The Dyslexics' Potery Corner
A bunch of years ago Lung the Elder took off from Barcelona to make a new life for himself in London. Dick Whittington immediately began spinning in his grave.
His then girlfriend (and now lovely wife) La Doctora, had landed a nifty job over there and he was following suit so that they could be together. Being a contender in the brutal bloodsport of information technology, it took him about half a week to find a better job there than he had over here, so it wasn’t exactly a traumatising Grapes of Wrath scenario or anything. A good Lung always lands on it’s feet.
As a gift for his going away party, yours truly wrote the young lad a farewell epitaph. It was written in a thick Scottish accent for no apparent reason other than to give my already victimised spellchecker another workout. Have your hankies at hand, this is pretty moving stuff:
REQUIEM TO A LUNG
Lung's goon aweee, he can'ne be foond,
Twas no long agoo, that he wis aroond.
He pack't his shurts an' he pack't his shoos,
An' wuth a teer in his eye an' a snuffly noose,
He bugger'd off.
He took a plaine 'cross the see,
Te where they drenk warm beer, an' they sup coold tee,
Twas a lass he wis follwin', bonny an' wee,
Shi's clivver an' all, so that is whee,
He bugger'd off.
Life o'er heer wis gettin' tuff,
Withoot his lassie aroond, thengs got a bit ruff,
Some frends began tae think him a puff,
'Reight!' He sid 'A've had enuff!',
An' he bugger'd off.
He cudda stey'd, but hi did'ne wunt,
Cudda delay'd, but hi knuw he shun't,
He folla'ed his hairt, whech was his wont,
Now he's mekin' a fortoon, the jammy c*nt,
Hi'll soon be glad he bugger'd off.
Oor frend Lung, solid an' soond,
Wull be sadly mish'd, now hi's no aroond,
An' greet'd like famly, when hi's back in toon,
For now that hi's looded, hi can buy us a roond,
Befoor hi buggers off agin.
So, do you reckon that Laureate position is still up for grabs?
Turned out that Lung the Elder and La Doctora came back a few years later. He said that when it came to quality of life, he’d rather sweep the streets in Barcelona than be a CEO in London.
Each to their own.
His then girlfriend (and now lovely wife) La Doctora, had landed a nifty job over there and he was following suit so that they could be together. Being a contender in the brutal bloodsport of information technology, it took him about half a week to find a better job there than he had over here, so it wasn’t exactly a traumatising Grapes of Wrath scenario or anything. A good Lung always lands on it’s feet.
As a gift for his going away party, yours truly wrote the young lad a farewell epitaph. It was written in a thick Scottish accent for no apparent reason other than to give my already victimised spellchecker another workout. Have your hankies at hand, this is pretty moving stuff:
REQUIEM TO A LUNG
Lung's goon aweee, he can'ne be foond,
Twas no long agoo, that he wis aroond.
He pack't his shurts an' he pack't his shoos,
An' wuth a teer in his eye an' a snuffly noose,
He bugger'd off.
He took a plaine 'cross the see,
Te where they drenk warm beer, an' they sup coold tee,
Twas a lass he wis follwin', bonny an' wee,
Shi's clivver an' all, so that is whee,
He bugger'd off.
Life o'er heer wis gettin' tuff,
Withoot his lassie aroond, thengs got a bit ruff,
Some frends began tae think him a puff,
'Reight!' He sid 'A've had enuff!',
An' he bugger'd off.
He cudda stey'd, but hi did'ne wunt,
Cudda delay'd, but hi knuw he shun't,
He folla'ed his hairt, whech was his wont,
Now he's mekin' a fortoon, the jammy c*nt,
Hi'll soon be glad he bugger'd off.
Oor frend Lung, solid an' soond,
Wull be sadly mish'd, now hi's no aroond,
An' greet'd like famly, when hi's back in toon,
For now that hi's looded, hi can buy us a roond,
Befoor hi buggers off agin.
So, do you reckon that Laureate position is still up for grabs?
Turned out that Lung the Elder and La Doctora came back a few years later. He said that when it came to quality of life, he’d rather sweep the streets in Barcelona than be a CEO in London.
Each to their own.
posted by Lung the Younger | 10:23 am
2 Comments:
[sniffle]
That were beautiful, that were.
Can we presume this was read after imbibing large quantities of said warm beer or Catalonian equivalent?
Hold on, he just went to London to work. Life goes on for fuck sake!
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