Matthew 2:13-18 |
The Massacre of the Innocents, |
After the wise men had left, the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother with you, and escape into Egypt, and stay there until I tell you, because Herod intends to search for the child and do away with him.’ So Joseph got up and, taking the child and his mother with him, left that night for Egypt, where he stayed until Herod was dead. This was to fulfil what the Lord had spoken through the prophet: I called my son out of Egypt. Herod was furious when he realised that he had been outwitted by the wise men, and in Bethlehem and its surrounding district he had all the male children killed who were two years old or under, reckoning by the date he had been careful to ask the wise men. It was then that the words spoken through the prophet Jeremiah were fulfilled: A voice was heard in Ramah, sobbing and loudly lamenting: it was Rachel weeping for her children, refusing to be comforted because they were no more. |
Әрине, біздің ешқайсымыз сіздің атышулы пікір форумындағы Обергруппенфюрер рөлін ұмытпаймыз. Бұл қандай қорқынышты патшалық еді! Көпшілігі ауыр зардап шекті. Жақсы есеп Энни Бейкердің «келтірген менің азаптарым мен азаптарым туралы ертегі» кітабында берілген. Сізге және т.б. Бірақ бұл масқара эпизодтағы сіздің басты одақтастарыңыз Горбалстағы қорқынышты әйел, Серен Дипити және Тауэр Гамлетсіндегі бейшара мумияның баласы, Бигкид болды. Сіз, Деттерлинг, операцияларды және топты стационарлық телефондар, факстар, ұялы телефондар, телекстер, мәтіндер және TES веб-сайтының жеке хабар алмасу құралы арқылы басқардыңыз. The Clique күн тәртібіне диссидент болып көрінетін кез келген адам нысанаға алынды, қудаланды, қорқытылды және қуылды. Батыс Сассекстегі джентльмен оның әйелі, тәжірибелі шайшы екенін жариялағанда, соңғы тамшы келді.
ReplyDelete"דטרס חלמתי חלום חזק מאוד על דליה בלילה ההוא. זה היה כל כך ארוטי. קצת מטושטש לגבי איך דברים התחילו בחלום אבל אני זוכר את זה בבירור מהנקודה שבה בדיוק נתתי לה מכות טובות. שום דבר לא פוגע... רק מכות תקיפות. אחר כך דיליה שכבה על גבה ואמרה,
"זה היה ג'ין נפלא... אבל עכשיו אני באמת צריך את Le Coq Sportif. אני צריך את פליני בפעולה.
"בסדר דיליה, תרד על הידיים והברכיים," פקדתי.
היא עשתה זאת ואני עליתי עליה בסגנון הדוגי האחורי. כפי שאנו יודעים, עמדת הדוגי היא המועדפת על דליה. אופס! מצטער, שכחתי. לא היית יודע שדטרס יעשה אותך מכיוון שאתה לא 'נותן שירות' לדליה.
'নিউয়ৰ্কৰ গৱৰ্ণৰ এণ্ড্ৰু কুমোৱে একাধিক মহিলাক যৌন নিৰ্যাতন চলোৱাৰ তদন্তৰ পিছত পদত্যাগ কৰিছে, যাৰ ফলত তেওঁক আঁতৰোৱাৰ প্ৰচেষ্টা চলোৱা হৈছে।'
অ’ ভগৱানৰ স্বাৰ্থত! এই ধৰণৰ কথা কেতিয়া বন্ধ হ’ব? যদিও সঁচা হয় তেওঁৰ কথিত অপৰাধবোৰ শতিকাৰ অপৰাধ বুলি ক’বই নোৱাৰিনে? তেওঁ মাত্ৰ মানুহ হৈ আছিল।
মই নিজেও আৰু বেয়া কাম কৰিছো বুলি নিশ্চিত। মই সদায় লেডিজবোৰৰ লগত অলপ স্পৰ্শকাতৰ হৈ আহিছো। উদাহৰণস্বৰূপে, মোৰ শিক্ষকতাৰ দিনত যদি কোনো নতুন আকৰ্ষণীয় কৰ্মচাৰীয়ে আমাৰ লগত যোগদান কৰে তেন্তে মই নিম্ন পৰ্যায়ৰ যৌন কাৰ্য্যকলাপত লিপ্ত হোৱাৰ উপায় বিচাৰি পাম। মোৰ প্ৰিয় কৌশল আছিল এছেম্বলি বা ষ্টাফ মিটিঙৰ পৰা ওলাই অহাৰ পথত স্মুদি আপ কৰা আৰু ডেকা কিউটিজনৰ পিছফালে আপাত দৃষ্টিত এভুনকুলাৰ ফেশ্বনত থপৰিয়াই কিবা এটা কোৱাৰ দৰে, "ছেটলিং ইন অকে ছুইটি?" আন এটা কৌশল আছিল ডেকা মৰমলগাগৰাকীক সাৱটি ধৰি কথিতভাৱে তাইৰ, ধৰক, শ্ৰেণীকোঠাৰ দেৱাল প্ৰদৰ্শনৰ বাবে অভিনন্দন জনোৱা। বিশ্বাস কৰক কোনো ৰঙা তেজৰ আদবয়সীয়া মানুহেই ডেকা গোৰ্জিয়াছ বিট বস্তু এটাক নিজৰ প্ৰেৰণাক কামনাৰ বাহিৰে আন একোৰে সৈতে আলিংগন নিদিয়ে। মোৰ কেতিয়াও অভিযোগ হোৱা নাই।
PART ONE
ReplyDelete‘Granny Barkes Fell in Woolworth’s’ is a new literary form. I would advise any reader that before reading it they read the following:
2666 by Roberto Bolaño
A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Antkind by Charlie Kaufman
Aracoeli by Elsa Morante
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
Baron Wenckheim’s Homecoming by László Krasznahorkai
Belladonna by Daša Drndić
Beowulf by Unknown
Candide by Voltaire
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
Celestial Bodies by Jokha Alharthi
Chess by Stefan Zweig
Crash by JG Ballard
