Friday 31 December 2021

Chicken Shit Blues - being the fourth and final part

Chicken Shit Blues


 

 Orkney, 1st April 2002
Dear Chicken Shit Wrangler, 

Jesus Living in Sin on Orkney with Queen Mother

The man from whom we bought the house is a lovely man, a non-churchgoing Christian and he tells me that God instructed him to sell me this house because he has great plans for me. mrs ishmael had a similar revelation about me in St Mungo's Cathedral. It must be true because, down in the Child Molester's Arms last night, I saw Her Late Maj dancing with a new-age type who kept on turning their glasses of water into glasses of fine claret; they were last seen dancing out across the Atlantic. The Christian said it was all part of the Plan.
 
One of our former neighbours in our temporary house gave his Excellency a going away gift of a packet of Emperor's Best Chews; a few moments ago I was assisting His Sereneness to an EB chew which had fallen from the Royal Throne and for my pains His Most Exaltedness was graciously pleased to sink the Imperial Teeth into my poor, unworthy hand, so magnanimously and so assiduously did His Magnificence apply himself to this favour that my undeserving hand is now, Hallelujah, twice its former size and I must retire.
 
Peace and Blessings from the Shores of drowned sailorboys.
 
ishmael smith  

p.s. When this house was being built Herr Mozart was writing The Magic Flute.
p.p.s. Her Grace, The Lady Elton John, is on holiday. In Colombia.

 
Orkney, 9th April 2002
 

Queen Mother Still Dead Shock

Radio Orkney this morning made the shock announcement that her late royal highness and former queen empress elizabeth of gin and tonic had been pronounced still dead having kicked the royal bucket good and, so to speak, proper, and was, indeed, liable to remain her royal lateness for a not inconsiderable amount of time, indeed, for all time, this totality of experience being the very essence of the state known as death. The newly elected Archbishop of Canterbury ( Her Ladyship the Countess Lady Sir Elton John of rent boys) was said to be inconsolable, but taking comfort from praying to Saint Boniface, Patron Saint of Lesbian Men, and ingesting huge quantities of Bolivian marching powder.

Your prayers are asked for Rocky Woo, who is very, very poorly, but very brave and sends his love.

Always remember, if you meet the Buddha on the Road, run him over.

Sent  from the land of No Macdonalds.

ishmael smith
 
Orkney, 2nd May 2002

Across the seas of night to the bright shores of morning

In the conservatory overlooking Scapa Flow a candle burns tonight and every night for His Late Imperial Majesty, Rocky Woo.
He went to sleep, without distress, a fortnight ago, looking into his mum's eyes and holding her hands with his royal paws. We had tried everything to sustain his life. I am beyond comfort. Rocky Woo spent lots of time with me when I was ill and he was my special, little, warm brown friend. I miss him dreadfully.
Light him a candle on a Fiji beach.  He will get to know about it. Emperors know everything.
Love from Orkney,
ishmael

Orkney, 13th May 2002
 

His Imperial Majesty

Thank you for your kind wishes. His Majesty will be pleased by your prayers.

Speaking on Radio Orkney President George Dubya Bush said America is a great nation a freedom loving nation and we will stand shoulder to shoulder with His Majesty's family at this time up to and including nuclear weapons against the veterinarians responsible for this cowardly act, sniifff-snifff, anybody on Orkney got a little white powder for the President? Mebbe some whores, too?

Joining by satellite link from the Eric Clapton tropical clinic for showbiz druggies, Her Grace The Countess of Columbia, His Serene Highness The Lady Elton John said he was totally and absolutely devastated and was said to be rewriting his classic Candle Up the Bum in honour of his Majesty and as a mark of respect he would refrain from ordering-up any rentboys for a whole afternoon.

Interviewed by the Birmingham Evening Mail the Deputy Chief Probation Officer said I was honoured to know His Majesty for many years and he would have made a great Chief Probation Officer. And so would I.

Deep in the Downing Street bunker the lady Antonia Blair strummed his Prime Minister's Edition Fender Stratocaster disconsolately:"Oh Rocky Woo ain't here no more, and what's a man to do?" Glancing at his comely wife Cherie "Greedybastard" Booth the Prime Minister asked "Do you think I could get Paul McCartney to play bass and maybe release it as a charity record, you know, in aid of New Labour?"
 'Don't talk shite you stupid little creep', was her fond reply.
 
ishmael smith and the Poor Boys. 

Always remember, if you meet the Buddha on the Road, kill him.

