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Malcolm Robinson

By Malcolm Robinson
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keith lockey

keith lockey

Posted
Posted (edited)

The wordsmith of Terrier Close scrutinised the scribblings in the Bedlington Community Topic box.

'Writers wanted.' He absently mused. He turned to his favourite cat, a large mouser with breath that could stop a rhino in full charge.

"What say you, Mog, is this an avenue I should pursue?"

The cat ignored him and curled up in front of the new radiator that pumped instant heat into the small upstairs study.

The wordsmith pondered on that. Gone were the days when a single pane of glass was all the defence against the cold north winds; gone were the days of ten blankets on the bed and two hot water bottles to keep your stockinged feet warm. For it was these things that the editors might be interested in, mused the wordsmith, little anecdotes of olde Bedlington and its people and places.

A gust of wind sent W's wheelie bin off down the path, like a demented dalek with the brake off. Wheelie bins as well, W thought. I remember a time when a metal dustbin lid sufficed; a bin lid that could be a shield one moment and cricket wickets the next.

'Is this what they would want me to write about? Forsooth, am I to delve into my archaic past and regurgitate memories long forgotten; memories that should never see the light of day again. Faces of people long passed whirled like wraiths before the wordsmith; friends and enemies alike, teasing and tempting him, reminding him of the weird and wonderful games they played as sprogs. Moont the cuddy, Pottsies, games long forgotten now with the onset of the computer generation.

The wordsmith sighed. Perhaps he would delve further into this project. He stroked his pussy and murmured..."perhaps it is time to remember; perhaps we should unleash our memories from long ago."

The wind howled through the outside loo, rustling the squares of newspaper hanging on a piece of string and for a brief moment the wordsmith thought he he saw the pit heap through the snow storm.

Edited by keith lockey
Keith Scantlebury

Keith Scantlebury

Posted
Posted

The wordsmith of Terrier Close scrutinised the scribblings in the Bedlington Community Topic box.

'Writers wanted.' He absently mused. He turned to his favourite cat, a large mouser with breath that could stop a rhino in full charge.

"What say you, Mog, is this an avenue I should pursue?"

The cat ignored him and curled up in front of the new radiator that pumped instant heat into the small upstairs study.

The wordsmith pondered on that. Gone were the days when a single pane of glass was all the defence against the cold north winds; gone were the days of ten blankets on the bed and two hot water bottles to keep your stockinged feet warm. For it was these things that the editors might be interested in, mused the wordsmith, little anecdotes of olde Bedlington and its people and places.

A gust of wind sent W's wheelie bin off down the path, like a demented dalek with the brake off. Wheelie bins as well, W thought. I remember a time when a metal dustbin lid sufficed; a bin lid that could be a shield one moment and cricket wickets the next.

'Is this what they would want me to write about? Forsooth, am I to delve into my archaic past and regurgitate memories long forgotten; memories that should never see the light of day again. Faces of people long passed whirled like wraiths before the wordsmith; friends and enemies alike, teasing and tempting him, reminding him of the weird and wonderful games they played as sprogs. Moont the cuddy, Pottsies, games long forgotten now with the onset of the computer generation.

The wordsmith sighed. Perhaps he would delve further into this project. He stroked his pussy and murmured..."perhaps it is time to remember; perhaps we should unleash our memories from long ago."

The wind howled through the outside loo, rustling the squares of newspaper hanging on a piece of string and for a brief moment the wordsmith thought he he saw the pit heap through the snow storm.

rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit ,rabbit , rabbit, and more rabbit !!!!!
wonky

wonky

Posted
Posted

well..cheers to merlin and co for the kebab insight to bedlington.

thur 4th feb,,loaded up wonkys van and drove through the night to the toon from cork, five and a half hrs to belfast,two hrs kip in the van in the car park at the ferry port after just polishing off a loyalist kebab bought in the york st area of belfast..this was a bit nervy as hanging round in these areas after midnight with republican reg plates can warrant all kinds of trouble.no worries though and a smashing kebab,,will have to check out the catholic kebabs the next time,,!!

woke up and on to the ferry for another three hrs kip..through customs with out any hassle and managed to get the poteen through as they were wrapped as gifts..lol. we then drove off through freezing fog with only the drivers wiper working and stopped for breakfast in dumfries about 8 am. that in itself is another story..!!