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Death in Spring by Mercè Rodoreda
Divine Comedy by Dante
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann
Either/Or by Søren Kierkegaard
Encyclopedia of a Life in Russia by José Manuel Prieto
Faust by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Fictions by Jorge Luis Borges
Fieldwork in Ukrainian Sex by Oksana Zabuzhko
Flights by Olga Tokarczuk
Foucault’s Pendulum by Umberto Eco
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
Hopscotch by Julio Cortázar
House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
If On A Winters Night A Traveler by Italo Calvino
In the First Circle by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
In Watermelon Sugar by Richard Brautigan
Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
Limonov by Emmanuel Carrère
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
Love in the New Millennium by Can Xue
Mac & His Problems by Enrique Vila-Matas
Malina by Ingeborg Bachmann
Middlemarch by George Eliot
Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs
Nancy by Bruno Lloret
Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre
Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector
Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Notes of a Crocodile by Qiu Miaojin
On the Road by Jack Kerouac
PART TWO
ReplyDeleteOne Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez
Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov
Paradise Lost by John Milton
Questions of Travel by Michelle de Kretser
Revenge of the Translator by Brice Matthieussent
Savage Detective by Roberto Bolaño
Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by Unknown
Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut
Sphinx by Anne Garréta
Story of the Eye by Georges Bataille
Submission by Michel Houellebecq
Surrealist Manifesto by André Breton
Swimming Home by Deborah Levy
The 7th Function of Language by Laurent Binet
The Art of War by Sun Tzu
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
The Bible
The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer
The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels
The Dry Heart by Natalia Ginzburg
The Death of Ivan Ilyich by Leo Tolstoy
The Dud Avocado by Elaine Dundy
The Flamethrowers by Rachel Kushner
The Four Books by Yan Lianke
The Fox Was Ever the Hunter by Herta Müller
The Invention of Morel by Adolfo Bioy Casares
The Map and the Territory by Michel Houellebecq
The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
The Monk by Matthew Lewis
Themystery.doc by Matthew McIntosh
The New York Trilogy by Paul Auster
The Odyssey by Homer
The Parrots by Filippo Bologna
The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli
The Satanic Verses by Salmon Rushdie
The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes
The Seven Madmen by Roberto Arlt
The Sorrow of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The Stranger by Albert Camus
The Trial by Franz Kafka
The Teleportation Accident by Ned Beauman
The Tunnel by Ernesto Sabato
The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan
Underworld by Don DeLillo
Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann
War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
Zama by Antonio di Benedetto
Other suggestions (still need to read)
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
A Heart So White by Javier Marías
Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand
A Void by Georges Perec
Being and Time by Martin Heidegger
Coin Locker Babies by Ryu Murakami
Dr. Awkward & Olson in Oslo: A Palindromic Novel by Lawrence Levine
Finnegans Wake by James Joyce
Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon
In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust
Interpretations of Dreams by Sigmund Freud
Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach
J R by William Gaddis
Life a User’s Manual by Georges Perec
Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
Requiem for a Dream by Hubert Selby Jr.