 

 
Orkney, 15th September 2002 
 

Oh, Momma, got them old ground zero blues again

Dear Chicken shit-you-not  Wranglers,
Your card does me honour and brings light to my humble home; I am prostrate with humility that such noble personages should acknowledge my worthless existence; or, as the barbarians would have it: So there, bollocks.
We were at a Fortieth birthday party last night. It was held in a cave and it was like something from the Young Ones, except they were all old; more the Sitting-down Dead than the Dancing Dead. Hundreds of the fuckers all sat at tables eating plates of Lard and Sugar. They had one of those fucking awful Abo diddly-diddly bands, you know, they play the same old dee-diddle-dee-diddle-dee-diddle-dee-diddle upside down and back-to-front for ninety minutes at a time, then stop for no discernible reason. Other than time for nose-bag. And they had some egg sandwiches. With no salt.

According to the Orkney diabetic team I am the coolest and healthiest sick person they ever met. I am so healthy that I make healthy people look rigor mortised. I tell them that it's because of how I don't bathe in lard and I don't clean my teeth with golden syrup. And how I come from England.

mrs ishmael had on her best leather trousers and killer stilettos last night, when we were in the Cave of the Lard People; we are sure to be the talk of the Islands today. The Lardfolk were dressed in jumpers with holes, ragged breeches and sandals, with tattoos and shell necklaces, bits of dried fish stuck in their belts and pouches of lard everywhere. Everysooften they use a stone knife to chop off a bit of fish, smear it with lard and pop it into each other's mouths, then they go back to picking lice out of each other's beards and hair.

Heavy shit with our Artist Acquaintance. I met this bloke outside the shtoresh and he started talking at me. He turned up with an invitation for his exhibition of paintings and proceeded to tell us he was in love with a woman who, unusually, was only about fifteen years younger than him. We went along to meet her for lunch the next day and I amnotkiddinya she was a one hundred percent twentyfour carat double-dyed, copper bottomed, gilt edged, sour, joyless, rancid, sorryassed, shit-eating dog bastard motherfucker. Fortunately, overnight, our Artist Acquaintance had fallen out of love with her. So lunch was difficult. If I was him I could never show my face here again. But who knows? Apart from me and mrs ishmael they're all fucking mad here. And sometimes.... I wonder.......about her.
Love from the Stone Age,
ishmael

p.s. The Lady Sir Elton John and His Excellency President George Dubya are holidaying on the moon  with Jill Dando, George Harrison and Liberace. 
p.p.s. Her Grace the Prime Minister Mr Tony Blair was reported to have been found in the Downing Street Bunker strumming his Prime Minister's Edition Fender Stratocaster and singing I am the God of Hellfire and I bring you.........Fire. 
The Prime Minister has been sectioned under the Mental Health Act and is being held in a Secure location, The Deputy Prime Minister, John Blubberman Prescott is in charge of everything.
God Bless America.

 
Orkney, 3rd February 2003
 

Martin Bashir a Child Molester, latest.

Interviewed outside the High Court, where he faces charges of being a dirty old man, Michael Douglas, 67, claimed that he had suspected all along that Martin Bashir was a childmolester. "As for the plastic surgery, well that's normal in showbiz, only in Martin Bashir's case it seems to have turned his face black. As for me", the elderly Mr Douglas continued, "why, I'm of the never-too-young school myself, so if Martin wants a bit of kiddy stuff, hey, that's cool, got a good lawyer, don't he?"
 
Orkney, 18th March 2003
 

In Sickness and in Health. 

Speaking on Radio Orkney, President George Dubya Bush said America is a great nation, a freedom loving nation and like all freedom loving nations the American people are dismayified at the catalogue of terrible things happening over there in the United States of England. First of all there was the death of Adam and the Ants and then the untimely passing of Lady Thora Hird of Chairlifts and Funeral Expenses Insurance. I've said it before and I'll say it again that this great nation of ours will hunt these people down, they can run but they can't swim. Our hearts go out to the people of the great isles of british. And Orney. Anybody got any coke, mebbe some whores?