after a leasurely drive at our own pace we arrived in bebside for the main course whitch was a visit to the old folks and a good old banter ect ect,,this was about mid day..traveling a total of 18 hrs in wonkys td5 landy as pictured on my profile. great buy that was..

two days of rest and i was ready for my kings mixed special kebab..saturday night bout 8 pm there i was in kings,,waiting my turn and like i said in earlier posts ..off to the hapeny woods car park for the nosh.

after parking the van and sorting out the kebabs mrs wonky and i dived into the sauces and started pulling out strings of lamb like it was going out of fashion..not more than a moment later my driver side door was aproached by a right wierdo who thought we were dogging !! what a fright we got..lol..lol

having been in ireland a long time i decided to have the craic with this sad little man..wound down the window and explained that we were on a kebab pilgramage and not doggers at all and that if he wanted to watch us eat our kebabs he would be more than welcome too...he did..lmao

he was creeping us out a little bit but it was so funny at the time i played his game and even let some chilli sauce run down my chin a little just for a little nigella lawson tease for him, i think he liked that bit as he started fumbeling in his pockets for a hankie or something..

any ways to cut a long story short...i ended up having to chase him off with wonkys bat because what he was doing in the woods was very wrong..he was as mad as a badger in a bag that fella so if you go down to the woods today....be careful...that wasnt garlic sauce on my van door !!

and back to the main topic...the kebab was good,,tell kings wonky says thanks if youre passing..cheers.

lol..does this qualify..lol

mercuryg

mercuryg

Posted
Posted

Wonky's writing has a sort of James Joyce train of thought element to it. I vote it in.

keith lockey

keith lockey

Posted
Posted (edited)

What a carry on I had the other day. I was down the halfpenny woods wtih my bins looking for some tits and redbreasts and possibly a shag when I decided to have a hot dog. Well a piece of hot dog got stuck in my throat and I had to bang on the door of this green landrover to see if they had any water. This bloke with a Belfast accent comes storming out and threatens me with a baseball bat. I tried to explain the situation but I couldn't talk because of this piece of hot dog in my throat, so I reached into my pocket and fumbled for a pen and paper and this bloke went off it. He started calling me all sorts of names so I legged it. So watch out fellow twitchers, there's a maniac in a green landy down Halfpenny Woods.

Edited by keith lockey
keith lockey

keith lockey

Posted
Posted

It's annoying, Keith, because I go down there often with my bins - to look at the owls of course. And the best place to lurk...look...is behind the bushes. And me being a decent chap I sometimes go and clean the steaming windows of the cars parked down there. In fact there were so many cars and vans that I decided to set up a hot dog stall. So I used to go around the vehicles shouting Dogs..Hot dogs...dogging. Then this bloke came out and said i was a little banker!!! Well I've never worked in a bank before...nor a salad bar, like someone else suggested. I'll not be there tonight, though, my mac isn't dry yet.

Adam Hogg

Adam Hogg

Posted
Posted

What a carry on I had the other day. I was down the halfpenny woods wtih my bins looking for some tits.

Why did you not go to county hall keith a few up there.

Keith Scantlebury

Keith Scantlebury

Posted
Posted

I think the police helicopter may well have helped your situation Keith. My wife had just been to ASDA to do a big shop. No sooner had she piled it into the boot of a taxi, she legged it out of the car park in the direction of the Bebside Inn followed by two burly security men shouting at her. It turned out that she had somehow forgotten to pay for it. From where I was stood, I saw a shadowy figure , all sweaty , steaming and snorting come over the Furnace bridge, I thought to myself that they should really take a look at that fence at the top of the Hairpin Bank, the horses are getting out again.

Later on at home (while I was sewing the hem of my raincoat), she told me that she hid in a tree not far from the car park. The helicopter arrived, presumably to look for her. It hovered over a landrover that was rocking pretty violently, till some officers on the ground arrived and removed the occupants and put them into a van. These poor people were naked ( she was close enough to see and hear what was going on) and she thought that they were getting ready to go for a dip in the river. She saw a figure slink into the woods and hide behind that big old conker tree, she did see that whoever it was seemed to be in some sort of distress, choking on something. She over heard the cops saying that the thermal imaging equipment on the chopper (what was it you were choking on ?) was being used to hunt for a prolific, repetative shoplifter but it picked up some scorching images in the landrover. They did say that there were some rather cooler images coming from the woods but they just attributed that to the local low wild life . Did she dislodge your sausage when you broke her fall from the tree ?