Spring Snow by Yukio Mishima
The Boy Detective Fails by Joe Meno
The Iliad by Homer
The Qur’an
The Recognitions by William Gaddis
The Tunnel by William Gass
Ulysses by James Joyce
Voss by Patrick White
Wittgenstein’s Mistress by David Markson
XX by Rian Hughes
Reading 'Granny Barkes Fell in Woolworth’s' has changed my life. Any reader of this pioneering novel should be prepared for such a life-changing experience.
The question we all will come away with is: Who is Granny Barkes?
The answer is akin to the answer to: Who killed Kennedy? It was you and me.
My word Detterling! I didn't expect your review so soon.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations!
Gene
Bollocks, Gene - I haven’t bought the book yet, let alone read it.
DeleteNor will I preface my review with a plagiarised list of a pretentious A - Z list of “required reading” - what a pompous did you are.
And this attempt to pre-empt my review suggests that you’re getting nervous about what I am going to reveal about this overgrown pamphlet.
What a grubby little petty thief you are, Gene. You steal right, left and centre and never once acknowledge your pilferings.
DeleteYou should acknowledge https://www.knowledgelost.org for the list "100 Pretentious Books to Read Before you Die" in the above post.
On the other hand, I can understand why you didn't acknowledge your theft from "Sympathy for the Devil" - "Who Killed the Kennedy's? it was you and me". Stealing and passing off as your own cheaply picturesque doggerel by a fake American blues singer from Dartford is not a good look.
Still, you have given me another idea for my review - if I come across any sentences that show even a trace of originality or style [like Mick Jagger's lyrics], I shall run it through a plagirarism detector. Any deviation from your own style - colourless, flavourless, and laboured painting-by-numbers prose - will almost certainly be stolen.
Oops! sorry Detterling. When this review came in I of course assumed it was from you.
ReplyDeleteGENE
Oh, fuck off, Gene - why do you bother with this pitiably transparent pretence? The more of this you do, the more it becomes obvious that you are shitting yourself about what I am going to write when I get round to buying and reading your glorified pamphlet.
DeleteIT'S NOT A PAMPHLET.
DeleteIt is a book of 114 pages.
You are still in denial.
GENE
Of course I'm not in denial, Gene - I'm giving you a taste of your own medicine - sneering, scoffing, belittling and nastiness. You obviously think you are some sort of author, so that is a pretension I am happy to mock into extinction, in just the same way as you claim that I am senile, losing my grip on things, intellectually impaired. If you want to hand out that sort of nasty minded shit then you need to learn to take it and by Christ you are going to get some practice in the next few weeks.
DeleteYou have published a book which, at 114 pages, comprises 57 sheets, and measures 0.66 cm in thickness.
My treasured first edition of The Lion and the Unicorn - Socialism and the English Genius", is 96 pages long, comprises 48 sheets and measures 0.5 cm in thickness. The author himself, in letters to his publisher and agency, describes it as a "glorified pamphlet", so up yours, Gene.
And what is more, The Lion and the Unicorn is a work of genius, which is more than Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths will turn out to be. When a book is so bad that no-one is buying it, and the author himself is reduced to writing his own laudatory reviews, then I think a a helping of derision is overdue.
"Gene Vincent's work has drawn comparison with the writing of James Joyce, Evelyn Waugh and Ernest Hemingway" - this preposterous claim will be analysed pitilessly in my review.
How many have you sold, Gene? [don't forget it is easy to check!].
"Gene Vincent's work has drawn comparison with the writing of James Joyce, Evelyn Waugh and Ernest Hemingway" - this preposterous claim will be analysed pitilessly in my review."
ReplyDeleteYes it has drawn such comparisons - my earlier writing and in particular, my, as yet untitled, 'lockdown novel'. Many feel the writing style in this novel echoes Brideshead Revisited. But there are no comparisons to be found in the work of anyone anywhere with 'Granny Barkes Fell in Woolworth's'.
Granny Barkes is a new literary form, a new literary genre. Something totally original and unique. Forget James Joyce, Ernest Hemingway and Evelyn Waugh.
And, reaching to my bookshelves, I pick up my copy of 'The Outsider' by Albert Camus translated by Sandra Smith. It's an undoubted work of genius - and 55 sheets.
AND, NO, i DO NOT KNOW HOW MANY COPIES IT HAS SOLD SO FAR. THE PUBLISHERS WILL INFORM ME IN DUE COURSE.
What I do believe is that it has already sold more copies than your memoirs will ever sell. Your memoirs which you are too much of a bottlejob to publish.
GENE
Tell me, Gene, do you actually believe all this crap that you write about yourself? It’s not as if you can even tell a half convincing lie.
