Chicken Shit Blues
Orkney, November 2001
Dear Expatriate Chicken Rancher,
We have mad visions of you up to your arse in shit and feathers, wringing necks, plucking and eviscerating chickens. We tell the aboriginal Orcadians and they say sounds like a great career and what colour are the boiler suits and can you be pissed all the time?
House purchase is off, fucking place was falling down, held together with drawing pins, filler and masking tape. A pity because it was old and we had hoped to hire that speedy little poof Robinson to come and do his stuff, you know – running about the place, panting and simpering, peering into holes and wondering if they will finish the programme by the end of the programme. But never mind. Life seems to be full of pleasures denied or foregone.
Anyway, we are now pursuing with excitement an 1890 Lochside Hotel with views of the sea, huge grounds, private shore and four motor boats. Buster is to be Head of Security, Barney to be the Dog in Front of the Bar Room Fire and His Imperial Majesty, Rocky Woo, insists that the place is renamed the Imperial Palace Hotel. Kindly take one of your chickens to a sacred Maori site and sacrifice her to the god of wannabee hoteliers.
Home thoughts to one Abroad,
The sacrifice didn’t work, as mr ishmael failed to purchase the lochside hotel – the deal breaker was the sewage bubbling up in the carpark.
Princess Margaret, Countess of Snowdon, died 9th February 2002
Orkney, 12th February 2002
Dear Chicken Shit Rancher,
Boom Boom, another one bites the dust. Drunken Royal Slapper found dead in local hospital. Mark our words the Queen Mum will be next.
Exemplary Single Mother Courageous to the End.
Elton John will sing Goodbye, Margaret Rose at the funeral. Elton so upset he vows not to put cocaine up his arse for a whole forty-eight hours. Barbara Windsor and Judi Dench to play Margaret in screen biopic.
Margaret living on moon with Elvis, George Harrison & Princess Di.
David Beckham to’ally gutted. Tony Robinson to do Timewatch Special: can they find Margaret’s body in three days? A grateful nation will not again see her like. God rest ye, merry Ma’am. Cliff Richard to record God Save our Gracious Queens. Tony Blair says she was the People’s Plonky, I mean Princess; I blame the Tories.
Nelson Mandela says that after myself she was the greatest living human being.
George Bush says america is a great nation a freedom loving nation, the terrorists responserous for this diabolifying act of death will be brought to justice in the american system of jurispremiums, given a fair trial and electrocutifried, princess margaret thatcher was a great friend to our nation and to my father the forty-oneth president of our great nation.
Take your pick – they are more or less all like that.
That’s all for now, but always, always remember: if you meet the Buddha on the road, Kill Him.
Orkney, 19th February 2002
Dear Expatriate Chicken Rancher,
John and George are brothers in their seventies, blueboilersuits topped with long greybeards and whiskers. Its probably about forty years since they were sober. Gaunt and trembling, they look like they have just emerged from the grave, shuffling around the shtoresh, steaming streams of rancid urine flowing from their trouser legs over their greasy suede shoes. They are so drunk all the time that it seems that they could not be capable of locomotion, yet they seem to appear at different points outside our house without having travelled. They have taken to materialising outside our door in the middle of the night asking for drink, lifts and can I cash their giro, take them to the police station, plumb in their washing machine (odd this because their clothes, furniture and bedding look as though they have been sprayed with molten lard). The people in the shtoresh say they have convictions for child molestation. I think that they are satanist cannibals as well, hailing from a different time in Orkney’s dark past and I don’t think Rocky and the Poor Boys are quite safe outside. John and George of the Restless Dead have been dumped here from their previous accommodations, where they were becoming unbearable. I fear that the Gods will have blood. Unless, of course, Tony Robinson can come and unravel this mystery of the walking dead; he probably wouldn’t have time.
Her Royal Highness remains sadly deceased. When it emerged that she was to be a customer in a lo-cost crematorium in Slough, the Sun headline was, and I’m not shittin’ y’all, “La Crem de la Crem”.
We saw that new gay movie The Queens of the Ringpieces, all those simpering, wetlipped urchin boys and musclerippling moustachioed warriors, looks like they hired the cast from the public urinals under New Street Station. I fell asleep after two hours, mrs ishmael was not so lucky. I put an ad in the Orkney Advertiser seeking big house with sea views and we have bought one, all things being what they seldom are. It is an old manse on the coast and it is fabulous.
Snowing like a bastard here. Smellyboys all well. Have you travelled up that river featured in Frodo and the Rentboys?
Tony Blair revealed as shit-eating, pussywhipped, mealymouthed, lickspittle, thieving, lying, whingeing, shabby, incompetent, opportunistic fuckpig lawyershite. Again.
Executioner Bush says America is a great nation, a freedom loving nation and we will shold stander to stander with Princess Blair in his fight, his fight is America’s fight and in the words of your great wartime leader General Winston deGaulle: if the British empire last a thousand years folks will still say “this was their finest arse, excuse me, I meant to say hour, this was their finest hour, anybody got a line of coke?”
Take care of yourself and always remember if you meet the Buddha on the Road, kill him,
to be continued
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