Frodo Bannigans.  Boromir is the loan signing. Willie Gollum has to be the referee, and Legless the Elf is a well-oiled supporter.

Possibly narrated by Mr Caldwell, playing the author himself. He is after all well versed in Tolkien pish.

[sandy]

40 minutes ago, lady-isobel-barnett said:

Possibly narrated by Mr Caldwell, playing the author himself. He is after all well versed in Tolkien pish.

You are making a hobbit of giving us great puns m’lady

[Jordanhill Jag]

Im still laughing at the 1984 parody from years ago - as always from the Gutters of Sloy to the Scribe  of Torr - I salute you !!!

[sandy]

Re-reading this, I spotted the immortal line:

 "get it down quick Dulanito, and knock it long up to the big lad early doors”

Just the dugs baws.

Can we have a piece in the style of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness? After all, this season was nearly an Apocalypse, now.

[lady-isobel-barnett]

Wonder if other clubs have like minded literary threads on their forums?

The Grapes of Raith

Alice's Adventures in Sunderland

Peterhead Revisited

Bayview from the Bridge

Crystal Palace through the Looking Glass

To Killie Mockingbird

 

[allyo]

Rangerous Liaisons