ReplyDeleteIf Granny Barkes breaks completely new ground, why write a blurb claiming stylistic qualities comparable with Joyce, Waugh and Hemingway? You see, this is how you always give yourself away - you tell a preposterous lie and then when you are obliged to defend it, find yourself having to misrepresent what I say and make yet more preposterous falsehoods.
For example, I did not say that I would look for stylistic comparisons with Joyce, Waugh and Hemingway in Granny Barkes. I didn’t and I won’t. I will, judge its literary qualities according to your preposterous claim that your work has been compared to theirs.
In which case, I can quite see why you are shitting yourself at the thought of my review. If Granny Barkes is anything like the flatulent drivel you have previously published on this blog, then God help literature. And you.
"And, reaching to my bookshelves, I pick up my copy of 'The Outsider' by Albert Camus translated by Sandra Smith. It's an undoubted work of genius - and 55 sheets."
DeleteAnd there is a key your poverty-stricken literary tastes - that you think that L'Etranger, that collection of Hallmark Greetings Cards slogans, is a masterpiece. How can you take seriously a philosopher who subscribes to the elucidation of the painfully obvious that is existentialism? There again, existentialism is tailor made for your shallow, pretentious intellligence - as witness to which the fact that you read Camus in translation. You amateur.
'If Granny Barkes breaks completely new ground, why write a blurb claiming stylistic qualities comparable with Joyce, Waugh and Hemingway?'
ReplyDeleteThe blurb does not refer in any way to Granny Barkes. It refers to my other writings.
Learn to read carefully and not make such a fool of yourself.
GENE
And stop trying to retrieve some semblance of credibility from a ridiculous boast about the quality of your writing - none of it published previously to "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths", either commercially nor independently.
DeleteAnd don't pretend that I have said something I didn't.
You have claimed that your writing has drawn comparison with James Joyce, Evelyn Waugh and Ernest Hemingway - a preposterous and nonsensically untrue claim. This comparison could, of course be in matters of style, genre, themes, subject matter or point of view, but over-riding all of these is your claim in the matter of literary quality.
You are claiming that your non-existent published work has drawn comparison in terms of literary quality with
"the most important and influential writer of the twentieth century" [James Joyce];
"one of the great prose stylists of the twentieth century" [Evelyn Waugh]; and
"at his best, able to convey complex emotions and ideas with few words: his Nobel Prize was awarded for a "mastery of the narrative art" [Ernest Hemingway].
It is these qualities that I shall use as a yardstick when reading and reviewing "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths", and if you object to that then you shouldn't have made such a ridiculous claim in the first place.
Once again a typical Gene performance: skewered by your own bombastic kissing of your own arse, you are now frantically pretending that you didn't say it, or that it meant something else, or that as "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths" represents such a radical departure from literary norms that this ludicrous boast cannot apply to its literary quality when
compared to your previous works.
[What previous works, by the way - "The Man who heard Jenny Lind Sing"? "Heartbreak at Hillingdon High"? "The Psalms"? - none of them have ever seen print, nor will they]
In short Gene, you are not only fucked, but, like the Catholic Church in matter of blessings for same sex couples, but you have taken careful aim and fucked yourself - and, as usual, have fucked yourself with your vast, slack, drivelling gob.
There goes a man whose nose has been severely put out of joint. Stuffed and defeated. Whose only solace now is the prospect writing a hatchet job on Gene's literary achievement.
DeleteDucky Duckworth
Gene, do you not realise that whenever your argument, such as it is, has been comprehensively shredded, you ALWAYS write a post from one of your sock puppets which completely ignores the extent of your humiliation and simply claims victory on no grounds whatsoever? You did it years ago on TES Opinion and it is measure of your narcissism that you still think it can work now. You poor sod.
DeleteDucky Duckworth my arse.
Well, "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths" has certainly hit the ground running. The following reviews, having been passed by Amazon, are now on line.
ReplyDelete" -- As Dorothy Parker remarked of "The House at Pooh Corner", this is not a book to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force". [Constant Reader].
-- Gene Vincent's "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths" reminds me of Truman Capote's famous review of the equally terrible "On The Road" by an equally terrible writer, the poseur's poseur Jack Kerouac. Mr Capote said, "this is not writing: it's typing". [Harvey "Big" Mac Foreskin, Heath Lodge, The Salisbury Close].