Orkney, 29th March 2003

Pants, the New Shit

God bless President George Dubya "got any coke" Bush in his quest to divert the US population from the fact that he is a crook and a dopefiend, sorry, I mean in his quest for peace through bombing children.
God bless Dermot McDermot, God bless Robert Cliche Smut, God bless Richard and Judy, God bless Lady Sir Trevor McDoughnut, God bless Lady Professor Dr. Raj Persil, God bless Lady Sir Martin Bashir and, most of all, God bless Her Serene Highness, the Duchess of Colombia, The Lady Sir Elton John and his husband Mrs David Furnish.
God bless all celebrities and rich people. God bless the Queen Mother, God bless Barrymaurice or Robin Gibb, God bless Adam Faith, God bless Thora Hird, God bless George Harikrishna and God bless Kylie Minogue's arse and may we all rush out and buy Lady Sir Elton's new record Candle Up Saddam's Bum.
Lady Sir Elton says that as a mark of respect for all the children of Eye-rack he and his husband, Mrs David Furnish, will stop blowing cocaine up each other's bottoms for a full half-hour. "it's the least we can do."
Interviewed on Radio Orkney Professor Lady Sir Raj Persil said that those troubled by the war should rush out and buy his new book: "What to do when you want to kill the President, Strategies for coping". (Rush-out the Bullshit Publishing, Ltd. 2003) at the bargain price of £29.99
Speaking by satphone from the moon, His Holiness, Guru, Swami Maharishi Mr Bob Dylan mumbled; .....the answer my friend is blowin' in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind.


Orkney, 6th April 2003

 Send Lawyers, Guns and Money

Drop everything and come at once. Bring weapons and guns. We have a houseful of chinese people who don't speak english, don't have a driving license between them, are looking hungrily at the gentlemen dogs, and are sniffing a lot.
I told them not to come, but they came anyway. At midnight.
What am I to do? Come at once.
Basil Fawlty-Smith 
P.S. Confucius, he say, hotel business a heap of horse droppings.
 
Orkney, 3rd August 2003

World Mourns Bob Dylan, Dead at 100 

Speaking on Radio Orkney, President George Dubya Bush said that Bob was a great American who left the world a better, more American place.
Joining by Satphone from his mum's house in Stoke on Trent, Britain's number 1 crooner, Robbie (Bob) Williams said he was absolutely gutted by the news. I mean, a hundred is like no age these days for rich people. I mean, its just not fair, man, like what am I going to do with all this money if I only live to be a hundred. I suppose I could leave it to me Mum but she might be dead then for all I know.
Speaking from Abbey Road Studios where he is recording his first million seller album, "Jesus was a Fishmonger, Too", Orkney's Cameron Stout, winner of the Big Brother Shite, said that Bob Dylan was a great Christian, just like me. 
Sobbing on the steps of Southwark Crown Court former Blue Peter presenter John Leslie said that he had never laid a hand on Bob Dylan, let alone stroke his bottom and force his tongue down his throat, all I want to do is be left alone to rebuild my career talking shite to braindead celebrities first thing in the morning and being paid loads of money for opening supermarkets and nightclubs.
Interviewed in Sacramento the newly-elected Governor of California and leader of the American Nazis for Jesus Party, Mr Arnold Schwarzennegra  said, Dere iss only vunn thing wad I can say and dat iss Hasta la Vista, Bobby. He was a great guy, for a jew.
 
At his Bahama holiday hideaway UK premier Tony Blair strummed a few chords on his Prime Minister's Edition Fender Statocaster: "How many roads must a man walk down. And that. I simply say. In a very real sense. To the people of Britain. Is the question. We must all reflect on the sad death of Mr. Dylan and then wait for a Public Enquiry to conclude that I never have and never would do anything wrong. Ever. "
In a letter to the Telegraph, the Guardian, the Mail on Sunday, the Scottish Herald and the Orcadian, mr ishmael smith stated that there had never been any such person as Bob Dylan but unfortunately there had been a horrid, cheesy, smirking comic called Bob Hope but, thankfully, and not before time, and having willed his staggering fortune to Robbie (Bob) Williams, he was now dead. 
Ulrika Jonssonn, 53, is on holiday.

Always, always remember, if you meet the Buddha on the Road, 

ask him

Does my bum look big in this? 



4 comments:

Bungalow Bill said...

Lovely these thanks Mrs I.

Happy new year, ha ha, to all you lot on here and to our curator.

May we rediscover our wretchedness in 2022 and pull down, pull down.

mrs ishmael said...

Thanks, mr b.b. and a very happy new year to you. I'm glad you made it through 2021 with us.

Anonymous said...

Would that be the Pound in your pocket, mr BB? Bravo, and may all ishmaelites face the new year like centaurs in this dragon world (I'm leaving the ants right out of it.)

cheers

v./



Bungalow Bill said...

Ah, Mr V, you never disappoint. A wonderful passage, I think. Mad fascist or not.