I’m afraid we’re not doing very well in the cowbike drawing competition. Although there have been encouraging rustlings from Stoke Newington, Hampstead and Albacete, the only entry in so far is from Geoff (35) in Bermondsey – yes, the one displayed here.
Geoff, while obviously a talented young artist, unfortunately forgot to include the bike. He should know that that is not a sin forgiven lightly in these quarters. It is also suspected by an informant situated not a million miles from the desk underneath which Leonardo da Tooting allegedly spends many a peaceful afternoon that he may have nicked the GIF from a small child, who may in turn have been imitating this giggly Belgian, kindly scanned by JWdB.
Hiroshi meanwhile says he’s already up to 47 Photoshop layers in his entry, but it may take another couple of years to finish because some cold-hearted accountant believes he’s not generating enough billable hours on the extraterrestrial biomechanics project. In other words, the field’s wide open, so go on you miserable sods, draw me something!
lumpy stuff
- Despite Geoff’s pitiful competition contribution, he has sent me a message using the form on the RH of the blog front page indicating that he would like me to write a letter on his behalf to some bint he has met at an insurance conference. In Mandarin. For free. Free love letters? In the sand, mate. (What’s Mr Wu’s email?)
- One of the saddest deaths during the heatwave was that of a village postman on the north coast who was fatally sun-stroked as he opened his front gate after the morning shift. “‘E deserves a medal,” they cried in the bar frequented with increasing frequency by myself and jumblies from the local sorting office. Until this morning, that is, when the rumour spread that poor Postman Pablo had spent most of his final morning drinking brandy and espresso shots on a chair outside his local.
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Mr Wu speaks Wiganese you worry. £15?
£20 with full publication rights (Pinyin in GIF) on this page. Success guaranteed. Trouble with money, farting, loss of husband, return of husband. Chicken method, also goat and poodle dog. Bring cigar and blossom. Every God has his price. Very experience. I wonder if the baker’s back from his holidays yet.
You can’t write love letters in Pinyin! Traditional characters, with a fiver extra for a moment of supreme poetic beauty. Can you do it by Friday? There’s a Manchurian candidate, or that’s where I think he comes from.
You do speak Chinese, don’t you?
Friday should be OK. I could count up to 20 in Cantonese when I was 8 but that’s all gone. Who said poetry should be accessible?
What, you forgot ALL the numbers?!