-- It would be a good idea buy fifty or so copies of "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths" so that the next time there is a toilet roll shortage you have a stock of suitable paper. At 114 pages, and allowing for three sheets per excretion [one sheet up, one sheet down and one to polish], this book could be good for about six weeks, depending on how full of shit you are. And at least you will be mopping up piss with piss, and wiping off shit with shit. It would also be good to have a translation for readers in the Netherlands, to see if it makes any more sense in Dutch, hoewel literaire onzin literaire onzin is in welke taal dan ook. [Perineum van Gerimpeld-Scrotum, De Telegraaf, Den Haag]
-- It was the late Jeffrey Bernard who said that a lot of people think, because they can type, that they can write. Gene's Vincent's execrable "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths" proves Mr Bernard's point beyond all doubt. It will take you ten minutes to read this appalling verbal jigsaw, etiolated as it is by page after page of pointless illustrations, after which you will reflect on how else you could have used those ten minutes to more rewarding profit: vigorous masturbation, emptying your bowels, picking your nose and eating it and then trimming your nostril hair, or kicking Gene Vincent in the balls until he apologised for writing this utter crap - the possibilities are endless. [Ruud Lidhole, The Sunday Tintinnabulation].
-- I have never seen a piece of writing which insults a reader's intelligence more comprehensively than "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths" The author is obviously psychotic, and judging from this dreadful emanation, the main symptom of his psychosis seems to be a paradigmatic example of the Dunning-Kruger effect. The author, Gene Vincent, taught me when I was in the sixth form, and we all thought he was a posturing tosser then, one of those teachers who thought he was God's gift but was actually a colossal wanker. And as to what happened to the girls he used to get to "help him tidy his stock cupboard" - well, least said, soonest mended. [Detective Inspector Marsha Clinton Tebbit-O'Mara, [retired] The Pink Paper].
-- "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths" is an inept plagiarism of a first draft of Finnegans Wake, using the Latent News technique more ineptly than you would have thought it possible. It is as well for Mr Vincent that the hyper-litigious Stephen Joyce, James Joyce's grandson and ferocious guardian of his grandfather's legacy, died some time ago. He would have pinned this impertinent and inept plagiarist to the wall. [Jimmy Furaha, Literary Swahili Digest].
[CONTINUED]
PART TWO:
Delete-- What IS this shit? [Rick Bagger, Rolling Stone].
Bailím go maíonn an tUasal Vincent go bhfuil comparáid déanta idir a chuid scríbhneoireachta agus scríobh an fhealsaimh James Joyce. Tá sé seo fíor sa mhéid is gur bhain siad araon úsáid as ceannlitreacha chun abairtí a thosú, lánstadanna chun deireadh a chur leo, agus raon focal ceart litrithe eatarthu. Seachas sin tá an tUasal Vincent neamh-iargúlta chun éileamh den sórt sin a dhéanamh. Lavatory Barnard, buaiteoir Gradam Cloch na Blarnan faoi dhó.
I have been made aware that a Mr Gene Vincent, an aspirant author, has claimed that his writing has been compared with mine. I can only asseverate that his impertinence causes me pain - a blow, expected, repeated, falling upon a bruise with no smart or shock of surprise, only a dull and sickening pain and the doubt whether another like it could be borne. Come back when you can write like that, Mr Vincent. E Waugh [decd]
How many tigers did YOU shoot, asshole? E Hemingway [decd]
AND WHY PAY OUT A FIVER WHEN YOU CAN READ IT ALL HERE???
ReplyDeleteGRANNY BARKES FELL IN WOOLWORTHS CHAPTER ONE
Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths ... she'll get a free ride in the ambulance Ha! Ha! Ha!... The just man falls seven times... Look! See the tracks of Santa's feet on the hearth... I'll break your ould desk... Say what may the tidings be, on this glorious Christmas morn?... He's lost his apple cake... Look! Look what Mairead has made!... That would bury Dick and Diamond... Indeed he went all the way to the whiney nough... I'm getting a wheelbarrow tomorrow: it's brand new ... I can't sleep with excitement... This is a day above all days... No, we are off to school, c'mon Eddie... I heard a roar between two hills... L to the water Jimmy Harte... I wish that day would come back again... And flying my kite... What happened to your lorry Jim?... Owner not liable for accidents... Lay on MacDuff... Archibald A. Funk... Edward's day out... He cut down a tree from the hedge of the car road with a hatchet - yes, but it's his birthday... I don't know; maybe so... Zat no terrible... I think they did... Look at the size of the flakes! Look at the size of the flakes!... There's a stepmother's breath in the air... He stole matches... Stone taw! Stone taw!... Oh! I love to play when the decorations are up... If I was you I'd build a wall... I would pull the gun on any man... He's a good maker... The Irvines of the wheel, the wild men from Borneo... Time waits for no man, not even John Roy... Jeremiah, blow the fire; puff, puff, puff... Your man has killed