1O minutes after she got home the shopping arrived in the taxi. I cant understand why she took the taxi driver behind the shed to pay him. ( maybe thats where she hides her purse )

Malcolm Robinson

Malcolm Robinson

Posted
  • Author
Posted

Talking of helicopters, there was a dammed noisy one over the Top End last night.

I presumed keith1 was up here walking through or keith2 was up here star gazing?

Police helicopter, money well spent, keep the undesirables out!

keith lockey

keith lockey

Posted
Posted (edited)

I love the police helicopter - it uses my house as a landmark, like the Power Station Chimneys used to. Whenever it is called out they make a bee-line for my place and hover over it until they get their bearings. But, Keith, they can't pick me up on their thermal imaging. I devised a method to block them out. It's called Personal Reflective Imaging Camouflage Kinetics (PRICK). What I do is I dress up in women's clothes, usually on a Friday night, put a wig on and some foundation cream, with Max factor eye-liner and lip gloss, a pair of Pretty Polly fishnets with sussies and six inch stilettos and matching accessories. The police are out looking for a male perv and they see me looking radiant in my John England ensamble parading down the Furnace Bank with a casual air and catwalk stride. It fools them everytime. I've shook many a conker from that tree and I've got bark stains on my cheerleader's dress to prove it. But don't you try it, Keith, that's my patch down there, a girl's got to make a living somehow. Now where's my handbag.

Edited by keith lockey
mercuryg

mercuryg

Posted
Posted

I love the police helicopter - it uses my house as a landmark, like the Power Station Chimneys used to. Whenever it is called out they make a bee-line for my place and hover over it until they get their bearings. But, Keith, they can't pick me up on their thermal imaging. I devised a method to block them out. It's called Personal Reflective Imaging Camouflage Kinetics (PRICK). What I do is I dress up in women's clothes, usually on a Friday night, put a wig on and some foundation cream, with Max factor eye-liner and lip gloss, a pair of Pretty Polly fishnets with sussies and six inch stilettos and matching accessories. The police are out looking for a male perv and they see me looking radiant in my John England ensamble parading down the Furnace Bank with a casual air and catwalk stride. It fools them everytime. I've shook many a conker from that tree and I've got bark stains on my cheerleader's dress to prove it. But don't you try it, Keith, that's my patch down there, a girl's got to make a living somehow. Now where's my handbag.

I seriously worry about you, Mr Lockey. By the way, can I have that dress back please, the black off the shoulder one? Thanks.

wonky

wonky

Posted
Posted

aye..its all getting oot of hand now..lol..you may mock but the kebab story actually happened..i dont doubt that..walking roond the woods in drag dont gan on but i must say that fishnets and a cheerleeder dress is a definate no no..its just wrong...i wont go in to detail but belive me its wrong..loving the james joyce comment and will take it as a compliment..though i must say in all honesty..20 odd yrs in ireland and never read any of his work..perhaps you might recomend a book and i will give it a whirl..

back to the writers group...theres nowt i would enjoy more than writing a story...i spend every day god sends in a pharma plant telling stories and getting paid very well for the privalage...most of them are true..some are slightly exagerated and some are just plain stupid..i like the stupid ones the best..that must be the bedlington in me..lol..the caring sensible side must be the bebside..

sadly..my time at home is tied up with music ,telly and welding projects in the garage..

i work with a bloke called the handsome fitter..he was burned in a fire as a child,..then there is a guy called pebble in his shoe...he had a broken ankle and now has a serious limp..my gaffa is called the prince..his father was called the king..there is a guy called the swimmer..his name is mark morgan.. . he has a terrible habit of clearing his throat and spitting..mark spitz..hence the swimmer..they call me wonky..i think its because every thing i do is so all over the place..un even..un level....or maybe its because one eye is constantly looking at the other..i really must ask..good luck with the group and i will be looking in from time to time..even though it might be sideways..lol

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