Tinker Weir. He'll be hung. You poor woman... Blue ink, black ink, and good red ink... See that sycamore tree? By the end of November there won't be a single leaf left on it... Secundam scripturas... Has he no ears?... Some cherry-cheeked apples he saw on his way... Hey! Don't touch that coal scuttle, that belongs to Stanton Bailey... That's the biggest laugh I've had since I put salt in the sugar bowl last week... I'll get ye Tony... James Hugh Monaghan from Dernee, a warrior I do beliee... Hurling by bum, hurling by bum... Ya'll come now? Oh! that do make it nice... Belledotie, Belledotie… I'd give you a guarantee... Grroah! Murphy!... You are very unsatisfactory... I was reading The Messenger... Yes, and truly, you are best... Drinking buttermilk all the week, whiskey on a Sunday... Back to back, belly to belly, don't give a damn about Yarnarelli... Come day, go day, God send Sunday... The chocolate tree, the sweet tree... The waters wild went o'er his child and he was left lamenting... 'Ma mither is a queen', said he... It was dull, deadly dull, at Solitude... This new wheel of fortune has just come from France... John Johnston's horses are in your corn... What's ahead for Tom McNeely?... Which one's thaaat?... Night's for rest, night's for rest... There's a yellow rose in Texas... "Hot diggity, dog ziggity, boom, what you do to me, when you're holding me tight."... A field in Larne... Would it be physical?... A stew boiled is a stew spoiled... The Minster-clock has just struck two, and yonder is the Moon... Boys obtuse... And the hunter home from the hills... My hand is in my hussyfskap… Wait 'til I get another stone for you Cyril... McAree, McAra, McAvarn K-Kunny, put in your white foot 'til I see if you're my mummy... What signals regression in an individual?... Bara lynsey, bara lynsey... Hanif? Barrington? What's the difference baby doll?...
GRANNY BARKES FELL IN WOOLWORTHS CHAPTER TWO
ReplyDeletePatch upon patch sown without stitches; come riddle me this and I'll give you my britches... Are you ruptured?... I'm just warning ye... "Hold on, my door was hit too."... Joe Worthington, Joe Worthington you'd sit till you'd rot... Come to the water fit a thank ye, fit a thank ye, fit a thank ye... Dazed I stepped forward to be congratulated by Lord Erne... Most postmen are dishonest and do steal money from envelopes... Sam McVey... I washed my hands in water; water never run, and I dried them in a towel that was neither wove nor spun... And red breeches... Here comes I Wee Devil Doubt, the pain within, the pain without... Peeping round the door in the khaki there to see the old pair once again... UVD?... Hey! you guys you gotta wear ties... When I was a lad so was me Dad... Ta Ra Ra Bam, Ta Ra Ra Ching, Ta Ra Ra Bam, Ta Ra Ra...Twas on a Sunday evening that Barlow's it was robbed: Mrs Barlow went down to the room to get a treacle scone, but when she saw the moneybox, the money it was gone... Genitori, Genitoque Laus et jubilation... Dowsey wee Tawbey... We'll get away again... He relies too much on his effing muscles... The Protestant boys are loyal and true: they are in me eye says Donal Abu... What's the 'with thee' for? What's the 'with thee' for?... Sonny outlook... On a brick-coloured ticket, that's brick Pat... All in!... Water! Water!, er , Tea! Tea!, with two lumps of sugar and a spot of milk... You're aye putting it off... I wonder, yes I wonder, will the angels way up yonder, will the angels play their harps for me?... Whistle and I will come to you me lad... Get that Teddy Boy haircut out of my sight!... The one with the black bucket is the best... Paw! Haw! Haw! John's just laughing at us... The shadow of the Valois is yawning at the Mass... Sandy Row on an Easter Monday, every day's like an Easter Sunday... It's always Torchie and the second years... Willie Ruckie... Milled today, fed tomorrow... It's long and it's narrow, it's not very wide, it wears a green selvage on every side... Let us finance you project... Tilly Versailles... "Yes, yogurt is very good for longlevity"... Yes and truly you are best... No more tomorrows in your career... Naw Ivy, he's nae comin doon… Dr Whitehead... Piss, Piss Iceland dog!... First game for Richmond and not turning up? I was offhand with the woman... You were a greasy little leather boy in 1956... Tickets are sixpence each and I hope you all win... Andera Keck K-Keck K-Keck K-Keck... We sell only the best E..E..English C..C..Coca Cola... Aye but, naw but, could you cut turf?... Hollyhocks! Hollyhocks! over Bobby Lyttle's garden wall... It's well known that he has an atomic soul, and when it soars it does aesthetically so... Well, there's the name on the letter... Curran; Curran naturely… I don't know where I left it; I must have left it in my diary... Sugden's regret was that he had wasted police time... "You took the coat hanger to it."... The seas obey, the fetters break and lifeless limbs thou dost restore... You could easily stand on Kelly's hills and count his skinny ribs... Barefooted thatcher, Pa Bunty... Have you got a wagon to put these wheels on?... Leave your briefs with us... Lauda Jerusalem Dominum, Lauda Deum tuum Sion... Man attacked and thoroughly beaten; attackers make off in a posh car... Swiftly, silently and unseen... It's a knock on! It's a knock on!...
GRANNY BARKES FELL IN WOOLWORTHS CHAPTER THREE
ReplyDeleteYou see Missus D; there's the cow and there's the gate... "C'mon... let's get home for the beef and spuds."... Ecce Panis Angelorum… Can it be I can't see the curtain?... Dee daw Marjorie Raw... You're idle for stelk... Saucepan gossiper... Corduroy for every boy, cordurat for every cat... We're the boys that fears no noise, we are the bold Drumarda boys... On Saturday night we all got tight and Cassidy brought us over... Silver Saturday, jink night... Listening to the footsteps of the boys from Tedd... Dick Nan's: just the spot for a picnic... Are we seeing daylight?... That last brattle was terrible... Listen to me George: "Would you like white stones on your grave?"... Fish away... Going to the hop? Should be good... At least when it rains in Torquay it is still warm... You know I have an affection for thee... Miss Minihan may laugh; but Miss Minihan is a barbarian... I've got an interview with the COM. Social Committee... When life stretched out before him he refused to look that way... The bespectacled roadman... Have you ever been to Bellevue Kitty?... Chick a boom, chick a rack; chick a boom, chick a rack, and the yellow skirt goes swinging... Pete the birdman will now fly... I've had a pie... And the hunter home from the hills... What age are you now?... Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years, Scrooge replied. It's fair now Auntie... He died seven years ago, this very night... Too strong Grandad, too strong... Go on Balfour!... Santa Agatha, ora pro nobis... "Pope Pius XII died during the night."... The Ypres Salient at Night... Histracy...Wherefore have you left your sheep on that stony mountain steep?... Eee ba gum lad, some good motorbikes oop north... Hi for a toffer and hi for it still; and hi for the wee lad lies over the hill... The river eddy whirls... Beati Michaeli archangelo... Put a table in the hall and it will do fine... And he fully did... Jimmy Hicks is not in hell... Rushe came down last night... Tis but a Dolly Mixture... I know my nick name... Uncle Merry... For aye for guide: very good neighbours, but keep your back to us... Apostrophe at the Post Office today... Let the reindeers go. Let them go!... For God's sake Master, you couldn't do them sums... Good morrow Mick... No-one will read your papers... Oh! Hugh is staunch... Jack's in Diviney... Smithers... Stick to your job... You're only making a faddle (fardel) of yourself... Here's Dalzell; "I'm going up the stairs now."... I could be in Kensington tomorrow... There's a car... The image of a girl... Deeper than the wishing well... Ballina, Balnabroka, Anahinahola, don't show the white feather wherever you go... Carolina moon... What a beautiful day! What must heaven be like?... Do you know our d'Brian?... There they are... Who got hit?... You're nice Miss Rice.... I see said the blind man... Better class walnut Mollie...
GRANNY BARKES FELL IN WOOLWORTHS CHAPTER FOUR
ReplyDeleteThe fish in the pond are seeing red as Bobby is fishing with Coates strong thread... And all round Peter Brewer's car... Foldorol… Silent Ginnio; holy Ned... And those who come from distance far are always late for tea... Oh! to be in Doonaree... All day all night Marianne; down by the seaside sifting sand... Look at the way he's twisting that stick... Now it's tied; now it's tied; and now it's Tide... He went from the livery stable... There's a cock's stride on the dunghill... All silver no brass. Bad money won't pass... Samson Burke, Sammy Berg: Who's kidding who?...He won't know himself in this lovely place... You've given me a taste of fame... I predict she'll soon be back with Desi Arnaz Jr who phones her nightly from California... There was a wild colonial boy Jack Saltey was his name. Gory night in Yonkers... Geoff Duke. Teach these kids how to play ball... Ballydainty… Brockman here... Elenore Gee! I think you're swell... A train-band captain eke was he from Ballylucas town... The people they call me Calypso Joe. Peas ... er, from our garden. Delish... Oh! my diploma... I win a pound... The ancient ring post snapped like a matchstick... I think, I think, that she's the mostest of the lot, and furthermore she is the only chick I got... Nicolette, I can pick 'em!... Raddle diddle da ha ha... A great time of day to be in such good humour... They all wore black coats and black top hats and they turned and went up to your room... Deep, deep river, away, away... Early morning light, Rat ta-tat ta-tat ta-tat. Rat ta-tat ta-tat ta-tat...
What a mean-spirited so-and-so. You have published this so that readers feel no need now to buy the book. Pure mean-spirited nastiness.
DeleteGENE
So this IS “Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths” in its entirety, is it? What a simpleton you are to give the game away like that! On the other hand to bulk out three thousand words of drivel to 114 pages with a collection of out of copyright black and white photographs and charge a fiver for it daylight robbery.
DeleteIn any case, don’t worry about this spoiler affecting the sales of the book - no-one reads this blog anyway. And Detterling did say he would buy a copy to review, so that’s one guaranteed sale. This spoiler is only rollicking, rip roaring fun in a spirit of good humoured to and fro, anyway - no need to lose your sense of humour.
"So this IS “Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths” in its entirety, is it?"
DeleteIs it? You don't know that do you? But you have written what you did out of malice. ANYTHING TO DAMAGE SALES.
GENE
Gene, you are such a mug that it’s a shame not to take advantage. Anyone with their wits about him would have come back with something on the lines of how GBFIW had developed out of all recognition since that 2019 draft and how this original prologue - less than 10% of the final novel - had been redrafted eleven times so as to be now almost unrecognisable. But not Gene “Mug” Vincent.
DeleteAnd as for damaging sales, don’t be ridiculous. You won’t get sales without reviews. And you won’t get reviews unless you send out review copies to all the dailies, weeklies and monthlies - maybe a hundred altogether. How many has your agent sent out?
My review will follow in a few days.
ReplyDeleteDetterling.
"What a mean-spirited so-and-so. You have published this so that readers feel no need now to buy the book. Pure mean-spirited nastiness. But you have written what you did out of malice. ANYTHING TO DAMAGE SALES."
ReplyDeleteShould you wish, Gene, to remove the posts wherein is re-posted [not published, since you had already thereby put GBFIW into the public domain] the entire text of GBFIW, then please, if you can, do so.
I say this because it was not my intention, in reposting that material, to damage the sales of your booklet. Rather, it was because
Delete[a] I could not believe that any publishers in their right senses would publish such piffling drivel as appears in the sequence of December 29th postings at 1345, 1346, 1346 and 1347 - for that reason I assumed that your publication
of GBFIW in book form must be radically different and hence not vulnerable to the mockery that those postings richly deserved.
Or
[b] I thought that even you, as demented, deluded and narcissistic as you are, would never have had the effrontery to offer such arrant nonsense to the reading public in the serious hope that someone would want to read it. I assumed therefore that reposting the GBFIW material - awful as it is, would do no harm to the sales of your booklet.
It appears that I have overestimated the gullibility of Californian publishers, and underestimated the psychotic level of your narcissism, and for that I apologise.
On a third hand, if the GBFIW publication on Amazon really does consist of the demented alphabet soup as appears in the sequence of December 29th postings at 1345, 1346, 1346 and 1347, how the hell did you manage to get a publisher to print it? Hypnotism? bribery? blackmail?
Moreover, Gene, what do you have to say about this?
ReplyDeleteTen minutes' research on the internet reveals that the cover photograph of "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths" is in fact a picture copied from the Encyclopaedia Brittanica of one Margaret Murie, (born August 18, 1902, Seattle, Washington, U.S.—died October 19, 2003, Moose, Wyoming).
Her Britannica entry reads, in part:
"Ms Murie was an American naturalist, conservationist, and writer who was a central contributor in efforts to establish the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge in Alaska, which earned her the popular title “grandmother of the conservation movement.”
When Murie was a young girl, her family moved from Seattle to Fairbanks, Alaska, where her stepfather had been appointed an assistant U.S. attorney. In 1924 she became the first woman to graduate from the Alaska Agricultural College and School of Mines (now the University of Alaska, Fairbanks), earning a degree in business administration. She married Olaus Murie that same year. Olaus was then working for the U.S. Bureau of Biological Survey (from 1940 the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service) in Fairbanks, and Mardy, as she was known to her friends and family, joined him on a 550-mile (885-km), eight-month-long expedition to study caribou in Alaska’s Brooks Range, a journey they often referred to as their honeymoon."
I am in the process of researching contact details for her three children, Martin, Joanne and Don Murie. I am sure that they will be interested to know that a photograph of their mother, stolen from the Encyclopaedia Britannica, is now being used - without, I am sure, any permission from the family - as the cover photograph of your booklet, Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths.
I wonder what they will make of this piracy?